[fanfic][spn tv] Jimmy-Come-Lately
Title: Jimmy-Come-Lately (1/2)
Author: vikki
Characters: Claire, Jimmy, Amelia, Castiel, Dean, Sam
Spoilers: through 4.20
Rating/Warnings: PG (language, violence)
Summary: Castiel chose Jimmy; Claire wants to understand. 'The Rapture' as told by those left behind.
Dad went crazy two months before Claire's eleventh birthday.
*
On August 20th, Dad had a seizure. Claire woke up in the middle of the night to her mom shouting, "Oh no, Jimmy!? Jimmy," and when she ran down the stairs she could hear her dad groaning. Something smelled funny. It took her a second to realize it smelled like pee.
"Mom? Dad?" she asked, starting to breathe faster, and she could see her mom's back and her dad on the floor, trying to sit up. Her mom looked back with wide eyes. She looked so scared Claire suddenly wanted to cry.
"Call 911," her mom ordered.
"I'm fine," her dad groaned. "I'm okay."
"Call 911!" Mom shouted, and Claire's feet unfroze. She ran to the kitchen and called 911.
"Don't leave the kitchen, honey," Mom called. "Just stay in there, okay?"
"Is Dad okay?" she asked, but Mom didn't answer. The 911 person answered the phone.
"What is your emergency?" The lady sounded so calm.
"My dad, something's wrong with my dad," Claire said, trying to stay calm like the 911 person.
"All right," the lady said in a businesslike, friendly voice. "Do you know what happened?"
"No," Claire admitted, and that suddenly made her more frightened. "I think he peed himself. I don't know. Mom's really scared, can you come fast?"
"Okay. I'm sending an ambulance, okay, honey?" The 911 lady's voice was gentle. "Can you tell me your address?"
Claire told her. The lady made an agreeing noise. "Is your Mom there? Can I talk to her?"
"Mom said I'm not allowed to leave the kitchen," Claire answered, but she cupped her hand over the mouthpiece and shouted, "Mom, the 911 lady wants to talk to you!"
"I'm coming," her mom said, but she sounded like she was crying. She came into the kitchen with tears on her cheeks and sniffling. Claire handed the phone to her mom. "Should I stay with Dad?"
"No, Claire, stay in here! Sit down at the table," her mom ordered. "Yes, I'm sorry. Please hurry. I think he had a seizure. Amelia Novak. Jim--James. No, he's never had one before ..." she took the handset with her back into the living room, and Claire sat at the table and curled up her legs to her chest, clutching them.
She knew people with epilepsy had seizures, but seizures happened to other people, not her dad. Dad was a calm, kind of boring guy. He worked at an office doing sales for radio. He was really good at Uno and cheated when he was the banker for Monopoly. He took videos of Claire playing soccer at Saturday games. He'd never fallen down and suddenly started shaking. For some reason, the scariest part was the fact that he'd peed himself: it was gross and the kind of thing babies did, not her dad.
"God, please, please, please let Dad be okay," she prayed into her knees. "I don't want him to have epilepsy. Please let the doctors know what's wrong with him. Please let the ambulance come fast."
She peeked out of the kitchen when the EMTs came. Dad was sitting up and the EMTs just helped him onto the stretcher - they didn't do the backboard and neck brace thing they did on TV shows. "I'm really okay," her dad was saying, but he looked like he'd been sick. Her mom was standing to the side with her arms wrapped around herself.
"Just go with them, Jimmy. We'll follow in the car," Mom said. Then they were pushing him out the door and one of the EMTs grasped Claire's mom's elbow and talked to her in a low voice. Her mom nodded, and wiped her eyes. "Claire?" she said, suddenly raising her voice.
Claire pretended she hadn't been watching. "Mom?"
"Go get dressed," she said, and she smiled although Claire could totally tell she was faking it. "We're going to the hospital with your daddy."
Claire dared a few steps into the living room; Mom didn't try to stop her. "Is Dad going to be okay?" she asked, looking between her mom and the EMT guy.
The EMT guy smiled, and his smile was more real-looking than her mom's. "He's gonna be fine," he said reassuringly, and Claire believed him. "He might not remember much of tonight, though. We're just taking him to the hospital to make sure it doesn't happen again, all right?"
Claire felt a little better, although it was obvious that the guy didn't know what was wrong with her dad in the first place. "Okay," she said, nodding.
"Go get dressed," her mom said.
They prayed all the way to the hospital. Her mom had stopped crying, at least. When they got there they had to find Dad again, but they were both allowed to go back into the room where he was. He was sitting up and in those stupid gowns they made you wear in hospitals and had an oxygen tube in his nose. But he smiled when he saw Claire and Mom. "Hey, baby girl," he said to Claire.
Claire went straight to the side of the bed and hugged her Dad; he hugged her back and felt as normal and strong as ever. "I'm okay," he said before Claire could ask. "Really."
"I was really scared," Claire admitted into her dad's shoulder, and then she did start to cry.
"Shh, shh, I'm fine," Dad said, rubbing her back, his stubbly cheek rubbing her ear. "I'm so sorry I scared you."
"What happened?" Claire asked between sniffles.
"I ..." her father trailed off. "I think I just had a really weird dream," he said after a moment. "A really ... really weird dream."
"Can that make you have a seizure?" Claire asked, finally starting to pull away.
Her dad looked like he was thinking. "I don't know," he said, and when he smiled this time, he looked more sad than happy.
*
The doctors couldn't find anything wrong with her dad. They decided it might be epilepsy. "Have you severely hit your head any time in the last six months?" one asked while Claire was in the room.
"Only that time when my daughter kicked a soccer ball into my face," Dad said, and winked. Claire had never done that so she laughed. "No, not that I can think of." The doctor didn't laugh or smile, just wrote something on her clipboard.
So they sent Dad home with pills and told him to schedule an appointment with his doctor in six months for a brain scan and that was that.
For one week, everything was totally normal. Her dad was the same as ever - he went to work, griped about how he'd missed out on some meeting, beat both Mom and Claire hardcore at Uno on Friday night, drove to church on Sunday, cooked dinner, blah blah blah. Mom seemed worried but she didn't say anything except to add to the end of the dinner prayer, "and please protect Jimmy and keep him whole". (Dad smiled warmly at her every time.) By the time eight days had passed everything seemed normal.
Then, while Claire in the rec room playing video games one night, her mom and dad got into a horrible argument. They fought from time to time but this one was bad. Claire heard her mother screaming, "What is wrong with you!?" and her father trying to calm her down before she turned up the volume of her video game and tried to ignore it. She couldn't concentrate, though.
Finally Mom's voice moved closer. "No, don't you dare come up here," she snapped, and then the door to the rec room flew open. "Claire, Mrs. Jessup is coming over to babysit," she said. Mom had been crying again, and she looked as scared as she had on the night Dad had his seizure.
Claire bit her lip. "Where are you and Dad going?" she asked.
Mom looked down, then back out the open door. Then she got to her knees. Claire paused her video game. "Honey, Dad needs to go back to the hospital," she said shakily.
Claire gasped, suddenly very scared. Her eyes filled up with tears. "Did he have another seizure? Did the doctors call and say he's sick--?" Her voice was shaking.
But her mom was shaking her head. "It's - Dad's sick," she said, and her smile was horrible. "The seizure showed that Dad was sick, so we need to go back and see if the doctors can figure out what's wrong."
"Then why were you fighting?" Claire asked.
"Your father doesn't think he's sick," Mom explained. "It's ... I'll explain when we get back from the hospital, okay?" Claire wanted to know now, but she just nodded. Her mom hugged her, and Claire hugged back. "Pray for Daddy, all right?"
"Okay," Claire promised.
"Stay up here until we leave, okay?"
"Okay."
"Okay," her mom said, starting to cry again. "It's going to be all right," she said, but Claire didn't believe her.
*
But when Mom and Dad got back, Claire didn't get any answers. Mom just said that Dad was going to be okay and if he does anything funny, just tell Mommy, all right? And Dad smiled at her sadly and hugged her when he got back and assured her that he was all right, but of course Mom had said he didn't think he was sick so Claire didn't know if that meant anything at all. Maybe Dad had brain damage from the seizure. Claire wondered if he was going crazy, or losing his memory, or what. Was he going to lose his job? Would he go psycho?
Thank goodness that Rebecca got back from her vacation the next day. Of course Rebecca wanted to tell Claire all about it - they'd gone to the Grand Canyon - so Claire managed to get to spend the night at Becca's house for two days in a row, which was a lot better than being at home with Mom and Dad avoiding each other. Claire thought she might go nuts if she had to deal with that for more than a few hours.
School started on Tuesday. Claire had never been so relieved to go to school.
*
Claire didn't notice for a while, but after a couple of weeks she noticed that Mom never left her alone with Dad. Dad used to come pick her up from school when he had a short day, but twice Mom came and picked her up and Dad was already at home. He did all the same things he normally did, except that he didn't joke around as much and he kept looking at Mom like he was afraid he was going to do something wrong. Mom almost never smiled at him, and when she did it was always tight and scared.
If Dad was sick - or even if he wasn't - this was the worst fight ever. On Friday night which was usually game night (only not this week because Mom refused to pick out a game), after Dad had said grace, Claire decided she couldn't stand it any more. "Are you getting divorced?" she asked point-blank.
Her father and mother both froze reaching for bread and the meatloaf respectively; then they looked at each other and back at her. "No, of course not," her dad said after a moment. But her mom didn't say anything and Claire noticed.
"Then what are you fighting about?" Claire raised her eyebrows. Her parents looked so surprised that Claire realized abruptly that she was in total control of the conversation. Maybe she could find out what was suppposed to be wrong with Dad. "Is it because you think Dad's sick and Dad doesn't think so?"
"I'm not sick," Dad protested, and her mother said, "That's right." Then they both looked at each other again. Mom scowled; Dad turned his head, his gaze flickering back and forth between her and the table.
"Well, what's wrong with him? Is it brain cancer?" Claire revealed her greatest fear.
"No! No," her mother exclaimed, and her Dad looked alarmed that she'd thought such a thing. "Your father is ..." She trailed off.
"I'm talking to an angel," Dad said.
Claire stared at him.
"Jimmy!" her mother snapped, but Dad warmed to his topic. "Your mom doesn't believe me. That's okay - I can barely believe it myself. But he's talking to me, and I think he has something for me to do, or something to show me - like Daniel the prophet," he explained.
Claire glanced at her mom; she was very pale, clutching Dad's arm like it would make him stop talking. Claire licked her lips. Her dad, a prophet? That was ... too weird to think about. "I pray to God all the time, but He's never sent an angel to answer me," she admitted, not sure if she was jealous of her dad or thought Mom was right and he was just crazy.
Her father had looked so excited, but now he bit his lip smiled a little bit more sadly. "I wish I could tell you why this is happening to me," he said. He glanced back at Claire's mother. "But ..." he shook his head.
Mom abruptly stood up from the table, threw down her napkin, and walked into the kitchen, covering her face with her hands. Claire looked after her, alarmed, until her father bent his head down and caught her eyes. "It's okay if you don't believe me," he said gently. "I know it's hard to believe. But I have faith."
Claire wasn't at all sure, but her dad seemed so positive. Didn't this kind of thing happen to pastors, not normal people like them, though? "Dad," she said, and then she wasn't sure what to say. She didn't really believe him, but she didn't want Dad to be crazy, either. "What's the angel's name?" she asked, whispering.
Her dad smiled. "Castiel," he said, the same way he said 'Ames' when Mom and Dad were smooching.
*
That night in bed, Claire prayed to Castiel for the first time. "Castiel," she said, carefully pronouncing the name, "If you're really talking to Dad, can you please tell Mom that Dad's okay and not crazy? Because she's really scared. I am, too," she admitted. "And can you tell God, if God wants Dad to do something, can He please not make Dad leave? I don't really want him to be a prophet," she whispered, thinking about how all the prophets in the New Testament were fed to lions and killed. She didn't think something like that would happen now - well, not the being fed to lions part, anyway - but prophets were never married. He'd have to leave, she was sure of it. "Thank you," she said at the end, because she didn't think she should say 'Amen' when she wasn't praying to God.
*
She woke up to a really bright light shining in her bedroom window.
At first Claire thought it was morning and she was late for school, but she looked over at her alarm clock and saw that it was 2 AM. She squinted out her window; it was really, really bright, like a helicopter beam coming down out of the sky. Holy cow, it's aliens! she thought. Then: Maybe I'm crazy like Dad.
She could hear a voice. It was whispering, and she couldn't hear the words, but it sounded kind of like paper being rustled. She threw off her covers and ran downstairs to the front door to find out who was making all that light and whispering in front of the house. But when she got to the door, she saw her dad, standing in front of the porch in his fall coat, looking up at the super-bright light and saying something she couldn't make out over all the whispering. The light was shining straight down on her dad.
Wind rattled the windows and the screen door. Claire gasped as her dad got so bright she could barely look at him. Dad's not crazy, she thought. Dad's not crazy! This was exactly what she thought it looked like when Jesus talked to Paul in the Bible, and when Gabriel talked to Mary. Only it was happening to her dad, and suddenly she was scared that God was going to just take Dad right up into Heaven, right there in front of the porch.
She opened the door and slipped outside at the same time as the light began to fade; it went back to being the normal dark of the middle of the night. Her dad was still there, facing the street; he stood there, totally still for a moment, then looked around like he didn't know where he was, or he was afraid someone had seen him.
"Dad?" Claire asked nervously.
Her dad turned around at looked at her, and Claire held her breath when his eyes moved over her. She felt as if she'd been turned inside out and every bad thing she'd ever thought was on display. She felt like her dad was a stranger. Claire was suddenly very, very afraid.
"I am not your father," Dad said, and with that, he turned around and walked down the front path towards the gate.
Claire watched him, shocked. When she blinked, she thought she heard wings, and Dad was gone. He'd walked away so quickly she didn't even see it.
God took away his memory, Claire thought. She ran back inside, slamming the door shut, and shouted for Mom, not even trying to not cry.
*
Mom thought she'd had a bad dream, of course, but she started to freak out when she realized that Dad wasn't in the house but his car was still here. She called Dad's cell phone but he didn't answer, and the neighbors even though it was almost three o'clock in the morning, and she called the police, but they said that a person couldn't be reported missing for 24 hours (even Claire knew that; every cop show ever taught that). Then Mom sat on the sofa and cried. Claire sat with her. "It's my fault," Mom sobbed. "I chased him out. Oh my god, I chased him out!"
Claire didn't say anything; she didn't even know what Mom was talking about. She'd already cried and now she felt numb. She was too afraid to tell Mom that Dad had said he wasn't her father, because then Mom would be angry at Dad and if Dad tried to come home tomorrow then she'd be way too angry to let him in, which was scarier than Dad not remembering her.
She and Mom sat on the couch and hugged each other, and that was the first night.
*
Mom reported Dad missing. The police that took the report asked who had seen him last and Mom said, "I did."
"No, I did," Claire tried to protest, but her mom shushed her.
"She had a bad dream about him leaving," Mom said. "It's just a coincidence he left the same night. It's not your fault, honey," she comforted Claire.
"I know, Mom," Claire said, scowling. The police believed her mom, anyway, so Claire just decided to shut up about what Dad did that night.
For the first month Mom called Dad's phone every single day. Once when Claire tried to talk to Mom about Dad she suddenly snapped, "Not now, Claire! I just ... I can't think about him right now." She had conversations on the phone with Pastor Matthias' wife in which she cried and yelled alternately. Claire knew she was really angry with Dad.
Claire didn't sign up for fall soccer. It was hard to concentrate at school and she failed three spelling tests in a row. Her mom didn't even get mad at her. Somehow that made Claire feel guilty. Becca was cool as ever, luckily, but Claire didn't even tell Becca about the light and her Dad saying 'I'm not your father'. The more she thought about it, the more she wasn't sure if Mom was right and she had been dreaming. It was just way too weird.
"We have to pray for Dad, okay?" Mom told her, and they prayed for Dad every night before dinner. It was takeout or McDonald's a lot of the time. Dad always cooked, not Mom. Mom wasn't nearly as good at it.
Claire prayed differently when she was in bed. "God, if Dad is crazy, please don't let him hurt or kill anybody. And please don't let him die." And Claire prayed to Castiel, too. She wasn't sure she believed in Castiel, but if she hadn't been dreaming and she had seen all that light, then, well - maybe Dad had been talking to Castiel. And that meant Castiel could talk to her, too, right? "Can you tell me why God made Dad lose his memory? Because that was really creepy," she confessed to Castiel. "If you sent Dad on a mission or whatever, please make sure he stays safe," she prayed, and, "Please watch over Mom, too." Castiel never answered.
"What do you want for your birthday?" Mom asked at the beginning of October. Claire had been pretty sure Mom had forgotten all about her birthday, and then she thought about celebrating turning eleven without Dad there, videotaping everything, and laughing, and singing 'Happy Birthday' all out of tune.
"Don't bake a cake," Claire said. "I can't blow out the candles without Dad here." And then she burst into stupid tears.
Her mom rushed around the table and hugged her; Claire felt dumb for crying. She mostly felt angry, not sad. "I hate you, Dad," she choked out, and she meant it; if dad was crazy then she was mad at him for going crazy, and if it really was Castiel then she was mad at Dad for picking Castiel over her and Mom. She sobbed into her mom's shirt.
Mom rubbed her back and Claire could feel her crying, too. Neither of them had cried for a little while now, not over this. Neither of them said anything.
"I don't really hate Dad," Claire said later that night.
"It's okay to be mad at him," Mom answered, putting dishes in the dishwasher. "I am, too."
Claire got roller skates, new earrings, and her first makeover for her birthday. Mom took her to MAC makeup at the mall and they did up her face like a superstar, which was admittedly pretty awesome. "Your father and I agreed you could start wearing makeup on your 11th birthday," Mom explained. "But just foundation and blush, so don't get any ideas." Then she took a picture of Claire with foundation and blush and eyeliner and eye shadow and lipliner on with her phone. Claire pretended not to notice when Mom sent the picture to Dad's phone. Then Becca came over for a slumber party and they spent the whole night watching Lord of the Rings and Pirates of the Carribbean until they fell asleep just before dawn. There was no birthday cake.
*
By the time Christmas came it was almost normal for Dad to be missing. Claire and Mom sang Christmas carols with the church choir and went to Grandma and Grandpa's house in Michigan for the holiday break. Grandpa thought Claire still believed in Santa Claus. Nobody talked about Dad and Claire was perfectly happy with that. She didn't want to think about him any more right now.
On Christmas Eve night it started to snow, and Claire snuck outside once her grandparents and mom were asleep; she put on her coat and mittens and hat and went out onto the porch to watch it come down. It was too cold to stay out long, but getting snow on Christmas Eve just like all the songs was awesome and it made all the Christmas lights on the other houses look even prettier.
She heard wings, and the wind buffed her ear, and Claire looked up. Her dad was standing on the porch next to her.
Claire blinked. She had to be hallucinating. She didn't dare say anything for a long moment, and her dad didn't even look at her, gazing out over the snow. "Dad?" she said when she finally got up the nerve.
Dad finally looked at her after like another ten seconds, and Claire felt like she'd been turned inside-out again. It was like Dad knew who she was, but he didn't actually care.
"As I told you before: I am not your father," Dad said.
"Yes, you are!" Claire hissed. She started to raise her voice then remembered everyone else was asleep. "You're my dad. God made you forget so you could go do His mission or something. You said an angel was talking to you, remember?"
Dad looked at her impassively.
"Please come home, Dad," Claire begged.
"Sleep, child," her father said, and touched her on the forehead with two fingers.
She woke up in her bed in the guest room and decided her dream was a nightmare, before forgetting all about it thanks to the prospect of opening presents.
*
Mom got a second job, so Claire had to go to the daycare where Mom worked after school instead of straight home. At first it was weird, and then it became normal. Life without Dad became normal.
In March Claire was almost hit by a car crossing the street. She thought she'd looked both ways, but all of a sudden a horn was blaring and Claire looked up and froze in fear.
The next thing she knew, she was on the other side of the street and the driver of the car was screeching to a halt. "Oh my god, kid, you okay!?" the driver shouted, pale and shaking. "I didn't even see you, holy shit, I am so sorry!"
"I'm okay," Claire said shakily, trembling all over. She had no idea how she'd moved so fast, like she'd teleported. "I'm fine."
"Really? I thought," the driver said, then halted and changed his mind. "Uh, you promise?"
"Promise," Claire said. Then, still scared and really uncomfortable, she hiked her backpack up on her shoulders and ran towards her mom's job.
*
The summer was weirder. Claire spent most days at Pastor Matthias' house with Mrs. Matthias so Mom could keep working. Pastor Matthias' kids were all grown up and most of the toys they had were kind of kiddie; Claire spent a lot of time reading, rollerskating, and thinking about going into junior high school. Normally they went to the beach in the summer as soon as school got out, but this year they couldn't afford it without Dad. But Mrs. Matthias was really nice and even though she was almost sixty she didn't talk to Claire like she was a kid. When it was close to August, almost one whole year since Dad went crazy, Claire gathered up her courage and decided to tell Mrs. Matthias about what she'd seen the night Dad left. If anyone would believe her about a light shining down, it would be Pastor Matthias' wife.
Mrs. Matthias was quiet and nodded a lot as Claire haltingly told her whole story; she only frowned when Claire confessed that Dad had disowned her. When Claire was done, she 'hmmm'ed to herself and seemed to consider the story from all angles.
"Well, dear," she said finally, "I certainly don't presume to know God's will. Just because we don't hear about things like this happening every day doesn't mean God didn't call your father to His business."
"I think God made Dad forget about us so that he wouldn't miss us while he was gone," Claire confessed.
Mrs. Matthias shrugged. "Maybe," she said, making it sound like two words.
"What if Dad never comes back?" Claire asked. Then, "You don't think I'm crazy, do you?"
"No, I don't think you're crazy," Mrs. Matthias said with a laugh like she thought the question was dumb. "And whatever happened to your father, God is watching out for him. He listens to all your prayers."
Claire nodded slowly. "Do you think Dad's crazy?"
"Like I said, I don't know what God wants or does. He works in mysterious ways; we don't always understand them."
"I wish He'd explain Himself sometimes," Claire grumbled, which made Mrs. Matthias laugh. Claire laughed too, because it was stupid to grumble against God.
"Keep asking Him," Mrs. Matthias advised. "Just because we don't understand now doesn't mean that we won't understand forever."
"Okay," Claire said, not mentioning that she'd been asking Castiel and God about it for the whole year. Then a thought occurred to her: "Mrs. Matthias, is there an angel called Castiel?"
Mrs. Matthias blinked in surprise. "Wh--yes. He's not in the Bible so we don't know for sure, but he is mentioned in other books about angels. He's the angel of Thursday."
"Thursday," Claire whispered to herself. "So when we pray on Thursday, is Castiel the one that hears us?"
Mrs. Matthias smiled. "I don't know," she said. "Maybe. I like to think God hears me directly, but ... would you like to read about the angels? There's a lot of verses in the Bible about angels."
"I want to read about Castiel," Claire admitted. Mrs. Matthias looked at her in a weird, uncertain way. "Don't tell my mom," Claire said abruptly. "Dad talked about Castiel before he left and Mom thought he was crazy, but I'm not crazy, Castiel hasn't talked to me and I don't want Mom to be scared that I'm--"
"Shh, shh, it's okay," Mrs. Matthias said comfortingly, holding out her hands placatingly. "It's all right. You're just curious, that's all. We'll just keep this a secret," she said with a wink. "Well, there isn't a lot to know about Castiel himself. People that mixed together the Bible and paganism said that he was one of the guards of Jupiter, so he's associated with electricity and lightning. But of course, I don't know if that's the truth, because mixing God with paganism is wrong."
"I know," Claire assured her.
"Right. Well, that's really all there is about Castiel the angel. But we can read about angels in general in the Bible, and maybe that will tell you more about Castiel," Mrs. Matthias proposed.
This time, Claire agreed.
By the time Mom came to pick her up, Claire decided that Castiel was probably a warrior and that was why he never had time to talk to her. Even the messengers of God only ever appeared to really important people (or to sing songs, like at Jesus' birth), so if Dad had been hearing from Castiel, that meant Dad was important. Claire, on the other hand, was not, and she had to just be okay with that.
That night she prayed to God as usual, to keep Dad safe and bring him home. She didn't pray to Castiel, not really, because she'd never have dared to say such a thing in prayer: "Castiel, you suck," she whispered passionately, and blushed because Mom would have been pretty angry if she used that word in front of her. "Just because Dad's important and Mom and me aren't doesn't mean you can't tell us what happened to Dad!"
Castiel didn't answer, as usual, and Claire punched her pillow before she went to sleep.
*
When school started again, Mom stopped praying for Dad at dinner.
"Aren't we going to pray for Dad?" Claire asked.
"Honey," Mom said with tears in her eyes. "I-I don't think ... I don't think Dad's ever coming home."
"You think he's dead?" Claire asked, horrified.
Her mom shook her head. "I don't know. I just ... I can't ... hurry up and eat," she said finally.
Claire picked at her food until her mom got mad and told her to go to her room if she wasn't going to eat. Claire went to her room and cried. And she'd thought sixth grade would be fun.
*
When her twelfth birthday came and Dad still wasn't there and Mom hadn't prayed for Dad for a whole month, she let Mom bake a birthday cake and she had over Becca and a whole bunch of friends from school for a huge party. All of them singing 'Happy Birthday' together made it almost okay that Dad wasn't singing with them.
"God," she prayed that night after everyone had gone home, "If Dad is dead, can You find a way to tell us? And if he's not, can he please, please come home!? 'Cause I really miss him. Sometimes I think I'm okay and then I miss him all over again. Please, God, please, I just want Dad to come home again."
Three weeks later there was a freak snowstorm, and three days after that, Dad rang the doorbell.
end part 1
Part 2 here
Author: vikki
Characters: Claire, Jimmy, Amelia, Castiel, Dean, Sam
Spoilers: through 4.20
Rating/Warnings: PG (language, violence)
Summary: Castiel chose Jimmy; Claire wants to understand. 'The Rapture' as told by those left behind.
Dad went crazy two months before Claire's eleventh birthday.
*
On August 20th, Dad had a seizure. Claire woke up in the middle of the night to her mom shouting, "Oh no, Jimmy!? Jimmy," and when she ran down the stairs she could hear her dad groaning. Something smelled funny. It took her a second to realize it smelled like pee.
"Mom? Dad?" she asked, starting to breathe faster, and she could see her mom's back and her dad on the floor, trying to sit up. Her mom looked back with wide eyes. She looked so scared Claire suddenly wanted to cry.
"Call 911," her mom ordered.
"I'm fine," her dad groaned. "I'm okay."
"Call 911!" Mom shouted, and Claire's feet unfroze. She ran to the kitchen and called 911.
"Don't leave the kitchen, honey," Mom called. "Just stay in there, okay?"
"Is Dad okay?" she asked, but Mom didn't answer. The 911 person answered the phone.
"What is your emergency?" The lady sounded so calm.
"My dad, something's wrong with my dad," Claire said, trying to stay calm like the 911 person.
"All right," the lady said in a businesslike, friendly voice. "Do you know what happened?"
"No," Claire admitted, and that suddenly made her more frightened. "I think he peed himself. I don't know. Mom's really scared, can you come fast?"
"Okay. I'm sending an ambulance, okay, honey?" The 911 lady's voice was gentle. "Can you tell me your address?"
Claire told her. The lady made an agreeing noise. "Is your Mom there? Can I talk to her?"
"Mom said I'm not allowed to leave the kitchen," Claire answered, but she cupped her hand over the mouthpiece and shouted, "Mom, the 911 lady wants to talk to you!"
"I'm coming," her mom said, but she sounded like she was crying. She came into the kitchen with tears on her cheeks and sniffling. Claire handed the phone to her mom. "Should I stay with Dad?"
"No, Claire, stay in here! Sit down at the table," her mom ordered. "Yes, I'm sorry. Please hurry. I think he had a seizure. Amelia Novak. Jim--James. No, he's never had one before ..." she took the handset with her back into the living room, and Claire sat at the table and curled up her legs to her chest, clutching them.
She knew people with epilepsy had seizures, but seizures happened to other people, not her dad. Dad was a calm, kind of boring guy. He worked at an office doing sales for radio. He was really good at Uno and cheated when he was the banker for Monopoly. He took videos of Claire playing soccer at Saturday games. He'd never fallen down and suddenly started shaking. For some reason, the scariest part was the fact that he'd peed himself: it was gross and the kind of thing babies did, not her dad.
"God, please, please, please let Dad be okay," she prayed into her knees. "I don't want him to have epilepsy. Please let the doctors know what's wrong with him. Please let the ambulance come fast."
She peeked out of the kitchen when the EMTs came. Dad was sitting up and the EMTs just helped him onto the stretcher - they didn't do the backboard and neck brace thing they did on TV shows. "I'm really okay," her dad was saying, but he looked like he'd been sick. Her mom was standing to the side with her arms wrapped around herself.
"Just go with them, Jimmy. We'll follow in the car," Mom said. Then they were pushing him out the door and one of the EMTs grasped Claire's mom's elbow and talked to her in a low voice. Her mom nodded, and wiped her eyes. "Claire?" she said, suddenly raising her voice.
Claire pretended she hadn't been watching. "Mom?"
"Go get dressed," she said, and she smiled although Claire could totally tell she was faking it. "We're going to the hospital with your daddy."
Claire dared a few steps into the living room; Mom didn't try to stop her. "Is Dad going to be okay?" she asked, looking between her mom and the EMT guy.
The EMT guy smiled, and his smile was more real-looking than her mom's. "He's gonna be fine," he said reassuringly, and Claire believed him. "He might not remember much of tonight, though. We're just taking him to the hospital to make sure it doesn't happen again, all right?"
Claire felt a little better, although it was obvious that the guy didn't know what was wrong with her dad in the first place. "Okay," she said, nodding.
"Go get dressed," her mom said.
They prayed all the way to the hospital. Her mom had stopped crying, at least. When they got there they had to find Dad again, but they were both allowed to go back into the room where he was. He was sitting up and in those stupid gowns they made you wear in hospitals and had an oxygen tube in his nose. But he smiled when he saw Claire and Mom. "Hey, baby girl," he said to Claire.
Claire went straight to the side of the bed and hugged her Dad; he hugged her back and felt as normal and strong as ever. "I'm okay," he said before Claire could ask. "Really."
"I was really scared," Claire admitted into her dad's shoulder, and then she did start to cry.
"Shh, shh, I'm fine," Dad said, rubbing her back, his stubbly cheek rubbing her ear. "I'm so sorry I scared you."
"What happened?" Claire asked between sniffles.
"I ..." her father trailed off. "I think I just had a really weird dream," he said after a moment. "A really ... really weird dream."
"Can that make you have a seizure?" Claire asked, finally starting to pull away.
Her dad looked like he was thinking. "I don't know," he said, and when he smiled this time, he looked more sad than happy.
*
The doctors couldn't find anything wrong with her dad. They decided it might be epilepsy. "Have you severely hit your head any time in the last six months?" one asked while Claire was in the room.
"Only that time when my daughter kicked a soccer ball into my face," Dad said, and winked. Claire had never done that so she laughed. "No, not that I can think of." The doctor didn't laugh or smile, just wrote something on her clipboard.
So they sent Dad home with pills and told him to schedule an appointment with his doctor in six months for a brain scan and that was that.
For one week, everything was totally normal. Her dad was the same as ever - he went to work, griped about how he'd missed out on some meeting, beat both Mom and Claire hardcore at Uno on Friday night, drove to church on Sunday, cooked dinner, blah blah blah. Mom seemed worried but she didn't say anything except to add to the end of the dinner prayer, "and please protect Jimmy and keep him whole". (Dad smiled warmly at her every time.) By the time eight days had passed everything seemed normal.
Then, while Claire in the rec room playing video games one night, her mom and dad got into a horrible argument. They fought from time to time but this one was bad. Claire heard her mother screaming, "What is wrong with you!?" and her father trying to calm her down before she turned up the volume of her video game and tried to ignore it. She couldn't concentrate, though.
Finally Mom's voice moved closer. "No, don't you dare come up here," she snapped, and then the door to the rec room flew open. "Claire, Mrs. Jessup is coming over to babysit," she said. Mom had been crying again, and she looked as scared as she had on the night Dad had his seizure.
Claire bit her lip. "Where are you and Dad going?" she asked.
Mom looked down, then back out the open door. Then she got to her knees. Claire paused her video game. "Honey, Dad needs to go back to the hospital," she said shakily.
Claire gasped, suddenly very scared. Her eyes filled up with tears. "Did he have another seizure? Did the doctors call and say he's sick--?" Her voice was shaking.
But her mom was shaking her head. "It's - Dad's sick," she said, and her smile was horrible. "The seizure showed that Dad was sick, so we need to go back and see if the doctors can figure out what's wrong."
"Then why were you fighting?" Claire asked.
"Your father doesn't think he's sick," Mom explained. "It's ... I'll explain when we get back from the hospital, okay?" Claire wanted to know now, but she just nodded. Her mom hugged her, and Claire hugged back. "Pray for Daddy, all right?"
"Okay," Claire promised.
"Stay up here until we leave, okay?"
"Okay."
"Okay," her mom said, starting to cry again. "It's going to be all right," she said, but Claire didn't believe her.
*
But when Mom and Dad got back, Claire didn't get any answers. Mom just said that Dad was going to be okay and if he does anything funny, just tell Mommy, all right? And Dad smiled at her sadly and hugged her when he got back and assured her that he was all right, but of course Mom had said he didn't think he was sick so Claire didn't know if that meant anything at all. Maybe Dad had brain damage from the seizure. Claire wondered if he was going crazy, or losing his memory, or what. Was he going to lose his job? Would he go psycho?
Thank goodness that Rebecca got back from her vacation the next day. Of course Rebecca wanted to tell Claire all about it - they'd gone to the Grand Canyon - so Claire managed to get to spend the night at Becca's house for two days in a row, which was a lot better than being at home with Mom and Dad avoiding each other. Claire thought she might go nuts if she had to deal with that for more than a few hours.
School started on Tuesday. Claire had never been so relieved to go to school.
*
Claire didn't notice for a while, but after a couple of weeks she noticed that Mom never left her alone with Dad. Dad used to come pick her up from school when he had a short day, but twice Mom came and picked her up and Dad was already at home. He did all the same things he normally did, except that he didn't joke around as much and he kept looking at Mom like he was afraid he was going to do something wrong. Mom almost never smiled at him, and when she did it was always tight and scared.
If Dad was sick - or even if he wasn't - this was the worst fight ever. On Friday night which was usually game night (only not this week because Mom refused to pick out a game), after Dad had said grace, Claire decided she couldn't stand it any more. "Are you getting divorced?" she asked point-blank.
Her father and mother both froze reaching for bread and the meatloaf respectively; then they looked at each other and back at her. "No, of course not," her dad said after a moment. But her mom didn't say anything and Claire noticed.
"Then what are you fighting about?" Claire raised her eyebrows. Her parents looked so surprised that Claire realized abruptly that she was in total control of the conversation. Maybe she could find out what was suppposed to be wrong with Dad. "Is it because you think Dad's sick and Dad doesn't think so?"
"I'm not sick," Dad protested, and her mother said, "That's right." Then they both looked at each other again. Mom scowled; Dad turned his head, his gaze flickering back and forth between her and the table.
"Well, what's wrong with him? Is it brain cancer?" Claire revealed her greatest fear.
"No! No," her mother exclaimed, and her Dad looked alarmed that she'd thought such a thing. "Your father is ..." She trailed off.
"I'm talking to an angel," Dad said.
Claire stared at him.
"Jimmy!" her mother snapped, but Dad warmed to his topic. "Your mom doesn't believe me. That's okay - I can barely believe it myself. But he's talking to me, and I think he has something for me to do, or something to show me - like Daniel the prophet," he explained.
Claire glanced at her mom; she was very pale, clutching Dad's arm like it would make him stop talking. Claire licked her lips. Her dad, a prophet? That was ... too weird to think about. "I pray to God all the time, but He's never sent an angel to answer me," she admitted, not sure if she was jealous of her dad or thought Mom was right and he was just crazy.
Her father had looked so excited, but now he bit his lip smiled a little bit more sadly. "I wish I could tell you why this is happening to me," he said. He glanced back at Claire's mother. "But ..." he shook his head.
Mom abruptly stood up from the table, threw down her napkin, and walked into the kitchen, covering her face with her hands. Claire looked after her, alarmed, until her father bent his head down and caught her eyes. "It's okay if you don't believe me," he said gently. "I know it's hard to believe. But I have faith."
Claire wasn't at all sure, but her dad seemed so positive. Didn't this kind of thing happen to pastors, not normal people like them, though? "Dad," she said, and then she wasn't sure what to say. She didn't really believe him, but she didn't want Dad to be crazy, either. "What's the angel's name?" she asked, whispering.
Her dad smiled. "Castiel," he said, the same way he said 'Ames' when Mom and Dad were smooching.
*
That night in bed, Claire prayed to Castiel for the first time. "Castiel," she said, carefully pronouncing the name, "If you're really talking to Dad, can you please tell Mom that Dad's okay and not crazy? Because she's really scared. I am, too," she admitted. "And can you tell God, if God wants Dad to do something, can He please not make Dad leave? I don't really want him to be a prophet," she whispered, thinking about how all the prophets in the New Testament were fed to lions and killed. She didn't think something like that would happen now - well, not the being fed to lions part, anyway - but prophets were never married. He'd have to leave, she was sure of it. "Thank you," she said at the end, because she didn't think she should say 'Amen' when she wasn't praying to God.
*
She woke up to a really bright light shining in her bedroom window.
At first Claire thought it was morning and she was late for school, but she looked over at her alarm clock and saw that it was 2 AM. She squinted out her window; it was really, really bright, like a helicopter beam coming down out of the sky. Holy cow, it's aliens! she thought. Then: Maybe I'm crazy like Dad.
She could hear a voice. It was whispering, and she couldn't hear the words, but it sounded kind of like paper being rustled. She threw off her covers and ran downstairs to the front door to find out who was making all that light and whispering in front of the house. But when she got to the door, she saw her dad, standing in front of the porch in his fall coat, looking up at the super-bright light and saying something she couldn't make out over all the whispering. The light was shining straight down on her dad.
Wind rattled the windows and the screen door. Claire gasped as her dad got so bright she could barely look at him. Dad's not crazy, she thought. Dad's not crazy! This was exactly what she thought it looked like when Jesus talked to Paul in the Bible, and when Gabriel talked to Mary. Only it was happening to her dad, and suddenly she was scared that God was going to just take Dad right up into Heaven, right there in front of the porch.
She opened the door and slipped outside at the same time as the light began to fade; it went back to being the normal dark of the middle of the night. Her dad was still there, facing the street; he stood there, totally still for a moment, then looked around like he didn't know where he was, or he was afraid someone had seen him.
"Dad?" Claire asked nervously.
Her dad turned around at looked at her, and Claire held her breath when his eyes moved over her. She felt as if she'd been turned inside out and every bad thing she'd ever thought was on display. She felt like her dad was a stranger. Claire was suddenly very, very afraid.
"I am not your father," Dad said, and with that, he turned around and walked down the front path towards the gate.
Claire watched him, shocked. When she blinked, she thought she heard wings, and Dad was gone. He'd walked away so quickly she didn't even see it.
God took away his memory, Claire thought. She ran back inside, slamming the door shut, and shouted for Mom, not even trying to not cry.
*
Mom thought she'd had a bad dream, of course, but she started to freak out when she realized that Dad wasn't in the house but his car was still here. She called Dad's cell phone but he didn't answer, and the neighbors even though it was almost three o'clock in the morning, and she called the police, but they said that a person couldn't be reported missing for 24 hours (even Claire knew that; every cop show ever taught that). Then Mom sat on the sofa and cried. Claire sat with her. "It's my fault," Mom sobbed. "I chased him out. Oh my god, I chased him out!"
Claire didn't say anything; she didn't even know what Mom was talking about. She'd already cried and now she felt numb. She was too afraid to tell Mom that Dad had said he wasn't her father, because then Mom would be angry at Dad and if Dad tried to come home tomorrow then she'd be way too angry to let him in, which was scarier than Dad not remembering her.
She and Mom sat on the couch and hugged each other, and that was the first night.
*
Mom reported Dad missing. The police that took the report asked who had seen him last and Mom said, "I did."
"No, I did," Claire tried to protest, but her mom shushed her.
"She had a bad dream about him leaving," Mom said. "It's just a coincidence he left the same night. It's not your fault, honey," she comforted Claire.
"I know, Mom," Claire said, scowling. The police believed her mom, anyway, so Claire just decided to shut up about what Dad did that night.
For the first month Mom called Dad's phone every single day. Once when Claire tried to talk to Mom about Dad she suddenly snapped, "Not now, Claire! I just ... I can't think about him right now." She had conversations on the phone with Pastor Matthias' wife in which she cried and yelled alternately. Claire knew she was really angry with Dad.
Claire didn't sign up for fall soccer. It was hard to concentrate at school and she failed three spelling tests in a row. Her mom didn't even get mad at her. Somehow that made Claire feel guilty. Becca was cool as ever, luckily, but Claire didn't even tell Becca about the light and her Dad saying 'I'm not your father'. The more she thought about it, the more she wasn't sure if Mom was right and she had been dreaming. It was just way too weird.
"We have to pray for Dad, okay?" Mom told her, and they prayed for Dad every night before dinner. It was takeout or McDonald's a lot of the time. Dad always cooked, not Mom. Mom wasn't nearly as good at it.
Claire prayed differently when she was in bed. "God, if Dad is crazy, please don't let him hurt or kill anybody. And please don't let him die." And Claire prayed to Castiel, too. She wasn't sure she believed in Castiel, but if she hadn't been dreaming and she had seen all that light, then, well - maybe Dad had been talking to Castiel. And that meant Castiel could talk to her, too, right? "Can you tell me why God made Dad lose his memory? Because that was really creepy," she confessed to Castiel. "If you sent Dad on a mission or whatever, please make sure he stays safe," she prayed, and, "Please watch over Mom, too." Castiel never answered.
"What do you want for your birthday?" Mom asked at the beginning of October. Claire had been pretty sure Mom had forgotten all about her birthday, and then she thought about celebrating turning eleven without Dad there, videotaping everything, and laughing, and singing 'Happy Birthday' all out of tune.
"Don't bake a cake," Claire said. "I can't blow out the candles without Dad here." And then she burst into stupid tears.
Her mom rushed around the table and hugged her; Claire felt dumb for crying. She mostly felt angry, not sad. "I hate you, Dad," she choked out, and she meant it; if dad was crazy then she was mad at him for going crazy, and if it really was Castiel then she was mad at Dad for picking Castiel over her and Mom. She sobbed into her mom's shirt.
Mom rubbed her back and Claire could feel her crying, too. Neither of them had cried for a little while now, not over this. Neither of them said anything.
"I don't really hate Dad," Claire said later that night.
"It's okay to be mad at him," Mom answered, putting dishes in the dishwasher. "I am, too."
Claire got roller skates, new earrings, and her first makeover for her birthday. Mom took her to MAC makeup at the mall and they did up her face like a superstar, which was admittedly pretty awesome. "Your father and I agreed you could start wearing makeup on your 11th birthday," Mom explained. "But just foundation and blush, so don't get any ideas." Then she took a picture of Claire with foundation and blush and eyeliner and eye shadow and lipliner on with her phone. Claire pretended not to notice when Mom sent the picture to Dad's phone. Then Becca came over for a slumber party and they spent the whole night watching Lord of the Rings and Pirates of the Carribbean until they fell asleep just before dawn. There was no birthday cake.
*
By the time Christmas came it was almost normal for Dad to be missing. Claire and Mom sang Christmas carols with the church choir and went to Grandma and Grandpa's house in Michigan for the holiday break. Grandpa thought Claire still believed in Santa Claus. Nobody talked about Dad and Claire was perfectly happy with that. She didn't want to think about him any more right now.
On Christmas Eve night it started to snow, and Claire snuck outside once her grandparents and mom were asleep; she put on her coat and mittens and hat and went out onto the porch to watch it come down. It was too cold to stay out long, but getting snow on Christmas Eve just like all the songs was awesome and it made all the Christmas lights on the other houses look even prettier.
She heard wings, and the wind buffed her ear, and Claire looked up. Her dad was standing on the porch next to her.
Claire blinked. She had to be hallucinating. She didn't dare say anything for a long moment, and her dad didn't even look at her, gazing out over the snow. "Dad?" she said when she finally got up the nerve.
Dad finally looked at her after like another ten seconds, and Claire felt like she'd been turned inside-out again. It was like Dad knew who she was, but he didn't actually care.
"As I told you before: I am not your father," Dad said.
"Yes, you are!" Claire hissed. She started to raise her voice then remembered everyone else was asleep. "You're my dad. God made you forget so you could go do His mission or something. You said an angel was talking to you, remember?"
Dad looked at her impassively.
"Please come home, Dad," Claire begged.
"Sleep, child," her father said, and touched her on the forehead with two fingers.
She woke up in her bed in the guest room and decided her dream was a nightmare, before forgetting all about it thanks to the prospect of opening presents.
*
Mom got a second job, so Claire had to go to the daycare where Mom worked after school instead of straight home. At first it was weird, and then it became normal. Life without Dad became normal.
In March Claire was almost hit by a car crossing the street. She thought she'd looked both ways, but all of a sudden a horn was blaring and Claire looked up and froze in fear.
The next thing she knew, she was on the other side of the street and the driver of the car was screeching to a halt. "Oh my god, kid, you okay!?" the driver shouted, pale and shaking. "I didn't even see you, holy shit, I am so sorry!"
"I'm okay," Claire said shakily, trembling all over. She had no idea how she'd moved so fast, like she'd teleported. "I'm fine."
"Really? I thought," the driver said, then halted and changed his mind. "Uh, you promise?"
"Promise," Claire said. Then, still scared and really uncomfortable, she hiked her backpack up on her shoulders and ran towards her mom's job.
*
The summer was weirder. Claire spent most days at Pastor Matthias' house with Mrs. Matthias so Mom could keep working. Pastor Matthias' kids were all grown up and most of the toys they had were kind of kiddie; Claire spent a lot of time reading, rollerskating, and thinking about going into junior high school. Normally they went to the beach in the summer as soon as school got out, but this year they couldn't afford it without Dad. But Mrs. Matthias was really nice and even though she was almost sixty she didn't talk to Claire like she was a kid. When it was close to August, almost one whole year since Dad went crazy, Claire gathered up her courage and decided to tell Mrs. Matthias about what she'd seen the night Dad left. If anyone would believe her about a light shining down, it would be Pastor Matthias' wife.
Mrs. Matthias was quiet and nodded a lot as Claire haltingly told her whole story; she only frowned when Claire confessed that Dad had disowned her. When Claire was done, she 'hmmm'ed to herself and seemed to consider the story from all angles.
"Well, dear," she said finally, "I certainly don't presume to know God's will. Just because we don't hear about things like this happening every day doesn't mean God didn't call your father to His business."
"I think God made Dad forget about us so that he wouldn't miss us while he was gone," Claire confessed.
Mrs. Matthias shrugged. "Maybe," she said, making it sound like two words.
"What if Dad never comes back?" Claire asked. Then, "You don't think I'm crazy, do you?"
"No, I don't think you're crazy," Mrs. Matthias said with a laugh like she thought the question was dumb. "And whatever happened to your father, God is watching out for him. He listens to all your prayers."
Claire nodded slowly. "Do you think Dad's crazy?"
"Like I said, I don't know what God wants or does. He works in mysterious ways; we don't always understand them."
"I wish He'd explain Himself sometimes," Claire grumbled, which made Mrs. Matthias laugh. Claire laughed too, because it was stupid to grumble against God.
"Keep asking Him," Mrs. Matthias advised. "Just because we don't understand now doesn't mean that we won't understand forever."
"Okay," Claire said, not mentioning that she'd been asking Castiel and God about it for the whole year. Then a thought occurred to her: "Mrs. Matthias, is there an angel called Castiel?"
Mrs. Matthias blinked in surprise. "Wh--yes. He's not in the Bible so we don't know for sure, but he is mentioned in other books about angels. He's the angel of Thursday."
"Thursday," Claire whispered to herself. "So when we pray on Thursday, is Castiel the one that hears us?"
Mrs. Matthias smiled. "I don't know," she said. "Maybe. I like to think God hears me directly, but ... would you like to read about the angels? There's a lot of verses in the Bible about angels."
"I want to read about Castiel," Claire admitted. Mrs. Matthias looked at her in a weird, uncertain way. "Don't tell my mom," Claire said abruptly. "Dad talked about Castiel before he left and Mom thought he was crazy, but I'm not crazy, Castiel hasn't talked to me and I don't want Mom to be scared that I'm--"
"Shh, shh, it's okay," Mrs. Matthias said comfortingly, holding out her hands placatingly. "It's all right. You're just curious, that's all. We'll just keep this a secret," she said with a wink. "Well, there isn't a lot to know about Castiel himself. People that mixed together the Bible and paganism said that he was one of the guards of Jupiter, so he's associated with electricity and lightning. But of course, I don't know if that's the truth, because mixing God with paganism is wrong."
"I know," Claire assured her.
"Right. Well, that's really all there is about Castiel the angel. But we can read about angels in general in the Bible, and maybe that will tell you more about Castiel," Mrs. Matthias proposed.
This time, Claire agreed.
By the time Mom came to pick her up, Claire decided that Castiel was probably a warrior and that was why he never had time to talk to her. Even the messengers of God only ever appeared to really important people (or to sing songs, like at Jesus' birth), so if Dad had been hearing from Castiel, that meant Dad was important. Claire, on the other hand, was not, and she had to just be okay with that.
That night she prayed to God as usual, to keep Dad safe and bring him home. She didn't pray to Castiel, not really, because she'd never have dared to say such a thing in prayer: "Castiel, you suck," she whispered passionately, and blushed because Mom would have been pretty angry if she used that word in front of her. "Just because Dad's important and Mom and me aren't doesn't mean you can't tell us what happened to Dad!"
Castiel didn't answer, as usual, and Claire punched her pillow before she went to sleep.
*
When school started again, Mom stopped praying for Dad at dinner.
"Aren't we going to pray for Dad?" Claire asked.
"Honey," Mom said with tears in her eyes. "I-I don't think ... I don't think Dad's ever coming home."
"You think he's dead?" Claire asked, horrified.
Her mom shook her head. "I don't know. I just ... I can't ... hurry up and eat," she said finally.
Claire picked at her food until her mom got mad and told her to go to her room if she wasn't going to eat. Claire went to her room and cried. And she'd thought sixth grade would be fun.
*
When her twelfth birthday came and Dad still wasn't there and Mom hadn't prayed for Dad for a whole month, she let Mom bake a birthday cake and she had over Becca and a whole bunch of friends from school for a huge party. All of them singing 'Happy Birthday' together made it almost okay that Dad wasn't singing with them.
"God," she prayed that night after everyone had gone home, "If Dad is dead, can You find a way to tell us? And if he's not, can he please, please come home!? 'Cause I really miss him. Sometimes I think I'm okay and then I miss him all over again. Please, God, please, I just want Dad to come home again."
Three weeks later there was a freak snowstorm, and three days after that, Dad rang the doorbell.
end part 1
Part 2 here