Small Cuts (Supernatural Dark!fic)

f i f t y

"It's something I hold, something I hold
I take it with me all the places I go
How little you know, how little you know"
Paint - The Paper Kites 

Amara lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, her mind still spinning from the night's events. The kisses from Sam and Dean were branded into her memory—the heat, the intensity, the hunger. She'd been waiting for that moment for weeks, and now that it had finally happened, she felt different. More alive. More powerful.

She exhaled, trying to calm her racing heart, but the energy pulsing through her wouldn't settle. It wasn't just the physical rush of being with them—it was something deeper. Her powers were humming, more intense than she had ever felt them before, as if something had been unlocked.

Her hand pressed to her chest, feeling the thrum of her heartbeat. She was more aware of everything—the slight sounds in the bunker, the way the air felt warmer, heavier. Even from across the bunker, she could feel Sam and Dean. She could sense their emotions as if they were standing right beside her. It wasn't just desire anymore; it was something more potent. Their frustration, their restraint, their need... It was all tangled up with her own, and the intensity of it was making her skin tingle.

I'm getting stronger.

Amara sat up suddenly, her heart pounding in her chest. Her powers had always been strong, but this... this was different. She felt like she could reach out and touch their emotions, shape them, control them. It was overwhelming, but it was also exhilarating.

But just as quickly as that thought came, something shifted. A wave of dizziness hit her like a tidal wave, and before she could catch herself, she collapsed back onto the bed, her vision blurring. Her head swam, and it felt like the room was spinning out of control.

No... not now...

The world around her tilted, and in an instant, she was pulled under, sinking into the depths of a vision she hadn't triggered.

Amara stood in a dark, cavernous space, the walls dripping with shadows that flickered like flames. The air was cold, too cold, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. She tried to move, but her feet wouldn't obey. It was as if she was anchored to the spot.

Then she heard it—a low, menacing voice that sent a chill down her spine.

"You think you've escaped me, Evangeline?"

Amara's blood ran cold. Paimon. His voice echoed through the darkness, dripping with malice and cruel amusement. Even though she could no longer feel his hold on her, his presence was suffocating, the air thick with his rage.

"You think severing our connection means you're free?" Paimon's voice was closer now, his words slithering like poison. "You still belong to me. And on your birthday, I'll remind you."

Amara tried to speak, tried to shout, but no sound escaped her lips. She could only stand there, frozen in place, as Paimon's figure materialised from the shadows. His eyes gleamed with dark, unnatural power, and his twisted smile sent a shiver down her spine.

"I'll be waiting, little lamb."

Her heart pounded in her chest, fear crawling through her veins. She watched as Paimon raised his hand, his fingers stretching toward her as if to reclaim what he believed was his. But before he could touch her, the vision shifted violently, and suddenly she was standing in the middle of the bunker, surrounded by Sam and Dean. Their faces were tight with fear and anger as something dark and monstrous circled them.

The creature—Paimon—was closing in on her, and no matter how hard she tried to move, she couldn't escape. Sam and Dean were shouting her name, trying to pull her back, but the demon's grip was unrelenting, pulling her closer and closer.