Title: When the Sun Stares Back

Characters/Pairings: Jimmy/Castiel, Jimmy/Amelia, Claire

Rating: PG

Summary: There's a reason why you don't stare directly into the sun. Jimmy looks anyway. AU, covers the events leading up to 4.20.

Word Count: 3188

Warnings: Jimmy whumpage, bastard!Castiel

'Cause I am due for a miracle
I'm waiting for a sign
I'll stare straight into the sun
And I won't close my eyes
Till I understand or go blind

-Thrice, "Stare at the Sun"

There isn't really a time when it all begins.

Maybe it starts the night Jimmy falls asleep in front of the TV and wakes to an angel serenading him with a voice that rides roughshod over his nerves. Or maybe it starts the time he starts going to church, convinces himself that he's meant for a higher purpose than selling ad time on AM radio. Maybe the beginning is somewhere in the mess of memories of what everyone calls growing up where the falls hurt less than they should and the bruises heal fast and the hangovers don't last the morning. Or it's when he was born, before he was born, some great and unseen mechanism working behind his life, cogs clicking into place and wheels whirring, arranging the sets as needed with people and places and events, to bring him to this time and place—well. It feels arrogant, to consider himself that important to the workings of the universe. That he had at any time been more than one of a billion billion mortals in God's eye.

But the thought is comforting as well, as he stands there in the dark and raises his eyes to the sky like that still matters. If it's true, then the decision had been taken out of his hands a long, long time ago. All that's left is to say yes, like it's always meant to be.

The night breathes about him, reminding him that he is not alone. A car purrs somewhere nearby and he imagines the white splash of light sliding against the asphalt. He can almost hear the shape and sound of the music that from here is a mere collection of jumbled notes. His neighbors sleep deeply in preparation for the morning, unaware and blissful. Amelia is restless, locked in a thin, uneasy dream so close to breaking that he can almost reach out and touch it.

Claire is awake, roused from similarly troubled sleep by the whisper of the closing door. Her bare feet thud against the stairs. She is coming closer, and if she comes and stands in the cold night together with him he will put his hand on her back and let her lead him back to the warmth and comfort and the sound of his wife's breathing that swells within the walls of their home like a beating heart.

There is still time. Jimmy blinks at the gloom above and around him and Castiel is there as well as he always is, alighting gently on his mind, blazing with the light that is the only light that Jimmy can ever see.

Have you made your decision yet, Jimmy Novak?

Jimmy wakes up that first night feeling as though someone had driven an army tank through his brain. His head is in Amelia's lap and her hands are weak with relief on either side of his face. Her voice rings with worry and love and she smells of lingering perfume and dinner and home. That, more than anything, pushes aside the confusion and drags him sharply back to the real world.

An angel spoke to me, he doesn't say. Instead he buries himself in her skin, taking in the scent of her and enjoying the startled hitch in her breath. It can't be real, because this is real. Angels exist, but they'd never speak to someone like him. It was just stress from his job. It was nothing more than a very vivid dream.

They spend the rest of the night taking advantage of the weekend, and by morning Jimmy has forgotten enough to smile when Amelia teases that he should faint more often.

Castiel visits him again the next day, and this time he can hear more than the suggestion of words beneath the horrible whining buzz of the angel's voice. This time his legs fold before he can reach the chair, and Amelia runs out to find him passed out on the floor with blood trickling from his ears.

She takes him to the hospital, and the doctor gives him medicine to choke down and a warning to take it easy. Jimmy nods dutifully, silent throughout even when Amelia shoots him worried looks out of the corners of her eyes. She hovers over him all night and takes over dinner duty which makes Claire ask what's wrong when confronted with microwaved food on the dining table. Amelia doesn't say anything, just gives thanks with hands clasped like they always do. It's almost ordinary again, saying grace, a family bent together over a meal.

It's too late, though. Jimmy has already heard what Castiel has to say.

I am an angel of the Lord, and you are the only one who can aid me.

Being with Castiel is happiness—but it is also pain.

Jimmy always winds up with the mother of all migraines after their conversations, blood in his ears and the taste of iron in his mouth; the bathroom his new home within home where he can wash away all the evidence of angelic visits before Amelia can see.

He doesn't mind too much, though. How many more faithful than him have longed for an angel's favor, prayed more fervently for it than he ever had? Castiel's voice is painful and searing to humans, but Jimmy can understand it, has even come to appreciate the subtle fluctuations in that ear-splitting frequency that flows in and out of his limited human senses and when put together and filled in might even pass for a song that humans can find pleasant. Castiel's body is as far as Jimmy can tell composed of white, blinding light so pure that Jimmy had to shut his eyes the first time Castiel showed himself.

Castiel is an angel, and the fingerprints of God are burned right into the core of his being. Jimmy thinks that if only he can touch Castiel, he will be able to touch God and quiet all his doubts and fears. But Castiel comes and goes with the rustle of mighty wings, weighty and intangible; there is nothing to catch but the burning coldness that is Castiel's being.

Everyone knows that you shouldn't stare at the sun. Jimmy can't help himself.

Claire starts going to her room straight after dinner, and Amelia takes herself to the living room to read. She'll go to bed first, and by the time he heads upstairs after his communion with Castiel she'll be fast asleep. They'd last made love the night Castiel had arrived. It feels so long ago.

Amelia stares at him oddly, something that has become common. They don't speak much either; Castiel dominates Jimmy's thoughts so completely he finds it difficult to speak of anything else, and Amelia can sense something has come in between them for the first time in their marriage even if she doesn't know exactly what it is. Jimmy wishes that they can share this secret the way they have shared so many others, but Castiel is quick to warn him against it. She must not know. Your family is safer in their ignorance.

Safe from what? Jimmy asks, and that is when he receives his first crash course in demonology. It's enough to send him reeling as the foundations of his world are yanked out from under him. Even as he breathes in and out, recovering, Castiel adds, almost casually, Trust no one – especially not the ones you love.

"What about Amelia? Claire?"he asks, terrified.

I will keep them safe, Castiel promises. It is nothing in return for the services I wish from you.

"What do you want from me?" Jimmy is honored and humbled all at once.

Castiel tells him.

Jimmy sits alone, head bowed over clasped hands. The room is so dark—but that doesn't mean anything. It could be morning, or noon, or night. Everything is dim next to the blazing light that Castiel bears.

He hasn't gone to work for a week.

Why did Castiel choose him? Jimmy wonders. What is so special about him, a father, a husband, a salesman? There are a dozen like him on the one street alone, who wouldn't have wasted time asking questions. Whatever Castiel wanted, they would have said yes at once, not like Jimmy who holds back, afraid and unsure. Jimmy can't possibly be the one.

Castiel assures him that it is so. Jimmy is special, Castiel says. They're the only ones for each other, because Jimmy is good and devout, and the blood in his veins sings the same song as did that of his ancestor, now little more than dust floating down the Nile. He had been a soldier. The time has come for Jimmy to fight as well, Castiel says. For Paradise on earth, for the end of human suffering. It's like a dream, the kind that remains only a dream because everyone knows it's impossible; but Castiel holds it up now as a tangible possibility, the proverbial carrot before the donkey.

"I'm sorry," Jimmy says. "It's too much—I don't think I'm ready yet. Give me time."

Be ready, Castiel warns. The war will find you whether you wish it or not.

It had to happen one day. Jimmy isn't prepared for it so soon.

After Castiel leaves for the night Jimmy lifts his head to find Amelia standing nearby, her eyes shining with tears. She'd heard everything, Jimmy realizes, and puts a hand on the wall to steady himself against the sick, swooping feeling in his stomach.

"Jimmy, you aren't well. Let me take you to see a doctor—"

"I'm fine," he insists. "Nothing's wrong with me."

Amelia's face twists in pain. "Jimmy, have you even seen yourself lately?" When he doesn't answer, she grabs his shoulders and steers him to the nearest mirror.

He looks. "What am I supposed to see?" he asks.

Jimmy's eyesight is going, and his hearing isn't much better off. The doctors are baffled, tell them to return after the results of the tests they ran one after the other come back from the lab.

"Who's Castiel?"

The question takes him by surprise and he turns to look at Amelia. Her body is tense and her fingers tap jerkily against the steering wheel. "You were talking to someone named Castiel. Or you would have been if there was actually anybody there." Her voice vibrates with barely suppressed emotion. "What's happened to you, Jimmy? I kept quiet because I didn't want them to put you away. Whatever it is—we'll work through this together, the way we used to."

Jimmy struggles to keep his voice even. "I'm not crazy, Amelia. You have to believe me."

Her voice softens. "Then talk to me, Jimmy. Don't shut yourself away."

"You won't believe me," he says.

"You won't know until you try." Amelia twists a little in her seat, faces him as much as she can without taking her eyes from the road. "Who's Castiel? Does he have anything to do with…this? Is he hurting you?"

"No!" Jimmy's voice is harsher than he intends and he winces when Amelia flinches back. "That is…he would never hurt me." On purpose, a less kindly part of his mind inserts. "You have to trust me, Amelia. I can't tell you because I want to keep you safe."

"From what?" she challenges.

"You won't believe me," he says again.

Amelia sighs. Her knuckles turn white on the wheel. "Then how can you expect me to trust you?"

The only reason Amelia doesn't throw him out, Jimmy knows, is because it would be uncharitable to do it to the invalid that Jimmy is going to become. He scares her, and once Jimmy crowds as close to the mirror as he can and takes a good look he sees why. There's stubble on his jaw and deep hollows under his eyes that gives his skin a pale, pasty look. His clothes hang loosely on him. He turns his eyes away, feeling a hot flush of shame in his cheeks and neck as he recognizes just what he looks like: a goddamned junkie. Only his drug isn't weed or coke or any of the myriad human vices available out there, it's Castiel.

For the first time, Jimmy acknowledges that his feelings for Castiel might actually be a bad thing.

He stands there amidst the ruins of his once happy, stable family life and feels despair, a great yawning chasm opening in his chest. "Castiel? Are you there?" he calls, softly.

The shadow of great wings falls by his feet. Always, Castiel answers, and Jimmy lets out a breath in a long, shaking rush.

"You know what's happening," he says, almost but not quite accusing. When Castiel doesn't reply, the rest of the words spill out, raw and trembling. "I'm about to lose my family, Castiel. Why couldn't I have told them? Amelia thinks I've gone off my rocker, Claire's all but lost her dad. They would have understood. They all know about God and the end of the world, how important this is." Jimmy swallows. "They should be happy for me," he says thickly, his voice cracking at the end.

You did not truly believe until you met me, Castiel says gently, with just the slightest hint of reproach.

"Couldn't you—?"

The only reason you can see and hear me is because you are my intended vessel. The very sight of me would kill your wife in moments.

Jimmy looks up to where he imagines Castiel's face to be within the shimmering, shifting light. "Isn't there anything I can do to convince her?"

That is not your job, Jimmy Novak. There is more at stake, cruel as this may sound. A note of pity softens the steel edge of Castiel's voice. The Lord rewards all who serve Him with honor. You have already sacrificed much, and Heaven does not forget.

Jimmy looks around at the bedroom he and Amelia had shared for more than a decade. She's sleeping in the guest room tonight and the bed he sits on seems stark and empty. "Will I be able to come back afterwards?"

When the war is over and I have fulfilled my function on earth, yes, Castiel says without any hesitation.

And that is how Jimmy ends up outside and fully dressed at an ungodly hour shivering and tugging at his tie and pulling at his coat, trying to put off the inevitable. He has no idea what Castiel is going to be doing with his body but it might as well be properly dressed in the meantime.

He leaves a note, stuck to the fridge with the penguin magnet that Claire had given him for his birthday. There's something important I must do. I'm so sorry I have to go like this but I'll be back again someday and I hope you will finally understand then. Give my love to Claire.

He signs it: With all my love, Jimmy.

Have you made your decision yet, Jimmy Novak?

"Wait," Jimmy says. "Before I say anything—I want to see your face."

A beat. He's actually managed to surprise Castiel, what a shock. That would not be wise.

"I don't care." Jimmy tries hard to conceal the shaking in his hands and shoves them into the pockets of the trenchcoat. "I'm giving you my body, Castiel. You're going to be riding around in it slaying evil and fighting the good fight—I think it's a little too late to be caring about its condition."

He feels Castiel studying him, slow and careful, probing gently into his mind to make sure that Jimmy means what he's saying. Does Castiel know what Jimmy feels for him? Will it even mean anything? Castiel is at once ancient and timeless, alien and incomprehensible. A human's love must be laughable next to the love of God for His angels.

Jimmy's fallen hard. He's fallen for Castiel and he doesn't even know Castiel's face. Please, he whispers. It's not too much to ask.

Very well, Castiel says at last, and bends over Jimmy. For the first and last time they look into each other's eyes. Jimmy has only a second's glimpse before the last of his sight slips away and darkness slams down like a wall, forever burning the memory of Castiel's true visage into his mind. He cries out, staggering sideways, and would have hit the ground if Castiel had not steadied him with the touch of a freezing hand.

I warned you, Castiel says, sorrowful. I am an angel, forged from the fires of God. You are not the first human who—unexpectedly, he pauses. You do not love me, Jimmy Novak. You love God.

Jimmy laughs a little, wiping at the tears running from his ruined eyes. It doesn't matter; it isn't as though he'll need them for a long time to come. He has seen what he needed to see and that is enough. "Maybe. But you're the one who came to me." He takes a deep breath, his back prickling. Claire is at the front door watching and time has run out. "All right, Castiel. Yes. You have my permission to come in. But promise me first you'll do anything in your power to keep my family safe. That you'll bring me back here when it's all over."

I promise.

"Good." Jimmy waits, bracing himself. "Will it…hurt?"

You will not feel anything, Castiel reassures. Sleep well, Jimmy.

There is a flash of light and then Jimmy is falling backward into blackness. Castiel's wings wrap tight around him and close over his face.

Jimmy sleeps.

"And what visage are you in now, huh? What, holy tax accountant?" Dean Winchester asks, one year later in an abandoned warehouse. He's confused and that's only to be expected, but Castiel can't understand his anger. Shouldn't he be happy to know that he has been saved? That his Father cares for him?

He looks down and smoothes the lapels of Jimmy Novak's coat. Jimmy had been far easier to deal with than Dean, he decides. Jimmy understands instinctively all the things that Dean does not. The man's soul slumbers deeply as they had agreed within Castiel's core, drifting from one dream to another. Castiel has never touched those out of respect for Jimmy's privacy. "This? This is…a vessel," he murmurs. It is actually more than that, but it is impossible to describe this fully within the limitations of the human tongue, and he doubts that Dean will be impressed even if he understands.

"You're possessing some poor bastard?" Dean says in disbelief, his voice hard, and Castiel sees his mind jumping lightning-quick to past, unpleasant events: a black-eyed girl screaming in a chair, yellow eyes in John Winchester's face. Of course, Dean would associate possession with demons. Castiel corrects him: "He's a devout man. He actually prayed for this."

"For you to come along and fry his eyes too?" Dean counters with a quick snap of his teeth. "That's one sick hobby for someone who calls himself an angel."

Castiel bows Jimmy's head in regret. "As I said: he prayed for this."

-end-

Author's notes: Sam who? Dean who? Yeah, I'm obsessed with the guy who showed up in all of one episode as opposed to the actual main characters of the show. So sue me, I like minor characters. And making them suffer. An alternate summary I was considering went: Remember how Jimmy is so bitter in 4.20? This is how it could have been much, much worse.

I'll probably be writing a companion piece in this 'verse for 4.20. Maybe it'll get the last of my obsession out of the system.