Small Cuts (Supernatural Dark!fic)

t h i r t y

"It's not that we're scared
It's just that it's delicate"
Delicate - Damien Rice 

The days had passed in a blur of strategising, research, and relentless training. Every waking moment seemed dedicated to preparing for Paimon's next move. The tension in the bunker had become something of a constant, a low hum that underpinned everything they did. Castiel, Sam, and Dean had all been working tirelessly, their focus unwavering as they pieced together every fragment of intel they could find. Meanwhile, Amara had thrown herself into training with the brothers, pushing her body and mind to the limit.

It was during one of those intense training sessions, deep within the bunker's familiar walls, that something unexpected happened.

Amara had been sparring with Sam, her movements fluid and precise, though her mind remained cluttered with the lingering presence of Paimon. For days now, she had felt his influence—felt the pressure of his proximity as if he was constantly pushing against the wards, testing them, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. The weight of it had been suffocating, making it difficult to focus on anything but the looming threat he posed.

But then, as she stepped back from Sam, her chest rising and falling with the effort of their sparring, she felt it—the unmistakable shift. Paimon's presence, which had been so constant, so overbearing, suddenly... receded. It was as if a weight had been lifted from her chest, the pressure in her mind vanishing in an instant.

She froze, her heart skipping a beat as she reached out with her senses, searching for any trace of him. But there was nothing. The oppressive darkness she had grown accustomed to was gone, replaced by an eerie calm.

"Amara?" Sam's voice broke through the silence, soft and concerned. "You okay?"

She blinked, her gaze shifting to him as her mind tried to catch up with what she was feeling. Paimon had backed off. Why? What was he planning?

But even as her mind tried to wrap around the implications of Paimon's sudden retreat, something else began to stir within her. In the absence of his presence, she became acutely aware of something new—something far more intimate.

It started as a faint tingling sensation, like a soft pulse that reverberated through the air around her. But then it grew stronger, sharper, until she could feel it—could see it. The emotions swirling around Sam and Dean, usually hidden beneath the surface, now seemed to take on a physical form, shimmering in the space between them like faint, coloured lights.

Her breath hitched as she stared at Sam, watching as a soft, warm glow of deep red and gold flickered around him, swirling and shifting with every subtle change in his mood. She could feel his emotions as if they were her own—his concern for her, his frustration with the situation, and... something else. Something darker, more intense, that made her pulse quicken.

She turned her gaze to Dean, and the effect was just as startling. His emotions were more tightly controlled, as always, but now she could see them too—a flicker of deep, rich blue, edged with a faint glow of burning orange. It was his worry for her that stood out the most, a fierce protectiveness that pulsed like a heartbeat in the air between them. But beneath that, there was something smouldering—something raw and undeniable, a desire that made her breath catch in her throat.

"Amara?" Dean's voice cut through the haze, sharp and laced with concern. "What's going on?"

She blinked, the sudden intensity of their emotions overwhelming her senses. "I... I don't know," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "I can feel you both—your emotions. I can... see them."