Just a quick A/N: If anyone could beta for me that would be immensely appreciated. Enjoy the chapter!

Disclaimer: Eric Kripke owns the show and the characters associated with the show, not me.

Chapter 2: Claire

It's funny how one word can change the course of your entire life.

Claire Novak stood there in freezing cold thinking about that one word. Yes. It had screwed her over beyond imagination. Really it was more of her father that had been screwed over. She liked to think it affected her just as much as it affected him, because while he was out being possessed by an angel or something like that, she was stuck on earth. She knew about the things that were out there, in the dark. Sometimes she couldn't sleep at night because of it. They haunted her dreams, casting their dark shadows on her memories. Bringing back her time with the angels. The vicious, vicious angels. Since those she'd just kept moving. It was her and her mother against world sometimes. Or well, it used to be.

She was just so tired of it all. The demons invading the Earth. The constant death threat that lay over her and everybody else's head. Claire just wanted it all to be over. But she knew it couldn't be. Death had become a fate much worse than living now. So she just tried to live as normally as possible.

She had had a date today. For one day she could be happy. Obviously the forces of the universe were against that. Here she was, standing in the freezing cold, in the middle fucking nowhere. She was wearing a thick black pea coat, but that didn't seem to stop the wind from going straight through the woolly fabric. Her thin plaid scarf was also not doing such a great job at concealing the only body heat she had left. An especially warm breath escaped her chapped lips then immediately formed a small white cloud.

She knew that he wasn't going to show. Their time together was too rushed. All it was were two very broken people that needed release. They just came together that night.

Loud music blared in Claire's ears as she downed another shot of the strong, mysterious alcohol she'd been given. Her false ID along with some condoms, a small makeup kit, and a pocket knife stayed concealed in the silver clutch she'd brought with her. She'd been doing this too often the past few month. Drinking away her screwed up past and going home with some guy that'd taken advantage of her. Tonight she was especially desperate.

Her dreams from night before had brought back especially painful. Her mother's death. Amelia being tortured in every possible way the demon knew how while she keeping her alive. Claire being tied to a pole, forced to watch. The last blow that finally put her over the edge. The mysterious dark-haired girl that freed her and killed the demon. She hated that girl. She should've been the one to kill the demon. Or at least the girl should've let her die there. But she didn't. She just disappeared and left Claire with her mother's butchered body. That whole entire time her father's voice repeated the last he'd ever said to her, over and over again in her head. "Take care of your mom okay Bub?". She had failed.

Before she realized it, she had downed two more shots of whatever it was she was drinking. Her whole body was buzzing and her mind was slowly beginning to get to a peaceful state. A boy with dark, messy hair came and sat beside her. It seemed as though he was even younger than Claire, which made her wonder how he even got in the club. The blonde bartender also seemed to have the same thoughts, as she neglected him until he flagged her down and ordered a beer.

Claire stared at him for as long as she could without the alcohol blinding her. He seemed like her type; male and somewhat attractive. She clenched her teeth together and heightened her lip. It was the closest she'd come to a smile in her drunken state. She placed her elbow on the counter and turned her body towards the boy. "Hi, my name's Claire. What's yours?" she asked, as flirty as possible.

He failed to acknowledge her, only later quietly muttering "Names are too important. I don't give mine out to just anyone."

"Well I'm not just anyone." Claire laughed.

The nameless boy turned his head, Claire could now get a good look at his face. She was taken aback. It wasn't that he was ugly, or had husky eyes, or anything like that. His face was just so damaged. She could see the fading bruises and the well-hidden white scars. The way his tongue flicked, she could tell he had tasted his own blood before, even on multiple occasions. But his eyes told the real story. They were warm at one point, but now they were empty. So completely and utterly empty. His gaze was cold and broken, he couldn't hide that. She knew the look. Because it was the look she saw every time she'd look in the mirror.

He seemed to have found the same things on her face. So compelled by this boy, she leaned in and kissed him, soft lips pushing against hard and chapped. He deepened the kiss and grabbed the back of her head, her light hair running through his finger. One thing lead to another and Claire woke up in some cheap motel bed, half-clothed.

She groaned as she lifted up, her head pounding. She tried to remember the events of the night before. The club. The drinks. The boy. The usual. No wait, something was different. She fought past the painful migraine and tried to remember. The boy. It was the boy. He was like her. Broken. Empty. Tired.

She lay back down trying to remember the details and the bed replied with a loud creak. She stared up at the blank ceiling ,while simultaneously fidgeting in the bed in attempt to make herself more comfortable. That's when she heard a familiar crunching noise. She scrambled frantically through the sheets and found a crumpled sheet of paper with messy words scribbled on to it.

Meet me at Glenson Park, 3:00pm.

I'm sorry about what happened to your mother.

I'd like to get a chance to talk to you sober, I can relate.

Claire cursed her tendency to talk in her sleep. She gathered what little clothes she could find and headed back to her small apartment to get ready.

She brought herself back to reality, or rather, the Ice Age-like temperatures did. The wind kept whistling louder and louder in her ears, until it became almost unbearable. It screeching a banshee's song. Claire fell on her knees and the cold snow went straight through her jeans, in mix between melting from her body heat and freezing from the temperature. Her hair sat at her shoulder, with clumps of it in hands, blocking her ears from the noise. The wind had stopped but the noise was still there. She tried to look up, but was blinded by a bright, white light that made it seem like her eyes could burn out.

Despite the circumstances, Claire could hear one distinct word, loud and clear:

Help