Fic: A Pointed Absence Of Static.
Title: A Pointed Absence Of Static
Rating: PG
Genre and/or Pairing: Jimmy Novak, Sam, Dean/Castiel
Warnings: Angst, character death, Cas is kind of a jerk (aka an angel), next generation stuff. Beware of medication!
Summary: Earth isn't the only thing Castiel left behind him.
Claire visits every other Thursday, and it never stops bringing a smile to his face.
“How are the kids?” Jimmy asks, and as hesitant as her smile is, it’s true. “Didn’t you say Sharon’s play was Monday?”
The smile turns proud. “As strange as it was to see her dressed in a skimpy cat costume, she made a wonderful Adelaide. She brought down the house, Daddy. The applause was so loud I thought we’d all go deaf.”
He leans back in the uncomfortable chair and beams despite the scratchy fabric he can feel through the loose cotton pants. “And she’s seventeen now?”
Claire nods, although she starts to frown. “They grow up so fast.”
Jimmy takes a long moment to look at his little girl, forty-three and aging gradually and gracefully. “They really, really do.”
Jimmy Novak is supposed to be nearing seventy. He doesn’t look a day over thirty-five, at the most. That’s probably one of the main reasons he’s here, that he’s an unrepentant mystery even though he tells them the answer every single time they ask. That, and the static he still waits for in his head.
“You disappeared for over thirty years,” one of the doctors had said during his first month, her sympathetic look hiding a baffled expression that she couldn’t hide from him. “Can you tell us what happened?”
“I’ve told you the truth every time you’ve asked,” Jimmy had responded patiently, voice easily dropping into the same tone they used with him - as if he was a fragile, delusional man ready to break at any moment. He was far from breakable nowadays, and had been for a very long time. “I’m sorry, but my answer isn’t going to change. I’m not going to start lying just because you think I’m trapped in a fantasy world.”
She frowned. “Mr. Novak, when you appeared on our doorstep you claimed you were an angel.”
Jimmy hadn’t been able to help the small grin that claimed his mouth. “I was confused. That happens when you’ve been the vessel of an angel for most of your life and then it leaves your body and tears off towards heaven.”
“And the scars on your back?” She asked, softening her voice as if he’d burst into tears if she didn’t. “Did the angel do that to you too?”
He couldn’t help but laugh. “Doctor, his mind was on other things when he left. With what he’d done for my family, I can forgive him for a couple scars.”
The Novak family barely knew what misfortune meant. The only pain they found was self-inflicted. When unemployment was at an all-time high, Amelia Novak got a raise and Claire Novak found herself with a college scholarship she couldn’t even remember applying for. When a storm violent enough to knock down trees blew through Pontiac, Illinois, the only thing that shook in the house was wind chimes outdoors. On the day Claire Novak married Michael Jordan (a name which Dean had teased the couple mercilessly about), the rain had passed in time for the outdoor wedding to be sunny and beautiful, even the birds quieting for the words in the ceremony.
“Don’t you think this is going a little far for your promise?” Sam had asked during the reception, Castiel back inside his vessel. He was smiling as he spoke, staring up at the night sky.
Castiel watched Jimmy Novak’s daughter and son-in-law laugh and dance on the somewhat skewed dance floor, and turned his eyes back to the unexpected meteor shower. “Not really.”
Jimmy Novak had been left alone in his own body for his daughter’s wedding, and his wife’s funeral, both of which had left him in tears with Dean awkwardly not-quite holding him. He hadn’t seen his little girl grow up, hadn’t been there to hold his wife’s hand through her last moments, hadn’t been there to threaten Michael on the couple’s first date, hadn’t been there to even pick out what outfit to bury his wife in.
“It’s okay, Daddy,” Claire always said, Dean on one side, Claire hugging him tightly on the other, stronger than Jimmy thought he could ever be. “It’s alright. We always knew you were out there watching over us.”
The words didn’t make him feel much better, but burying his face in her hair, even when he’d nearly poked his eye out on the tiny, lethal bobby pins in her hair during the wedding, made everything feel small compared to the moments he had, right there, right then.
Sam visits every now and then, mostly on anniversaries Jimmy can’t even remember are anniversaries. The end of the apocalypse is the one when Sam brings a present. His wife’s horrible cookies are a constant that appear grudgingly during every visit.
“Edible hex bags are still a horrible idea,” Jimmy says while he munches on one, looking through the most controversial and award-winning articles Sam has written so far. “Besides, it’s not like we need the protection.”
Sam shrugs, not bothering to try and think up a reason someone still holding a tiny bit of angelic grace would need to eat a hex bag, let alone someone with an anti-possession tattoo and a few other anti-evil ones scattered around his body over the years. “It makes her happy.”
“Good enough for me,” Jimmy says, and lets out a sigh while he grabs another one out of the plastic container. “The kids okay?”
“Deanna still wants to visit,” Sam hints not so subtly.
“Deanna still can’t accept I’m not Uncle Cas,” Jimmy says, and clears his throat, wanting any topic other than Sam’s firstborn. “How’s your newest grandbaby?”
“Jonathan won’t leave him alone for over twenty minutes. I heard he calls every twelve when he’s at work.” Sam frowns at him. “Don’t you think it’s time you just told them what they want to hear? You’re not mentally disturbed, Jimmy. You can’t like how they keep trying to fix you.”
“I don’t like it, but I’m not going to lie,” Jimmy says, and stands up, putting the articles back in Sam’s hand. “Want me to wheel you out?”
Sam laughs, shaking his head. “I think after four years I can manage for myself, thanks. You’d probably push me into a wall anyway.”
“Only if you deserved it,” Jimmy says, matching Sam’s smile with his own, and watches Sam make his way out of the room, an orderly opening the door for him before stepping through and in with Jimmy.
The man smiles at him. “You ready to go?”
Jimmy nods, and walks out the door at the opposite end of the room, hand open and ready for the pills he knows are waiting for him.
Castiel left because Dean left. It was as simple as that, even if it hadn’t felt all that simple when the angel had a genuine panic attack when his human died, mind flashing to the only solution that made sense to him - follow Dean - and he'd flung himself to the nearest building and rocketed out of Jimmy so fast and brutally that Jimmy was left with two gaping wounds on his back from where Castiel’s wings had been, leaving just a thread of grace in him along with the marks.
It was no wonder he’d thought he was Castiel, really. He’d still had that tiny remnant of the angel inside him, still dominant enough that even if he was gone, he was still partially in charge for a couple days. Jimmy had slipped from Castiel to Jimmy and back for nearly two weeks, his back burning and burning and burning all the while.
What was left of Castiel had been violent to the point he nearly killed an orderly when he realized he couldn’t escape, his wings gone and Dean Winchester dead. Jimmy himself had been practically catatonic from the shock of Castiel’s exit, and when the last of Castiel had vanished, Jimmy had made things worse by simply waiting for his return and telling every single doctor that an angel was going to show up and possess his body again.
It had been Deanna Winchester who found him. Deanna, who Dean and therefore Castiel had spoiled silly (at least, as well as a Winchester and an angel could spoil someone). Deanna, who Jimmy told not to worry because her Uncle Cas would be coming back any time now. Deanna had believed him.
Deanna had told Sam, and Sam had told Claire, and it had taken one look from his daughter for Jimmy to realize that no, Castiel wasn’t coming back, and Jimmy was going to have to take control of his own life again.
It only took five hours for him to accept that.
So far, it’s taken five months for him to try and remember how. He doesn’t think he’s any closer to figuring it out.
They give him pills, and then he’s okay with not knowing what to do. He’s okay with not having the burning adrenaline he’d lived on for something around forty years when Castiel was a part of him. He’s just fine with the looks the doctors give him when he draws heaven as best he can or talks about the real reason why bad things happen to good people, just fine with the sterile comfort of his room. They give him pills, and for a while, he can pretend the angel’s still with him, guiding him.
He tells them the truth, and he doesn’t have the heart to tell them that as better as they manage to make him feel, as much of the pain they manage to take away, the truth will always have been better than anything they could hope to offer.
“Do you miss him?” Deanna asks, and Jimmy walks out.
He looks at the scars that night, something he hasn’t done for a very long time, and wonders what ever happened to his old coat.
“Do you remember when you were possessed, back when you were little?” he asks her the next time.
“I remember,” Deanna says quietly, and pauses. “Dad said you compared it to being chained to a comet.”
He nods, and looks at the wall behind her. “When you’re chained to a moving object, you never have to worry about where you’re going. You’re just along for the ride.”
“Then what are you going to do now?” Deanna asks.
Jimmy stands up. “Right now? I’m going to go to group therapy.”
He occupies himself. He hears what’s going on with his family, and Castiel’s family, and has started painting, as much as the doctors seem concerned by that. Jimmy’s pretty sure it’s because some of them think he’ll let someone eat his paint.
He avoids the rec room as much as he can. In fact, he avoids TVs and radios as much as he can, occasionally going so far as to try and avoid light bulbs, because deep down he’s just waiting for the buzz, for the scream of circuits and the burst of power. It never comes, and Jimmy has had enough disappointment already that he doesn’t feel like torturing himself any more than he has to.
“Do you miss him?” Sam asks as Jimmy hands over the present. It’s a painting of heaven. Jimmy thought it was pretty appropriate.
“Dean was a great man,” Jimmy says, leaning forward, elbows on his knees as he stares down at the carpet.
Sam is quiet for a moment, looking at the painting. “Did you ever wish you were Castiel?”
Jimmy knows the appropriate answer, but he hasn’t lied in a long time. Deflected and misled, yes, but never outright lied. “I’m over thirty years out of the loop, living the life he left behind, just because he lived inside me,” Jimmy says. “I don’t want to be him. Everyone’s expecting him when they see me.” Jimmy scowled at the ground. “I wish he’d burned me out of my body when he left.”
“Or never left in the first place,” Sam suggested.
Jimmy is silent.
“Hey, you ever think of leaving?” When Jimmy frowns at him, Sam shrugs. “I mean, if you don’t want to live this life, make one for yourself. Go make a new one.” Sam grins. “Just leave me an address for Christmas cards and I’ll be happy you’re happy, alright?”
He thinks about it, finds himself nodding, and finds the silence strangely comfortable. It makes him smile. “Is your newest grandbaby teething yet?”
A year and a half after an angel left him bleeding and out of his mind in front of a hospital, James Novak sits comfortably in the belly of a relatively small propeller airplane, grinning at the people sitting alongside him.
“Your outfit’s going to get torn to shreds, man,” the guy next to him says over the constant, overpowering roar of the engine. “Please tell me this isn’t your first time.”
“This isn’t my first time,” James says easily, and glances down at the undoubtedly outdated outfit - black suit, blue tie, beige trench coat. “And it getting torn apart is kind of the point.”
The man gives him the familiar look of someone doubting his sanity.
James shrugs. “Destruction by skydiving seemed more appropriate than burning it.” The man nods, and James can’t help but notice the shaking in his hands. “Not that skydiving’s going to destroy anything other than what I’m hoping it will. You’ll be fine as long as you remember how to open your parachute.”
“Now that I remember,” the man jokes. James nods and pulls his goggles onto his eyes. “So how often do you…you know. Jump out of planes like a crazy person.”
“Never jumped out of a plane before, actually,” James says easily. “I’ve been flying around the world for something around thirty-four, thirty-six years, though.” The man stares at him, and James shrugs, getting to his knees and watching the first pair jump out, checking everything, and then checking it again. “I’m older than I look.”
“How old?”
James stands and makes his way towards the door. “Somewhere around seventy.”
He looks back at the man's flabbergasted look, smiles, and flings himself out of the airplane without a moment of hesitation. The edges of his clothing fray quickly as he flies down, grinning as the wind fights him all the way down.
His already-loose tie whacks him hard in the face, and it surprises him enough that he ends up rolling, laughing despite the pain. He watches it for as long as he can as it soars through the sky, twisting away from him and into the wild blue heavens, vanishing.
Rating: PG
Genre and/or Pairing: Jimmy Novak, Sam, Dean/Castiel
Warnings: Angst, character death, Cas is kind of a jerk (aka an angel), next generation stuff. Beware of medication!
Summary: Earth isn't the only thing Castiel left behind him.
Claire visits every other Thursday, and it never stops bringing a smile to his face.
“How are the kids?” Jimmy asks, and as hesitant as her smile is, it’s true. “Didn’t you say Sharon’s play was Monday?”
The smile turns proud. “As strange as it was to see her dressed in a skimpy cat costume, she made a wonderful Adelaide. She brought down the house, Daddy. The applause was so loud I thought we’d all go deaf.”
He leans back in the uncomfortable chair and beams despite the scratchy fabric he can feel through the loose cotton pants. “And she’s seventeen now?”
Claire nods, although she starts to frown. “They grow up so fast.”
Jimmy takes a long moment to look at his little girl, forty-three and aging gradually and gracefully. “They really, really do.”
Jimmy Novak is supposed to be nearing seventy. He doesn’t look a day over thirty-five, at the most. That’s probably one of the main reasons he’s here, that he’s an unrepentant mystery even though he tells them the answer every single time they ask. That, and the static he still waits for in his head.
“You disappeared for over thirty years,” one of the doctors had said during his first month, her sympathetic look hiding a baffled expression that she couldn’t hide from him. “Can you tell us what happened?”
“I’ve told you the truth every time you’ve asked,” Jimmy had responded patiently, voice easily dropping into the same tone they used with him - as if he was a fragile, delusional man ready to break at any moment. He was far from breakable nowadays, and had been for a very long time. “I’m sorry, but my answer isn’t going to change. I’m not going to start lying just because you think I’m trapped in a fantasy world.”
She frowned. “Mr. Novak, when you appeared on our doorstep you claimed you were an angel.”
Jimmy hadn’t been able to help the small grin that claimed his mouth. “I was confused. That happens when you’ve been the vessel of an angel for most of your life and then it leaves your body and tears off towards heaven.”
“And the scars on your back?” She asked, softening her voice as if he’d burst into tears if she didn’t. “Did the angel do that to you too?”
He couldn’t help but laugh. “Doctor, his mind was on other things when he left. With what he’d done for my family, I can forgive him for a couple scars.”
The Novak family barely knew what misfortune meant. The only pain they found was self-inflicted. When unemployment was at an all-time high, Amelia Novak got a raise and Claire Novak found herself with a college scholarship she couldn’t even remember applying for. When a storm violent enough to knock down trees blew through Pontiac, Illinois, the only thing that shook in the house was wind chimes outdoors. On the day Claire Novak married Michael Jordan (a name which Dean had teased the couple mercilessly about), the rain had passed in time for the outdoor wedding to be sunny and beautiful, even the birds quieting for the words in the ceremony.
“Don’t you think this is going a little far for your promise?” Sam had asked during the reception, Castiel back inside his vessel. He was smiling as he spoke, staring up at the night sky.
Castiel watched Jimmy Novak’s daughter and son-in-law laugh and dance on the somewhat skewed dance floor, and turned his eyes back to the unexpected meteor shower. “Not really.”
Jimmy Novak had been left alone in his own body for his daughter’s wedding, and his wife’s funeral, both of which had left him in tears with Dean awkwardly not-quite holding him. He hadn’t seen his little girl grow up, hadn’t been there to hold his wife’s hand through her last moments, hadn’t been there to threaten Michael on the couple’s first date, hadn’t been there to even pick out what outfit to bury his wife in.
“It’s okay, Daddy,” Claire always said, Dean on one side, Claire hugging him tightly on the other, stronger than Jimmy thought he could ever be. “It’s alright. We always knew you were out there watching over us.”
The words didn’t make him feel much better, but burying his face in her hair, even when he’d nearly poked his eye out on the tiny, lethal bobby pins in her hair during the wedding, made everything feel small compared to the moments he had, right there, right then.
Sam visits every now and then, mostly on anniversaries Jimmy can’t even remember are anniversaries. The end of the apocalypse is the one when Sam brings a present. His wife’s horrible cookies are a constant that appear grudgingly during every visit.
“Edible hex bags are still a horrible idea,” Jimmy says while he munches on one, looking through the most controversial and award-winning articles Sam has written so far. “Besides, it’s not like we need the protection.”
Sam shrugs, not bothering to try and think up a reason someone still holding a tiny bit of angelic grace would need to eat a hex bag, let alone someone with an anti-possession tattoo and a few other anti-evil ones scattered around his body over the years. “It makes her happy.”
“Good enough for me,” Jimmy says, and lets out a sigh while he grabs another one out of the plastic container. “The kids okay?”
“Deanna still wants to visit,” Sam hints not so subtly.
“Deanna still can’t accept I’m not Uncle Cas,” Jimmy says, and clears his throat, wanting any topic other than Sam’s firstborn. “How’s your newest grandbaby?”
“Jonathan won’t leave him alone for over twenty minutes. I heard he calls every twelve when he’s at work.” Sam frowns at him. “Don’t you think it’s time you just told them what they want to hear? You’re not mentally disturbed, Jimmy. You can’t like how they keep trying to fix you.”
“I don’t like it, but I’m not going to lie,” Jimmy says, and stands up, putting the articles back in Sam’s hand. “Want me to wheel you out?”
Sam laughs, shaking his head. “I think after four years I can manage for myself, thanks. You’d probably push me into a wall anyway.”
“Only if you deserved it,” Jimmy says, matching Sam’s smile with his own, and watches Sam make his way out of the room, an orderly opening the door for him before stepping through and in with Jimmy.
The man smiles at him. “You ready to go?”
Jimmy nods, and walks out the door at the opposite end of the room, hand open and ready for the pills he knows are waiting for him.
Castiel left because Dean left. It was as simple as that, even if it hadn’t felt all that simple when the angel had a genuine panic attack when his human died, mind flashing to the only solution that made sense to him - follow Dean - and he'd flung himself to the nearest building and rocketed out of Jimmy so fast and brutally that Jimmy was left with two gaping wounds on his back from where Castiel’s wings had been, leaving just a thread of grace in him along with the marks.
It was no wonder he’d thought he was Castiel, really. He’d still had that tiny remnant of the angel inside him, still dominant enough that even if he was gone, he was still partially in charge for a couple days. Jimmy had slipped from Castiel to Jimmy and back for nearly two weeks, his back burning and burning and burning all the while.
What was left of Castiel had been violent to the point he nearly killed an orderly when he realized he couldn’t escape, his wings gone and Dean Winchester dead. Jimmy himself had been practically catatonic from the shock of Castiel’s exit, and when the last of Castiel had vanished, Jimmy had made things worse by simply waiting for his return and telling every single doctor that an angel was going to show up and possess his body again.
It had been Deanna Winchester who found him. Deanna, who Dean and therefore Castiel had spoiled silly (at least, as well as a Winchester and an angel could spoil someone). Deanna, who Jimmy told not to worry because her Uncle Cas would be coming back any time now. Deanna had believed him.
Deanna had told Sam, and Sam had told Claire, and it had taken one look from his daughter for Jimmy to realize that no, Castiel wasn’t coming back, and Jimmy was going to have to take control of his own life again.
It only took five hours for him to accept that.
So far, it’s taken five months for him to try and remember how. He doesn’t think he’s any closer to figuring it out.
They give him pills, and then he’s okay with not knowing what to do. He’s okay with not having the burning adrenaline he’d lived on for something around forty years when Castiel was a part of him. He’s just fine with the looks the doctors give him when he draws heaven as best he can or talks about the real reason why bad things happen to good people, just fine with the sterile comfort of his room. They give him pills, and for a while, he can pretend the angel’s still with him, guiding him.
He tells them the truth, and he doesn’t have the heart to tell them that as better as they manage to make him feel, as much of the pain they manage to take away, the truth will always have been better than anything they could hope to offer.
“Do you miss him?” Deanna asks, and Jimmy walks out.
He looks at the scars that night, something he hasn’t done for a very long time, and wonders what ever happened to his old coat.
“Do you remember when you were possessed, back when you were little?” he asks her the next time.
“I remember,” Deanna says quietly, and pauses. “Dad said you compared it to being chained to a comet.”
He nods, and looks at the wall behind her. “When you’re chained to a moving object, you never have to worry about where you’re going. You’re just along for the ride.”
“Then what are you going to do now?” Deanna asks.
Jimmy stands up. “Right now? I’m going to go to group therapy.”
He occupies himself. He hears what’s going on with his family, and Castiel’s family, and has started painting, as much as the doctors seem concerned by that. Jimmy’s pretty sure it’s because some of them think he’ll let someone eat his paint.
He avoids the rec room as much as he can. In fact, he avoids TVs and radios as much as he can, occasionally going so far as to try and avoid light bulbs, because deep down he’s just waiting for the buzz, for the scream of circuits and the burst of power. It never comes, and Jimmy has had enough disappointment already that he doesn’t feel like torturing himself any more than he has to.
“Do you miss him?” Sam asks as Jimmy hands over the present. It’s a painting of heaven. Jimmy thought it was pretty appropriate.
“Dean was a great man,” Jimmy says, leaning forward, elbows on his knees as he stares down at the carpet.
Sam is quiet for a moment, looking at the painting. “Did you ever wish you were Castiel?”
Jimmy knows the appropriate answer, but he hasn’t lied in a long time. Deflected and misled, yes, but never outright lied. “I’m over thirty years out of the loop, living the life he left behind, just because he lived inside me,” Jimmy says. “I don’t want to be him. Everyone’s expecting him when they see me.” Jimmy scowled at the ground. “I wish he’d burned me out of my body when he left.”
“Or never left in the first place,” Sam suggested.
Jimmy is silent.
“Hey, you ever think of leaving?” When Jimmy frowns at him, Sam shrugs. “I mean, if you don’t want to live this life, make one for yourself. Go make a new one.” Sam grins. “Just leave me an address for Christmas cards and I’ll be happy you’re happy, alright?”
He thinks about it, finds himself nodding, and finds the silence strangely comfortable. It makes him smile. “Is your newest grandbaby teething yet?”
A year and a half after an angel left him bleeding and out of his mind in front of a hospital, James Novak sits comfortably in the belly of a relatively small propeller airplane, grinning at the people sitting alongside him.
“Your outfit’s going to get torn to shreds, man,” the guy next to him says over the constant, overpowering roar of the engine. “Please tell me this isn’t your first time.”
“This isn’t my first time,” James says easily, and glances down at the undoubtedly outdated outfit - black suit, blue tie, beige trench coat. “And it getting torn apart is kind of the point.”
The man gives him the familiar look of someone doubting his sanity.
James shrugs. “Destruction by skydiving seemed more appropriate than burning it.” The man nods, and James can’t help but notice the shaking in his hands. “Not that skydiving’s going to destroy anything other than what I’m hoping it will. You’ll be fine as long as you remember how to open your parachute.”
“Now that I remember,” the man jokes. James nods and pulls his goggles onto his eyes. “So how often do you…you know. Jump out of planes like a crazy person.”
“Never jumped out of a plane before, actually,” James says easily. “I’ve been flying around the world for something around thirty-four, thirty-six years, though.” The man stares at him, and James shrugs, getting to his knees and watching the first pair jump out, checking everything, and then checking it again. “I’m older than I look.”
“How old?”
James stands and makes his way towards the door. “Somewhere around seventy.”
He looks back at the man's flabbergasted look, smiles, and flings himself out of the airplane without a moment of hesitation. The edges of his clothing fray quickly as he flies down, grinning as the wind fights him all the way down.
His already-loose tie whacks him hard in the face, and it surprises him enough that he ends up rolling, laughing despite the pain. He watches it for as long as he can as it soars through the sky, twisting away from him and into the wild blue heavens, vanishing.