Small Cuts (Supernatural Dark!fic)

s i x

"I'm bigger than my body
I'm colder than this home
I'm meaner than my demons
I'm bigger than these bones"
Control - Halsey 

Amara leaned back in her chair, feeling more grounded than she had in days. For the first time, she wasn't running on pure adrenaline or terror. But the weight of what they were discussing still loomed heavily in the air. The entity that had been haunting her was powerful, relentless. And now, with her head clearer, she needed answers.

"So what is it exactly?" Amara asked, her voice steady but laced with curiosity. "This thing that's been following me—what are we dealing with?"

Sam and Dean exchanged a quick glance, the kind that conveyed more than words. Dean was the one to answer, his voice sharp and to the point.

"It's a demon."

The word hung in the air for a moment, cold and matter-of-fact. Amara blinked, the tension in the room suddenly heavier, but she couldn't help it—a short, sharp snort escaped her, almost before she realised it.

Sam's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and Dean cocked his head, his lips quirking into a curious half-smile. They both looked at her, clearly waiting for some kind of explanation.

Amara felt a flush rise in her cheeks, immediately regretting her gut reaction. She lowered her gaze, feeling small under their scrutiny, annoyed with herself for the involuntary response. "Sorry," she muttered, her voice quiet but sharp with frustration. "It's just... I don't believe in all that."

Dean raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. "All that?" He echoed, his tone holding a hint of challenge.

Amara shifted in her seat, the weight of her past pressing in on her, uninvited and unwelcome. She avoided their eyes, her fingers fiddling with the hem of the oversized plaid shirt she was still wearing. "You know... demons, angels. The whole divine versus evil thing. It's just... not real."

A bitter edge crept into her voice, and she hated the way it sounded, the way it made her feel like she was on the defensive. But she couldn't help it—years of growing up under the weight of religious doctrine, Bible verses, and prayers had left her jaded, with no room for belief in anything divine.

Sam leaned forward slightly, his voice soft but serious. "I get that," he said, his tone careful. "But... demons are very real."

Amara bit her lip, her fingers tightening around the edge of the table. She could feel their eyes on her, could feel the unspoken tension thickening in the air. "I just... I've never bought into any of it," she admitted, her voice small. "My parents drilled it into me for years, telling me that God would protect me, that everything had a divine plan. But all I ever saw was—" she stopped, catching herself before she said too much.

Dean's eyes narrowed, but not in anger. It was more like he was trying to piece together what she wasn't saying. "Didn't seem like that worked out so great for you, huh?" He asked, his voice low, almost understanding.

Amara let out a soft, bitter laugh, shaking her head. "No, it didn't. And after a while, you just stop believing."

The room fell into a quiet, uneasy silence. Amara could feel the tension in her own body, the frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. It wasn't directed at Sam or Dean—it wasn't their fault—but the mention of anything "divine" always brought back the memories of her childhood, the weight of expectations and judgment that she had fought so hard to escape.

Sam's gaze softened, the empathy in his eyes palpable. "I understand why you'd feel that way," he said gently. "But what we're dealing with isn't about faith or belief. Demons—angels—they're real. Whether we believe in them or not."