Green Eyes

The Pianist

She smiles lightly, a ghost of the beam she had once worn on her lips, was it her? Belle had always had a mop of curls, pooling dipping and framing her body. It was one of the things Jaibrien had loved, pulling waved of curls into a labyrinth of crafted styles from civilizations she'd never seen before.

Belle wondered lightly to herself when she'd stop truly living for Jaibrien.

When she'd truly accepted her bluebird was gone.

As she mused to herself, methodically dressing in hunting gear, Belle couldn't help but linger on the way  her body curled in on itself.

When had she stopped standing for herself?

As she finished, grabbing her gun with a feeling of remorse? Anger? Disgust? She couldn't help the thought slipping from beyond the walls she'd spectacularly crafted. "When had I stopped living?"

"Welp," Belle nodded allowed, yanking on the leather, "That's enough of that." Ignoring the mess of the room, and flipping off the silk sheets adorning her bed, she threw two fifties on the bed for housekeeping, grabbed her shit and left. Catching Dean and Sam's eyes as she marched from her room, faux confidence dripping off her in waves. Sam smiled tightly, that stupid awkward puppy dog beam as he handed her a cup of coffee, "Thanks," she trailed not missing the balk that Dean displayed at her form, but not surprise, Sam must of warned him of her breakdown. Sipping the scathing liquid, ignoring the taste of burnt, watery and overall unpleasant essences that was motel coffee, she looked at the laptop on the hood of Baby. "Whats the hunt?" She hummed, fingers itching.

That seemed to spur them both as Dean gripped the edge of the laptop, turning the screen toward her, "We uh, found a hunt not too far from here..." He hummed, watching his daughter's fingers scroll through the decimated forms of humans that were displayed. "We aren't too sure on what it is yet, it's too neat to be a werewolf, and there aren't any markers of a skin-walker..." Belle hummed, taking another sip of sludge as he continued on, "We're thinking really pissed of ghost or..."

"Demon?" Belle hunched, her guess confirmed with a nod of their heads, "Well, we wont know till we get there and test for sulfur or EMF..." She clicked her tongue beneath her teeth, "How many scenes are there?"

Sam sighed, "Two so far, but we just got a call that there may be another one, so I was thinking when we get there, Dean and I will take one of them each, and you can grab the other?" His voice tilted up in anticipation, almost seeking her approval, and when Dean nodded, but Sam's gaze didn't leave her, she realized he was.

"Sounds good," She downed the rest of her drink before pulling her jacket tighter around her torso, "So what are we waiting for exactly?"

This spurred everyone into action, the laptop was snapped closed as Sam wound it tightly against his torso, Dean already opening up the front seat and sliding in. Belle grabbed her bag, haphazardly tossing it in the back and settling against the leather. With that, they were off.

A few hours later, with the BAU

To say that Derek Morgan was pissed would be an understatement, the man had been pissed before, many cases where the unsub had rubbed him just the right amount of wrong, childhood fights and defenses toward his family. Derek Morgan was no stranger to being pissed.