Small Cuts (Supernatural Dark!fic)

s i x t y - s e v e n

"I asked you how long you'd be gone
And you said "as long as it takes" 
And I was always so impatient with our love
But I swore I would wait" 
Teeth - Casey 

The Impala finally skidded to a halt outside a rundown motel on the outskirts of town, the screech of tires cutting through the tense silence. Dean killed the engine, the sudden quiet almost deafening after the roar of the drive. He threw open the door, stepping out with more force than necessary, his boots hitting the gravel with a crunch. The tension radiating off him was palpable, heavy and suffocating in the still night air.

Amara followed after Sam, her heart still pounding from the drive, her nerves frayed. She glanced between the brothers, her anxiety spiking with every passing moment. She had thought getting away from the cursed house would help, but the curse had latched onto them like a parasite, feeding off their emotions, growing stronger. It was infecting their bond, twisting it into something dark, something dangerous. And no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't stop it.

"Dean..." Amara called softly, trying to catch up to him as he stormed toward the motel room door. But he didn't look back, didn't respond. He just shoved the door open, disappearing inside with a slam that reverberated through the still night.

Sam stood beside her, running a hand through his hair, his shoulders tense. She could see the strain in him too, the curse gnawing away at the calm he was so famous for. It was like a slow burn inside him, something that simmered just below the surface, waiting to boil over.

"Sam..." she began, reaching out to him, but he shook his head, not even looking at her.

"I don't know how to fix this," he muttered, his voice low, almost defeated. "Dean's...he's not himself. And I don't know how to stop it."

Amara's heart twisted at the hopelessness in his voice. She wished she had an answer, something she could do to ease the tension between them, to break the curse's hold. But every time she reached out with her powers, it was like hitting a wall—thick and impenetrable. The curse was too strong, its grip too tight.

Sam pushed past her, heading inside after Dean. Amara lingered outside for a moment, trying to gather herself. She knew things were about to get worse—much worse. And she didn't know if she was ready for it.

Taking a deep breath, she followed them into the room.

The motel room was small and shabby, with peeling wallpaper and a flickering overhead light. Dean was pacing in front of the window, his hands clenching and unclenching as he moved. Sam stood by the bed, his posture rigid, watching his brother with a mixture of concern and barely suppressed frustration.

Amara stood by the door, unsure of what to do. The air between them was thick with tension, the curse pressing down on all of them like a vice. She could feel it twisting inside the room, feeding off their emotions, growing stronger with every moment.

"Dean," Sam started, his voice steady but tense, "we need to figure this out. This curse—it's messing with both of us. We need to get a handle on it before—"

Dean whirled on him, his eyes blazing with anger. "Before what? Before I lose it? You think I don't know what's going on, Sam? You think I don't feel it? But sitting here talking about it isn't gonna fix anything!"

Sam's jaw tightened, but he didn't rise to the bait. "I'm not saying talking is gonna fix it, Dean. But we need a plan. We can't just sit around and wait for this thing to tear us apart."

"Tear us apart?" Dean laughed, but there was no humour in it. It was a dark, hollow sound. "Newsflash, Sammy—it already has."

Amara flinched at the words, the weight of them settling heavily in the room. She could feel the rift between them growing wider, the curse driving a wedge into the heart of their bond. And no matter what she did, she couldn't stop it.