Small Cuts (Supernatural Dark!fic)

s i x t y - f i v e

"And it's hard to say where it went so wrong
And failed me in the end" 
The Worst In Me - Bad Omens 

Amara walked between Sam and Dean, the gravel crunching beneath their boots as they made their way toward an old, decrepit house on the edge of town. The air was crisp, filled with the scent of pine and the distant hum of cicadas. For a moment, everything felt calm.

"Don't trip on your way in, princess," Dean teased, nudging her shoulder gently, his smirk almost audible in the dark.

Amara rolled her eyes but couldn't help the grin tugging at her lips. "Yeah, let's not forget I'm the one who saved your ass last time."

Dean chuckled, a low sound that made warmth coil in her chest. Sam, walking on her other side, chimed in with his own teasing smile. "Just make sure Dean doesn't flirt with any ghosts this time."

Dean shot Sam a mock glare, adjusting his grip on the shotgun slung over his shoulder. "I'll have you know, they always make the first move."

Amara snorted, her laughter blending with the brothers' easy banter. The tension from their kiss back at the bunker was still there, simmering beneath the surface, but for now, everything felt...right. The three of them fit together effortlessly, the teasing between them light and familiar.

As they approached the house, the laughter faded, replaced by a shared seriousness that always came before a hunt. They stepped cautiously toward the rickety porch, their boots creaking against the rotting wood.

Dean gestured toward the door. "You two ready?"

Sam nodded, and Amara squared her shoulders, feeling the familiar weight of her own abilities stirring beneath her skin. Something about the place felt...off. Not just the usual haunting vibe, but something darker, something she couldn't quite put her finger on yet.

With a nod from Sam, Dean kicked the door in, and they stepped into the dark, musty hallway. Amara's heart quickened, not from fear, but from anticipation. Whatever was waiting for them inside, she had a feeling this hunt wasn't going to be like the others.

The darkness of the house swallowed them whole, the stale air thick with dust and something more sinister beneath. Amara trailed close behind Sam, her senses on high alert. Dean took the lead, flashlight beam cutting through the gloom, illuminating faded wallpaper and furniture draped in old sheets.

"Anyone else feel like this place is straight out of a horror movie?" Amara muttered.

"That's because it is," Sam replied, keeping his voice low. "Place was abandoned after a string of mysterious deaths in the '60s. No one's set foot in here since."

Dean scoffed. "Typical. We always get the haunted fixer-uppers."

The banter kept things light, but Amara could feel the heaviness pressing against her chest. Something about the energy in the house was wrong. Not just malevolent—she was used to that—but...personal. Like the house knew they were there, waiting.

They split up, each of them taking a different section of the house. Amara's pulse quickened as she moved down a narrow hallway, the floor creaking beneath her steps. She could feel something cold in the air, tugging at her awareness, but it wasn't as obvious as a ghost. She reached out with her abilities, letting them brush against the unseen energy in the room, trying to sense what lay beneath.

Suddenly, a loud crash echoed from deeper inside the house. Amara spun around just in time to hear Dean yell out.

"Sam! Amara!"

She sprinted back toward the others, bursting into what looked like the remains of a study. Dean stood in the centre, shotgun raised, his face pale. Sam was standing a few feet away, looking shaken. Both of them were staring at the floor, where the remains of what appeared to be a shattered vase lay in pieces.