Notes: This is a canon divergence series: Jimmy dies, Castiel stays in Claire Novak. She's 18 here, for all intents and purposes. Please enjoy and review!
The Rapture
Dean had stayed in a lot of motel rooms over the years. Bit of an understatement, really. Some he'd camp in for the night. It didn't matter what they looked like then. Any hole in the ground on the side of the road would do. He hadn't gotten lice yet, but he always crossed his fingers before going in. Other rooms he'd have to stay in for months and those he was pickier about. Nice enough for clean towels and maybe a free cup of Folgers in the morning, but not so nice that the owners asked a lot of questions. He'd been in so many that they all blurred together, a wash of faded shag carpet, stylish partitions, and peeling wallpaper.
He remembered a few, though. Kind of like how people remembered where they were when they found out about 9/11. It was never a good memory, always traumatic in some way, and he got the chills whenever the decor was situated just right to remind him... of whatever it was.
He'd remember this room. Just because of how freaky the whole thing felt. And how the silence stretched on. Rarely did he and Sam ever have visitors in one of these places and now it was crowded, with Jimmy Novak on the edge of one bed and his wife and daughter sitting adjacent at a small table.
When Dean couldn't stand the sound of his own leg shaking anymore, he scrubbed a hand down his face and announced that he was going on a food run.
An hour and two cigarettes later, he toed the door open. No one had moved. Who could have guessed? Even Sam hadn't, standing pensively in 'his' corner, arms crossed and enormous brow furrowed.
This was a shitty situation. If he could have given Novak the time with his family that he deserved, Dean would have. But the guy had already gone AWOL and had gotten the girls' asses kicked by messengers from the nether realm.
Full plastic bags rustled in his arms. Maybe it was Mom's influence, but food... oh, food made everything better. Even if he looked like somebody's grandmother trying to dole it out. "Alright, I've got a couple of burgers here, fries, onion rings, pumpkin pie, couple of sodas... Let's at least think on a full stomach."
He gripped the styrofoam trays and passed them around one by one. Jimmy was the first to open his. Amelia shifted uncomfortably in her chair, lips pursed. At her husband's pleading eyes, she unceremoniously flipped open the lid. Claire chewed on a soda straw.
"What's your name?" Dean asked the girl, grunting as he slid a tray her way. He suspected that at least she would talk to him and then this whole silence thing could be over with.
She was blonde, her hair bone-straight. And she looked like she'd just walked out of Sunday school. The pressed collar of a button-down peeked out from under a cardigan. There were stockings on her legs, under a small skirt, and she wore short black heels. That would explain her falling so easily when that black-eyed bastard had close-lined her in the kitchen.
"Claire," she answered, voice light and airy.
"How's the ankle?"
"Better." She gave it a twist. Small fingers snatched up a fry. The movement was so delicate she could have been playing Jenga in there.
"I didn't get anything weird on it," Dean offered when he noticed her reluctance to go anywhere near the tin foil wrapping. "Cheese and ketchup." Same as Sam's order when he was a kid. Figured she could have been just as picky. Dean pointed in his brother's direction. "That one pukes at the smell of onions."
"No, I'm a vegetarian," Claire explained politely and, yeah. That made sense. Her limbs were all scrawny. Thin and lean and the only ounce of fat on her was perky and sweater-clad. Dean hadn't meant to let his eyes linger.
"Just eat it, sweetie." Jimmy nudged tiredly.
"I'm not hungry, Dad."
Huh, Dean thought. That had had a carnivorous bite to it. Maybe Claire wasn't huge on ground beef, but absentee-father was fair game and on the menu. Sucked to be Jimmy.
"I went vegan once, in college." Sam coughed around his burger. "I've got a protein bar you can have when you are."
Dean gave her a wink. "Smart girl. Just means more pie for you."
"Claire, Amelia, could we have a second?" Jimmy asked.
Claire stared on defiantly, but Amelia grabbed her wrist and tugged. "Come on."
There was a silence that followed after the door shut. Jimmy stood, working himself up to something, and Dean expected to hear something along the lines of you told me so, now what? Instead, he got, "Not my daughter, Dean."
"What?"
"I said not my daughter, you son of a bitch. You don't look at her. You don't talk to her." In his trench coat and at his full height, Jimmy looked like Cas again. And with that threatening, garbled tone, the one the angel used almost exclusively, he was downright menacing. Except Dean knew he was only looking at an accountant. A mad accountant, but an accountant. No otherworldly being in there.
"I've seen how you hunters live. I couldn't see everything, but sometimes I..." Jimmy's fist closed and he let out a sigh. "You get it where you can, when you can. Strip clubs, bars, hook-ups and then it's thanks-for-the-ride. I'm saying not my daughter. Not ever. I don't care what happens to me or Amelia. This is no life for her. Castiel made a promise that THAT girl would be safe-!"
"Woah, woah!" Sam pressed, rounding the bed with his hands up in surrender while Dean still sat dumbfounded, brows raised. "Listen, we're gonna figure out how to keep them safe, however we can. We're still not the enemy here, and Claire's gonna be fine... do you - do you have reason to believe that something might happen? Jimmy? Something bad?"
Damn, Sam was quick on the draw. Always had been. Jimmy had finally cracked. Wide open. Splat. Like an egg. Dean wiped at his mouth with a paper napkin. Someone had to cut him a break, Cas (or the image of Cas) had just called him a man-slut.
"I mean," Jimmy bit out in frustration. Then he sighed. His voice was strangled. "I wasn't his first choice."
"His first choice... for a vessel?" Sam tried.
"It doesn't matter. I just want to hear you say it. No matter what happens, you don't let Claire get involved in this, or with you, or with any of your friends."
"Sure, man. Whatever happens. Right, Sam?" Dean expertly deflected.
"Uh... right." Sam agreed slowly.
But Sam wasn't the one who had a thing for cheerleaders (like the ones he could never get in high school). And with a body like that, Claire had to be one. Jimmy was right. Dean could have hung his head in shame. He ought to be taken out back and neutered. Or just plain shot.
Sam patted the back of the rental car. A short family reunion after two years apart, but it was the right thing to do. And now Jimmy knew it, too. The younger Winchester doubted he'd give them any more trouble in the "sneaking off" department.
That was a good thing. It meant they could get back to doing their job and focusing on where the hell Cas went and why.
Dean, on the other hand... Of course, he couldn't be happy about it. Or even a little relieved, after all the effort it'd taken to get them to this point. Sam spared a glance his way. His brother was lit under the streetlight with his fists shoved in his jean pockets. Scowling.
Dad had always said Dean was a glass-half-empty kind of guy.
Even if the sacrifice and pain of others were for the greater good, Dean couldn't stand it. He wore it on his shoulders until they were heavy with the load of it all. Sam had learned early on that that kind of thinking got hunters killed. But maybe that was why Dean had survived hell, the way he had, coming out semi-normal and all. He could take a personal beating like it was nobody's business.
Sam walked over to him, pulling his coat tighter around him. A crisp night in Illinois. It made him yearn for the Texas weather they'd left behind. "Hey," he breathed.
"Hey," Dean grunted, watching the rental carrying Jimmy's wife and Claire roll on. The backlights were fading fast.
"Good job on not getting clocked earlier."
"Come on, man." Dean grit his teeth, defensive. "I wasn't exactly moving on the target. Okay? Girl's been through enough. I can keep it in my pants. Hey! I can! Had enough dads threatening me with a shotgun before."
"Too bad all he had was Cas' sword or he might have leveled you."
"Yeah, what the hell was that about?"
"He seems pretty worried that Claire might be next in line for the whole angelic body snatch."
"That's stupid." At Sam's look, Dean doubled down. "Cas wouldn't do that. Ever. I know the guy, alright? Better than you do. So trust me on this. And besides, Jimmy's still up and kicking."
"For now. Until another demon tries to pry his head open to see what makes him tick."
"Which is why he's with us. We keep him alive until Cas gets back."
"We don't exactly have the best track record at the moment. And Anna did say that Cas seriously pissed off some people upstairs. If Jimmy does know something-"
"Would you stop? You're giving me the willies, making me think of Cas in some-" Dean's hands moved to cup at his chest, then he shrugged. "Guess that would make him less of an eyesore."
"Sure, Dean."
"I'm just saying."
"Don't. Father of the Bride's on your six."
Dean turned his head and there was Jimmy, stalking toward them with his head hung low, eyes to the ground. That first time around, he'd thought he was giving himself up to some divine cause. A servant of God. No better title in the world. He'd had no idea what he was getting into or what he was leaving behind. Now, he... he knew alright. Where he was going, there would be no houses lined up a neat little row, no freshly mowed grass, no white picket fences. Just a whole lot of Pink Floyd and kaleidoscope colors.
Dean's stomach sank for the guy.
Just another day on the job, Dean thought as he peered around the cater-cornered edge that was his hiding spot. They were back in that mangled factory. The crime scene, he called it. It was the site of Cas' disappearance, where there had obviously been a struggle. The whole place was nothing but crumbling sheetrock, broken glass, and rhubarb. Tetanus-ridden rhubarb, at that. He minded his hands. Yeah, just a Wednesday.
With a nod from Dean that the coast was clear, Sam advanced.
At the center of it all was Claire, tied to a chair. Her mother sneered over her shoulder at her. Only it wasn't Amelia at all. Just another run-of-the-mill, grunt demon. And Claire, she was handling it well. Better than Jimmy, who had walked through the front door and forgotten their plan: stall, until Dean could think of a better plan. He was crying and begging and all but willing to make a deal for their lives.
Dean couldn't blame him. It was just... jarring, still. It wasn't Jimmy's fault that every time Dean looked at him, he saw Cas. The angel would have come in guns blazing like Rambo or the Terminator. And he would have had a plan of attack with all the details written out for them.
Claire was the smart one. "It's okay, Daddy," she panted to him. "It's okay, it's okay. I'm okay."
"I'm so sorry, baby," he sobbed.
"I know. But it's okay." And then that girl - that sweet, soft little thing - look the demon right in the eye. She made it her bitch. "Because he's talking to me. Castiel."
"Is he now?" the demon said slowly. It leaned down so that Claire could smell all the fire and brimstone on its breath. This one must have been a real chronological lier in life because it expected a trick at every corner. "And just what is he saying to you, sweetheart?"
She leaned back. "I can't hear him if you're talking, too. I just... need a minute."
Sam advanced again.
"A minute," it hissed, pleased. It turned on its heel. "Guess you're chopped liver, Jimbo. What'd you ever do to piss off- no, wait. I bet I know what it is. Angel wants a new haircut. Oooh, boy, do I GET that. As soon as we're done here, I'm dropping this hag down a hole. Seriously, would it have killed you to pay for a decent boob job? ...your daughter's practically jailbait. All supple and lean. And so soft. And you? You're broke down. Wrinkled and gray." The demon frowned for him. "If I had Castiel's kind of stats, I'd want something a little more fashionable, too."
Dean made the whole ten feet to the opposite wall, but his foot caught in the dirt at Jimmy's outburst. Shit. "Shut up, shut up! I'll fucking kill you, you evil son of a bitch!"
"Dad-" Claire begged. She'd seen Dean. Their eyes had met. She knew. If they'd kept that demon ranting just another minute - another minute - he could have gotten to her.
"The way I see it?" The demon grinned and leveled a gun on Jimmy. "We don't even NEED to unspool your brains. This shit's generational! Isn't it?" Jimmy couldn't pretend that it wasn't, even if he wanted to. Two thousands years of them not knowing and the demon's had finally figured it out. "So, we'll kill you both and call it a day! No more Castiel. No more angel general to screw up our plans. Why don't we handle his cute little soldier boys while we're at it, too?"
Strong hands grabbed at Dean and Sam and pulled them from the wreckage. Oh, crap-! They'd forgotten about the freakin' neighbors. Here was the bush in ambush and yet Cas was still nowhere to be seen. Come on, man... You can't leave these people to die like this. Phone a friend if you can't get down here! Because my ass is about to get fried with them!
"Knife up the girl first. I want him to watch."
"HEY-!" Dean shouted, moving to jerk free from the hold, but it was no good. Jimmy was screaming. Sam lifted a newly free hand and strained, but nothing. No juice. Of all the times Dean wished his brother had the juice in him...
"You think you're gonna win this fight?" Claire snapped suddenly. She was flushed, panting, and there was sweat on her brow. Her lips forced a smile. "I know something you don't know."
God, Dean could only imagine how scared she was. The guy who'd given her Halloween candy every year was holding a blade to her throat. It bit into her skin and she winced. Blood dripped down to her collarbone. At the look the boss-demon gave him, he stopped.
There was a pause. Amelia's eyes narrowed and, out of sheer spite - gunfire. Jimmy was down like his body was made out of bricks. Claire screamed. She couldn't help it. She cried, fat tears rolling down her face, taking big snot-filled breaths.
Then it all... stopped. Her face went stony and still. It was as if someone had flipped the off switch. Her arm broke through the ropes and lifted to burn the demon out of Amelia's skull, burned it down to nothingness so that not even hell would take it back. The distraction was enough for Dean and Sam to break free and fists went flying.
Push. Shove. Uppercut. Dean took a blow to the chin and gave it right back, so hard that the demon spun onto the ground. Then he knifed him. Dean knew the cost but he was no less satisfied by the end result. They'd put this family through hell, literally. The entire night had been one big shit storm.
It wasn't until he got up, breathing hard, that he saw it. Jimmy was dead, his wife was dead, and their daughter stood quietly over the both of them. Dean's stomach dropped between his knees.
Goddamnit, he'd never seen something so heartbreaking in all his life. "...Cas?"
Claire looked at him and yeah, there was something in those steel eyes that told him. Cas was in there and he'd fucked up. Majorly. Dean felt like he might hurl because maybe they were to blame for this, too. Because if Jimmy had never left... But then, Cas' face went all hard. Dean followed his line of sight.
Sam's mouth was covered in blood - demon blood. Oh, not now, Sammy... God, he thought they'd just gotten him clean... Now Cas was leaving.
No, wait- "Cas!"
The angel stopped. Claire seemed taller with the ethereal being in her. Scarier. There was a tiredness about her face now that aged her. It was the same tiredness his Dad wore, that Bobby wore, that just about every guy that age wore. After a battle gone horribly wrong, they were sad, but they'd seen enough bad in the world to expect things to just turn out that way.
Dean wanted to ask what now? When are you gonna hop out and find someone else? Because obviously... obviously, Cas wouldn't ride around in her. Damn, would he-?
This was beyond messed up.
Dean knew he could only handle one thing at a time. Frankly, his brother was more important. Claire wouldn't feel a thing until Cas could find a cousin in a coma somewhere, and of course, he would, so... so.
"What were you gonna tell me?" he asked, desperate to know. To make all of this worth it, somehow.
Castiel was slow to answer. When he opened Claire's mouth, the words came out guttural and angry. "I learned my lesson while I was away, Dean. I serve heaven. I don't serve man. And I certainly don't serve you."
Then Cas left in a swish of a short skirt.