Small Cuts (Supernatural Dark!fic)

f o r t y - o n e

"Don't look so surprised
That I'm home, but just for tonight
With rough hands and sore eyes
so don't speak, I am tired
Let's just live through this life
She says I swear too much
She says a lot of things
Well I'd swear every other word if I could for her"
Rough Hands - Alexisonfire

Amara wandered the halls of the bunker, her mind a storm of conflicting emotions. It was only eight days until she turned 21, and everything felt like it was building to a breaking point. The tension between her and Sam and Dean was almost unbearable at times, the weight of their teasing and the unspoken desire hanging heavy in the air.

But it wasn't just the brothers. Her powers had been growing stronger each day, sharpening in ways she hadn't expected. She could feel their emotions even more clearly now—so much so that it was almost overwhelming. Every time they were near, it was like their desires, their frustrations, bled into her own, mixing with her feelings until she wasn't sure where she ended and they began.

It was terrifying, exhilarating, and exhausting all at once.

She stopped in front of one of the closed doors, her hand brushing against the cool metal handle. Something made her pause, her heart skipping a beat as she heard familiar voices drifting from the other side of the door. Sam and Dean.

Her breath caught in her throat, and instead of knocking, she stepped back, staying hidden just out of sight, her curiosity getting the better of her. The door wasn't fully closed, just ajar enough for the muffled sound of their conversation to slip through. She knew eavesdropping wasn't exactly the best thing to do, but the weight of their words drew her in, and she couldn't help herself.

"I don't know how much longer I can do this, man." Dean's voice was low, rough with frustration. "I'm... I'm barely holding on."

Amara's heart raced at his words, her stomach twisting with both dread and anticipation. She edged closer to the door, her hand gripping the edge of the wall as she strained to listen.

"You've got to stick it out, Dean," Sam replied, his voice calm but firm. "It's only eight more days. We made a promise."

Dean let out a heavy sigh, and Amara could almost hear the tension in his voice. "Yeah, well, that promise is getting harder to keep every damn day. Every time I'm around her... it's like I'm losing my mind."

Amara's cheeks burned, her pulse pounding in her ears. Dean—Dean—was struggling just as much as she was. Maybe even more.

"I get it," Sam said, his tone softer now, more understanding. "But we're so close. She's... she's special, Dean. You know that. And if we break now, we'll never forgive ourselves."

There was a long pause, and Amara held her breath, her chest tightening as she waited for Dean's response.

"I know," Dean muttered, his voice low and rough. "But every time I look at her... it's like I can't think straight. I want her, Sam. And I'm not just talking about... I mean, it's more than that. You feel it too, right?"

Amara's heart skipped a beat, her breath catching in her throat. The weight of Dean's words hit her like a freight train. This wasn't just about desire—it was deeper, more complicated than that.

"Of course I feel it," Sam replied quietly. "But we have to be careful. She's not just some girl. She's... she's Amara."

There was another heavy silence, and Amara could feel the intensity of the moment through the closed door. She swallowed hard, her mind racing. They were struggling, just like she was. The tension, the desire—it was all so much bigger than she'd realised.