Fic: Light on the Water
Fandom: Supernatural
Title: Light on the Water
Author: Dreamscapemusic
Rating: K+
Year written/published: 2012
Pairing (If any): none
X-Posted: Fanfiction.net, SPN communities
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or any of the characters therein.
Notes/Warnings: Spoilers for season 7, ignoring all unaired episode spoilers.
Summary: Claire Novak takes a roadtrip to her father's final resting place.
Claire stops the car, but makes no move to get out. It's taken her nearly twelve hours to make the trip from Pontiac, Illinois all the way to Kansas, but now that she's here, she's not sure it wasn't a huge mistake.
It's a beautiful reservoir, somewhere she would have loved to spend an afternoon. Her father used to bring her to Matthiessen State Park during the summer. Her mother had never been a fan of the great outdoors, but Jimmy had instilled a love of nature in Claire that even now, at eighteen, she hadn't lost.
Her father is the whole reason for this trip. It's been six years since she's seen him and she's known in her heart for at least four that he's dead. She and her mother don't talk him. They don't talk about Castiel or the demons or any of it. Claire thinks that it's the only way Amelia can make it through each day, by pretending none of it was real. Not that Claire blames her. God knows she still wakes up with screams lodged in her throat, her eyes filled with feathers and fear and light, such incredible, blinding light.
It was Sam Winchester who finally contacted them. Castiel is dead, he told her. His voice sounded scratchy and far away and she didn't know how much of that to attribute to poor phone service. He told her what had happened, told her of Castiel's deception and fall from grace. He was sorry it had taken so long to get in touch, there had been another apocalypse to avert and spare time had been scarce. (Another apocolypse, Claire thinks. Who ever has to think of the apocolypse in the plural? She thinks of Castiel, fighting the forces of heaven alone with her father's hands, the hands that built her tricycle and made finger puppets on the wall which left her howling in laughter.)
She thanked him and hung up, going straight to her computer to look up the location he'd given her. Amelia hadn't wanted to her to go, but Claire knew it had to be done.
Now she sits in the driver's seat of her little Honda and watches the tiny waves lap at the sand. There are signs saying not to swim in the water, but that's all. So she finally gets out of the car and walks down to the shore.
There's nobody else around as she stands as close to the water as she dares. The sky is blue and the temperature is just right for early May. A gentle breeze stirs her blonde hair and bends the tall grass beside her. There are tears in her eyes, but she's smiling. Jimmy would have liked this place. He'll never have a funeral. He won't have a gravestone etched with his name and Beloved Father underneath. He won't even have a certain death date. But he'll have the sunlight reflecting off the water and the whisper of the wind through the grass. And Claire thinks that might just be enough.
She lays her jacket on the sand and sits down. “Hi, Dad,” she begins. “I miss you.”
Title: Light on the Water
Author: Dreamscapemusic
Rating: K+
Year written/published: 2012
Pairing (If any): none
X-Posted: Fanfiction.net, SPN communities
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or any of the characters therein.
Notes/Warnings: Spoilers for season 7, ignoring all unaired episode spoilers.
Summary: Claire Novak takes a roadtrip to her father's final resting place.
Claire stops the car, but makes no move to get out. It's taken her nearly twelve hours to make the trip from Pontiac, Illinois all the way to Kansas, but now that she's here, she's not sure it wasn't a huge mistake.
It's a beautiful reservoir, somewhere she would have loved to spend an afternoon. Her father used to bring her to Matthiessen State Park during the summer. Her mother had never been a fan of the great outdoors, but Jimmy had instilled a love of nature in Claire that even now, at eighteen, she hadn't lost.
Her father is the whole reason for this trip. It's been six years since she's seen him and she's known in her heart for at least four that he's dead. She and her mother don't talk him. They don't talk about Castiel or the demons or any of it. Claire thinks that it's the only way Amelia can make it through each day, by pretending none of it was real. Not that Claire blames her. God knows she still wakes up with screams lodged in her throat, her eyes filled with feathers and fear and light, such incredible, blinding light.
It was Sam Winchester who finally contacted them. Castiel is dead, he told her. His voice sounded scratchy and far away and she didn't know how much of that to attribute to poor phone service. He told her what had happened, told her of Castiel's deception and fall from grace. He was sorry it had taken so long to get in touch, there had been another apocalypse to avert and spare time had been scarce. (Another apocolypse, Claire thinks. Who ever has to think of the apocolypse in the plural? She thinks of Castiel, fighting the forces of heaven alone with her father's hands, the hands that built her tricycle and made finger puppets on the wall which left her howling in laughter.)
She thanked him and hung up, going straight to her computer to look up the location he'd given her. Amelia hadn't wanted to her to go, but Claire knew it had to be done.
Now she sits in the driver's seat of her little Honda and watches the tiny waves lap at the sand. There are signs saying not to swim in the water, but that's all. So she finally gets out of the car and walks down to the shore.
There's nobody else around as she stands as close to the water as she dares. The sky is blue and the temperature is just right for early May. A gentle breeze stirs her blonde hair and bends the tall grass beside her. There are tears in her eyes, but she's smiling. Jimmy would have liked this place. He'll never have a funeral. He won't have a gravestone etched with his name and Beloved Father underneath. He won't even have a certain death date. But he'll have the sunlight reflecting off the water and the whisper of the wind through the grass. And Claire thinks that might just be enough.
She lays her jacket on the sand and sits down. “Hi, Dad,” she begins. “I miss you.”