Morganas Army

Bela Talbot cannot remember much of her old life, and what little remains comes to her in brief flashes. Most of it plays out like a narrative in her head, there are very few actual memories. They come to her in flashes; she remembers hiding under her bed, shaking with fear as footsteps approach the door. She remembers the swing set in her garden, and she remembers feeling numb. She remembers the feeling of luxurious silk against her skin and the taste of Champagne. She remembers a Siamese (or was it a Bengal?) and she remembers a name which she knows is not her own.

She remembers pain.

Bela knows that she was human once, but she honestly can't remember what it felt like. Whatever space her humanity had occupied, it had been bled out of her in the pit. Sometimes, when she closes her eyes, she can still smell that stench. It is indescribable but unique, no one can forget the scent of thousands of living corpses.

She only carries one truly vivid memory from hell; the memory of the righteous man.

The righteous man who shed blood in hell.

There is one thing that should be known about humans: no matter how much evil they accuse the supernatural of, it is only a mere fraction of what the humans themselves are capable of.

She was the first victim of the righteous man, which was an honour she would rather have done without. Never had any of the tortures she had been subjected to been this intense. Sometimes, when she is able to think of this moment without throwing up, she thinks that it was here her separation from humanity truly began.

...

When Lilith puts the curse on Bela, she knows that her end is nearing. It isn't even intended as revenge, Lilith is just venting. As Bela's soul is forced back into her semi-decomposed body, she screams. Lilith grabs her by the hair and pulls her close, laughing as the strands beneath her fingertips coil together into hundreds of long, reptilian bodies.

“I am going to let you go,” Lilith had whispers. “I am going to let you go, and I am going to force you to walk the earth for eternity on your own. People shall go in search for you, but the moment your eyes meet theirs, their limbs shall freeze up and they will turn to stone.”

…

Bela does not enjoy living in complete isolation, but she likes the disturbances even less. For reasons she is not quite able to fathom, people start hearing of her existence. Some people tell of a deadly beauty, others of a hideous monster. Some call her the physical embodiment of the Nordic Hel. The most accurate parallel Bela has heard is the comparisons to Medusa. She only hopes she is never visited by someone hunting for her head.

Like it or not, people come looking for her. Mainly men, with the occasional woman, looking for anything from the satisfaction of their own curiosity to attempted murder.

It ends the same every time. No matter how much she tries to resist, Bela can never help but try and sneak a glance.

Bela's stone garden grows.

…

Bela knows that she is not alone; she can hear the other person’s footsteps a mile of. She makes no attempt to hide though, as her island is small, and anyone looking for her will find her eventually. So Bela sits and waits. When the person is about ten meters away, they stop.

“Cut the crap. We both know you can here me.” The voice is that of an American male, and he sounds very agitated. Bela casts her eyes down, and spots a pair of worn out shoes. She hears the man reach for something. “Don't try any tricks. I have a mirror.”

Bela is vaguely interested, no one has thought to bring anything other than knives or guns before. “Oh?”

The man makes no further moves, and Bela can feel herself losing interest. “Did you want anything? I am assuming you came here for a reason.” She turns slightly, not enough for them to risk eye contact, but enough for the stranger to get a glimpse of her face.

She hears a sharp intake of breath. “...Bela?”

Automatically, her head snaps round, and she has to stop herself from focusing any further up than the man’s shoulder. “Do I know you?” she asks. His face scrunches up in confusion, and then suddenly it clicks.

He is The Righteous Man. He has come to get her again.

Except, now that she can look at his face without pain searing up from every point of her body, a different name comes to mind. She tastes it carefully. “...Dean Winchester?”

She knows this man, she realises. Well, knew. He evidently knows her. Some human instinct must have remained in her body, because her eyes dart to his face. The Righteous Man has lowered his guard, holding the mirror by his side.

For an instant, their eyes meet.

Dean doesn't look away as Bela lets out a howl of despair and crumbles to the ground.

…

Bela doesn't do much on her island. Some days, she sits with her feet in the water and stares across the endless sea. Occasionally, she'll climb one of the smaller mountains and stare up at the sky. She'll take turns sitting with her statues. She likes to think that she is keeping them company, though she has no idea if there is any awareness left behind their cold, frozen features.

She sits with Dean the most. She isn't mourning him, but she finds no joy in seeing him like this. Just a cold emptiness. She doesn't dwell on what could have happened if he hadn't been turned to stone (died, died, died).

…

Then one day, everything changes.

She is sitting with Dean, staring up at the sky. One of the snakes in her hair has slithered up to rest on his arm. The mirror in his hand remains, and Bela is surprised by her own reflection. For semi-decomposed monster, she looks remarkably similar to the statues that surround her.

There is a movement behind her, and Bela turns suddenly. She hasn't heard anyone approach, but she can hear someone breathing. She squints, and she sees a girl. Bela casts her eyes down and says nothing, waiting for the stranger to approach.

“Hello,” the girl says. “My name is Charlie. You must be Bela.”

Bela remains silent.

“I'm here looking for someone,” Charlie tells her. “His name is Dean Winchester. About six feet tall, short hair. Have you seen him?”

“I'm afraid you're a tad late,” Bela says. She gestures to the statue behind her.

“Ah,” says Charlie. “Well that's unfortunate.”

Bela chances a glance up, but is careful to keep her eyes away from the girls face. She's quite short, Bela notices, with red hair and casual clothes. She feels uncomfortable, this girl looks nothing like those who usually come to her island. “You shouldn't have come,” Bela tells her. “You can still leave. I won't hurt you.”

Charlie's face softens. “Oh sweetie, you couldn't if you tried. I'm just here to get this guy,” she gestures at Dean, “home. His angel and his brother miss him terribly. Bit stupid, to go on a hunt for one of the most dangerous beings on earth without backup.”

Bela flinches at that.

Charlie seems to notice that she has caused offence. “Oh no, not like that. You know what, I'll be right with you in a second, just let me fix this up. Some space, if you please.”

The snake around Dean's arm retreats to her head, and Bela shuffles away, her eyes still averted. She hears the snap of fingers, and then a thud.

“Son of a bitch!”

Bela starts and almost looks up, but is stopped by a warning from Charlie.

“Careful. Don't want to turn him to stone again,” Charlie says. She snaps her fingers again. “You can look now. I zapped him home.”

Bela does look up, but keeps her eyes firmly on Charlie's forehead.

Charlie tuts. “I told you, you can look me in the eye. I won't go all statue on you. Promise.”

“And why would that be?”

“Oh right, I never did tell you, did I? So, um, I'm kind of an Angel of the lord, of the lord, and I'm sort of immune? Your powers were given to you by hell, only you're still a human of sorts. Well, technically you're a gorgon, but your soul is still in there. And the goodness in me should combat the 'evil' in you. Get it?”

“There's no such thing as Angels,” Bela tells her. “There is no such thing as God.”

No God with any intent of good would have put her through all of this.

“Well, God is still missing, so you are kind of right there. And there aren't many angels left, but some of us survived.”

Bela suddenly feels very tired. “What do you want? Have you come to take my garden away? To kill me?”

“What? No!” Charlie looks vaguely offended. “I might fix some of these people up, but most of them did come here intending to murder, which isn't cool. But yeah, I'm also going to be sticking around a bit, if that's alright? I think you could do with the company. It must get very lonely.”

Bela just nods slowly.

…

Charlie stays with her.

Bela doesn't talk much, but that's okay because Charlie talks enough for both of them. She talks about heaven, and her siblings, and many human things which Bela does not understand. There seems to be no purpose of her conversations, but that is alright.

Bela thinks that Charlie talks so much because she is scared of what might happen if she starts introspection too much.

…

Bela never looks Charlie in the eye.

…

Bela doesn't mind the company, but sometimes she needs to be alone. She has grown used to it, and sometimes it is even a comfort. She likes curling up next to her could-have-been killers and looking up at the drifting clouds. It helps her to stop thinking.

Charlie usually starts looking for her in the evening. Today, she comes a little later, just as the sun is setting. She says nothing, for once, just sits down next to Bela and leans her head against her shoulder.

“It's pretty,” Bela tells her.

She can almost her Charlie's sad smile. “It is.”

There is a question itching inside Bela, a question she has been burning to ask since Charlie's arrival. She lets it slip out. “What are you trying to accomplish here, with me?”

There is a silence, and Bela wonders if Charlie even heard her. But then Charlie sighs, as if she's thinking hard.

“You were brought to out attention very late,” she tells her. “We have been trying to clean up after Lilith for a while, but some things went unreported. Eventually, Castiel found out and word reached Dean, though I am sure that he was unaware that he once knew you. When I saw you, I realised that there was still something human left in you. I am an angel, and it is my job to protect humanity. So I am going to stay here with you for as long as you'll let me.”

Bela can't think of a reply to that. She feels like she wants to cry, but her eyes are too dry. Instead, she presses her head even closer to Charlie, who doesn't pull away even when some of her snakes crawl up to rest in Charlie's hair.

…

That evening, Bela kisses Charlie for the first time. Charlie does not pull away, and she listens when Bela pulls her close and starts telling her about the few things she remembers from being human.

…

“I wish you would look at me”

Bela tilts her head to the side. “I do.”

“You never look me in the eye.”

Bela licks her lip. “I don't want you to go.” It isn't that she doesn't believe what Charlie told her earlier, but she is scared. She has no memory of looking at someone without them turning to stone.

“Bela,” Charlie says. “I am not going anywhere. I promise.”

Bela blinks, then collects herself. She can do this. She moves, and for the briefest of seconds, lets her eyes skim Charlie's. They are bright and green and full of life.

She sees Charlie smile, and braves another glance. Charlie holds her gaze for a long time, a smile spreading on her lips. She leans forward, and gently presses her lips to Bela's. “We'll be okay,” she tells her.