Title: Father Daughter Dance
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Jimmy, Castiel, Claire
Prompt: To Self: Wake up the Jimmy!muse
Word Count: 916
Genre: Angst?
Rating: PG
Summary: Castiel, Jimmy and a wedding
Warnings: None
Author's Notes: Unbeta’d
“Please, Cas,” he manages after a long moment of just thought. It is very hard to do anything more then watch lately. He hardly even thinks of the body as his anymore. He hardly even thinks of the thoughts as his, even when they are. So there is a very long time, days maybe, in which he is not even aware he said anything at all, is not even aware that Castiel has asked him what it is a hundred times already, and will continue to until he answers.
He takes a breath, and another day passes before he puts together a proper sentence. Words are very hard lately too. “In the paper, a wedding. Claire… Novak.” He has not said his name in such a long time. It tastes like iron on his tongue.
Castiel sends something like comfort to him, a feeling so familiar it doesn’t mean anything anymore and he fades away.
He knows that time has passed when he comes back and he knows they are no longer with the Winchesters. But just like with words and motion, he has trouble recalling why they aren’t with them anymore. It is important and as he drowns himself in trying to remember, Castiel catches his attention with a murmur. “Look,” the angel says, softer then possible yet so loud his ears ring, and he looks out of the eyes that might have been his once.
The sight that finds him is more clear then he can stomach. Everything rushes back so hard it hurts, but maybe that’s because he suddenly knows pain again. He moves to walk forward, and becomes all too aware that he is tethered to his own body. He cannot go to her.
Even on her wedding day, he cannot go to his beautiful daughter.
But it is inevitable, with Castiel’s intense gaze and Claire’s continuous looking around, that she finally sees them. And there is stillness. Her eyes widen and he wants so much to call her over, but Castiel stands stone still and doesn’t even blink when their eyes meet. She takes a moment to excuse herself from the latest congratulatory pair.
Then she has crossed the room in a second and glares at them. He is immediately guilty. She doesn’t know. She can’t know. He wants to explain, and he is once again too aware that he is trapped.
She opens her mouth, and he is sure she is going to yell at him for disappearing and Castiel won’t care enough to reassure her. But instead, she steps back and glances downward first, before meeting his eyes again. There are tears on her cheeks. He wants to wipe them away. He can’t.
“You aren’t him, are you?” she finally asks, voice threatening to crack as she does.
“No,” Castiel responds softly. He hates him, for there is no pity or love or comfort in his voice.
She wipes the tears away herself before muttering so low it’s almost a growl, “You’re that thing - Castiel. You took him.” Her lips become a tight, thin line. “You took him from mom and me…” He wants there to be an accusation, but there is only some blind acceptance.
Her life has moved passed him. He is just the ghost of something she might have had. Castiel watches, curious, but he doesn’t touch her and he doesn’t feel anything for her. He is screaming at him, passed all those locks and bonds, screaming for him to say something, anything.
“He wanted to see you.” The words roll out of the throat that he wants back just for a few minutes and she looks up at him, tears gone but face still red.
“He did? You…” her eyes darken, “You let him.” Castiel nods.
“He… has our eternal gratitude.” Castiel is deadpan and Claire’s whole body reflects disbelief. She wants to ask him something or tell him something, but Castiel interrupts.
“I am sorry that it was like this.” And he knows she can’t hear it, but Castiel truly is sorry, truly and deeply. He also knows she will never find out because a moment later, the party is gone and they are standing in the ratty motel room the Winchesters rented for the night.
For the first time in years, he cries, though no one except Castiel knows it. And when he is spent, he throws himself into the light. He hopes he never wakes up.
Redux
Claire has to blink a few times before her brain registers that the man who used to be her father is gone. Just gone. Not even the vaguest hint that he was there at all. She worries that maybe she is going crazy, after all those memories of him are so fuzzy and strange she sometimes thinks she dreamed them up to explain to herself where he went.
But her thoughts are interrupted by a gentle tap on her shoulder and she turns to look into her fiancé’s - no, he’s her husband now-face. She tries a halfhearted smile, and he knows there is something wrong. But he doesn’t say anything. He just kisses her very gently and asks if she wants to rejoin the party.
She doesn’t, but she nods anyway and lets him lead her through a crowd of blank faces.
When the party finally finishes and the last guest ducks out with a sort of drunken chuckle, she lets her husband massage her feet and she tells him about her father.