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tigriswolfTitle: Five Times Bella Talbot Feared for Her Life(And the One Time She Was Right)
Fandom: “Supernatural”
Disclaimer: Bella, Gordon, Bobby, and the Winchester boys aren’t mine; just for fun.
Pairings: none
Warnings: spoilers for everything aired
Rating: PG13
Wordcount: 1646
Point of view: third
Notes: “Thibodaux” is pronounced “Tib A Doe”
More notes: I’ve decided “Bella” is short for “Belinda”
Still more notes: thanks to pheebs1for help with the Brit-speak!
pheebs1for help with the Brit-speak!Also still more notes: I know her name is spelled “Bela” according to the CW, but I am incapable of spelling it that way in the story, sorry.
Six
Mum isn’t here, off with Mr. Gregor, and Bell is wandering the manor at will, peeking into all the forbidden rooms. Victoria is with Carl and won’t be back until tea time. So Bell is alone, in a house full of servants with better things to do than follow her around, and her curiosity is eating her alive.
Stay out of the rooms with shut doors, little poppet, Mum’s told her more than once. There’s no telling what could be hidden back there, in this drafty old place.
Mum’s never been as adventurous as Bell, Dad said before he left on business. Takes after the Talbot’s, she does, his little hellion(Mum fussed at him, but Bell giggled, demanding he swing her around).
Bell goes up the stairs to the third floor, to the east wing, a place she’s never been before. She’s lived in the manor her entire life, but never been here. It’s thrilling and she hums to herself, keeping up her courage.
Something groans behind a door and she turns. A long, dark hallway stretches before her and she slinks backwards a bit. But no one’s there.
“He-hello?” she calls, leaning against the wall.
There’s another noise and she swallows. “Come out now,” she orders imperiously, letting Mum’s example lead her.
The closest door opens by itself and her courage deserts her. Bell screams and whirls, running as fast as she can down the hall, flying down the stairs(it’s a miracle she doesn’t fall and break her neck), and out the manor, pausing for breath only once she’s standing in sunlight.
She never sets foot on the third floor again.
Thirteen
Thibodaux, a stallion Dad bought from the States, is wild and fierce, and Dad would never let Belinda on if she asked. So she doesn’t.
Dad’s in Nice on business and Mum’s traveling Europe with her sister(and Mr. Gregor, but Belinda isn’t supposed to know that and adults need to keep their secrets), so Victoria’s in charge. She’s arranging supper, her attention captivated by Carl’s newest concoction(or possibly something else about Carl, but they’re old, so Belinda doesn’t like thinking about that), and Belinda simply slips out to the stables and watches Thibodaux pace in his stall, snorting and tossing his head. Poor boy is bored out of his mind, she bets.
He’s a gorgeous creature, a blue roan thoroughbred and seventeen hands at the shoulder. Belinda fell in love with him the moment Dad brought him home. Mum called him a nasty beast(she’s never been a fan of anything bigger than a cat), and Dad defended the purchase by saying they’d make a bundle using him as a stud.
Belinda doesn’t care what either of them thinks; she just wants to ride him.
She clucks at him, holding out half an apple; he turns his head to face her and pauses. “C’mon, pretty boy,” she croons and he steps closer, ears flicking. He lips at the apple before taking it and she touches his jaw, then along his neck. “Such a good boy,” she says, hooking the halter around his head.
He pulls back, yanking the lead rope out of her hand. She doesn’t flinch because she saw the motion coming. He’s trying to intimidate her, but she’s not afraid.
“Now,” she says, “that wasn’t nice, was it, boy?”
He watches her for a moment and she stands still. She’s got all day.
“Should I come back tomorrow, I wonder,” she muses aloud, keeping her voice soft, soothing. “Or would you prefer to get out of this stall now?”
Thibodaux steps forward again, nosing for more apple. She offers him a baby carrot instead. He takes it and she holds out another, grabbing for the dangling rope when he’s distracted. He looks at her, taking her measure.
“You don’t scare me, boyo,” she says, holding out a third carrot and sliding back the lock on the stall. “Don’t you wanna go riding?”
He follows her out and she crossties him in the aisle, tacking him up swiftly. He stands still for it, ears flicking around. She smiles and laughs and croons little lullabies to him, patting his shoulder. “You’re such a gorgeous lad,” Belinda says. “So beautiful and all mine.”
The large stallion nudges her and she giggles. “I know,” she murmurs, cinching the saddle tight. “You wanna run.” She slides his bridle on and unhooks the halter. “So do I.”
He follows her to the outside arena with ease, stepping lively. He wants to run. She steps into the stirrup and hops, swinging a leg over. She feels right, settling on the saddle. She was born to ride this horse.
Belinda clucks to him and they start off slow, as she grows used to his movements. He’s got a smooth gait, the smoothest she’s ever ridden. She could ride him forever.
But then he takes off, rocketing around the arena, going faster and faster, from a trot to a canter to a gallop—entering the corner, he’s flat-out running and she knows there is no way she can stay on.
So she decides to jump and feels her body crack as she hits the ground, not expecting to ever wake up.
Seventeen
“Belinda Alexandra Talbot,” Mum hisses from the passenger seat. “How dare you do this to your father and me?”
“Mum, please,” Bella says, turning onto the motorway that leads home. “I’ve just had the worst night of my life; can’t we do this later?”
How could he turn away from her? Pretend they’d never been anything to each other?
“No, we cannot,” Mum replies, voice full of anger. “You… Bell. How could you?”
“I didn’t mean to.” Bella can’t hold back the tears that bubble up in her voice. “He was so suave, Mum, so beautiful. He promised we’d be together forever.” He lied. How could he lie to her?
“So you slept with him.” There is no understanding in the words, no forgiveness. Bella thinks she may have finally lost her mother forever.
“Mum, please,” she repeats, looking away from the road. “I didn’t…” She can’t tell her mother she’s pregnant. Not with Jordan’s baby. She just can’t.
The turn is sharp; even Bella is unsure if she meant to flip the car or not. When she wakes up, Mum’s battered but alive. The babe that had been in Bella’s womb, however, didn’t make it.
Twenty-two
She’s in the American south, somewhere just east of Biloxi. A major prize is hiding in a haunted house; she could make millions off it. She just needs to find it.
The charm’s in the attic, if her research is correct, which of course it is. She wouldn’t be doing this if she weren’t absolutely sure. She goes in the daytime, because the ghost only materializes at night. It shouldn’t take long, but the attic door swings closed behind her, locking from the outside. She stares at the door, tries the knob, pulls out her lock-picking kit, but nothing works. The knob won’t budge.
Bloody hell, she’s trapped.
She holds off the panic by pulling out her cellphone, but—of course—there’s no signal. She bangs on the door for a few minutes, cursing under her breath. How could her first acquisition have gone wrong already? It’s not even close to sundown!
Bella leans against the door, taking a deep breath. Losing her head won’t help her—will, in fact, be nothing but a hindrance. She can find a way out. She will.
Once she gains her composure, she examines every inch of every wall in the attic, finding the charm within minutes. She pockets it and keeps going. There are nine hours till dark and she has to find a way out before then, otherwise…
No. She will find a way out. She will.
By a quarter todusk she’s frantic and crying, the walls closing in on her and the old house groaning. Her hands are aching, the skin of her palms and knuckles torn. She’s used every bullet of her gun firing at the doorknob and dulled the blade of her knife.
There is no way out.
There’s no way out.
Bella leans her back against the far wall and sinks down, staring at the door. She closes her eyes and remembers the manor, Mum and Dad, those years as a little girl before it all went to Hell.
There’s no way out of this damned house with its bloody ghost, but she’s not going to die whimpering like a helpless child. She’s a woman grown, a woman with accomplishments, even if they mean nothing now.
She falls asleep because she’s never been so exhausted and wakes to a gruff old man shaking her, calling her a damned fool girl. She’s so happy, she kisses him full on the mouth.
Twenty-five
“Listen to my voice,” he says, “and tell me if I’m serious.”
He is, and she’s never been so terrified.
She swallows, breathes, drives. There has to be a way to convince him she’s worth more alive.
There has to be.
Twenty-seven
“I warned you, Bella.” His voice is silky-smooth and so cold it makes her shiver.
“What are you doing, Dean?” she asks, eyes on his gun, that same one from the first time they truly met, in her Queens flat. “You’re not a killer.”
She’s been in this safehouse for a week; how could he have found her? No one knows the location…
“You’re a threat,” he answers simply. Like it’s obvious. “You sell yourself to the highest bidder, and you know too much. It can’t be allowed.”
“Dean, please,” she tries, hunching in on herself. “Don’t do this.” She lets her eyes tear, trying the helpless woman card; it’s worked before. “I don’t… I’m not ready to die.”
His face is pitiless. “You’ve betrayed us before.”
She closes her eyes and doesn’t bother to pray.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-09 08:54 am (UTC)Your icon is awesome. My best friend at college had a sticker similar to that on the back of her notebook computer, with the caption "I don't bite. Much." I miss her.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-09 02:25 pm (UTC)I love snakes.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-09 09:52 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-09 02:26 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-09 03:45 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-09 07:41 pm (UTC)i'm with dean there...
Date: 2008-01-09 04:02 pm (UTC)only question i have is...is it the same dean we know or is it someone else...post deal...
you really MUST indulge your fans and answer that question...
;>
Re: i'm with dean there...
Date: 2008-01-09 07:42 pm (UTC)Thank you for reading!
(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-09 04:56 pm (UTC)also: Funny, 'cause I'm writing a Bela fic right now which involves horses as well.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-09 07:43 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-09 05:00 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-09 07:43 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-09 05:34 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-09 07:43 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-09 11:02 pm (UTC)She falls asleep because she’s never been so exhausted and wakes to a gruff old man shaking her, calling her a damned fool girl. She’s so happy, she kisses him full on the mouth.
Please tell me this is Bobby?
(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-10 02:43 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-10 02:43 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-10 02:21 am (UTC)♥
(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-10 02:43 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-10 02:57 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-10 05:20 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-10 09:40 pm (UTC)And the gruff old guy in "twenty-two" was Bobby? I thought so. Awesome. The mental image I get is hilarious. The look on Bobby's face...lol.
I love the last two. Oooo, it always makes me tingly when Dean goes all cold and fatal like that. SO HOT. I really hope that's how it turns out. :makes it personal canon: I like the details on the gun, it's the same one as when they first met. Bela doesn't know shit about Dean. "not a killer"? Seriously? And the "helpless woman card"? That's laughable. I can hardly see it working on Dean. She shot Sam, Sam was almost killed b/c of her thieving (what with the bad luck and those other hunters), set Gordon on them...it's surprising she survived that long.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-11 03:01 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-21 02:04 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-21 02:19 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-25 03:57 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-22 05:43 am (UTC)Do you ride, by any chance? You seem to use horses in a few fics and they're always written so wonderfully.
I also like the bit about her treasure hunt and how things don't go quite as planned.
Wonderful story.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-22 08:08 pm (UTC)Yes, I love horses. They are awesome. Cantering is one of the bestest things EVER.