Small Cuts (Supernatural Dark!fic)

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

"It's tearing me apart
Is ruining everything
I swore, I swore I would be true
And honey, so did you"
Linger - The Cranberries 

The cold crept into Amara's bones, numbing her limbs as she sat on the rock, staring blankly out at the barren landscape. The wind howled around her, biting through her thin dress, but she couldn't move. The whispers were louder now, pressing against her thoughts, drowning out any sense of warmth or comfort.

You're alone. They'll never find you. You don't need them.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to push the voice away, but it was relentless. The more she fought it, the stronger it became. Her body trembled, not just from the cold, but from the overwhelming exhaustion that weighed her down. She didn't even have the strength to stand, let alone walk back to the bunker. She was too far, too cold, too tired.

And yet, somewhere in the back of her mind, she felt them.

Sam and Dean. They were coming for her.

She couldn't see them, but she could feel their worry—Sam's desperation, Dean's determination. They were searching for her, combing the surrounding area with frantic hearts. The thought should have comforted her, but all she could feel was the dull ache of her own isolation.

They'll never understand you. They're only afraid of what you'll become.

Her limbs were so numb now that she could barely feel them. Her mind was slipping, tuning in and out of reality as the world around her faded into a blur of cold and whispers. She wasn't sure how much time had passed, how long she had been sitting there, waiting for something to happen.

And then, through the haze, she felt strong arms lifting her from the ground. She blinked slowly, her vision blurry as she tried to focus. Sam's face came into view, his expression tight with worry as he cradled her against his chest.

"Amara? Amara, can you hear me?" His voice was low, trembling with concern, but it sounded so distant, like it was coming from far away.

She tried to respond, tried to say something, but her lips wouldn't move. Her body was so cold, her mind too tired to keep up. She could feel Sam's emotions—his fear, his desperation to help her—but she couldn't find the strength to reach out.

Her head lolled against his shoulder as he started walking, his footsteps hurried and uneven over the rocky terrain. She could hear him muttering something under his breath, but the words slipped away before she could catch them.

Somewhere behind him, Dean's voice cut through the wind. "How is she?"

Sam's grip on her tightened as he shifted her in his arms. "She's freezing. We need to get her back inside—now."

Dean's worry hit her in a wave, crashing against her senses. His fear was raw, palpable, and it mixed with her own exhaustion, dragging her further into the darkness. She wanted to tell them she was okay, that she didn't need their help—but the words wouldn't come. Her mind was too foggy, too tired.

You don't need them. You're stronger alone.

The voice gnawed at the edges of her consciousness, even as Sam carried her back toward the bunker. She could feel the brothers' worry, feel the warmth of Sam's body as he held her close, but it felt distant, like she was slipping away from them, from everything.

They reached the bunker, and she barely registered the creak of the door as it opened, the warmth of the inside hitting her numb skin. Sam and Dean were talking, but their words blurred together, muffled by the pounding in her head.