Small Cuts (Supernatural Dark!fic)

e i g h t y - t w o

"I am on the mend.
At least now I can say that I am trying."
Sowing Season (Yeah) - Brand New 

The bunker felt unusually quiet that evening, the kind of silence that only seemed to grow heavier with every passing moment. Amara sat at the table in the main room, her fingers tracing the edge of an old book, though her mind was miles away. The memories of the past few days—the visions, the bruises, her mother's ghostly voice—had left her feeling unsettled, as if something was slowly unraveling inside her.

Sam and Dean were nearby, their attention divided between researching and watching her like hawks, both of them overly protective ever since Castiel had warned them that the entity was growing stronger. She could feel their concern radiating off them in waves, and part of her felt guilty for worrying them. But another part of her knew that this wasn't over—not yet.

The realisation had been creeping up on her for days now, like a shadow lurking just beyond her line of sight. But now, as she sat in the dim light of the bunker, it hit her with full force.

She had to go back.

Back to the place she had run from. Back to where it had all started.

Her childhood home.

The thought sent a cold shiver down her spine, but she knew—deep down—that it was the only way. There was something there, something she needed to face if she was ever going to put an end to this nightmare.

Amara stood slowly, her movements tense as if her body was bracing itself for what was to come. She had spent so long avoiding that place, burying the memories under layers of self-preservation, but now it felt like she had no choice. The past was catching up with her, and she couldn't outrun it any longer.

Dean noticed her standing first, his sharp gaze flicking up from the book in front of him. "You okay?" He asked, his voice gruff but laced with concern.

Amara hesitated, her heart pounding as the weight of her decision settled over her. "I... I need to go back," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Sam looked up from his laptop, his brow furrowing. "Back where?"

Amara swallowed hard, her throat tight with fear and determination. "Back to my childhood home."

The silence that followed was thick, the air in the room suddenly heavy with tension. Dean's expression darkened immediately, his protectiveness flaring up like a fire. "Why?" He asked, his voice low, but there was an edge of anger there too.

Amara took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "I think... I think there's something there. Something I need to confront."

Dean's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing. "Amara, that place... it's a part of your past. You don't have to go back there."

Sam stood as well, his gaze softening as he watched her. "You know, if this is about your mother..."

Amara shook her head, cutting him off, her hands trembling slightly as she wrapped her arms around herself. "It's not just about her. It's... it's about everything. My father, my childhood... I left it all behind, but I don't think I can keep running from it. I have to face it."

Dean ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. "You don't have to do anything. We can protect you right here. The bunker's safe."

Amara's heart ached at the fierceness in his voice, but she knew he didn't understand. He couldn't. "It's not just about being safe, Dean," she said softly, her voice tinged with sadness. "It's about closure. I need to go back there... to let it all go."