13. Claire Novak

Night has fallen, and Dean has Baby parked in an alleyway. We're right across the street from the convenience store, waiting for Claire to sneak her way in. Right now, there's just one customer inside, two people total if you count the cashier at the register.

"You want me in there before she gets there?" I ask Cas.

"I really don't see the point in you coming with me," he says sincerely.

I shrug. "I want to meet her." And before anyone can say a word, I cross the street and enter the store. I've made the store's population rise to three people now at the sound of a bell ringing.

Even though I don't care to buy anything, I put on a good act and pretend to look around. My eyes stray to the door every few seconds, waiting for a teenage girl to step in. I'm not armed. I don't see why I should be. I'm a demon. With my strength alone, I can handle Claire. Besides, whatever she has—if she has any weapon—won't hurt me. I don't see her being the type to know about demons and what can kill them.

I hear the bell ring, and I look. She's hiding pretty obviously, hood pulled over her head. I roll my eyes. Rookie. Too obvious. But people can be stupid nowadays, so she could look like an ordinary customer to the cashier or the other person in the store. I slowly walk down the aisle full of junk food like chips and Cheetos. The only other person has just left the store.

Claire keeps her head down and her back to me, so I can't get her features. I slowly move in. Through the door's glass, I see Cas making his move towards the store now.

I wince at hearing a gun being opened and then closed. She's doing this the bad way. Dear God, kid. What the hell are you doing? Why? I watch her as she slinks to the cash register. I see the silver come out of her pocket. But at the same time, Cas enters the store and intervenes, grabbing her arm. I hear Claire gasp, and she turns to see Cas has her. I remove myself from the store, heading out into the cold air, crossing the street back to my brothers.

"Claire, wait!" I hear Cas shout. I spin around to see Claire, hood down and away from her face, as she tries to run away from Cas. Of course, she's not as smart as I thought she was, as she's running into the path of my brothers, myself, and the Impala.

"Screw you," she says gruffly, her long blonde hair twisting as she moves. I remember my hair being blonde. I consciously touch the black locks I've got now. What a body switch will do to a person.

"Whoa, hey, Miley Cyrus," Dean tells her. "Settle."

"Eat me, Hasselhoff."

"Well, damn, someone's got a big mouth on her," I say.

She gives me a pointed, blue-eyed stare. "And who're you supposed to be? Someone's whore?"

"Hey now." My jaw locks.

"Don't think I didn't see you in there. I'm not an idiot."

"Oh, really? Because going into a store looking like you're about to rob the place is such a good plan." I cross my arms.

"Jo, back off," Sam warns me. "Claire, hold on a second. Look, my name's—"

"Sam," says Claire. "And you're Dean. We've met, remember?"

"Nice to meet you. Josette Winchester," I say curtly.

Claire snorts. "Where were you when I met them the first time?"

"Out of the picture." How does she accept that I'm their sister so quickly? Maybe she really doesn't give a fuck and is rolling with what's going on.

"Claire," Cas says softly. "You were going to rob that convenience store?"

"So?" she asks.

Cas quickly picks up his mouth that was dropping a millisecond earlier. "'So?' So...it's—it's wrong!"

"You want to talk to me about wrong? You killed my dad. Is that 'wrong' enough for you?"

"No, I didn't."

"Really? Because without you, he'd still be here. And my mom would still be around."

"Claire, I'm—"

Claire pulls the gun on Cas when he tries to get near her. "Don't!"

"That won't hurt me."

"Fine." Claire spins around to aim the gun at my brothers and me. I don't take a step back, but I hear my brothers do.

"Whoa!" says Dean. "Hey, come on."

"Hold on a second," says Sam.

"Why?" Claire hisses. "Like you don't have it coming? You stood there while this monster took my dad." She lowers the gun, turning to Cas. "I used to pray to you, Castiel. Every night. I would beg you to bring him home safe."

"I know," Cas says sadly.

"You know...My father was a good man. In what messed up world does he have to die and you get to live?"

"I'm sorry."

"No. You feel guilty. There's a difference."

"So what?" I say boldly. "Now you run back to Randy? The guy you steal for?"

"How do you know about that?"

"Dustin."

"Claire, that man is using you," says Cas.

"He was there for me," Claire protests. "When things got bad—and they got real damn bad—he was there when no one else was. He's my family. And you're just...you can go to Hell." Claire storms off. None of us pursue her, not even Cas.

I approach Cas carefully, rubbing his shoulder. "It's stupid to ask if you're okay, isn't it?"

"It is," he agrees.

I pat him on the back. "Let her have some space." I guide Cas towards the Impala. "Anyone up for a drink?"

* * *

"Cas, don't beat yourself up, man," Dean tells Cas. "Claire was..."

"Right," Cas says. "She was right. Who am I to tell her how to live her life?"

We find ourselves at a bar, whiskeys in front of us. Cas is pretty hurt by what Claire said, and I don't blame him. She's a ball of fire. A ball of negative emotion. I can see why she resents him. Hell, if I was her, I would probably resent Cas too.

"Well, somebody needs to," I tell Cas thoughtfully. "It's not like we're talking about Mother Teresa here. The girl just about knocked over a Gas-N-Sip. She's got issues."

"Because of me," says Cas.

"Well, you are wearing her old man's meat suit," Dean says carefully. "Probably didn't help."

Sam shakes his head at Dean.

"I thought I could make it up to her," says Cas.

"I don't think you can," Sam says carefully. "I mean, Jimmy was her father, and to some people that's...That's everything, you know?"

"No, I don't. I never knew my father. He was distant, to say the least." Cas looks at me. "What about you? Did you love your father?" He looks at my brothers.

"With everything I had," says Dean.

"Yeah," Sam agrees. "Yeah. I mean, it wasn't always easy, but yeah."

I brush my hair back, licking my lips. "As much as I hated our old man, I loved him too. Like Sam said, it wasn't always easy."

"I mean, look," Dean continues. "John Winchester's not going to win any 'Number One Dad' awards, you know? But you know...damn if he wasn't there when we needed him."

"Hey, uh...Tell him about that time in New York," Sam says.

"Oh yeah," I say, racking my brain. "Yeah, okay. So, uh...We were working this haunting in Long Island, and Dean, Sam, and me begged the old man to let us go to the city for once."

"He had this thing about New York, right? Too big, too loud, too dirty," says Sam.

"Yeah, and he hated the Yankees," Dean comments.

"Big time."

"Somehow, we convince him to let us go." At this point, I'm willing to let Dean take the story over. "So, we all go. We all, you know, see all the sights, and uh, ride the subway, eat too much pizza. The whole nine. Well, by about midnight, Sam, Jo, and Dad are zonked, and I figure...Screw it. I'm going to CBGB."

"So CBGB is—" Sam starts to explain.

"I know," Cas cuts them off. "It's where The Ramones and Blondie got their start."

The three of us look at each other.

"Right," says Dean.

"Wow," I say, clearing my throat. "Anyways, he was way underage at the time."

"All right," says Dean, "so I get there. I sneak in, and it's nuts. I mean, people are drinking and they're smoking and they're—they're snorting whatever. There's a five-hundred pound guy on stage with a Mohawk just screaming. And, uh, my mind is blown. I don't even know what to do. Then this girl walks up and she says 'Hey, why don't you come over and sit down with me and my friends at our table?' All right!"

"Yeah, and they get him drunk." I nudge Dean playfully. "First time."

"But not fun drunk. I'm not quite sure what was in that stuff, but the room starts to spin, and I feel like I'm going to puke...forever. And right about that time, I hear him. 'Dean Winchester!'"

I can practically hear our old man screaming my older brother's name.

"My old man," Dean says in a reminiscent tone. "I don't know how, but he found me. And now I'm really freaking out, because he's just standing there, not saying anything. I look around, and everybody else is freaking out, too. In fact, nobody's even looking him in the eye. And finally, this one guy with, like, a safety pin through his nose and a—a 'Kill Everything' tattoo looks up and he says, 'Sorry, sir.' Yeah. 'Sorry, sir.' To John friggin' Winchester."

We do a toast, and my brothers and I sip the whiskey while Cas treats the drink like a shot and downs it.

"He saved you," says Cas.

"Yeah, and you know what he got for that? Me whining about how much he embarrassed me. Me telling him that I hated him. But then he stopped and turned around and he looked at me and he said, 'Son, you don't like me? That's fine. It's not my job to be liked.'"

"'It's my job to raise you right,'" Sam quotes.

"Yeah," I say. "And he did."

"Do you think Claire is in trouble?" Cas asks us.

"She's hanging out with a guy named Randy. She's in trouble."

Dean motions to the bartender for around round of drinks.

"I can't remember, did Dustin squeal about Randy's place?" I ask. "Because if Claire's in trouble, that's the best place to swoop in and save her, and whoever else the bastard has working with him." I don't want to imagine how many kids like Claire that Randy has in his house, busting their asses, risking their lives, risking jail time, just because he couldn't pay back money to some people.

"You know what?" Cas tells me. "I think he actually did."

"I say we just leave the drinks and go right now. Because if Claire couldn't get the money that Randy needs..."

At this, Cas rises out of the chair, and the rest of us follow him, leaving our drink refills behind.

**The little interaction between Jo and Claire, I love <33 You can bet they'll butt heads.**