Small Cuts (Supernatural Dark!fic)

t w e n t y

"I've been locked inside your heart-shaped box for weeks
I've been drawn into your magnet tar pit trap"
Heart Shaped Box - Nirvana 

The steady rhythm of Amara's heartbeat echoed in her ears as she stood in the middle of the training room, her hands wrapped tightly, her body poised and ready. The ache in her muscles had faded to a dull throb, but the memory of her last failure still lingered, pushing her forward.

Dean stood in front of her, arms crossed, his eyes scanning her with a critical intensity. "You sure you're ready for this?" He asked, his voice edged with skepticism but tinged with concern.

Amara met his gaze, her jaw set in determination. "I'm ready."

Dean raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Alright, tough girl. Let's see what you've got."

Sam stood off to the side, his arms folded as he watched them, his gaze steady and focused. "Just remember, it's not about brute strength," he said quietly, his voice calm but serious. "Use your instincts. Think fast."

Amara nodded, her heart pounding in her chest as she squared her shoulders. She wasn't going to be the weak link again. She wasn't going to let fear or hesitation hold her back. This was her chance to prove that she could handle herself—that she could fight.

Dean stepped forward, his stance wide and solid. "Alright, first round's just hand-to-hand. No weapons. Let's see how you move."

Amara swallowed hard, her muscles tensing as she prepared for the first hit. Dean didn't waste any time. He lunged forward, his fist aiming for her side, and Amara barely managed to sidestep in time, her heart racing as she dodged the blow. But Dean was relentless. He kept coming, his movements quick and fluid, testing her reflexes.

Amara ducked, weaving around his strikes, her mind racing as she tried to anticipate his next move. Sweat dripped down her brow, her breaths coming in short bursts as she pushed herself to keep up.

"You're getting faster," Dean muttered, his tone approving but still sharp. "But you've gotta stop second-guessing yourself."

Amara gritted her teeth, frustration bubbling up inside her. She knew he was right. Every time she hesitated, even for a second, Dean was on her, his strikes coming closer and closer.

Suddenly, Dean's hand shot out, grabbing her wrist and yanking her forward. Before she could react, he had her pinned against the wall, his arm pressing lightly against her throat, his breath warm on her face.

"Too slow," he murmured, his voice low but laced with a teasing edge. "You're thinking too much. Stop hesitating."

Amara's chest tightened, the intensity of Dean's closeness making her pulse quicken. She swallowed hard, her gaze locking onto his as she forced herself to focus. "I'm not hesitating," she bit out, her voice tight with frustration.

Dean smirked, leaning in just slightly, his eyes gleaming with challenge. "Then prove it."

In a flash, Amara moved, twisting her body and slipping out of his hold, using the momentum to shove him back. Dean stumbled for a second, surprise flickering across his face before a grin broke out.

"Now we're talking," he said, his tone lighter now as he straightened up, brushing his hand across his mouth. "You're getting there."

Amara's breath came in heavy bursts, her muscles burning from the effort, but a spark of satisfaction lit up inside her. She was getting better. She could feel it.

Sam stepped forward then, his dark eyes focused on her, the weight of his attention making her heart pound in a different way. "Let's work on some grappling," he said quietly, his voice carrying an edge of something more serious. "I want to see how you handle it when someone takes you down."