Hell's Greatest Weapon

Chapter 13: Claire Novak, the Second

“’Wrong,’ Castiel?  You want to talk to be about wrong?” She took a step toward the angel, her voice quivering while she spoke, but she did well to hide the sadness by masking it with anger.  “You killed my dad, you have no right telling me what’s wrong.”

“I did not.”

“Really?”  Claire paused and took a few steps back, her head shaking from side to side as she spoke. “Last I checked, he would still be around if it wasn’t for you.  So would my mom.  I would have a family.”

“Claire, I’m—“

With an impressive amount of speed Claire whipped the gun from her pocket and pointed it at Castiel, her hands quivering with the emotions that coursed through her, but her aim solid all the same.   Castiel reached a hand out and took a step closer, likely ready to begin pleading with her, but she shook her head. “Don’t.”

Castiel’s eyes were sad as he shrugged, his voice almost pitying when he said “That won’t hurt me.”

Claire seemed to consider this a moment before letting a quick “Fine,” escape her lips.  Turning her hips as well as her upper body, Claire turned the gun to her right, now pointing it to some area between the Winchesters.  The motion was quick and desperate, and seeing the guys being held under the gunpoint of an emotional teenage girl made your heart jump. Your reactions took over within a split second of identifying the threat and in a couple, small seconds you held in the gun in one hand while the other arm was wrapped tightly around Claire Novak’s fighting upper body.  You slipped the gun into the pocket of your jacket before letting her go, upon doing which you had to dodge an angry fist from the girl.

“You don’t even know what they did!” She screamed at you, the force of the yell enough to make her bend over slightly at the waist before pointing at Castiel.  Turning to him, she screamed “I prayed to you every single night, Castiel.  I begged you to bring my dad back, to put my family back together.”

“I know, Claire, I—“

“My father was a good man,” Claire’s teeth were gritted as she said this, her voice no longer in a yell but still equally as bitter.  “What the hell kind of world is it that the good get punished, get killed, while creatures like you get to live?”

“I’m sorry, Claire.”

“Don’t.” Claire held a hand up toward the angel and shook her head, the finger quivering as she jabbed it toward him once again. “Don’t.” She repeated.  “You might feel guilty, but you’re not sorry.”

“Claire, listen,” Sam said, his hands outstretched toward the teen while he spoke.  “What are you going to do, huh?  Go back to Randy?”

Your eyebrows crinkled and you looked at Dean for an explanation, but he held his gaze on Claire; while you had originally looked at him to get a brief, albeit sudden explanation as to whom this Randy was, your attention was immediately swerved.  Dean’s face was dark, much more than it had been when you’d last seen him, and your stomach dropped in an instant.  He was much worse.  The shadows emitting from his eyes were strong, even darker than the natural shadows that were being projected across his features from the light of the gas station; his cheeks even looked hollow, the area around his mouth was lowlighted with the darkness.  While his expression said ‘strong’ and ‘confident,’ you saw past it.  You saw that what he was up against had gotten significantly stronger, that he was scared.  That the extent of his fight had changed dramatically, and not for the better.

Claire spoke up, which tore your gaze back to her. “How do you know about Randy?”

“Dustin.” It was Dean who spoke up this time, and in a moment Castiel had chimed in.