Castiel remained in the hospital bed for another two days. Even for himself, he believed he'd healed rapidly. He didn't mind having all of his energy to go into fixing the wound – it would mean he would be walking around the hallways of the resistance once more, this time as a somewhat estranged member instead of a prisoner.

An estranged member, not 'just a member'. He did not see himself to be a part of this operation. He wanted to help, but he did not necessarily pledge his allegiance to Dean or the other leaders, whoever they were. He still was an angel at his core; some of the old brainwashing still lingered in his mind and if the people knew he was an angel, he did not foresee being able to leave the building unharmed or even alive. Charlie was a good example of such a person – she'd rather see him dead than alive, she'd rather he give the information than he keeps it to himself.

Still, Castiel enjoyed it. He preferred it this way. He liked to stay in the shadows and only stepped in the foreground whenever Dean needed him. He did not need people to know what he was until he could fully trust them and until he found the right way to positively present himself after rediscovering his not-yet restored sense of identity.

Castiel left his hospital bed and walked around in his suit – someone had fixed the stab hole, but he hadn't found a worthy substitute for the trench coat. He missed the comfort the coat brought him, the calm and protection it offered. He may never find some other metaphorical armor to protect him from the true enemy this time.

Castiel wandered around wherever his feet would take him. He passed the garage, the cell that they now called his room, the kitchen. Marv was not inside – he also hadn't visited Castiel nor had he shown up for work, according to someone who took note of his disappearance. If Castiel asked someone else, they would not be able to tell him whether Marv had recently been around or where he was. Knowing their general attitude towards Marv, they'd say they were glad he was somewhere else, "anywhere but here".

Castiel continued his journey through the bunker's extensive chambers and halls. He wandered into a to him as of yet unknown part of the bunker and ended up in some sort of common room. It was spacious enough to hold at least three hundred people and there were at least for different entrances to this place. Castiel entered through the entrance located on the balcony, overlooking the common. From his perspective, he saw what could possibly be one of the bunker's main entrances in front of him, on the first floor, and two more on his sides at the same level as what he assumed to be the main entrance. There stood a big table with a map of the city in the middle of the room and many books filled the shelves. No natural light fell in this room, but the artificial light was more than enough. To his left side, a dark metal staircase connected the floor with one another.

Castiel remained in his position. There weren't many people in the room. They hadn't noticed him. And if they did look up from their books or computers when they heard someone walking on the balcony, they glanced and returned to the to what occupied them. Castiel wondered whether he once enjoyed reading as much as these people seemed to, whether he was a book person.

He was not alone on the balcony for a long time. Soon, Dean had spotted him and came to stand next to him, leaning against the railing and looking at the relatively empty space in front of them.

"Are you feeling better yet?" Dean asked.

"I can barely feel it anymore," he said. They didn't look at one another and they had not much else to talk about. And yet, the conversation continued.

"I haven't found anything on your family yet," Dean said. Castiel nodded in resignation. "But we are still looking. There's gotta be something out there on you or your family eventually."

"Did you come here just to tell me?" Castiel then asked.

"No," Dean said. "I also wanted to say Bobby's coming back."

"Where has he been?" Castiel asked. He hadn't seen the older man around for a while and he hadn't felt confident before to ask about what happened to Bobby. People might think it was weird he worried about Bobby and might think he was only trying to gather intel instead of showing actually worried.

"Some of our members have gone on an expedition outside of the city a couple of months ago. We believed they were dead because they didn't return. Bobby wasn't convinced and went to look for them. Thankfully, they're alive and are returning home today, if everything goes well." A small smile appeared on his face. "We're all glad they're okay. It's best if you didn't talk to them, but if you do, you'd better not mention you're an angel."

"I wasn't planning to," Castiel said.

They stayed in their place, and so did Dean. They stood side by side, with five feet between them, looking at the entrance right ahead and waiting for Bobby and the lost souls who spent months outside of city borders in possibly pitiful circumstances.

At long last, there was some movement. The heavy door creaked open and in walked Bobby, who was immediately greeted by some of the people in the room. A group of women, presumably the lost expedition members, entered behind him. Everyone in the room dropped what they were doing to help the ladies, to welcome them back.

Castiel caught glimpses of their faces through the gathering crowd and was shocked at their appearance. Only one or two actually looked like adults; two confident women, a weak smile on the blonde's face but a serious expression on the face of the woman whose brown hair was already graying. The other women, Castiel guessed, had the average age of sixteen or they just looked young.

Each of the girls was different in their own way, reacting to their return the same way the blonde did – happy to be back with their friends and under a proper roof. Castiel scanned the crowd, but his eyes fell on the last girl who entered the bunker. He longer leaned on the railing but straightened his back and he dared not take his eyes off of her. She was blonde, wore a leather jacket and had a certain familiarity about her.

Better yet, Castiel knew her.

So he stared at her. However much he wanted to talk, he honestly did not know what to say or even how to start the conversation. God, she'd grown so much… or she was this tall and his memory had reduced her to a silly emotional little girl.

"You shouldn't stare," Dean said. Castiel nodded once, not averting his eyes. He was afraid to lose sight of her if he only looked away.

"I know her," he said. Dean had no idea who Castiel talked about since he couldn't tell who Castiel was talking about. "It's her."

"Your daughter?" Dean wondered and he frowned in confusion. What a coincidence his child should be working for the resistance. Luckily for Castiel, there was one new recruit who had been with her during the same time period Castiel was an angel and whose story matched the story Castiel had told him. How had Dean not seen it before?

"Her name is Claire Novak."

That was all Castiel needed to hear. "Claire."

It sounded right. The memories did not come crashing in, but at least the name made sense to him. Claire Novak. His daughter. With that name, it must mean he once was a Novak, too. But that name belonged in his past; he would not call himself a Novak today. He burned that name along with his memories, property and late wife.

Then Claire noticed him. The smile on her face faded away, making way for pure shock. Some of her friends noticed and asked her about it. She may have told them who he was, or not; Castiel couldn't hear it. Claire barely took her eyes off of Castiel unless she spoke, much like the angel.

Eventually, Claire stepped away from the thinning group of friends, who were going deeper into the bunker to see the people they left behind. But Claire did not go to look for the people she had to leave for the expedition; she walked right to the father who had hurt her.

Castiel's nerves played up and he clenched the iron leaning of the balcony. He dreaded what was going to happen, but he did not want to run from the conflict. This morning, not even five minutes ago, he thought he would never see her again and never would get the chance to apologize. He knew this would not be easy, but this was at least something he could do. At least he was getting this chance.

Claire hastily climbed the stairs. Dean stepped away from Castiel, to give them the space they needed.

Castiel could not say a word when they stood face-to-face again. He could only stare at her, a weirdly proud yet still empty feeling inside of him. Look how far she's come. Look how great she's become. It's unfortunate the resistance made her this way.

She was not thinking the same. She saw the man she had loved most of her life and she'd known he loved her back. Then he left, only to return periodically, changing until he was fully changed after only seven months. He then left again, for the longest period of time, before he came back for the last time. He brought her out of the house and set it ablaze. She would never forget the indifferent look on his face. He watched the flames and no matter how many times she called for him, he did not turn his head to her – not even as he left the property.

Claire punched him in his stomach. It was hard enough to make Castiel groan and double over. Dean immediately stepped in to hold back Claire while Castiel tried to remain on his feet, clenching his stomach. The pain combined with his healing wound was not a pleasant feeling, but he felt he deserved it.

"Easy!" Dean said, standing between the two, ready to grab Claire's wrists if she would try to punch Castiel again. But she didn't. Instead, she pointed at him and glared at Dean.

"You know what he is, right?" Claire asked loudly, furious at Castiel's mistakes. "He's an angel!"

"He's changed," Dean told her, "he's fallen."

Claire did not want to believe it. She only glanced at Castiel in fury and disbelief. Castiel understood her anger; he deserved her wrath.

"I'm sorry for what I did," he said, but Claire already shook her head.

"You're not." She glanced at Dean once more before pushing past the two and storming off. Neither Dean nor Castiel went after her. Dean preferred to stay with Castiel for the time being.

"Are you okay?" Dean asked. Castiel nodded.

"I'm fine," he responded. "I deserved it."

That was all he needed to say. Castiel left the common room to go back to his room. He needed to lie down. As far as he was concerned, for a first meeting, that went better than he expected. Actually, he had not expected anything since the possibility of ever seeing her appeared so suddenly.

Only time would tell if Claire would come to look for him if she wanted to see him again. When she did approach him, he would be there, ready to apologize and to own his mistakes. He was not, however, going to make her come to him so he could come clean. Because what was the point of wanting to apologize for his horrible actions if he was going to bring her to him if she may not want to see him again?