Claire had not spoken to Castiel or Dean in three days while they prepared for the upcoming party. They also hadn't seen Claire since then. It was always a possibility she purposely avoided them, and especially Castiel, though she might also be doing her own thing inside or outside of the bunker.
Either way, Castiel was supposed to check whether the security of the party was good enough to hold back young angels who hadn't developed their wings yet. Even though it was unlikely the angels would send their inexperienced and young to fight the bunker. It did not matter, as the resistance relied on the fact the angels did not know where the bunker was located and what the insides held and as such would not know whether they would fly into a harmful situation. Castiel said the safeguards were good enough and continued his work.
Castiel returned to his room after a long day of work. Dinner wasn't served until half an hour, which means he had some time left in his room, which now was permanently unlocked. If they planned to give him a proper room, Castiel hadn't been told. But he had grown to like this room; he didn't need a lot of space or comfort and it was located away from the general population. If the angels ever were coming for him and they found him right away, they would linger and fight. It would provide more time for the resistance to prepare and more lives would be saved.
He lay down on his bed and closed his eyes for a minute. He did not sleep, but his mind wandered to the home he burned down. Castiel had tried to reconstruct the events in his mind, in the hopes of unlocking some older memories. He never could decide whether that chair was quite right, whether the walls did have that color, whether the tree in their backyard was a willow tree or an oak tree. Those details would make it impossible to find the one right combination.
The door creaked and Castiel opened his eyes. In the door opening stood Claire. She may not have thought Castiel was going to be in his room at that moment. He only caught a glimpse of her before she left. Castiel kept his eyes on the door and tried to fit Claire into the house he tried to reconstruct. It did not seem quite right.
Claire eventually returned to his room, cautiously opening the door and peeping inside. Castiel was still on his bed. She doubted what her next course of action would be and, then entered the room.
"Weren't you going to tell me to come back?" Claire asked boldly. Castiel shook his head as he sat up.
"That's not right," he responded. He looked in her direction but did not quite look at her. "You're old and mature enough to make your own decisions. If you want to talk, I'll be here. If you want to leave, I won't stop you. I won't make you do anything."
She was not surprised that he spoke calmly, but she was impressed by his positive message and his willingness to give her the freedom to do as she pleased, to not question her decisions or to even leave her the choice.
"So you did change," Claire said. It was more a flat statement than a big revelation. He had changed from a loyal angel into… whatever he identified as now. An angel still, yet not so loyal anymore, since that had shifted. And it seemed he would continue to change. Who knows, in a month, he may be something else completely than he was today.
"Yes, I did," Castiel said. He looked at her. Her eyes conveyed the pain and emotional turmoil; she needed closure. She needed answers and dared not ask. Or she waited for the right moment. Even though she was now a stranger – how he wished she wasn't a stranger – it pained him to see her so conflicted.
"You can ask me anything," he told her. "I promise I will answer."
She glanced away for just a moment.
"Why?" she stared at him again, trying not to let sentiment get the better of her. "Why did you do it?"
It was the big questions he had been anticipating – the question he had prepared an answer for. The phrasing he couldn't quite remember now she stood in front of him. He would try to give a comprehensive answer nonetheless and hoped she'd listen to everything before making her judgment.
"Because I had to. I wanted to," Castiel admitted. It was foolish to deny he had not wanted it then. He kept his eyes on her. "The angels have a way to… they get inside your head. They exploit your weaknesses to strip you of yourself. When there is nothing left, they build you up again to be like them. They take away your thoughts and brainwash you so you'll never question their authority. You don't notice until it's too late. By then, you don't mind anymore."
He paused. Though he realized it happened, saying it out loud was harder than he thought it would be. Tears came to his eyes – they didn't use to do that. Castiel took a quick breath.
"So why did I do it? I cannot speak for the person I used to be. I know I needed to cut ties to my family if I ever wanted to join the angels. It was a requirement."
Castiel shook his head once. "They must have done their job too well. They turned my mind into a cruel place. Cutting ties could have been never seeing you again, burning a picture, and everything in between. They changed me so much I wanted to make it more permanent."
This confirmed Claire's worst fears and gave her insight into the horrible things angels made their recruits do – or made their recruits want to do. It confirmed that Castiel was not a good person, despite what angels have been telling him and despite what he's been doing to set things right. Who would commit murder and arson? Only crazy angels would.
"You don't need to forgive me," Castiel said; "You never have to. I am so sorry, but my apologies won't undo what I have done. It barely eases my mind." His apologies would never be enough and all his future actions were not going to come even close to making up for it. "You don't even have to talk to me. But if you decide you want the contact, I will be there for you." And, if need be, he would wait until the day he died. It would not even bother him if she never wanted to talk again. At least she knew, at least he confessed to his crimes, at least she was given the choice to show forgiveness.
"Anything else you want to get off your chest?" Claire asked softly. His words left an impact on her. Despite his words, she believed he had not said everything he wanted to say. She presented him with the chance to come clean now.
"I am sorry for everything," Castiel said. "I'm especially sorry for passing down the genes to you. Right now, I would never forgive myself if you are on the side of angels one day. For that fate, I am deeply sorry."
Especially because it would be his fault. She still could make a choice, but he made it so that she had this choice. He made her, so it was his fault these genes were passed on to her. She may have five, maybe ten years more before her own conversion.
"Good to know," she said.
They remained quiet for a while. Neither looked at the other; Claire had not hit the realization yet while Castiel was ashamed of what he has become. He wondered about a time before he was an angel, before they had taken him from his home to be re-educated.
Claire had not left yet. He might as well ask.
"What was he like?"
Claire turned her head to him and frowned. "Excuse me?"
"Your father," Castiel specified. "The person I used to be. What was he like?"
"You don't remember?" Claire asked. Castiel could only nod. If the memories were still in his mind, the angels had locked them all away in the crevices of his head and threw away the key. Castiel had no idea how to unlock them. His only accessible memory was the burning house.
"You were… kind and patient," Claire said. As she spoke, she randomly glanced at Castiel but never could keep her gaze on him. "You cared a lot and you wore your heart on your sleeve. You were hopelessly hopeful and believed there had to be some God out there, but the angels weren't sent by Him. You were brave and stood up for your beliefs." A smile had grown across her face, recalling memories made through the rose-tinted glasses of a girl looking up to her father. She made eye contact again. "You loved us with all your heart. You'd do anything to protect us."
"Thank you," Castiel said. He wanted to smile, but couldn't – the weight of his losses had been placed on his shoulders. His mind used those details to fantasize about the past. He constructed what could only be an incomplete and imperfect picture and it saddened him.
"Do you think the damage can be undone?" Claire asked.
Castiel shrugged. "The brainwashing is strong. It took me time away from the angels and specific information to see through it." Some angels had regained their memories – those angels only received limited to no training from other angels who could have removed them. Only the future could tell how much Castiel could regain.
No more words were exchanged except for 'goodbye' and 'see you around'. Castiel was alone in his room again, his mind clear now Claire had heard his confessions. Yet he still thought about the little details of his former personality he no longer possessed.
Something crossed his mind while reflecting on the relationship he would have with Claire. No matter what happened, he was still her biological father. He passed the Novak name on to her, but the angels took this name from him. The angels made it so he was not a Novak anymore. He could never be a Novak anymore.
Or maybe that wasn't true. Maybe he could claim the name again when Claire believed he'd earned it. Unless Claire said it, he did not deserve that name anymore. It would take a while – it could take a lifetime – but Claire needed to agree to it first.
