Seventy Five Percent Chapter 46

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WARNING this chapter contains highly sensitive topics, including
-Suicidal Thoughts
-graphic violence
-major trauma
- attempted suicide
- unsafe gun practicing

If you are triggered by any of the following please read at your own risk.

Stay safe.

This chapter also contains a moment where a song will play, to increase your reading experience when you see this, -----------, play the recommended song.

Song A: Burning Pile, Mother Mother

Song B: Only, RY X

A faint blush below the horizon, as the first kiss from the Sun wakes the Earth from its slumber.

Meeta Ahluwalia

It's funny how quiet things can be sometimes. The simplicity of birds chirping, the crispness of the morning dew settling on the tip of your tounge like an unfamiliar kiss of a lover. The tangs of light sinking into sleep ridden eyes, and breezes tangling and dancing upon your skin, as softly and kind as a butterfly flaps it's wings.

Belle missed mornings like this, the sweet ones, filled with childlike giggles or the warm confrontation of Derek's aftershave. She missed the harsh prickles of wind as she sped off to school.

She yearned for the familiar apple scent that always seemed to follow Lis. The looming biblichour that seemed to imbued itself in their aura.

Belle felt... homesick, she supposed.

Smells, they always got her. They were familiar, mostly fixed, you knew what to expect with them. They couldn't hide from you.

So, when she awoke, with that familiar ache in her shoulders, the heaviness of life once again settling upon her back, greeting her like an old friend may, wrapping itself upon her in, in a motion not unlike a hug; when she awoke to dust, and stale beer, the underlying aroma of mildew, she knew she was no where close to home.

There was a peacefulness resting upon her though, a clarity, of you will. After her conversation with Death, she felt... strangely at peace. She knew that soon, it would all be okay. Because she was going, and that, that small fact in and of itself, the realization that there is a sliver of a chance she would see Jaibrien again?

That meant everything.

So as she sat there, on that porch and watched the sunlight bleed into the sky, drenching her in a glow, there was a slight movement in the boards beneath her. An awkward shuffling before a mug was offered to her.

Looking at Dean, she sips it, flinching inwardly at the fire that follows the earthy taste. "Rum?" She asks, brow raised as she brings it to her lips again.

"Yep," Dean murmurs, taking in the morning dew.

"How is he?" The softness of her voice weaves into the rays of light that illuminate her face, slinking beneath her lashes.

Dean glances back, "Cas says his soul is back in place..." he stares at her for a moment, "Doesn't know when he'll wake up." The hidden if is there, even though he doesn't say it.

"There a case?" Belle asks, eyeing a local paper in his hand.

The elder man shrugs, "maybe, what are you planning? "Belle stares at the land in front of her. This was it, she fixed their problem, she could go back home. To her Dad and Uncles, to her Aunt Pen, her family. "I don't want you to leave again Kid." He says quietly, "I know I fucked up, hell, I've been a screw up since the day you found me, but I love you, I don't want my daughter gone again."

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