Small Cuts (Supernatural Dark!fic)

t h i r t y - o n e

"Where do we go nobody knows?
Don't ever say you're on your way down when
God gave you style and gave you grace
And put a smile upon your face
Ah yeah
Now when you work it out I'm worse than you
Yeah when you work it out I wanted to" 
God Put a Smile Upon Your Face - Coldplay 

The low hum of the bunker's lights seemed louder in the heavy silence that filled the room. Amara, Sam, and Dean sat around the table, the familiar weight of tension settling over them like a thick fog. For the past few days, they had been waiting—waiting for Castiel to return from Heaven with the answers they so desperately needed.

Dean leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming against the table, his impatience palpable. Sam, ever the steadying presence, had his nose buried in yet another ancient text, though even he couldn't hide the undercurrent of anxiety that flowed between them.

Amara, meanwhile, sat quietly, her hands folded in her lap as she tried to keep her mind focused. The weight of Castiel's words from their last conversation still lingered in her thoughts—her powers tied to her bloodline, Paimon's obsession with her abilities. It all felt overwhelming, like she was standing on the edge of a cliff, peering into an unknown abyss.

Her family's dark history, the years of trauma and isolation—everything was starting to make sense. But that didn't make it any easier to face.

The sound of flapping wings broke the silence, the familiar rush of wind signalling Castiel's arrival. The brothers stood immediately, their gazes snapping toward the angel as he appeared at the head of the table, his trench coat billowing slightly as he straightened his posture.

Dean was the first to speak, his voice low and urgent. "What did you find out?"

Castiel's expression was as serious as ever, though there was something heavier in his gaze this time. "I've spoken to the archivists in Heaven," he said, his voice steady but tinged with the weight of what he had discovered. "There are records—ancient records—of empathic bloodlines. Bloodlines that have been touched by divine power."

Amara's breath caught in her throat at the word divine, her pulse quickening as she met Castiel's gaze. "Divine power?" She repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.

Castiel nodded, his eyes softening slightly as he addressed her. "Your family... your ancestors were once blessed by angels. It's an ancient bloodline, one that carries the potential for great power. Empathy—true, advanced empathy—is one of the gifts that was passed down through your lineage. It allows those within your bloodline to sense and connect with the emotions and energies of others, sometimes even controlling or amplifying those emotions."

Amara's heart raced, her mind reeling as the weight of Castiel's words sank in. A divine bloodline? Her family had always told her she was cursed—an abomination—but now, hearing that her powers were the result of something far older, far greater, made her feel as if her entire life had been built on a lie.

Dean's brow furrowed, his arms crossing over his chest as he processed the information. "So, you're saying her powers come from angels? That's why Paimon's so interested in her?"

Castiel nodded. "Yes. Paimon seeks to exploit the powers of those with divine lineage, twisting their abilities to serve his own purpose. If he can control Amara, he can use her powers to manipulate the emotions of others, bending them to his will. That's why he's been testing her—why he's been following her for so long. He's been waiting for her powers to manifest fully."

Amara's breath hitched as the pieces of the puzzle started to fall into place. Paimon had always been there, lurking in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to strike. And now, with her powers growing, he was closer than ever to achieving his goal.