Bela Talbot (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
enjoythe_ride) wrote2010-01-02 01:32 am
enjoythe_ride) wrote2010-01-02 01:32 am
[TM] Write about something old, something new, or something borrowed.
[Set in ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
whatyou_wanted. Dean is ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ohgodkillme_now and used with permission.]
She liked the idea of having history in her hands.
It wasn’t about the technology or the thrill. It certainly wasn’t about the money, though that didn’t hurt. It was about what she was holding in her hand when she picked up whatever object happened to be requested of her. In fact, they stopped being objects of real historical merit a long time ago. Just certain things from different time periods, whether it be for her own personal collection and stash, or for a client. She liked holding them in her hand and knowing for herself, if nothing else, that this was there when Marie Antoinette lost her head, or the Berlin wall fell, or whatever else may have happened. That feeling was a thrill in and of itself, and she could say that she was there as well, and that only added to the power.
She was starting to get a kick out of being chased as well. She had first run into Dean just outside Woodstock, 1969. Part of visiting these other times, at least in her opinion, was immersing yourself in the culture—how they dressed, what they ate, and in the case of Woodstock, what they were on. She wasn’t an idiot, she wasn’t completely out of her mind, but she was still flying a little high when she stumbled out of the tent and towards one of the nearby fires and right into someone with tall broad shoulders and a friendly smile.
“Easy there, sweetheart.” His hands came up to brace her waist. “Seems like you still’re confusing up for down.”
“Mmm,” she said with a bit of a laugh. “But that’s not all bad for me then, is it?”
“Depends,” he said just as her hands moved down his arms and felt the smooth leather of the vortex manipulator under the loose shirt he was wearing. He seemed to know it as soon as she did, but she didn’t back away. Not yet. “There a name to go with that pretty face?”
She just smirked as she pushed away, starting to back away from him slowly. “Darling, I think you already know.”
She was surprised she actually got as far as she did. She didn’t expect the whole ‘slipping into a crowded tent, then jumping to another time’ gag to actually work, and between the narcotics in her system and the bouncing around of traveling through the vortex she was laid up in 3035 Barcelona for longer than she would have liked, but by the time Dean caught up with her again, she was much more aware and able to prolong the dance just a little bit longer.
“And what are my crimes?” she asked as they held each other at gunpoint, standing in the middle of her hotel room just outside Madrid. “Exactly. As far as I know, I haven’t broken any of the time laws.”
“You stole from us.”
“I stole from you? Or I stole from the people you work for?” She raised an eyebrow back at him before giving him a bit of a smirk. “Because believe me, Dean—there is a difference.”
“Funny. I’m thinkin’ not.”
“Your father’s John Winchester, yeah?” She had done her research while she was recovering, and she wasn’t going to let something like the Time Agency chase her without holding at least some of the cards. “Check back with me after your father’s retired. Trust me, sweetie. There’s a difference.”
“Won’t have the chance for that, Bela,” he smirked over the edge of his gun. “You’ll be rotting in a hole somewhere.”
She just gave him a cat-like grin, before continuing to back her way off the balcony. “Honey. You have to actually catch me first.”
As far as she knew, that was the long and short of it. She wasn’t stealing anything of relevance, she wasn’t altering history. She wasn’t even causing that much trouble. They were just pissed because she was using their tech.
Or at least, that was how she saw it at the time. It wasn’t until later that she started to see what Zachariah was doing. That he had his own agenda, and she was getting in the way. She wasn’t sure how or why, but he didn’t want her as a player on the field. Considering how carefully he was playing this game, he probably knew something about her future that she didn’t, but she was sure of the fact that she wasn’t looking to play any games. She wanted to get off his radar and fast, but it wasn’t until something he wanted fell into her hands that she realized how deep Zachariah was digging.
Dean caught up with her in Spain again—different year and Zaragoza instead of Madrid, but same circumstances. She was feeling a bit more ragged this time around too. He was coming at her from all sides, but she wasn’t giving this thing to him. Not without a fight and not without stashing it away somewhere where he couldn’t find it.
“Where’s the tech?”
“Long gone. I don’t even know where it is anymore.” Retcon—brilliant invention, that.
“I’m not leaving without that—”
“Yes, you will,” she said softly. “Because I’m not lying when I said I don’t remember, Dean.” His eyes widened when he realized what she meant, and his eyes left her, darting around the room to see where she could have hidden it. “Oh, come now, you know me better than that. I’m not that daft.”
“I can’t go back without that tech, Bela.”
“Yes, you can,” she said softly. “Because you’re going back with me.”
“Well, that was a given,” Dean snorted. “But without that—”
“Don’t tell them the truth. Tell them I just refused to tell you and let them try and get it out of me.”
“Shit, do you know what you’re volunteering yourself for? They’ll tear you apart.” He watched the look on her face for a moment, his gun lowering just a touch as he tried to get a better read on her. “What do you know that I don’t?”
“Trust me, Dean,” she sighed softly. “I wish I didn’t know.”
1029 words
whatyou_wanted. Dean is ohgodkillme_now and used with permission.]She liked the idea of having history in her hands.
It wasn’t about the technology or the thrill. It certainly wasn’t about the money, though that didn’t hurt. It was about what she was holding in her hand when she picked up whatever object happened to be requested of her. In fact, they stopped being objects of real historical merit a long time ago. Just certain things from different time periods, whether it be for her own personal collection and stash, or for a client. She liked holding them in her hand and knowing for herself, if nothing else, that this was there when Marie Antoinette lost her head, or the Berlin wall fell, or whatever else may have happened. That feeling was a thrill in and of itself, and she could say that she was there as well, and that only added to the power.
She was starting to get a kick out of being chased as well. She had first run into Dean just outside Woodstock, 1969. Part of visiting these other times, at least in her opinion, was immersing yourself in the culture—how they dressed, what they ate, and in the case of Woodstock, what they were on. She wasn’t an idiot, she wasn’t completely out of her mind, but she was still flying a little high when she stumbled out of the tent and towards one of the nearby fires and right into someone with tall broad shoulders and a friendly smile.
“Easy there, sweetheart.” His hands came up to brace her waist. “Seems like you still’re confusing up for down.”
“Mmm,” she said with a bit of a laugh. “But that’s not all bad for me then, is it?”
“Depends,” he said just as her hands moved down his arms and felt the smooth leather of the vortex manipulator under the loose shirt he was wearing. He seemed to know it as soon as she did, but she didn’t back away. Not yet. “There a name to go with that pretty face?”
She just smirked as she pushed away, starting to back away from him slowly. “Darling, I think you already know.”
She was surprised she actually got as far as she did. She didn’t expect the whole ‘slipping into a crowded tent, then jumping to another time’ gag to actually work, and between the narcotics in her system and the bouncing around of traveling through the vortex she was laid up in 3035 Barcelona for longer than she would have liked, but by the time Dean caught up with her again, she was much more aware and able to prolong the dance just a little bit longer.
“And what are my crimes?” she asked as they held each other at gunpoint, standing in the middle of her hotel room just outside Madrid. “Exactly. As far as I know, I haven’t broken any of the time laws.”
“You stole from us.”
“I stole from you? Or I stole from the people you work for?” She raised an eyebrow back at him before giving him a bit of a smirk. “Because believe me, Dean—there is a difference.”
“Funny. I’m thinkin’ not.”
“Your father’s John Winchester, yeah?” She had done her research while she was recovering, and she wasn’t going to let something like the Time Agency chase her without holding at least some of the cards. “Check back with me after your father’s retired. Trust me, sweetie. There’s a difference.”
“Won’t have the chance for that, Bela,” he smirked over the edge of his gun. “You’ll be rotting in a hole somewhere.”
She just gave him a cat-like grin, before continuing to back her way off the balcony. “Honey. You have to actually catch me first.”
As far as she knew, that was the long and short of it. She wasn’t stealing anything of relevance, she wasn’t altering history. She wasn’t even causing that much trouble. They were just pissed because she was using their tech.
Or at least, that was how she saw it at the time. It wasn’t until later that she started to see what Zachariah was doing. That he had his own agenda, and she was getting in the way. She wasn’t sure how or why, but he didn’t want her as a player on the field. Considering how carefully he was playing this game, he probably knew something about her future that she didn’t, but she was sure of the fact that she wasn’t looking to play any games. She wanted to get off his radar and fast, but it wasn’t until something he wanted fell into her hands that she realized how deep Zachariah was digging.
Dean caught up with her in Spain again—different year and Zaragoza instead of Madrid, but same circumstances. She was feeling a bit more ragged this time around too. He was coming at her from all sides, but she wasn’t giving this thing to him. Not without a fight and not without stashing it away somewhere where he couldn’t find it.
“Where’s the tech?”
“Long gone. I don’t even know where it is anymore.” Retcon—brilliant invention, that.
“I’m not leaving without that—”
“Yes, you will,” she said softly. “Because I’m not lying when I said I don’t remember, Dean.” His eyes widened when he realized what she meant, and his eyes left her, darting around the room to see where she could have hidden it. “Oh, come now, you know me better than that. I’m not that daft.”
“I can’t go back without that tech, Bela.”
“Yes, you can,” she said softly. “Because you’re going back with me.”
“Well, that was a given,” Dean snorted. “But without that—”
“Don’t tell them the truth. Tell them I just refused to tell you and let them try and get it out of me.”
“Shit, do you know what you’re volunteering yourself for? They’ll tear you apart.” He watched the look on her face for a moment, his gun lowering just a touch as he tried to get a better read on her. “What do you know that I don’t?”
“Trust me, Dean,” she sighed softly. “I wish I didn’t know.”
1029 words