Chapter Text
Bela woke screaming. Shrieks of terror echoed in the sterile room. Her screams tapered off, till she was gasping for air, chest heaving up and down in panic. Aside from the mattress she was laying on, nothing else was in the room. Nothing was attacking her. Bela wasn’t sure if this was a comforting or distressing turn of events.
No windows.
Two doors.
Paneled white walls that radiated a pale, soothing, blue light.
This was not what Bela Talbot ever expected any part of hell to look like.
Last thing that Bela could recall from before waking in this new place was the hellhound
One of the doors opened, and a dark skinned woman stepped in. Hair pulled back, and sporting a sensible but flattering red dress, she offered Bela a comforting smile. “Please don’t be alarmed. You are perfectly safe. No one will harm you. I am Dr. Verbena Beeks. If you don't mind, there are a few questions I’d like to ask you.”
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Sunlight glistened across car hoods sprinkled with a late morning dew. Up from the main road a car turned onto what could be considered the driveway to Bobby’s home. Unlike the rest of the vehicles around, this one was new. The car pulled to a stop and a woman stepped out, leaving a passenger curled up in the back-seat.
The strange woman walked up to the front door. Glancing back at the car, and her passenger, she braced for the inevitable; and pounded on the door.
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Dean peeked through the side window at the woman currently pounding at the door. A decade younger and she’d have been one hell of an asian dish. She had dark hair pulled neatly back, and expressive eyes. Over all, her entire appearance was very neat and well put together. Dean opened the door, and lounged there with a smirk firmly in place. He had no clue who this was, but it wasn’t like Dean to let a little thing like that get in the way of anything. Besides, either this chick was going to be useful, or she was going to get the hell out of here… Dean had bigger concerns at the moment. “Yo, careful you might knock the fucking house down at the rate you’re going.”
The woman gave an exasperated sigh. “You’re Dean Winchester, right?”
“That’s me, and you are?”
“An old friend of Bobby’s. Tamlyn Matsuda.” Tamlyn looked Dean up and down. “The other day Bobby sent out a hunter BOLO for Bela Talbot--”
“Yeah,” before Tamlyn could continue, Dean interrupted her, “it’s been called off on account of the bitch dying.”
Tamlyn raised a brow. “Why was she needed?”
“Look, I could give a rat’s ass about that bitch. She stole something, and that’s what we wanted back. Bela got what was coming to her.” When Tamlyn pulled the Colt from her bag and held it up for him to see, Dean couldn’t believe his eyes. “Wait, you’re the buyer?”
Tamlyn motioned with the weapon towards her car, someone in the backseat could clearly be seen. Though, the person was laying down, Dean could tell that it was a woman. “You want the Colt,” Tamlyn explained. “My friend needs help.”
“So, what’s stopping me from sucker punching you and taking the Colt back instead?”
“Absolutely nothing, but you won’t and I’m not. I have no interest in your father’s gun. Coming here is a courtesy.” As if to prove a point, Tamlyn held the Colt out for Dean to take; which he obliged. Safety checked, the weapon was quickly stowed in the band of Dean’s jeans.
Beer in hand, Bobby wandered up behind Dean, “Damnit Tammy!” The older man brushed past Dean and pulled Tamlyn into a hug. “What in the hell are you doing here?”
“Bobby, it’s been ages!” Tamlyn returned the hug. “Doing a couple of things, but I can’t stay long. Fate is a funny thing. I had a strange vision dream, and followed the clues from it. My visions led me to this seedy little motel, where I ran across a very interesting someone that had just been attacked by a dog.”
Bobby held Tamlyn at arm’s length, then glanced at the car before letting her go. His expression darkened. “Shit. Is that who I think it is in there?”
“It might be. Remember all the rumors and whispers about the Traveler?”
“Dean, go get Sammy. Now.”
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“So, how in the hell is Bela still breathing? She was supposed to be puppy-chow by now.” Dean paced the living room and watched the sleeping form of Bela Talbot on the sofa. “And what the fuck is this Traveler thing?” Bela, for her part, had been more than unresponsive while being brought in. Instead of her usual state of sexy impeccableness, Bela was in a loose black shirt and baggy jeans. A back part of Dean’s mind happily registered that she was also braless. As she’d been moved, Dean had felt several bandages beneath the uncharacteristic clothes; a brace was present both on right wrist and left leg with visible bandaged defensive wounds on the left wrist.
Before either woman entered the house, Dean had made sure they were sprinkled with holy water and passed the silver test to be on the safe side. It was coming down to the wire before his contract was up, and last thing Dean wanted was to be ganked prematurely.
“Traveler stories are few and far between. Most hunters don’t even bother with him because they think it’s pure horseshit.” Bobby took a swig from his beer. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Sam studying Bela. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the younger Winchester was looking for a way to find out what happened to keep Bela alive so that the same could be done for Dean. “There are years between Traveler stories. Worse, this guy generally doesn’t stick around very long. Trying to confirm these stories is worse than finding a needle in a haystack, blindfolded with your hands tied behind your back.
“It’s kooky stuff too. Like, some alien-crazy old grandpa going off the rails and telling his grandson to not do drugs, then gives the kid a damn list of rock stars who die of overdoses in the next couple of years… or a kid with down syndrome using CPR techniques to save the life of his nephew, years before CPR was even a thing.”
Tamlyn wandered into the living from the kitchen with a tray. On the tray was a small but functional and clean tea pot and a set of cups with tea bags in them, as well as a few more bottles of beer. There was also a plate with several cold sandwiches. The beer was distributed to the men. Once Tamlyn had settled into a seat on the sofa and arranged Bela’s head in her lap, Tamlyn started to steep the cups to brew two teas.
“Tammy here,” Bobby used his half empty beer bottle to point at the asian woman, “is the only reason I give credence to any Traveler tale. From what she says, the guy saved her life back in the eighties. The gist is the same in all of the stories though, Traveler swaps places with someone close to the problem, sets things right, and then the original person comes back with none the wiser.”
“So, some guy randomly shows up and saves people?” Starting to sound a little irritated at the distraction towards planning how to save his brother, Sam nearly growled his next question, "and that's why Bela is still alive?"
"What's the catch, what's in it for him? Bela had to have paid something. No one ever does something like that with no strings attached." Dean sauntered over to the sofa and planted his ass on the arm rest.
Bela stirred in Tamlyn's lap, her eyes fluttered open then rapidly closed again tightly to block out the world around her. The brunette tried to hunker further under the blanket. A low pained whine escaped Bela's lips. "Morning Sunshine," Tamlyn traced a line from Bela's brow down to her jaw.
"Tamlyn?" Bela's voice was raw.
"It's me." Pointedly ignoring the looks she was getting from the Winchester brothers, Tamlyn kept stroking the side of Bela's face in an attempt to soothe her. "Figured that was you in there. Has Al contacted you yet? I haven’t felt his presence, but I remember he didn’t like it that I could sense him.”
Bela chuckled, then winced. “He hated it, creeped him out big time...”
“Seen a mirror yet?” Tamlyn asked, then frowned when the answer was a head shake. "Your aura is a woman called Bela Talbot, she's not a very nice or honest person. Bela was supposed to die last night in an attack. We are in South Dakota. The three gentlemen in the room with us are Sam and Dean Winchester and Robert 'Bobby' Singer. They’re good guys.”
Bela grimaced when Tamlyn helped her sit up. It didn’t help that Bela looked more than a little green around the gills, and was probably well on her way to tossing her cookies. “When?”
“When?” Dean repeated the question in disbelief. The entire situation was ludicrous. “It’s about nine in the morning. That a good enough when for you?”
Rubbing her temple, Bela sighed in annoyance at the attitude being tossed her way. “Not really. The year?” She murmured a quiet thanks when Tamlyn insisted that she at least drink some tea. It would help settle her stomach.
“2008,” Sam spoke up helpfully and was rewarded with a quiet 'bitch' from Dean.
"That explains some things." Bela raked a hand through her hair. Carefully she studied the three men in the room. "Mr. Singer, a word with you, in private, please?"