Fifteen – Villain, Meet Anti-Hero

This bitch is twisted. her?

Meg questioned her own sanity as she was held in a Devil's trap, with shackles for added measure and humiliation. The chains had etchings into them, preventing her from snapping them so easily. Not that it would get her far—she still had the trap to break through.

She hadn't been knocked unconscious when she was taken from Jody Mills' house. Rather, she was strong-armed by a still-possessed Dean Winchester, and they and the British bitch left out the back door. No fancy teleportation. Meg was disappointed in that.

At some point, Meg realized the British bitch was enlisting the help of a witch, or she was just that powerful. At one point, Meg had been magically blind long enough to not know where she was until the spell was lifted off her eyes. When she got her vision back, she remained stuck in the trap, with shackles.

Meg's hairs rose on her arms. She sensed the two watching her stew in her prison.

"If you think I'm gonna tell you anything, there's nothing to tell," she called to the dark. She guessed she was holed up in some sort of basement dungeon, judging by the lack of light. Though, the dark was no challenge for her demonic vision. She could see through the black just fine. They should know better. Demons don't fear the dark, we live in it.

"Oh, I don't expect you to," came the accented lilt. Meg squinted as the Brit from earlier came into view, with Not Dean at her side like an obedient bitch. Though she could prominently see their true faces, she could still take in the features of the meat suits they occupied. "You're not here for interrogation, you're here for leverage."

Meg scoffed. "Leverage." She rolled her tongue in her mouth. "Hate to break it to you, Mary Poppins, but, ah, I hold no value to those hunters, or the angel."

"Cut the crap, I know about your last antics with the Winchesters, which resulted in you landing somewhere not-so-nice." The Brit smirked. "You've had all the opportunity in the world to turn your back on them and slaughter them where they stand. But you haven't. Don't lie to yourself, Meg. You're getting all gooey soft inside, bleh." She made a face of disgust.

Meg cocked her head. "Don't try and manipulate me, sweetheart. That's my skillset."

"She's just a waste of air," said Not Dean. "Why can't I just kill her and dump her corpse someplace? I could have let her burn in the fire!"

The Brit patted Not Dean's stubbled cheek. "It takes the fun out of the game I'm playing, darling. If you kill her, I'll kill you, therefore killing Dean Winchester. I want them all in the same room as I knock them down, one by one."

Meg folded her arms. "Sounds like a piss-poor game-plan, sister. Once they get Dean-o back, your ass is grass. It might be grass now since they got Sam."

Not Dean rolled up one of his sleeves. Meg seethed inside. She recognized the brand on his forearm; it was one she had used way back when she had possessed Sam. As long as that brand wasn't broken, consider Not-Dean the permanent resident of that meat suit. The only cure for that was to break it, and that required a rather hot touch of a burn.

"They won't live long enough to break him out." The Brit held her head high. "Guess this is the part where I introduce myself. Bela Talbot," she bowed, "future demon to wipe out the entire hunter population. Eventual future Queen of Hell."

Meg rolled her eyes. The arrogance oozed off the woman before her, reminding her of Crowley. "Props to your high aspirations, but, ah, they won't happen." She shifted her weight around a bit.

"I've got a lot of tricks up my sleeves."

"What? Pirating witchy magic?"

"Oh, no, that's pure talent. Got taught by one of the best witches in the world, a fiery redhead by the name of Rowena. Haven't really seen her for a while now. Guess that means I've outgrown her."

"I don't remember asking to be subjected to boring villain monologuing."

Bela quirked her mouth into a frown. "I should really send you to the Empty. You'll definitely never crawl out of that. I've heard it's the worst of the worst, even worse than Hell, and I never thought there was such a place worse than Hell."

"You know, if I wasn't going through my anti-hero story arc...I would totally do a dynamic duo." Meg sighed heavily. "Unfortunately, I've been converted away from my devious ways."

Bela looked to Not Dean. "Assemble the troops. You find them, bring them to me, dead or alive. Save some for me, don't hog all the fun."

Not Dean nodded and skulked off. Meg picked at her shackles, which rattled loudly in her ears.

Meg had to scoff. "'Assemble the troops'?" It made her wonder just how many "troops" Bela Talbot had working for her. "For the big bad, you sure are...not intimidating," Meg drawled. She noticed Bela's eye twitch. "Honestly? Crowley has me feeling the need to shit myself more than you do." As much as the chains allowed her, Meg walked to the furthest point of the circle, hitting the invisible barrier. "You're in way over your head, Mary Poppins."


Meg nearly hit the ground after Bela's hand connected with her face. She rubbed her cheek. Bela's nostrils were flaring, her ears were practically fuming with smoke.

"Don't strain yourself."

"You're going to wish you were back in whatever hole you were found in," Bela told her darkly.

"Well, come on," Meg backed in towards the center of the circle, "prove it."

Bela rolled her head. "As much as you irk me, I can't waste my energy on you. It's not the right time. For now," Meg started to feel a heaviness over her, "I'll do us both a favor and put you under."

Meg collapsed in an unconscious heap on the floor.

**For those of you who actually guessed Bela Talbot from early on, you go. Seriously. Whether it was just the prospect of her or you genuinely thought I was leading you in that direction, you still go.

So, yes, Bela Talbot is a demon. Yes, she festered in Hell. Yes, she got taught a few magic lessons via Rowena. I wanted Bela to not be a run-of-the-mill demon here, I wanted her to be a force to contend with.**

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