Title: Five Times Dean and Bela Had Secret Sex (and one time they didn't)
Part One of Six: The Fast and the Furious
Author: Her Owlness (Lizzy)
Character/Pairing: Dean/Bela, Sam
Rating: R (language, adult situations)
Word Count: 5254
Spoilers: Diverges from canon after 303. Some characterizations past that point are possible, although I'm not aware of them myself.
Sequel to: The Midas Touch, which it would probably help to read if the backstory matters to you at all. If you're just in this for the sex ... well, then the backstory probably doesn't matter quite as much, does it?
Summary: I think the title pretty much sums it up. This is the first time that Dean and Bela have secret (hate) sex.
Beta thanks: to sarah-p and erin2326 for rocking the house and helping me out with this. Any errors within are mine.


July Twenty-Second

"And that's one more demon who's on the fast track back to hell," Dean said with a grin as he tossed his shotgun in the trunk of the Impala.

"Keeping count, Dean?"

"The more of these sons of bitches I take care of, the better."

Sam nodded in agreement even though Dean knew that he was stating the obvious. In a way, Dean was making a tally of all the spirits he killed and all the demons he exorcised. His days were numbered, and by having an actual number, he could tell himself that the deal he'd made was more than fair.

In exchange for his soul, Sam lived. And, really, that was all that really mattered.

His cell phone chirped, and upon answering, he heard the voice of the one person who – as much as he hated the idea – might be able to reverse his fortunes.

He didn't want to be indebted to her of all people, but it wouldn't be like that. Not really. If anything, it was a simple business transaction. He'd give her the genie's lamp that he and Sam had found in that pawn shop a few weeks back. And, in exchange for something that was sure to bring her a hefty sum, he'd get a charm of some nature to get him out of his deal – as well as a cool one hundred thousand for their trouble.

"Busy, Dean?"

"What do you want, Bela?"

She tsked in response, asking, "Is that any way to greet someone who is about to make you a very rich man?"

"You found a buyer, I take it."

"One who is very anxious to get his hands on the lamp. Where are you?"

"Oregon." Before Bela could respond, he added, "I can be in New York in two or three days."

During the pause that followed, Dean could practically see the fire shooting from her eyes. He knew that she'd like nothing better than to fly out to Oregon to get the lamp as soon as possible. But Dean wasn't about to let that happen.

Admittedly, that was in large part due to the fact that it was what she wanted. It was spiteful, yes, but he still didn't trust her - not when he couldn't get the image of her shooting Sam out of his head.

Besides, if she came here, to them, he couldn't be sure that Sam was out of harm's way. And, really, that was the top priority here.

Dean wanted the money, and he definitely didn't want to take his one-way trip to hell in another ten months. But Sam was more important than all of that. Hell, it was what had gotten him into this situation in the first place.

"Fine. Where do you want to meet?"

"I'll call you with details when we get closer." Did she honestly think that he was going to tell her? The remainder of this deal was going to be conducted on his terms, and since she appeared to be pretty damn eager to complete the transaction, she'd have no choice but to play along.

Without waiting for a response, Dean shoved the phone into his pocket and joined Sam in the car. He'd have to work with her in a few days, but he was damned if he was going to talk with her anymore than was absolutely necessary.

"Ready for New York?" Dean asked rhetorically as he started the engine.

Concentrating only on the endless road before them, Dean almost missed the slim man in a tattered orange shirt who ran across the road and straight into the path of the Impala. Dean slammed on the brakes, barely missing him.

"Dude, what the hell?" Dean shouted out his window. Oregon was filled with crazy people, apparently.

Then, the guy blinked, showing the Winchester brothers his very dark, very black eyes.

Well, shit.


"If this is your definition of 'two or three days ' you really should use this cash to invest in a working watch." She kept her voice cool and clinical, tamping down the worry that had flooded her mind over the past few days, as Dean walked through the door of the nondescript hotel room.

Her concern over the deal was understandable. Luke hadn't been pleased when he'd lost out on the rabbit's foot, and it had taken all of her persuasion and sweet-talking to manage him. If she didn't get the lamp for him – well, she'd prefer not to think about that.

"Shit happens. Deal with it," Dean growled, as he tossed his keys and the bag down on a nearby table.

She could tell from the tone of his voice that he was more than a little pissed off. Not that she hadn't seen him mad before. More often than not, she took care to piss him off, to keep him off-kilter. It made him less controlled, less sure of himself, and easier for her to handle.

But she'd never seen him like this before.

She should have taken that as a warning, as a sign that maybe she should back off and not needle him anymore.

She didn't.

Maybe it was because as much as she didn't want to admit it, a part of her worry had been over him . It's not that she cared about him – he was just a stupid hunter, after all . But she could see the potential he had. He could be a good accomplice if he wanted to be, or at least good enough for helping her obtain the high-price items her buyers were so fond of.

This business with the lamp was the first step, a big step. For one, he'd come to her with the offer – not the other way around. And she'd thought – and hoped – that if he received substantial compensation now, he might be willing to do this sort of thing again in the future.

"It would have been easier to 'deal with it,' if you had the common courtesy to keep me apprised of your progress. Did a demon eat your phone, Dean? And Sam's too? Or did a wicked witch steal your voice and your car and force you to hitchhike mutely across the country?"

"Shut. The. Fuck. Up." Dean warned, his fury and frustration lighting up his eyes as he took a menacing step in her direction.

She met his gaze, refusing to back down. She wasn't some scared little girl who was afraid of him. She knew guys like him; guys who thought that they could yell and shout and threaten and have their way just because they said so.

Call it just another method to keep him off-balance, but she wasn't going to concede because he was trying to scare her into a corner.

She watched the sparks ignite in his eyes and found herself almost enthralled by them. Dean Winchester was a gorgeous man any day of the week - there was no doubt about that. But now, with fire literally shooting from his eyes as he stared her down, he looked dangerous, almost deadly.

In an absolutely irresistible sort of way.

Unbidden, her thoughts flew to the mind-numbing, spine-tingling, earth-shattering kiss that they'd shared a few weeks back. He'd been angry then, at her, at the world. The feel of his lips on hers was powerful and seductive, no matter how much she didn't want it to be.

As a rule, she didn't get involved with her business associates. It clouded matters, and she'd prefer to do her dealings without the confusion that sex tended to add.

Right now, however, she was seriously considering tossing that rule out the window. After all, rules were made to be broken, right?

If the way he kissed was any indication, Dean would be good for a no-holds-barred bout of angry sex. He clearly didn't like her or trust her, but that would almost make things simpler. That way, he wouldn't make the simple act of fucking out to be more than it really was.

And that was just the way she liked it.

"Can't handle a woman calling you out on your own failings, Dean?" she queried, an innocent expression on her face. She was needling him, true enough, but she figured that the angrier he was, the better the sex was likely to be. And after their kiss, she'd needed a cigarette like never before. And even then, she'd needed to get laid like never before.

She had gone to a club that night and found a man to give her what she was looking for. It was … adequate. Nothing too impressive, but it was enough.

Or so she'd thought. Until she was facing off against Dean Winchester once more.

"You're damn lucky I don't hit women, but if you keep this up, I'd be tempted to make an exception," he bit out, clearly working with everything he had in him to keep his temper in check.

"At least your daddy taught you something worthwhile before he abandoned you." She felt a pang of guilt at the words. She knew she was hitting well below the belt, but just like in her business transactions, she knew what she wanted, and she'd do whatever it took to get it.

She watched the muscles in his neck tense with repressed anger, and she didn't think she'd ever seen anything as heart-stopping, as she felt an arrow of lust shoot through her system. He took a measured step forward, perhaps hoping to intimidate her with his height. She kept her unwavering gaze locked with his and momentarily considered straight-up suggesting that they have sex.

No. No, no, no. That wouldn't do anything but piss him off and make sex a near impossibility. When she'd arrived hours before, the idea of sex with Dean hadn't even crossed her mind. But now, well, she knew that she couldn't let him leave without having some of her baser desires satisfied. Unconsciously running a hand over her button-down blouse and short gray skirt, she realized that unwittingly, she'd dressed more than appropriately for a hard and fast round of sex.

"Why I ought to … " he trailed off, and she didn't know if it was because he wasn't sure what he wanted to do or if it was because he preferred to leave the end of that sentence up to her imagination. Well, her imagination was having a grand ol' time finishing that sentence for him. And it probably wasn't ending quite how he'd intended.

She took a step forward and saw the flash of surprise in his eyes. The moron had actually thought that he'd managed to scare her!

Spurred on by disbelief, frustration, and anger, she quickly reached behind him and pulled his mouth down to hers. It was a reverse of their only other kiss to this point, down to the fact that Dean was the one trying to push her away.

Then one of his hands brushed against her chest in an effort to separate their bodies, and she let out a low moan that had him wrapping his arms around her and pulling her closer.

She'd won.

If she had her way, they'd both be winners when all was said and done. Her hands quickly went to work on his belt, knowing that speed was a necessity. In part to keep Dean from realizing what was happening and putting a stop to it, but in part because she needed him more than she'd thought. And she was hardly one for patience.

Once his jeans were down around his ankles, she moved towards the lumpy brown couch and pulled him down with her. He shoved her skirt up around her waist and made quick work of her thong.

And then he was there. Inside her, on top of her, all around her. He rained kisses down on her as they moved in time. It wasn't much longer until an explosion of color filled her mind and she felt tingling in her fingers and toes.

But Dean - Dean wasn't done. He kept going, kept at it. Once she was able to grasp at sanity once more, she moved her hands to his back, pulling him as close to her as was physically possible. His taste, his scent – sweat, fury, and man – assaulted her senses and nearly sent her reeling once more.

And then he was with her, his lips back on her own and one hand working its way underneath her blouse to glide over her breasts. This was absolute bliss.

Before she knew what was happening, she was cresting the wave of sensation once more as he thrust inside her one last time. She felt his muscles tense in near synchronicity before he collapsed beside her.

She fought for coherency within her muddled mind, well aware that she'd never had her world rocked quite like that. By comparison, poor Bob or Rob or whatever the hell his name had been was absolutely pitiful in bed.

Oh, sure, she'd had multiple orgasms before, but two in the span of maybe fifteen minutes was unprecedented. She wondered half-heartedly if this was what make-up sex would be like. She'd never been in an actual relationship to know first-hand, but she had a feeling that make-up sex might have had a bit more tenderness or emotion involved. And those were two things that she could certainly do without.

Whatever this was, whatever it was called, it worked for her. And now that she'd gotten it out of her system, she and Dean should be able to move forward with a mutually agreeable business relationship.

She hoped.


"So," she began, extracting herself from his arms and straightening her clothes. "Back to work. Tell me more about this deal."

"Deal?" he asked, fighting for the coherency he knew he'd need. Damn if she hadn't fried his circuits better than anyone in a long time. And instead of considering another round, she wanted to talk business.

"Yes, your deal," she repeated patiently, as if speaking to a small child. "The deal you wanted me to help you get out of – as a part of our arrangement for the lamp. You weren't too clear on the details when we met a few weeks back."

Shaking his head in hopes of clearing it, he said, "I told you it was with a crossroads demon. What more do you have to know?"

"Depending on what your deal was for, there may be an easier way out of it than some of the other alternatives."

Dean told her about the deal he'd made to save Sam's life. He made sure to mention the fact that whatever fix she found would have to protect Sam, too. He wasn't going to welsh on his deal if it meant losing Sam.

"I have a few charms back at my place that should keep the hellhounds at bay, but they won't solve your problem. You'd need to have them on you constantly to be protected, and unless you plan on embedding them into your skin, that's not a viable option. And even that's not a guaranteed fix since if they're altered in the slightest, the power is lost."

He was surprised that she didn't toss him some snarky comment. "C'mon, Bela. A temporary fix is all you have for us? Sounds to me like someone isn't keeping up their end of the bargain."

"Let me finish," she bit out, her eyes narrowing in frustration. "I may know of something that would be a permanent fix, but I need to do a bit more research. I was hoping that you were greedy enough to make a deal for fame or fortune. If you were willing to relinquish whatever you wished for, it would make the task of voiding the deal a bit simpler. How much longer do you have?"

"Maybe nine and a half months. Give or take." While it was actually closer to ten months, Dean wasn't about to tell her that. No reason to lay all the cards on the table at this early stage of the game.

"It could be tight. There's a legend of an enchanted object with an associated incantation from the Middle Ages at the time of the Black Death. According to the lore, it allows the user to escape death under a prescribed set of circumstances. For example, it wouldn't save you from dying in a plane crash, but it would save you – and Sam – from the hellhounds and the vengeance of the crossroads demon." She paused, and he allowed her words to sink in.

There might be a way out of his deal.

He worked to keep a tight grip on the hope that burst inside of him. Might was the key word there. Nothing was definite. No point in getting all excited over something that wasn't necessarily going to work.

"How much time do you need?"

"I can give you the charms today, if you follow me back to my place. Otherwise, I hope to have completed my research in about a week. If you give me two weeks, I should hopefully be able to determine a location of the object – if it exists."

"Sounds good." Dean got up off the couch and pulled his pants back up around his waist. He couldn't focus on the fact that he'd slept with her. Not now, not yet. Instead, he reached for the bag that held the lamp and his jacket. "We'll meet up in two weeks then."


His hand on the doorknob, he turned back to her. "What?" he asked, even though he knew that she didn't want him to leave with the lamp. Her buyer wanted it, and he figured he could have her jumping through hoops to get her hands on it now versus two weeks later.

"As I calculate it, you cost me six days by not informing me that you were going to be delayed."


"So, my buyer is anticipating the receipt of his item in the next few days."

He tipped his head as he looked at her, trying to figure out how she was going to twist this to make him feel obligated to give her the lamp now. Not that there was anything that she could say to make him part with it.

They had a deal, after all. In exchange for the lamp, the Winchesters expected two things. First, there was the cash reward, which Dean knew Bela would be more than happy to supply. But she hadn't provided a way out of his deal quite yet. And until she did, he wasn't about to hand over the lamp.

Of course, if there wasn't a way out, he would have accepted that and just bled her for even more money. If he was going to hell within the coming months, at least he would have been able to live it up with the high rollers before the hellhounds came to find him. He and Sam could have spent some time in Monte Carlo or Amsterdam or wherever.

But now that he knew that at the very least there was a possibility of a way out, he wasn't about to settle for a pile of cash to roll around in. He'd lived most of his life without money, and he was sure that he'd be happy enough to live the rest of his life without a penny to his name. Particularly if he had a few more decades until his bill came due.

"Make your point, Bela."

"If he were not to receive his purchase soon, he may call off the deal, which would leave both of us without a buyer."

"Bullshit. Where the hell is he going to find another genie in a lamp?" He noted her frustration with some satisfaction. He wasn't going to make this easy on her, not by a long shot.

"Perhaps not. But, of course, he may demand a decrease in the selling price, which would reduce your cut as well."

"I'm not the one who needs two weeks to look at some damn books," he replied, letting a raise of his eyebrow speak for him.

"If I were to rush, I might not properly evaluate all the evidence available. Neither of us wants you to end up with a solution that won't dissolve your deal, Dean."

"It'd be easier for you with me out of the picture," he ventured, curious as to how she'd respond.

"Perhaps. Until Sam took it upon himself to hunt me down for giving you a faulty product."

"Actually, we'd come after you together since he'd do his own research on whatever charm you come up with."

She shrugged her shoulders unequivocally, traces of a grin on her lips. "Regardless, such a scenario is not in either of our best interests."

"So you propose … ?"

"We make the first part of the trade now. One hundred thousand dollars in exchange for the lamp. I'll contact you in two weeks when I have more information on the object and the associated incantation."

"No deal."

He enjoyed seeing the frustration and fury build in her gaze before he made a suggestion of his own. "We make the first part of the trade now. But as insurance, you'll give us an additional one-point-five million."

"That's obscene," she fumed.

"You want to make it two?"

Her eyes blazing, she took a menacing step towards him, and his eyes lit up in amusement. "Another round in bed won't change my mind, baby, but don't let that stop you from trying."

"What are you going to do with well over a million dollars, anyway ?" she asked, reaching for her purse.

"Hold it as payment for whatever I need to get out of my deal." He saw her set the checkbook on the table and quickly added, "And we'll need the whole amount in cash. We don't do banks."

"You don't do banks?" she asked, flabbergasted. "I promise you, you won't be able to fit that many hundred dollar bills in your glove box."

"Don't worry about where we'll keep it. We're more than able to protect what's ours."

She let out a frustrated sigh, clearly aware that she was running low on options. "Fine. Let me run to the bank, and I'll be back."

The door closed behind her, and Dean looked around the hotel, trying to decide how to best entertain himself until she got back. His eyes landed on the lumpy couch, and the sight of the skewed cushions brought back memories he'd prefer to forget.

He still couldn't believe that he'd slept with her.

Sure, it was just sex – and good sex at that. And at least she hadn't babbled on and on afterwards like some of the overemotional women he'd been with over the years. But it wasn't something he'd wanted or planned on, and it definitely wasn't something that was ever going to happen again.

Inhaling deeply, he noted the smell of sweat and sex still lingered in the air. Spying the dank bathroom, he figured a shower was as good a way to pass the time as any.


When Bela walked back into the hotel room, she was tired and frustrated. What gave a mere hunter like Dean the right to make demands? He should just take what she'd offered and be happy with that.

He had her between a rock and a hard place, and unlike most of her colleagues, he knew it as well as she did.

There were definite advantages to working with individuals who weren't as sharp as Dean Winchester.

And, spying said man, she made a mental note to avoid doing business with drop-dead gorgeous men in the future.

He was seated on the edge of the bed, his hair damp and spiky and more devastating than he probably realized. The terry-cloth towel crumpled beside him indicated that he'd taken a shower during her absence.

Too bad he hadn't waited for her return before taking said shower.

As her mind was assaulted with vivid images of naked Dean, wet Dean, and all the things she and Dean could have done under the warm spray, she shook her head to try to rid herself of the images. It was hardly productive, and Bela Talbot made a point of maximizing productivity in all of her business dealings.

He still hadn't noticed her return, which surprised her. He and his kind were typically always alert and prepared for anything. She'd hardly taken care to be quiet with her return, and he'd hardly moved. He was just sitting there, his fingertips framing his face and his brow furrowed.

This was a new side of him, from her perspective, at least. He was dangerously sexy when he was angry, but this brooding face almost made her want to kiss away his troubles. Not that he'd let her or that she'd offer, but it was something for her to fantasize about. Later.

Now, though, it was time to conclude their business so she could figure out how she was going to handle her dealings with Dean Winchester since the simple act of sex was clearly not enough to get him out of her system.

As tempting as it was to entertain the notion that perhaps a second bout would be the key, she knew that wasn't the answer. So, shoving that concept from her head, she considered the best way to get his attention. She knew that he wouldn't appreciate her taking notice of the fact that he was hardly paying attention to his surroundings. Not that she hadn't, but she knew that preserving his ego in this circumstance would make things that much easier and for the time being, that was in her own best interests.

She dropped the black duffel to the floor, the dull thump causing Dean's head to snap up. He looked at her, and she could sense the hesitation and the wariness as he evaluated her.

"If you cleaned out the mini bar, I'm taking it out of your share," she informed him, injecting the right amount of icy coolness into her tone.

"I – Uh, no." His voice was clear as always, but it was obvious something was on his mind.

She raised an eyebrow, wondering if he'd elect to tell her. She wasn't going to ask – she had too much self-respect for that. She was curious, but his issues weren't of import to her. Or, at least they wouldn't be once she made the trade for the lamp. Sure, it would be nice to get the money back, but she had more where that came from.

"We slept together," he bit out, finally – not that that made things any clearer for her.

"And … ?" she asked, trying to lead him into telling her what the hell his problem was. This was Dean Winchester, after all. Hardly the sort of guy she'd expect to get all offended over a quick tumble on the couch cushions.

"And we didn't use anything," he ground out, his frustration clear.

"Relax, Dean. I'm on the pill. I don't want any Dean-Juniors running around any more than you do." She sat on the arm of the stained easy chair and looked him in the eye. "Now, if we could complete our business, I have another appointment to be getting to."


His face was devoid of emotion or feeling – like it was a blank mask. Bela hated not being able to read him, to know what he was thinking or feeling. She told herself that it didn't matter. That their business, the lamp - that was what was important.

And it was, to some extent, but she had a feeling she was missing something. And she doubted that she could count on Dean to clue her in.

"There is one-point-six million dollars – in cash – here. The original one hundred thousand that we agreed upon, and the additional one-point-five that we negotiated today. If you'd like to count it, I suppose I could wait."

He stood and unzipped the bag and rifled through it long enough to determine that there were stacks of hundred dollar bills inside the bag. "Whatever. You know as well as I do that if you screw with me, Sam and I will be back to collect before you know it. And we'll be hunting for more than just cash by then."

He had the menacing look in his eyes again, and Bela's libido grew fangs at the sight. She took a deep breath to calm herself, hoping that Dean hadn't noticed the momentary slip in her façade.

"Of course. Now, if I could have the lamp, I believe our business is complete for now. I'll contact you in two weeks once I've collected and analyzed all the relevant information."

"Great. Lamp's on the couch," Dean replied, motioning to the small paper bag he'd left behind. And then, without even a word of farewell, he was out the door and on his way to his car.

She watched him walk away through the filmy curtains and couldn't help but notice just how great his ass looked in that pair of Levi's. And that train of thought only led to the unlocking of the memories of just what that ass had felt like.

She fell onto the couch, muffling her scream in a tattered throw pillow. A throw pillow that smelled of sweat, sex, and Dean.

She was so screwed.


"Dude, what took so long?" Sam asked the minute Dean walked into the motel room a few dozen miles away from where he had met Bela.

"Deal's done," Dean replied, tossing the duffel at Sam's feet. "She has a few more things to research, so I bled her for an extra one-point-five mil for her trouble."

"She'll take that sort of money to finish our job," Sam confirmed, opening the bag to begin counting the piles of cash.

Dean nodded, lying back on the bed he'd claimed as his own. He was glad that Sam's questions had been easy enough to dodge with the mere mention of all that money.

He still couldn't believe that he'd slept with her. And he sure as hell wasn't about to tell Sam if he could avoid it.

It's not like he made a habit of telling Sam when he got lucky, but Sammy wasn't stupid, and he could figure out when his brother was getting some more often than not.

But this, this wasn't just a simple fuck. This was Bela. And given everything, that just made things a hell of a lot more complicated than they had any right to be.

But he'd figure it out. He could handle her. He would handle her. Better than letting Sam anywhere near her and putting him at risk again.

She could fuck with him all she wanted – literally and figuratively. But protecting his brother was still Dean's number one goal, and he'd do whatever it took to see to that.

Except sleeping with her again. The sex might have been good, but Dean had been around enough women to know that once sex started to become a regular thing, they got ideas. Ideas that Bela should not be having about a guy like him.

That was one complication he definitely didn't need, and one complication he'd make sure he did without.

He hoped.

Here's the first part! I hope you enjoyed it. The second part is in progress, but the speed of it's posting depends largely on my muse. It can be fickle at times, but I do have most of the parts at least briefly plotted out, so that will hopefully help. And, as always, reviews feed the muse as well!

Thanks for reading!