Supernatural Fic - we're bound to be close to the sea
THIS IS SOLELY THE FAULT OF callowyn , OKAY? SHE LINKED ME TO THIS ON MY POST WHERE I WAS TALKING ABOUT SOME OTHER JIMMY/AMELIA STORY AND PLANTED THE SEED. AND THEN I TOOK A REALLY CRACKY PROMPT AND TRIED TO MAKE IT ALL SERIOUS-LIKE. AND THIS HAPPENED.
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Title: we're bound to be close to the sea
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1300
Characters: Jimmy, Amelia, Claire, Castiel, Dean, Sam
Spoilers: Through 5.22.
Warnings: It's a seafaring AU. There are pirate ships.
Summary: When Jimmy Novak is press ganged into service on the HMS Grace, he leaves behind a family who never expect to see him alive again.
--
She's just collecting driftwood one day when she hears her name. "Amelia," he says. "Oh my god, Amelia, I never thought-" She drops her armful of wood and flings herself at him. It's Jimmy, back again, really back, and she'd thought he was dead...
They weren't sea-people, she and Jimmy and Claire. Jimmy had been a sign-painter in their little fishing village, and they lived a good quiet life. But one day he'd started talking funny, talking about joining the royal navy, going into the service of the King. Why you, she'd asked then (and asked herself every day after for the next four years), and he'd just shrugged helplessly and said "Castiel chose me. He says he needs me, has a mission for me."
Amelia never saw Castiel, not at that point. Jimmy claimed he always left just before she arrived. But apparently he was an officer aboard the HMS Grace, and there were pirates threatening the integrity of the empire. These pirates had found a leader in a man calling himself Lucifer, captain of a ship named the Inferno. Jimmy, Castiel had implied, was necessary to help quell an uprising that would topple the balance of power and throw their whole world into chaos. Why you, she'd asked, why a sign-maker from Pontiac? He never had a good answer for her, and then one day he was just...gone.
And then, a year later, he was back, suddenly and inexplicably, noticeably worse for the wear. He'd been press ganged, he claimed, and managed to escape. He and Castiel had discovered a few months into their service that their ship, the Grace, was in fact part of a plot by a collection of admirals-headed by Michael of the HMS Host -to seize control for themselves. When the Grace had put into port, Jimmy had fled back to Pontiac. Unfortunately, the crew of the pirate ship Demonica had seen his escape and trailed him, hoping to extract information from him about the positions of the rest of the royal fleet. Amelia can recall clearly being pinned to the floor, control of her own body robbed from her, seeing her Claire bound and tormented, seeing Jimmy beaten down. If Castiel had not appeared suddenly with new allies Dean and Sam Winchester-sea-faring brothers and owners of one of the only ships that didn't seem to belong to either the mutinous royal fleet or the savage pirates-she knows they all would have died.
When Castiel had fiercely insisted that Jimmy come with him and the Winchester brothers, Amelia had been too tired and shocked to do much more than cry. He'd kissed her, hard and desperate, just the once, and then he was gone again. She'd truly thought she'd never see him again, truly thought he would be killed fighting a battle so much larger than himself.
Now he's here, impossibly, and she spends long minutes just holding him, feeling the press of his chest against hers with each breath he takes, face pressed to the salt-roughed cloth covering his shoulder. "Amelia," he whispers into her hair. "I missed you and Claire so much. I'm so sorry." She pulls back, looks at him. He looks older, harder, more haggard. But there's a softness in his eyes that she remembers from being eighteen, when he first courted her, and she's never really stopped loving him. So she leads him home, pulls him to the small sitting room, and puts the seaman's bag into a chest in their bedroom.
When she returns, Jimmy has settled in, cradling their daughter on his lap like she's just a child and not the teenager she's become in his absence. Claire wraps her arms around him and hides her face in his neck, and Amelia feels some small, scarred part of herself rebreak and heal itself properly this time.
And then Jimmy starts to talk.
He tells them about how, after their brush with the crew of the Demonica, he and Castiel had fled to the relative safety of the rogue ship Impala, which the Winchester brothers sailed with a small but dedicated crew. How the men aboard the Impala were loyal to the peace of the empire, not hell-bent on overthrow like everyone else seemed to be. How, for this, they were harried constantly by the mutinous HMS Leo and its captain Zachariah, how terrifying and satisfying it was to finally see it go up in flames.
And he tells them about how, at last, the Impala had gone head to head with the Inferno and the Host, about the musket ball that had punched through Castiel's chest and into Jimmy's own, about how he thought he would die. About lying there, watching his own blood mix with the saltwater on deck, and looking up to see the Inferno being pulled under the waves, a fatal hole blown wide in its side, dragging the crippled Host down with it. Hearing Dean's screams and realizing that of Sam's raiding party, only Sam himself hadn't made it back to the Impala, was trapped on the enemy ship as it was sucked into the deep.
He tells them about lying in the hold, not knowing how much time passed as he swam in and out of consciousness, aware of the burn of infection in his wound and the grim, broken faces of Dean and later Castiel as they tended to the injured. He tells them about finally being in the sun again, about the day he realized he wasn't going to die. And he told them about being hailed by the HMS Shurley, almost fleeing, until something made Dean stop and hear them out. About being reunited with Sam, who had been found drifting on a piece of the destroyed Inferno, saved despite there having been no reasonable hope. About pulling into port and getting stupid drunk with the whole crew, laughing and laughing and laughing.
And then Jimmy tells them about how Castiel had talked to Dean, voices low in the prow, shooting him glances. About how one morning dawn broke on a familiar-looking piece of shore, how Castiel had handed him his seaman's bag, how the crew had thumped him on the back and Dean had made him promise to give Amelia a kiss for him, how Castiel and the Impala's navigator Bobby had rowed him to the beach, had left him not more than a few miles from home with a small sack of gold and the smell of salt permeating his clothes. About how he'd just been walking along the beach when he'd spotted Amelia collecting driftwood.
Claire falls asleep still curled in Jimmy's arms, and for a long time they sit together quietly, looking at the fire crackling in the hearth. "We've been lost without you," she whispers at last.
"I'm so sorry," he murmurs. He looks at her, mouth slashed downward in a frown. "I never did figure out why it had to be me. I hated them-all of them-for a long time because of it."
Amelia crosses her arms in front of her chest and stares harder into the fire. "Do you...do you think you helped, in the end?"
"I hope so, I really do."
She gets up, stumbles to the kitchen, and clatters around for a little while making tea. She makes his extra strong and puts in two cubes of sugar. For a moment she is surprised she remembers. She carries it out to him, puts it on the table next to his chair.
As soon as she has set the cup down, he reaches out and snags her wrist with the hand he isn't using to support Claire. He looks up at her, face all orange and shadows in the firelight, fingers tightening on her wrist as if he's afraid to let go. "I won't leave again," he whispers with conviction, and god help her, she believes him.
--
Title: we're bound to be close to the sea
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1300
Characters: Jimmy, Amelia, Claire, Castiel, Dean, Sam
Spoilers: Through 5.22.
Warnings: It's a seafaring AU. There are pirate ships.
Summary: When Jimmy Novak is press ganged into service on the HMS Grace, he leaves behind a family who never expect to see him alive again.
--
She's just collecting driftwood one day when she hears her name. "Amelia," he says. "Oh my god, Amelia, I never thought-" She drops her armful of wood and flings herself at him. It's Jimmy, back again, really back, and she'd thought he was dead...
They weren't sea-people, she and Jimmy and Claire. Jimmy had been a sign-painter in their little fishing village, and they lived a good quiet life. But one day he'd started talking funny, talking about joining the royal navy, going into the service of the King. Why you, she'd asked then (and asked herself every day after for the next four years), and he'd just shrugged helplessly and said "Castiel chose me. He says he needs me, has a mission for me."
Amelia never saw Castiel, not at that point. Jimmy claimed he always left just before she arrived. But apparently he was an officer aboard the HMS Grace, and there were pirates threatening the integrity of the empire. These pirates had found a leader in a man calling himself Lucifer, captain of a ship named the Inferno. Jimmy, Castiel had implied, was necessary to help quell an uprising that would topple the balance of power and throw their whole world into chaos. Why you, she'd asked, why a sign-maker from Pontiac? He never had a good answer for her, and then one day he was just...gone.
And then, a year later, he was back, suddenly and inexplicably, noticeably worse for the wear. He'd been press ganged, he claimed, and managed to escape. He and Castiel had discovered a few months into their service that their ship, the Grace, was in fact part of a plot by a collection of admirals-headed by Michael of the HMS Host -to seize control for themselves. When the Grace had put into port, Jimmy had fled back to Pontiac. Unfortunately, the crew of the pirate ship Demonica had seen his escape and trailed him, hoping to extract information from him about the positions of the rest of the royal fleet. Amelia can recall clearly being pinned to the floor, control of her own body robbed from her, seeing her Claire bound and tormented, seeing Jimmy beaten down. If Castiel had not appeared suddenly with new allies Dean and Sam Winchester-sea-faring brothers and owners of one of the only ships that didn't seem to belong to either the mutinous royal fleet or the savage pirates-she knows they all would have died.
When Castiel had fiercely insisted that Jimmy come with him and the Winchester brothers, Amelia had been too tired and shocked to do much more than cry. He'd kissed her, hard and desperate, just the once, and then he was gone again. She'd truly thought she'd never see him again, truly thought he would be killed fighting a battle so much larger than himself.
Now he's here, impossibly, and she spends long minutes just holding him, feeling the press of his chest against hers with each breath he takes, face pressed to the salt-roughed cloth covering his shoulder. "Amelia," he whispers into her hair. "I missed you and Claire so much. I'm so sorry." She pulls back, looks at him. He looks older, harder, more haggard. But there's a softness in his eyes that she remembers from being eighteen, when he first courted her, and she's never really stopped loving him. So she leads him home, pulls him to the small sitting room, and puts the seaman's bag into a chest in their bedroom.
When she returns, Jimmy has settled in, cradling their daughter on his lap like she's just a child and not the teenager she's become in his absence. Claire wraps her arms around him and hides her face in his neck, and Amelia feels some small, scarred part of herself rebreak and heal itself properly this time.
And then Jimmy starts to talk.
He tells them about how, after their brush with the crew of the Demonica, he and Castiel had fled to the relative safety of the rogue ship Impala, which the Winchester brothers sailed with a small but dedicated crew. How the men aboard the Impala were loyal to the peace of the empire, not hell-bent on overthrow like everyone else seemed to be. How, for this, they were harried constantly by the mutinous HMS Leo and its captain Zachariah, how terrifying and satisfying it was to finally see it go up in flames.
And he tells them about how, at last, the Impala had gone head to head with the Inferno and the Host, about the musket ball that had punched through Castiel's chest and into Jimmy's own, about how he thought he would die. About lying there, watching his own blood mix with the saltwater on deck, and looking up to see the Inferno being pulled under the waves, a fatal hole blown wide in its side, dragging the crippled Host down with it. Hearing Dean's screams and realizing that of Sam's raiding party, only Sam himself hadn't made it back to the Impala, was trapped on the enemy ship as it was sucked into the deep.
He tells them about lying in the hold, not knowing how much time passed as he swam in and out of consciousness, aware of the burn of infection in his wound and the grim, broken faces of Dean and later Castiel as they tended to the injured. He tells them about finally being in the sun again, about the day he realized he wasn't going to die. And he told them about being hailed by the HMS Shurley, almost fleeing, until something made Dean stop and hear them out. About being reunited with Sam, who had been found drifting on a piece of the destroyed Inferno, saved despite there having been no reasonable hope. About pulling into port and getting stupid drunk with the whole crew, laughing and laughing and laughing.
And then Jimmy tells them about how Castiel had talked to Dean, voices low in the prow, shooting him glances. About how one morning dawn broke on a familiar-looking piece of shore, how Castiel had handed him his seaman's bag, how the crew had thumped him on the back and Dean had made him promise to give Amelia a kiss for him, how Castiel and the Impala's navigator Bobby had rowed him to the beach, had left him not more than a few miles from home with a small sack of gold and the smell of salt permeating his clothes. About how he'd just been walking along the beach when he'd spotted Amelia collecting driftwood.
Claire falls asleep still curled in Jimmy's arms, and for a long time they sit together quietly, looking at the fire crackling in the hearth. "We've been lost without you," she whispers at last.
"I'm so sorry," he murmurs. He looks at her, mouth slashed downward in a frown. "I never did figure out why it had to be me. I hated them-all of them-for a long time because of it."
Amelia crosses her arms in front of her chest and stares harder into the fire. "Do you...do you think you helped, in the end?"
"I hope so, I really do."
She gets up, stumbles to the kitchen, and clatters around for a little while making tea. She makes his extra strong and puts in two cubes of sugar. For a moment she is surprised she remembers. She carries it out to him, puts it on the table next to his chair.
As soon as she has set the cup down, he reaches out and snags her wrist with the hand he isn't using to support Claire. He looks up at her, face all orange and shadows in the firelight, fingers tightening on her wrist as if he's afraid to let go. "I won't leave again," he whispers with conviction, and god help her, she believes him.