Bela watched him with a a careful weariness from across the table. He looked like hell, ironic phrasing aside. Like he needed a shower and a shave and a change of clothes. Not that she was one to talk right now, in her sloppy house clothes and mussed appearance.
“It’s said that being alone is part of the human condition”, she added, casually, “You should get used to it”, she had, after all. It was flippant, but not aggressive, she wasn’t throwing him out, not yet. He seemed..harmless at best.
She wasn’t one of ‘the others’, not the little winchester merry band. She was an unwanted ally on a good day, a hated enemy on a bad.
“And what makes you think I’m the right person to drop in on? Unless you just don’t know anyone else.”
“I don’t like that part of the ‘human condition,’ then,” Inias mumbled, before looking at her again.
He was here because he, when it came down to it, liked her.
“I…I’m not sure. I don’t think you give yourself enough credit. But…I like being in your presence. I don’t know why.”
“I give myself plenty of credit”, Bela said sharply, standing up, pacing a few strides, anxiously, before turning back, “Being a therapist to a depressed angel is just not part of that”, she ran a hand through her unruly hair, taking in the sight of her living room.
Nothing but pages and pages of nothing. Nothing that could say for certain what she knew to be true.
“Those weren’t…normal dreams, I know.” She murmured quietly, facing away from him. “But they were still just that, dreams.”
He shrugs, sitting down on the couch as well. He feels itchy in his suit, and in his bones. He doesn’t want to upset her, doesn’t want to bring back the memory of the nightmare that was so obviously much more than just a dream.
“I…I couldn’t handle being around the others right now. But I didn’t want to be alone.”
It’s honest. He’s ashamed of what he almost did — almost stayed in that dream world a layer under instead of coming back to the real one in all its failed and fading glory.
Instead of coming home to Adam.
He can only hope Bela understands. He needs someone to, at least.
Bela watched him with a a careful weariness from across the table. He looked like hell, ironic phrasing aside. Like he needed a shower and a shave and a change of clothes. Not that she was one to talk right now, in her sloppy house clothes and mussed appearance.
“It’s said that being alone is part of the human condition”, she added, casually, “You should get used to it”, she had, after all. It was flippant, but not aggressive, she wasn’t throwing him out, not yet. He seemed..harmless at best.
She wasn’t one of ‘the others’, not the little winchester merry band. She was an unwanted ally on a good day, a hated enemy on a bad.
“And what makes you think I’m the right person to drop in on? Unless you just don’t know anyone else.”
“You lot need to be invited?” She blurted out, curiously, wondering if angels, like many other otherworldy beings, were bound by the threshold of a home. Stupid, she shook off the thought, that’s not what he meant. She was just tired, slow thinking, not quite herself.
God, what must she look like right now. Bela shifted her weight uncomfortably, tucking a mussed strand of hair behind one ear with less confidence than the proverbial shy schoolgirl. She was a mess, a sad shadow of herself, weak and damaged and raw and no one, no one ever got to see that.
But he was here, and for once she was too tired to be cruel.
She nodded, dropping her eyes. the gesture not much more save then a small tilt of her chin. She put the gun down, and stepped aside so he could come inside. She redid the lock behind him, and wordlessly turned to walk back to her living room.
Inias chuckled at her first comment. ”No — it’s polite, though, isn’t it?”
He still wasn’t very good at this “human” thing. Bela looked like she hadn’t been sleeping, and really, neither had he. Sleeping was strange, and after the time they’d all spent asleep because of the curse, well…
He entered the apartment and followed her to the living room.
“I take it you been…researching?”
She looked around her, as if only now noticing the stacks of books and handful of, well, scrolls scattered about her table and chairs.
“A bit”, she said lightly, despite it looking like a library had thrown up all over her sitting area. The words hover on her tongue, heavy with meaning, and she bites them down as she circles the room to find one of the few empty spots. She sat down lightly on the couch, and didn’t quite look at him.
“So what are you doing here?”
Even though she knows, in her heart, somehow she knows. And everything in her dreads it.
No, I tend to just let them come to me.
Wonderful.
I hope you weren’t expecting a date.
Sorry luv, you’re not my type. Gin and tonic?
She shook her head quietly, suddenly looking very small for such a tall girl, and very much fourteen. Swallowing her apprehension, she tried to smile a little, it didn’t take.
“Doesn’t really matter though”, she stood up, as the train slid to a stop before them.
“It matters to me.” Chuck stood up next to Abby and looked her in the eye. “There’s not a lot I can say to you. Some part of you knows, right now, how it’s going to end. There’s no changing that. But no matter what you go through, all of the good and more of the bad, I want you to know. I care. You’re my friend Abby. You can judge me all you like. But that’s the truth.”
Abby bit her lip as it began to tremble, and swallowed down frightened tears that pricked at the edges of her eyes nonetheless. She banished them with a few blinks and a deep breath, holding his gaze for as long as she could. He was right, she knew exactly where all of this was going, where it would lead her.
Dogsatthedoorbarkingsnarlingcomingforyouthere’saguninyourlapdoityou’resuchacowardAbby.
She swallows, she breathes. She can be brave.
Abby Talbot faces the tracks as the doors whoosh open, she spares a brief glance over her shoulder at him,
“I don’t have friends.”
And then nothing but the whistle of a southbound train.
Abby shrugged softly, a oddly demure gesture. Her brow creased, “There’s…I don’t remember. Doesn’t matter, really.”
She would go, and she’d never return. From Wales she was only one brief trip back to London before her rather eventful time abroad would begin. It would take her almost six years to return to England, she would run for a long time.
Abby lifted her chin, setting her jaw in delicate determination. The long darkness of the tunnel was spotted by the finally approaching light of the train. She swallowed.
Abby had suddenly gone very stiff again and looking up, Chuck realized why. The train was here. He gave the girl a worried look. “Are you ready for this Abby?”
She shook her head quietly, suddenly looking very small for such a tall girl, and very much fourteen. Swallowing her apprehension, she tried to smile a little, it didn’t take.
“Doesn’t really matter though”, she stood up, as the train slid to a stop before them.
It was hard, keeping it all sorted. She was Abby, and Abby was Bela, but Bela wasn’t Abby. Not really, they weren’t really the same person, not by the name. She knew, sitting in this station somewhere that was nowhere, the paths her life would take. Knew them like school facts, like forgotten memories that no longer seem to belong to you. Knew them..but didn’t feel them. She hadn’t done those things, experienced those places, not yet.
She was still Abigal Talbot, aged fifteen, happily orphaned and already lost. Bela’s someone she will become, in a couple years or three, when that all emcompassing sense of helplessness has begun to pass. It’ll happen when she realizes how dull her university classmates are, how juvenile, or the way men look at her, and how easily a green eyed glance or a swing of leg can be as potent as any drug. Bela’s a predator, Abby was prey, they know this, separate and whole as they were.
Step one, running away.
“Cardiff”, she replied blandly, then adding, in case he didn’t know, which she doubted he would, “It’s in Wales.”
“Cardiff… Huh. And what’s in Cardiff?”
It was more likely that what wasn’t in Cardiff was important to Abby. She was still young. A rabbit. Skiddish and ready to jump. Eventually that ‘fright’ jump would turn into a smooth, controlled ‘fight’ leap. The predatory grace of a cat.
Abby shrugged softly, a oddly demure gesture. Her brow creased, “There’s…I don’t remember. Doesn’t matter, really.”
She would go, and she’d never return. From Wales she was only one brief trip back to London before her rather eventful time abroad would begin. It would take her almost six years to return to England, she would run for a long time.
Abby lifted her chin, setting her jaw in delicate determination. The long darkness of the tunnel was spotted by the finally approaching light of the train. She swallowed.
No need to be so charming on my account.
You practice that line often?
No, I tend to just let them come to me.
I could be convinced.
Oh wonderful.
You’re exactly the person I was hoping to see.
No need to be so charming on my account.
