Small Cuts (Supernatural Dark!fic)

o n e - h u n d r e d + s e v e n t e e n

"And let me break it, I just say that be wrong
Do what you waiting for
Mhmm, mhmm, mhmm" 
Guilty Pleasure - Henry Verus 

The new day brought with it a sense of fresh energy. Amara stepped out of the shower, feeling more at ease than she had in a while. There was something about the simplicity of the day ahead that calmed her nerves—no supernatural research, no dark secrets about her lineage to uncover, just a trip out with Dean.

After drying her hair and slipping into one of her signature white dresses, she took a moment to check her reflection. The soft fabric flowed around her as always, giving her the familiar comfort she needed. But there was also a flutter of excitement building in her chest—Dean had been unusually excited about this knife shopping trip, and she couldn't help but smile at how eager he'd been to teach her about weapons.

With a deep breath, Amara left her room and made her way down the hallway to meet Dean in the garage. As she approached, she heard the low rumble of the Impala's engine already running, and a grin tugged at her lips. Dean, ever punctual, was waiting for her.

As she stepped into the garage, Dean looked up from the driver's seat, his sunglasses already perched on his face, and flashed her a grin. "Ready to go, sweetheart?"

Amara chuckled softly, slipping into the passenger seat. "Ready as I'll ever be."

Dean glanced over at her, his expression approving as his eyes flicked over her dress. "You look good. White's still your thing, huh?"

Amara shrugged playfully. "What can I say? I like sticking with what works."

Dean nodded, clearly pleased as he shifted the Impala into gear. "Well, just wait 'til you've got a butterfly knife in your hand. You'll feel like a whole new kind of badass."

As they pulled out of the bunker and onto the open road, Amara found herself relaxing into the comfortable, familiar hum of the Impala's engine. The windows were down, and a breeze filtered through the car, ruffling her hair as Dean cranked up the volume on the stereo.

"Let's get this trip started right," Dean said with a grin, reaching for the radio dial. A familiar guitar riff filled the car, and Amara instantly recognised the song—The Black Crowes' "Jealous Again."

Dean shot her a quick look, as if testing to see if she knew it, before leaning back in his seat, his hand casually resting on her thigh. Sunglasses on, arm draped over the steering wheel, Dean looked every bit the carefree, classic rock-loving hunter he was.

Amara's lips quirked upward as she listened to the song, and before she knew it, she found herself quietly singing along to the chorus.

"...I said jealous again, jealous again..."

Dean's head snapped toward her, his eyes widening behind his sunglasses. "No way," he said, his voice laced with genuine surprise. "You know this song?"

Amara raised an eyebrow, shooting him a playful look. "What? You think I don't know good music?"

Dean's grin returned, wider this time. "I just didn't think you were a Black Crowes fan. This is... kinda impressive, actually."

Amara laughed softly, leaning her head back against the seat. "I like rock music. I'm just... selective."

Dean's hand squeezed her thigh slightly, a satisfied chuckle escaping him. "You're full of surprises, aren't you?"

Amara smiled, but as the road stretched out before them, her mind drifted back to the first time Dean had taken her out in the Impala. It hadn't been for weapon shopping, but for something equally personal—dress shopping.