A/N: Thank you to my beta :) This was an entry for the 'Women of Supernatural ficathon', the prompt being: Missing scene from 3.15. So. Bela gives the gun to Crowley instead of Lilith. She has her reasons. Enjoy and remember, reviews are love. Sometimes hate, but mostly, love.

Minutes to Midnight

Hate is a two way street.

She can't help but be surprised when she glances at the caller ID. Holding the phone in her hands, staring at the flashing screen, she considers ignoring the call. But then again, this was the Dean Winchester calling. Chances were, he desperately needed something only she could get him, and Bela knows exactly what her answer is going to be. She almost laughs out loud as she imagines his frustration with her-the angry scowl, the snap of the phone, the son of a bitch.

''Hello Dean.''


She holds a hand under the open tap, relishing the gentle burn of hot water. There is something about floating in a hot bath that always manages to make her feel like she is the only person in the world. Like she could sink under the warmth and remain there forever, hidden. Safe.

Like she didn't have weeks to live.

She turns off the tap and is about to lose the silk robe when she catches movement just beyond her field of vision. She feels her body tense, ready for attack. She immediately curses herself for not having anything at hand with which to defend herself. In all her preparations, she had forgotten the world she inhabited.

She turns and is faced with a tall, well dressed man leaning against her sink.

''Please,'' he says, motioning towards the tub. ''Don't mind me.''

She knows exactly what he is. And she knows because she has learned how to tell, even without the black eyed give away. A flitting thought-she'd make a bloody good hunter. But some occupations paid better.

''Now really isn't a good time.'' She says with a tight smile.

''I think this is exactly the right time, considering how little of it you have left.''

She pulls the robe tighter around her. Under his gaze she feels naked and vulnerable. Scared. But she'll be damned if she is going to show it.


The deal is simple. Her soul for the Colt.


Silene Capensis, also known as 'Dream Root', is a plant native to South Africa, where it's regarded by the Xhosa people as a sacred plant.

The Winchesters, like the Dream Root now on her passenger's seat, are not that hard to find, if you know where to look. And Bela knows.

As she drives, she wonders what excuse she'll feed them as to why she changed her mind. She ponders for a moment, changing into a skirt and a push-up bra and laughs.

She decides to stick with good old cunning and lies instead.


Taking the Colt is so easy, she almost feels guilty. Almost, because thieves with consciences don't get rich.

She throws the bundle into her car, eager to get home. She has calls to make, precautions to take, and it's not like anyone will be sticking around to thank her for her efforts anyway. Ungrateful bastards.

She wishes she could see his face, though, when he opens the safe. The angry scowl, the kick of a chair, the son of a bitch.


Agent Henricksen is quite pleased with her help, although she regrets having to leave her Colorado home behind. It had a nice garden, Siam's favourite. She wonders if the cat resents her for the abandonment. She will pick him up from the shelter when this is all done with. They'll stay in California for a while, to make it up to him. Bela knows how much Siam hates the rain.

This time, it's Bela who calls the Dean Winchester. He's not pleased. Not at all.


'The Winchesters are out.' He says.

She can't pretend to be surprised. From what she'd heard, the brothers had a reputation for being slippery little buggers.

'I can't see how that's my problem.' She shrugs, dipping her hand into her bag. 'I did what you asked.' She dangles the gun from her fingers as if it wasn't the key to her freedom. But the demon shakes his head.

'I've changed my mind. That's not enough anymore.'

The grip on the gun tightens. She steadies her aim. He's not taking this from her, not now.

'That was the deal.'

'Deals change, Abby.' Her old name throws her off balance a little. But the gun remains in place. He moves towards her till the gun's muzzle is pressed against his shirt. 'You don't have to pretend around me. I see you for who you really are. A desperate, scared little girl, looking for a way out.' He strokes her cheek gently and she feels disgusted. 'You don't wanna go to Hell. You remember what it was like, don't you?'

She does remember. Hot, whiskey breath on her neck. Rough, cold hands under her shirt. Oh, she remembers.

"You can kill me if you want.'' He says. "But that will only get you the number one spot on Lilith's naughty list, and trust me, it's not a list you wanna be on."

She doesn't protest when he slips the gun from her grasp, because this scared little girl will do anything for a way out.


Except this deal is not so simple. Sam Winchester's life for her soul.


Dean Winchester finds her before she can find him. His frantic search scatters expensive clothes everywhere.

What really gets her though, is that he knows. He brings it all back, in that careless way of his; with that fucking self righteousness that he doesn't really deserve. As if he's the only one who has it rough. And she wants to kick, she wants to scream. She wants to cry.

She wants him to shoot her right there and then, but he's too spineless to pull the trigger.

But she won't be. She knows that to kill Sam she'll have to kill Dean too.


When she pulls back the covers she knows it's over, she knows she's going to hell because it's too late. No more deals, no more last minute chances.

He calls her to gloat, because that's just the kind of chap he is. And the weight is too much for her and she finally breaks down.

She cries. She cries for the first time in years. She cries because she needs help from a man that despises her. She cries because she knows she's not going to get it. She cries because Siam is going to need a new home after all.

She cries because she's alone.

She hears the howling coming for her, feels the weight of the gun in her hands.

She dismisses the thought almost immediately. She didn't suffer through so much to go out with a bullet in her brain. She'll face the dogs. Abby might have been a coward, but Bela Talbot certainly wasn't.