Work Text:
Sloppy kid’s lettering in red ink on a napkin:
“Hi dad ,
Thanks for leaving me.
Hate,
Claire.”
***
The bell above the door rings as it swings open, letting in a draft and a creature, parading around in a trench coat too big for a too-tight meatsuit. It moves as if not quite grasping its current size - an opposite of the dog growing up too big too fast. Hesitating for a moment a few feet away from the booth, it lets out a heavy human-like sigh.
“Hello, Claire.”
The voice is wrong. Too deep, too low.
Claire looks up, biting at the black nailpolish of her thumb.
The smirk is foreign. He’s never smirked at her like that before.
“Hey you.”
The head tilt is all wrong, too. She almost brings a hand to the creature’s forehead to tilt it to the other side. Chin up, slightly to the left. A lopsided picture on the wall.
Claire yanks the thumb out of her mouth so quickly that her teeth click. She picks up a fork and busies her hands with it, frowning.
“You’re late.”
“I apologize,” he says, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. The vinyl of the couch slightly squeaks under his weight. “I missed a turn. The voice in my phone kept saying I had to keep driving.”
Claire waves her hand dismissively, regarding the smiley face on her plate. Her own lips are pressed into a thin white line, not even a hint of amusement in the corners. She picks at her eggs, boredom entwined into her every movement, then drags her coffee mug closer and inhales the bitter aroma.
“How’s school?”
Claire rolls her eyes, taking a sip.
He clears his throat, tries again:
“How’s Kaia?”
Claire hides the blush blossoming on her cheeks behind her coffee.
Everyone is allowed a weakness, and she’s got hers, too. She leans back, eyes trained on the shiny lip of the mug, “Good. She’s good.”
The silence rings, disturbed only by a truck driving by at full speed.
“Sam mentioned Donna was taking you two on hunts with her lately. How’s that going? Are you being careful?”
Claire laughs, but the sound comes out joyless. Her throat clenches around it. Suffocating.
She looks up meeting a pair of blue, confused eyes, just like her own.
“You don’t have to try this hard, you know,” she spits, words bitter on her tongue. “I don’t expect you to drop by once a week, and just…”
She shakes her head furiously, tears stinging in her eyes. Looks away through the dirty window to the empty parking lot with just the two of their cars parked in the middle, side by side.
And just pretend you’re him , she swallows down.
He tilts his head, his features soft, regretful. His lips pinch tightly together, as he says:
“If I could…” but he cuts himself off, briefly glancing down to his hands. They’ve had this conversation a thousand times, both knowing by now how it ends.
They sit in silence for a while; the food, untouched, cools off.
Claire squeezes her eyes shut, and breathes. Anger bubbles. A non-essential, phantom pain.
“When you called, you said you needed help,” she says after the wave steps back. “What’s up? There’s no shady stuff in town. I’ve checked.”
Castiel just watches her for a moment, hesitant. Maybe it’s the rising sun casting long shadows across his cheeks, maybe she just catches a flush of embarrassed blush.
“The trench coat,” he gestures down at himself, “and the suit. I’ve worn them for years. They are comfortable and I am rather fond of them, but...”
He frowns, weighing.
“But I think,” he pauses, rolling words on his tongue, “it’s time to let them go.”
Claire swallows hard, not able to look away from the worn, scoffed buttons of the coat. She suddenly sees her own tiny fingers playing with them when she used to sit on her dad’s lap.
Unwelcomed tears blur her vision.
“Do you want me to take you shopping ?” She asks, blinking the mist away, trying so hard to seem stronger than she feels.
She keeps looking at the coat, thinking how it may be even older than herself. Thinking of all the times her dad’s hand fished presents out of the same pockets she’d slip notes with little hearts before he left for work.
“Why don’t you ask your boyfriend to go with you?”
The words are bitter as they tumble out of her mouth before she can think better of it.
“I don’t really trust his judgement on the matter. He’d happily wrap me up in flannel. Preferably one of his own,” Castiel says, her dig flying over his head. He sighs at whatever memory this summons, “I’d very much prefer a more objective view.”
Claire scoffs, rolling a cup in her hands. She glances at the tie around his neck, traditionally askew.
It didn’t use to do that, either.
Cas weighs, then adds, “I always admired your clothing sense.”
Claire looks at him long, thoughtful. It’s easier with Dean. They speak the same language, and she can detect whether it’s a joke or a blatant truth wrapped up in one.
With Cas? Not so much.
But she lets it slip. Smiles at him, warming up.
“Anything on your mind?” she slightly kicks his knee under the table with her own. “You’re free to choose whatever you want now.”
Claire falls silent, the significance of her words catching up with her post facto. She knows the overwhelming freedom of the open road, but she also remembers the fear.
“I don’t know,” Cas says after a while. “I want to see what options there are first.”
Claire nods, understanding. It’s a big world out there.
With a fork, she moves the ends of the strip of bacon up, making her breakfast smile wider back at her.
“I think you’d look cool in a hat,” she says teasingly, her heart a little lighter now.
She looks up and Cas slightly tilts his head at her, expression comically serious.
“Dean keeps saying this, too.”
The laugh bursts out of her, like a geyser, and she manages to cover her mouth with a hand just in time. Cas’ expression softens and he watches her, pleased, probably not even fully grasping what caused the reaction.
A lot has changed, Claire thinks, but right now blue eyes are giving her the proud, amused look, and at least that look is still for her.
***
They leave the diner in an hour, pink-cheeked and teary-eyed from laughter. Cas covers the check (he always does), and maybe this time Claire even doesn’t feel like owing him. He holds the door for her as she walks, fingers swiftly jumping across the touchscreen, briefing Kaia with her plans for the next few hours.
Don’t wait up , she ends her message. Gonna send pics. Love you.
She grins at the heart emoji she gets in reply, hiding her phone. Cas politely hovers one step behind her, and as she halts in front of their cars, he stops, too.
“Na-huh,” Claire shakes her head, throwing a single short glance toward his car. “Not driving that . You’ll have to tie me down to put me anywhere near that monstrosity.”
Cas’ confused glance slides toward his teal pickup, then back to Claire’s face. She senses another story on the tip of his tongue, and scofs, sure that one’s on Dean, too.
She fishes out her car keys and dangles them in the air.
“You can still drive, if you want,” she offers. “But no music.”
Cas nods, accepting. He reaches out to take the keys, but Claire suddenly clenches them in her fist, changing her mind. She looks down at her hand, digging through her mind for the correct words. Cas waits, patient.
“About what I said,” she starts after a while in a small voice. “I am glad you’re here. I mean it.”
She feels tears pooling in her eyes, unwelcomed. This time the emotion is stronger than her, bigger than her - it’s been ripening for almost as long as she can remember.
“It’s just still hard sometimes, you know, to look at you, but see...”
Claire’s voice breaks, and she makes no effort to pick up the pieces. Her eyes keep roaming the dirt under her shoes as her hands fiddle with the car keys.
“I still miss them so much.”
Saying it aloud feels like lifting a rock off her chest. Claire sucks in a loud breath, her chin trembling slightly. Her thumb caresses a key ring in a fruitless attempt to soothe her own worries away. She expects Cas’ hand to wrap around her shoulders, both wishing for and dreading it.
He doesn’t.
“I ask Jack to check on them once in a while,” he says instead, quiet, his voice matching hers in intensity. “Just to know how things are.”
Claire looks up from her hands, stunned. Unlike she expects, Cas is not looking at her. His hands are deep in the pockets of his trench coat, and he’s watching the cotton-white clouds float by in herds above them casting passing, never lasting shadows.
“Are they okay?” she finally asks, her voice small again, like a lost kid.
Cas’ eyes are to the sky, dreamy.
Claire wonders if he misses Heaven. If the faraway look is one of longing. She watches him breathe, letting the sun bathe his face, listening into the light whistle of the wind. He’s lost plenty, too, she realizes. He’s given humanity way more than any of them will ever be able to repay.
Cas smiles, glancing at her from the corner of his eye, “They’re at peace.”
Claire’s lungs become too big and too small all at once, her chest cramping, urging for air. She’s shrinking, and at some point she’s going to get tiny enough to fit in the width of palm. She takes a step closer, seeking shelter in Cas’ presence.
“They’re waiting for you,” Cas goes on with a soft voice, and something in Claire breaks at the affection. “They still miss you very much, too. Time is different for them, so no matter how long and adventurous a life you have, they’ll see you soon.”
Claire chokes a sob. She looks to the sky, following Cas’ gaze, tears spilling, running down her cheeks. She doesn’t bring a hand to wipe them off - lets it out, lets it flow. She never came to realize how much she needed anyone to say those words to her.
Her heart breaks through the metal cage around it, and she can finally breathe again.
“Can you do something for me?”
Cas’ gaze shifts back to her face, the lines of his mouth gentle:
“Anything.”
There was a time she’d have wanted him
to leave - her side, her dad’s body, her life.
Now it’s all a little bit more complicated.
“Next time you talk to Jack,” she clenches her hand tighter around the key, its teeth biting into her soft palm, “could you ask him to pass a message from me?”
Cas nods, his blue eyes roaming the side of her face.
“You can write it down,” he offers, but Claire cuts him off right away.
“It’s okay. It’s kind of for you, too.”
She looks down to her white knuckles, not able to bear his attentive gaze. She knows if she thinks any longer, she won’t be able to say another word.
“I am sorry that things are the way they are,” she starts, her voice tiny. She knows Cas would be able to hear her, even if she whispered from the other side of the parking lot, but she forces her voice to go a bit up, anyway. “I wish they weren’t. But even like this ,” she gestures between the two of them, “it’s okay. I’m okay.”
Cas is silent. Claire smiles realizing all the years by Dean’s side have probably taught him to be patient with humans.
“We’ve lost a lot,” she goes on, shaking her head. “But we’ve gained something too, yeah?”
She wonders what images pop up in the angel’s head at her words.
She wonders if her face is among those he sees.
“I’ve got Kaia. Jody,” her voice goes hoarse with emotion. “Dean, Sam. I’m not alone.”
She finally masters a direct look at Cas. In the white rays of the high sun she sees him for what he is, maybe for the first time - a colossal, ancient being. Above earth, above time. He stands a few feet away from her, in the middle of the deserted parking lot by the trashy diner, towering above it, like nothing man-made. A rogue wave. Calm in its enormity.
And suddenly, it’s the easiest thing to say:
“And I’ve got you .”
Cas swallows down whatever words crawling up his throat. And for that, Claire is grateful.
A man wrapped in a trench coat - a vase, glued together from two sets of shards. Pieces of the colored glass somehow fit together - and the longer you look, the less you know which pieces are supposed to be foreign.
“I know mom and dad are okay up there,” she says softly. “Humans are told to have faith, to hope. But because of you, I just know .”
She shrugs, “Same as I know I’m gonna see them one day.”
Cas smirks, one side of his mouth slightly quirking up.
“Hopefully not too soon,” he says.
“Hopefully not,” Claire agrees with huff, wiping her cheeks.
Cas finally turns to look at her, his eyes shining, too. Claire feels an urge to look away, as if his tears are something holy. Something she’s not supposed to see.
He tentatively reaches an arm to her, inviting. Claire rolls her eyes, but surrenders, taking the last step toward him and burying her face in his trench coat.
It smells like rain. Like fresh grass and lightning. She lets her head rest against his chest, and Cas runs his hand in wide circles on her back, smoothing away the tension. They stand like that for a while, just cherishing the little comfort they can find - a childless parent and a fatherless daughter - in arms of each other.
Then Claire steps away, blushing, and drops the keys in Cas’ palm.
“You should keep the coat, though,” she says, walking away already, circling the car to the passenger side. “It’s not that bad. You look pretty good in it.”
Cas smiles sheepishly, but before he can offer whatever he’s got on the tip of his tongue, Claire is gone.
“I mean, whatever ,” she mutters, already inside the car. She still smiles at herself, watching Cas look down, running his hands lovingly across the beige fabric of his trench coat before following her inside the car.
He adjusts the seat and mirrors, looking at her as if waiting for her approval. Then he’s fighting the seatbelt, and Claire laughs at the absurd image.
Sometimes she thinks she’ll never be able to see past her father’s missing expressions.
But on some days, she does.
And for now, Claire thinks, it’s enough.