Small Cuts (Supernatural Dark!fic)

t w e n t y - f i v e

"She just wants attention
We all want attention
She just wants it more than
She'd have you believe"
Small Cuts - The Brobecks 

The warm summer air hung heavy as they stepped out of the Impala, the soft breeze rustling through the trees lining the abandoned stretch of road. It had been hours since they left the bunker, following a trail that led them to this quiet, unassuming town, where something sinister had begun to stir beneath the surface.

Amara glanced down at her white dress, the fabric swaying gently with each step. She had chosen it for comfort, but the soft, flowing material seemed almost out of place amidst the impending danger. Still, it made her feel like herself—like a reminder of the person she wanted to be, not the one constantly fighting the darkness.

Dean cast a glance her way, his eyes lingering on the dress for a moment before he smirked. "You sure you wanna fight in that?" He teased, his voice low and playful.

Amara felt her cheeks flush, but she squared her shoulders, meeting his gaze with quiet defiance. "I'll be fine," she replied, her voice steady. "It's just a dress."

Dean chuckled under his breath, though there was something else in his eyes—a flicker of something darker, more protective. "Whatever you say."

Sam stepped up beside her, his presence grounding as always, though the teasing glint in his eyes matched Dean's. "I think she'll manage," he said, his tone light but with that same edge of protectiveness. He gave her a subtle smile, and the warmth in his gaze sent a small thrill through her.

The three of them made their way toward the abandoned building ahead—a dilapidated house with windows shattered and ivy crawling up its walls. The reports they had gathered suggested a poltergeist had been terrorising the locals, though the details were vague at best. Still, it seemed straightforward enough.

At least, that's what they had thought.

The air inside the house was thick with dust, the creaking floorboards beneath their feet adding to the eerie silence. Amara took a deep breath, steadying herself as they moved through the darkened hallways, her senses on high alert. Every shadow seemed to flicker, every sound amplified by the tension in the air.

They had split up to cover more ground, though Sam and Dean were never far from her, their footsteps echoing faintly in the distance. Amara moved carefully, her eyes scanning the room as she stepped over debris and broken furniture.

Her heart raced, but it wasn't just the fear of the unknown that had her on edge. It was the thrill of it—the rush of being out here, doing something real, something dangerous. She had been training for this, preparing herself for the day when she'd finally face the darkness head-on. And now, here she was, holding her own.

So far, nothing had happened. But that didn't make the tension any less palpable.

Suddenly, a noise from behind—a faint creak of the floorboards—made her freeze. Amara's breath caught in her throat as she turned, her body tense, ready for whatever might come next.

But it wasn't a spirit.

It was Sam, stepping into the room, his tall figure framed by the faint light streaming in from the cracked window. His gaze met hers, and for a moment, the air between them seemed to still.

"You good?" He asked, his voice soft but filled with that quiet intensity she had come to expect from him.

Amara nodded, though her pulse quickened at the look in his eyes. "Yeah," she whispered. "Just... on edge."

Sam took a step closer, his presence calming yet charged with something unspoken. "You're doing great," he said, his voice low, reassuring. "Better than most people would, especially for your first real hunt."