Small Cuts (Supernatural Dark!fic)

f o r t y - f i v e

"'Cause we've been waiting for you
Fallen into this place
Just giving you a small taste
Of your afterlife here so stay
You'll be back here soon anyway"
Afterlife - Avenged Sevenfold 

Amara stretched as she emerged from her room, feeling more rested than she had in days. The conversation with Castiel had done more than ease her worries about her growing powers—it had given her the clarity she needed to face what was ahead. But as she wandered through the quiet corridors of the bunker, her mind still lingered on Sam and Dean.

Things had been tense between them, and the weight of their unspoken feelings hung in the air like a thick fog. With less than a week left before her 21st birthday, the brothers had become even more careful around her, and she couldn't help but notice how much they were holding back. She could feel it—the desire, the tension, the restraint—and while it made her heart race, it also made her anxious.

She found them in the kitchen, sitting at the table with cups of coffee in hand. Dean glanced up as she entered, his lips quirking into a faint, teasing smile. "Morning," he greeted, his voice a low rumble. "You sleep okay?"

Amara nodded, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Yeah, better than I expected."

Sam's gaze flicked up from his coffee, his eyes warm but guarded. "Good. You looked like you needed it."

She smiled softly, moving to grab an apple from the counter before hopping up to sit on the edge. The brothers exchanged a glance, and she could feel the shift in the air—the playful, charged atmosphere that always seemed to follow them when they were together.

"So," Dean began, leaning back in his chair with a smirk, "you ready for another day of kickin' our asses in training?"

Amara's cheeks warmed at the compliment, though she could hear the teasing in his tone. "I wouldn't say I've been kicking your asses."

"Don't sell yourself short," Sam added, his lips curving into a subtle smile. "You've been doing great."

There it was again—that warmth, that underlying tension that simmered just beneath the surface. It was in the way Sam's eyes lingered on her, the way Dean's voice dipped lower when he teased her. And while she knew they were still holding back, the intensity between them had only grown stronger.

Amara took a bite of her apple, trying to ignore the way her heart fluttered. "Well, I'm ready whenever you guys are."

Dean's smirk widened, and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "You know, you're getting pretty good at this whole hunter thing. But don't get too cocky."

Amara raised an eyebrow, swallowing her bite of apple before responding. "Oh? I think I can hold my own by now."

"Don't get ahead of yourself, sweetheart," Dean drawled, though his eyes sparkled with mischief. "We've still got a few tricks up our sleeves."

Sam chuckled, his gaze sliding between her and Dean. "She's not wrong, though. You've been holding your own for a while now."

Amara's chest swelled with pride at the praise, but just as she was about to respond, something shifted inside her. A sudden coldness, like a sharp gust of wind, swept through her mind, and she froze, her breath catching in her throat.

It started as a faint pulse—a dull thrum at the back of her mind—but it quickly grew stronger, louder, until it consumed her senses. The kitchen, the brothers, the warmth of their teasing—all of it faded into the background as the world around her darkened.

Her vision blurred, and then she wasn't in the bunker anymore.

She was somewhere else. Somewhere dark and cold.