Small Cuts (Supernatural Dark!fic)

n i n e

"And way down we go
Way down we go
Say way down we go
Oh, 'cause they will run you down, down 'til you fall
Way down we go"
Way Down We Go - KALEO 

The bunker was quiet, save for the soft hum of machinery and the faint rustle of pages turning in the library. Amara hadn't meant to end up there—she'd been wandering through the dim halls, her mind too restless for sleep, when she'd heard the familiar sound of Sam turning through a book.

She hovered in the doorway for a moment, watching him work. He was hunched over the large table, his brow furrowed in concentration as his eyes skimmed over the faded pages of an old book. The soft glow of the desk lamp bathed the room in a warm, golden light, and for a moment, Amara just let herself watch. There was something calming about seeing him like this—completely absorbed in his research, his face softened by the warm light.

It felt peaceful.

Finally, she stepped into the room, her footsteps quiet against the stone floor. "Can't sleep?" She asked, her voice just loud enough to break the stillness.

Sam looked up, startled for a second, before his expression softened into a small smile. "Nope," he said, leaning back slightly in his chair. "Figured I'd do some reading. Try to find something useful about the demon."

Amara moved closer, her eyes scanning the stack of books on the table. "Any luck?"

Sam shook his head, a touch of frustration flickering in his eyes. "Not much. It's powerful, and careful. We still don't have a lot to go on."

She sighed softly, sinking into the chair beside him. "It feels like everything's just... hanging over me. Waiting."

Sam turned to her, his expression softening. "I know it feels that way. But we'll figure this out." His voice was steady, reassuring, but there was something else in his eyes—a quiet intensity that made her heart skip a beat.

Amara glanced down at the book in front of him, but her focus drifted. The weight of the last few days, the closeness of Sam's presence, the stillness of the bunker—it all seemed to blur together, leaving her more aware of the man sitting next to her than the demon that haunted her.

Without thinking, her hand brushed against his, a light, fleeting touch that sent a spark through her skin. It wasn't intentional, but the moment it happened, her pulse quickened.

Sam didn't pull away. His fingers stilled beneath hers, lingering in the silence between them. For a moment, the world seemed to shrink, the air in the room growing heavier, more charged. Amara's breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding as she looked up at him.

His eyes met hers, and something passed between them—something unspoken but undeniable. His fingers, warm beneath hers, didn't move, and for a second, it felt like time had slowed. The quietness of the room, the soft glow of the lamp, the brush of their hands—it all felt heavy, as though the weight of everything unsaid was pressing down on them.

But then Sam cleared his throat, gently pulling his hand back. "We should get some rest," he murmured, his voice soft but firm. "Big day tomorrow."

Amara swallowed hard, the spell between them broken. She nodded, feeling the warmth of his hand linger on her skin. "Yeah," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Goodnight, Sam."

"Goodnight, Amara," he replied, his gaze following her as she stood and left the room, the tension between them still thick, still unresolved.

She headed back to her room and slid between the sheets to settle for the night. Her heart still pattered in her chest furiously but she willed herself. Sam was right, she needed to rest.