Small Cuts (Supernatural Dark!fic)

o n e - h u n d r e d + s i x

"Ashes to ashes throw us in the flames baby I
We'll burn slow like molasses cuz pleasure is pain baby I"
numb - wens 

With the details of the ritual finally clear, the group shifted their focus to the next big question: when to perform it. The atmosphere in the war room was still charged, but there was a sense of resolution now, a plan taking shape in front of them.

Dean leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. "Alright, so when's the best time to do this? We need to make sure everything's lined up perfectly."

Sam glanced over at Castiel, who had been quietly watching the conversation unfold. "Cas? You've got the most experience with these kinds of rituals. What's the right timing?"

Castiel nodded thoughtfully, his brow furrowing as he considered the question. "The power of the rift is strongest at dawn. That would be the best time to perform the ritual—the chaos energy will be at its peak, and we'll have the clearest path to severing the Entity's connection."

Amara took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the decision settle over her. "Dawn," she echoed softly. It wasn't far off—just a few hours away. The realisation hit her hard, but there was no backing out now. She felt Sam's hand tighten slightly around hers, grounding her once again.

Dean let out a low whistle. "Alright then. Looks like we're pulling an all-nighter."

As the group continued discussing the final preparations for the ritual, the tension in the room was palpable, but Crowley, as usual, seemed completely unbothered. He leaned back in his chair, observing with that familiar smug expression.

Dean glanced at the others before looking back at Crowley. "Alright, so we do this at dawn. Everyone knows what they're doing. We don't get a second shot at this, so let's make sure it goes right the first time."

Sam nodded, still holding Amara's hand under the table. "We've got the essence of chaos, the Nephillim blood, the blade, and the Bible. We're ready."

Crowley cleared his throat, drawing the group's attention. "You know, I never properly thanked you lot for getting rid of Paimon a few months back."

Dean raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical of Crowley's sudden gratitude. "Paimon? That's old news. We've got bigger problems now."

Crowley smirked. "True, true. But I'm still grateful. Paimon was causing all sorts of problems in Hell, ranting on and on. 'Evangeline this' and 'Evangeline that' like some broken record. His obsession with her was exhausting, to say the least."

Amara stiffened slightly at the mention of her birth name, but Crowley waved it off, clearly enjoying the dramatic retelling. "It was driving me mad, honestly. So, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for banishing the bastard. Things have been much quieter since then."

Dean snorted, crossing his arms. "So, what? You're saying we did you a favour by kicking Paimon's ass?"

Crowley grinned. "Precisely, Squirrel. Though it pains me to admit it, you've been quite useful in cleaning up some of Hell's more... annoying inhabitants."

Sam chuckled, shaking his head. "I never thought I'd hear Crowley admit we've been helpful."

Crowley leaned back with a smirk. "Don't get used to it, Moose. Gratitude isn't something I offer lightly."

The group shared a brief moment of amusement, the tension lifting just a little as Crowley's sarcasm lightened the mood. Even Jack, who had been quiet throughout most of the discussion, cracked a small smile at the absurdity of it all.