Small Cuts (Supernatural Dark!fic)

t w e l v e

"What do you want from me? Why don't you run from me?
What are you wondering? What do you know?"
Bury A Friend - Billie Eilish 

The bunker felt heavier than usual, the air thick with tension as Sam and Dean pored over ancient texts and old hunters' journals. Their voices were low but urgent, and Amara stood nearby, her arms crossed, trying to make sense of the dread that had settled in her stomach.

"We've got the ritual figured out," Sam said, his voice tense. He exchanged a glance with Dean before continuing. "But it's not good."

Amara raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Dean let out a frustrated breath, his jaw tightening. "You're the bait, Amara. The ritual requires you."

The room went still, and for a moment, Amara's heart seemed to stop. She had known this would be dangerous, but hearing it laid out so plainly made the weight of it sink in. She swallowed hard, her pulse quickening.

"Bait," she repeated, her voice quiet but steady.

Sam nodded, his face serious. "It's risky, but it's the only way. We'll be there the whole time, but you'll need to draw the demon out."

Amara felt her chest tighten, but she forced herself to meet their eyes. "If it's the only way, then we do it."

Dean's gaze darkened, frustration flickering in his eyes. "We're not exactly thrilled about this plan either."

She felt a chill sweep over her, but before she could respond, Sam added, "There's more. The ritual will heighten your abilities. You'll be more in tune with the supernatural during the process, but it also makes you vulnerable. The demon could use that against you."

Amara's stomach twisted, her growing sensitivity to the supernatural already something she had been struggling to manage. She could feel the atmosphere shift when the brothers were tense, feel the weight of their emotions even when they didn't speak. This new layer of the ritual felt more dangerous than anything they'd faced before.

Still, she nodded. "I'll handle it. I have to."

Later that night, Amara found herself wandering the quiet halls of the bunker. The silence was thick, oppressive, as her mind raced with thoughts of the upcoming ritual. She had agreed to be the bait, but the weight of what that really meant pressed down on her harder than she had anticipated.

A presence behind her made her stop. She didn't need to turn around to know it was Sam. She could feel the quiet intensity he carried, like a dark cloud looming just behind her.

"You should be resting," Sam said quietly, his voice low in the dim hallway.

Amara turned to face him, her heart skipping a beat at the look in his eyes—dark, foreboding, and yet filled with concern. "I couldn't sleep," she admitted.

Sam stepped closer, the space between them shrinking. "You don't have to do this, you know. We can find another way."

Amara shook her head. "There isn't another way, Sam. You know that."

His jaw clenched, his frustration palpable. "I don't like this—putting you in danger like this."

She could feel the tension in his voice, the way his darkness slipped through in moments like these. He stepped closer still, his presence overwhelming as the air between them grew heavier. For a second, she thought she could hear his heartbeat, or maybe it was her own, pounding against her chest.

"I've survived worse," she said, though the words felt hollow.

Sam's eyes bore into hers, his voice barely more than a whisper. "You're stronger than you know, but this... this is different."