Small Cuts (Supernatural Dark!fic)

t w e n t y - t h r e e

"There are times when I kick myself
Say I'm not sick but I can't get well
Say I got this while I chase my tail
As if they can't tell
I'm running from my shadow
Running from my shadow, but it's still there chasing me down"
Running From My Shadow - Mike Shinoda & grandson 

The war room felt colder than ever, the weight of Paimon's presence pressing down on Amara like a physical force. His dark energy swirled in the corners of the room, pulling at her with an oppressive strength she had grown all too familiar with over the years.

Dean stood on her left, tense, fists clenched at his sides as if he was ready to swing at the demon the second he saw him. Sam was on her right, close but not overbearing, his steady presence grounding her as she prepared for what was about to happen. And in front of them, Castiel's voice carried through the air, strong and sure as he reinforced the wards that would protect them once Paimon was gone.

But as Castiel's incantations filled the room, Amara felt it—that pull. The sickening connection to Paimon, the one that had tied them together since before she could remember. The one that had haunted her all her life.

Suddenly, the temperature dropped, and the shadows in the room shifted, coalescing into a form that flickered between solid and smoke. Paimon's figure materialised from the darkness, his eyes gleaming with malice as they locked onto Amara.

"Evangeline," Paimon said, his voice smooth and taunting, the sound of her birth name cutting through her like a blade. "You thought you could escape me? You thought these humans could protect you?"

Amara's breath hitched, her body tensing at the sound of that name. Evangeline. The name her parents had given her. The name that held the weight of every painful memory, every moment of doubt and fear from her past.

"You're not welcome here," Amara said, her voice wavering, but her defiance was there.

Paimon's smile widened, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement. "You still don't understand, do you? You were born for me, Evangeline. I've been with you every step of the way. I know everything about you." His voice lowered, growing more sinister. "I was there when they tried to 'save' you. When they dragged you to the church basement, bound you to that chair, and screamed their prayers in your face. I watched as you begged for them to stop, as they told you that you were cursed. That you were the reason everything went wrong."

Amara's heart pounded in her chest, her breath coming in short, panicked bursts as the memories Paimon described came rushing back—the horror of it all, the betrayal, the way her family had turned on her. 

"Do you remember when they bound and bathed you in Holy water? When they howled prayers at you and begged, wept for the Lord to forgive you—to save you, cleanse you of your sins? I do. I witnessed you plead for them to love you, only for them to despise everything about you." 

She could still hear the prayers, still feel the ropes digging into her wrists as they held her down, trying to force her to repent for something she didn't even understand. 

"I watched you, always. Every time they told you to repent. Every night when your mother would make you recite prayer after prayer until you were falling asleep, kneeling at the foot of your bed, and she'd strike you to wake you and make you start again. Every time you cried yourself to sleep." His voice coiled around her like a serpent, menacing and cold. 

Her hands shook, doubt creeping in like a poison. Maybe Paimon was right. Maybe she was cursed. Maybe—

"Stop," Dean's voice cut through the panic, sharp and filled with anger. "Don't listen to him, Amara. That's not who you are."