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She ends up in his arms by the end of the night.
Sam is entwined with her, legs tangling and fingers interlocked and chest pressed close. He's got his eyes closed and he's breathing heavily but regularly, excited but comfortable. She's the exact opposite.
Bela has had her fair share of flings since blossoming into womanhood. Some men, some women, sometimes both at the same time. But those were always flings, always just for fun. Her bed mates were gone within a day, sometimes using the shower, other times fleeing in the early hours of the morning. And she doesn't mind. Better that than having to open up and be emotionally vulnerable to them.
But Sam wasn't a bed mate.
Sam was kind and gentle to her, all soft touches and lingering, squeezing hugs. He makes pancakes (or, rather, tries to make them) and goes out to the store for her when she runs out of tampons and brings back chocolate and wine alongside her much needed Tampax.
He talks to her, long discussions about amulets and lost languages and odd creatures, words quietly whispered against their pillows in the soft glow of filtered moonlight. He cuddles with her, head perched on her shoulder and arms twined about her waist as they watch whatever happened to be on TV after a long hunt. He kisses her, soft pecks on the cheek before she leaves to go seal a deal or deliver a package to a client or even when she just goes out for milk.
She doesn't know how to feel about this.
Bela had never been seduced or wooed or even sincerely complimented before Sam. She'd never been graced with feather light touches and cautiously teased beforehand, always looking for a sign that something was wrong and brought to soft, slow climaxes. And hat scares her.
She doesn't know how to go about this as a woman--her mother had been a terrible role model, addicted to every drug that had been pumped out by pharmaceutical companies, pushing her away when Bela tried to get close. She doesn't know if Sam is doing this right--her father had been a bastard in every sense of the term.
Maybe that's why she falls into Sam Winchester's arms so willingly. Because this is new and novel and god forbid if someone tries to end it. She wants this. She really and truly wants this.
But that novelty, the same thing that keeps her intrigued, is also the kind that makes her back away and hesitate. She's stumbling in the dark and it scares her. What if Sam does what her father did? Kind and sweet until the first time she said "no" and then lunging at her and taking what he wants by force? And should that happens, what if she ends up in the same situation as last time? No one believes her, no one wants to deal with her, no one recognizes her bruises and bust lip and black eye as nothing more than wounds achieved through accidents or playing outdoors?
She lets out a sob and his eyes shoot open.
"Bela?" Her name is soft on his lips, kind and sweet and completely unlike the way most people said. That only elicits another sob from her.
There are tears streaking her face in lines of black crawling down to her lips by the time Sam has her sitting up and wrapped in a blanket and there are apologies falling out of his mouth and his hands want to hold her but he's not sure and his concern, his sincerity, it's all so real and she's praying that this is real, real love he feels for her and real worry in his eyes and real tears welling up in his eyes.
She calms enough to talk and tells him her life story and he goes blank before taking her in his arms and apologizing and caressing her hair and whispering soft words in her ear and telling her that it would be okay, it would all be okay. She believes him.
And for the first time since she's made that deal with that no-name crossroads demon, Bela feels happy.