"Claire, we shouldn't. It's wrong." Claire ignores the man wearing her father's skin and presses closer to him.

"It's not," she argues, peppering kisses down his neck. "Castiel, please." She grinds herself against him and smiles when he bucks into her and groans.

"Claire, this is still your father's body."

Claire raises her head from his neck to gently nip at his earlobe, her hands snaking down between their bodies to tug at his belt. "I don't care." She presses her forehead to his; forcing Castiel's head to tilt back. "You're not my father."

Castiel gives in with another groan and lifts his hips so she can slide his pants past his thighs. She does not, will not, kiss him. She stares into her father's eyes and remembers the secrets of Heaven swirling through her head as Castiel rode her body.

She pulls her skirt up and moves her panties aside, determined not to undress for him. She does not want to make love, does not want the skin to skin contact. She presses her forehead harder into his, desperate to have him sink into her mind instead of her flesh and fill the hole he left inside her.

She places her hand over his on the arms of the chair and grips tight as she shifts. Castiel stares at her with her father's face as she moves her other hand between them once again. Claire sinks down onto him and they gasp together when she begins to move.

She rides him less intimately than he rode her years ago, but the rush is still there. They move together, shaking and gasping driving themselves as close to Heaven as two humans can get. She stares into his stolen eyes, and for the first time since her father took Castiel away from her and back into himself, Claire Novak feels whole.