Small Cuts (Supernatural Dark!fic)

o n e - h u n d r e d + o n e

"These hands will always be rough (rough hands, rough days)
Some people too damaged too much, too late
I know this won't count for much (rough hands, rough season)
Some people too damaged too much, too late" 
Rough Hands - Alexisonfire 

Amara sat on the edge of her bed, her breathing ragged as she stared at her trembling hands. The room was quiet—too quiet. The usual hum of the bunker's machinery seemed distant, muted, as if she were disconnected from everything around her. But inside her mind, the chaos roared.

What have I done?

The guilt twisted in her chest, heavier with each passing second. She had pried into their minds, taken their secrets without permission. Sam's darkness, Dean's fear, Castiel's secrets—it was all there, burning behind her eyes like a fire she couldn't put out. She had crossed a line, one she didn't know if she could ever step back from.

They were protecting you. They didn't trust you. They lied.

The thoughts came unbidden, her emotions spiralling. She tried to tell herself it wasn't true, that they had their reasons, but the doubt clung to her, fuelled by the whispers of betrayal. And beneath it all, a darker voice, one she barely recognised as her own.

They don't believe you're strong enough. They think you're fragile. Weak.

Amara clenched her fists, trying to push the thoughts away, but they grew louder, more insistent. The betrayal, the anger—it all simmered beneath her skin, making her feel like she was unraveling. Her powers had always felt like a gift, something that made her different but in control. Now, they felt dangerous, unpredictable.

And yet, the power had felt good. It had felt right.

You were in control. You finally saw the truth.

A shiver ran down her spine, the thought creeping into her mind like a cold hand pressing against her. She couldn't deny it. For the first time, she had seen what they were keeping from her. She had been the one with the upper hand. But at what cost?

Her mind flashed back to the moment she had touched their thoughts, the rush of power, the dark satisfaction that came with it. It hadn't just been about discovering their secrets—it had been about control, about wielding her power in a way that made her feel invincible.

You can do it again.

The whisper was soft, barely audible, but it sent a chill through her. She frowned, her heart quickening as she looked around the room. It was empty, of course. No one else was there. But the voice—it felt real, like a presence lingering just beyond her reach.

They're the ones who lied to you. Why should you feel guilty?

Amara shook her head, standing up abruptly. Her legs felt weak, unsteady, as she paced the small space. The voice wasn't real. It was just her mind playing tricks on her, her guilt twisting into something darker. She had to stay in control. She had to—

You've already seen what they're capable of. They'll never trust you now. Not after what you've done.

The whisper was louder now, more distinct. It curled around her thoughts, poisoning her doubts with a dangerous clarity. She pressed her hands to her temples, trying to drown it out, but the voice persisted.

Use your power again. See for yourself what they're hiding. You don't need them.

"No," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I can't... I won't."

But even as she said the words, she felt the pull. The temptation was there, lurking beneath the surface. The power she had tasted was intoxicating, and the idea of using it again—of taking control, of not needing anyone—was almost too strong to resist.