n i n e t e e n

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"Sometimes I think about you
And all of the things that you put me through
And I hate every single memory
Sincerely yours, from Hell with love" 
From Hell With Love - Ryan Caraveo 


The familiar hum of the bunker's lights greeted them as the heavy door creaked open. Amara walked in behind Sam and Dean, her body still sore but her mind focused on one thing: getting back into training. The ride back had been quiet, the brothers making idle conversation about the mission they'd just wrapped up, but all Amara could think about was getting stronger, faster. She wasn't going to sit around and let herself be sidelined again.

As they entered the war room, Amara dropped her bag onto one of the chairs, her eyes already flicking to the training room door. "When do we start?" She asked, her voice laced with determination.

Dean exchanged a glance with Sam before turning to her, his expression unreadable. "You're not," he said simply, his tone firm.

Amara blinked, her brows knitting together in confusion. "What?"

Sam stepped forward, his voice softer but no less resolute. "You're still recovering, Amara. You need more time before you jump back into training."

Frustration flared inside her, hot and sharp. "I've had time! I can't just sit here and do nothing while you two go off on hunts."

Dean's expression tightened, his jaw clenching. "We've got a lead on something we need to check out. You're not ready for this one."

Amara's heart sank, her chest tightening with a mix of anger and disappointment. "So what, I'm just supposed to stay behind and... what? Wait for you guys to come back?"

Dean's eyes softened, but his stance remained firm. "You're staying here. That's not up for debate."

Without another word, Dean turned and headed toward the garage, his boots echoing off the stone floors. Sam lingered for a moment, his gaze filled with quiet understanding, but there was no room for argument in his eyes. "We won't be gone long," he said softly before following Dean out of the bunker.

The heavy door clanged shut behind them, and Amara was left standing alone in the silence of the war room, the weight of their absence settling over her like a suffocating blanket. Her chest tightened with frustration, her hands balling into fists at her sides. She had expected to train, to push herself harder, but instead, she was stuck here, waiting.

Again.

With a frustrated huff, she sank into one of the chairs, her mind racing with all the things she wanted to say but couldn't. The bunker felt too big, too empty without the brothers' presence, and the weight of her own helplessness pressed down on her, making it hard to breathe.

The silence was broken by a quiet rustle of fabric, and Amara tensed, her eyes snapping up to see Castiel standing in the doorway. His trench coat hung loosely around him, his expression as unreadable as ever, but there was a flicker of something softer in his eyes.

"I didn't mean to intrude," Castiel said, his voice even and calm, though he didn't make a move to leave.

Amara sighed, leaning back in her chair. "It's fine," she muttered, her frustration simmering just beneath the surface. The last thing she wanted was company, especially from an angel she still wasn't sure she could trust.

Castiel stepped into the room, his gaze flicking over her as if assessing the situation. "The brothers left you behind," he observed, his tone neutral.

Amara's jaw clenched. "Yeah, they did. I'm not exactly happy about it."

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