This wasn't the life she thought she would have. This life of carpools and play dates and sleepless nights rocking a crying baby on her hip. Lullabies and bottles and spit up and her husband pulling another late night. The young woman bites her lip to fight back the tears that have started to pool in her eyes. Her vision blurs, then clears, and she takes another shaky breath before shoving more still-warm clothes into the laundry basket. It feels like all she has been doing for weeks is taking one more shaky breath.

Then it is up and going through the steps of that intricate dance that all mothers know: a step to the left around the dearly loved blankie and pillows still out from tummy time; two quicker steps back to the right to avoid the sea of toys courtesy her over-enthusiastic coworkers; and then the shuffle as she stumbles over her own shoes she has left in the hall after their morning walk; finally double-time up the stairs to the second floor, dumping the laundry onto her unmade bed. Then one final peek in the nursery to make sure all is well.

Only all is not well.

There is a man standing in the dark, his head tilted as he stares down into the crib in front of him. She can feel the terror bubbling up in her from the pit of her stomach, her breath hitching as she chokes on the scream that has become caught in her throat. Then he turns and the hall light illuminates his blue eyes.

"Dammit, Castiel!" the woman hisses, her hand fluttering like a restless bird to her chest.

He blinks in that slow, steady manner like he always had, still trying to puzzle out human emotions and reactions after all these years. "Hello, Claire," he responds quietly, taking a guilty step back from the crib, shoulders slightly hunched as if to say 'See, I'm harmless. Not scary at all.'

Claire lets out a huff of breath, silently counting to ten to bring her blood pressure down and secretly vowing to carry the angel sword that has been secreted away in her closet on her at all times. Will it fit in the diaper bag, maybe?

Castiel has turned back to the crib, a slight movement having caught his attention. He grins an unashamedly human grin and for a moment Claire allows the daydream of her father standing there instead. She imagines piggy-back rides and bedtime stories and "again, again, grandpa!", but the man in her vision is still only in his mid-thirties like the last night that she saw him alive and the daydream shatters from the incongruity. For a second time, tears cloud her sight, and she wonders what it would be like if her parents were still here with her. To wave away her silly fears over ever little hiccough and sneeze, to hold her her hand when her and her husband have had one more fight.

But there were no fairy tale endings here, not for either of them. Claire steps into the room, moves to the side of the man that should have been her father.

"I- I heard about, Dean. I'm sorry, Castiel."

The angel freezes at the sound of his friend's name. Then he nods once, unable to thank her for her sympathy, unable to share his grief. They stand side by side, moonlight dancing across the shadow of wings. Two pairs of blue eyes watching in the darkness.

"Would you like to hold one of them?" Claire's voice breaks through the silence, and Castiel jumps a little.

His eyes widen in apprehension, but as he glances down at the twins, his expression turns to longing. "I would wake them..." he protests, biting his lip at the end of his sentence.

"Eh, they should be getting up for a bottle soon, anyway. So, which one? Jimmy?" She points to the blue-onesie clad baby. The she points to the little girl clutching a stuffed unicorn in her chubby fist. "Or Cassie?"

"Cassie?" Castiel parrots her, his voice surprised.

Claire avoids his eyes – yeah, I named them after you and dad, you doof – and reaches down and scoops up her daughter and deftly passes her off to Castiel. His eyes widen in surprise at the armful of tiny humanity. Cassie kicks in frustration at being moved and her face squishes into a grimace of displeasure. She opens angel-blue eyes and stares upward at the man holding her. For a moment she doesn't seem to know what to do, whether to cry at being disturbed or to cry even harder at finding herself in a stranger's arms. Claire reaches out and strokes her soft cheek with the back of her fingers.

"Can you say hello to Castiel?" she coos, her voice reassuring.

"She is too young to speak," comments the angel, making an unsure bouncing movement to keep the baby appeased. Claire rolls her eyes. Cassie is now burbling happily up at the man holding her, her arms outstretched, reaching up. Castiel grins.

"Do you see my wings?" he asks, and Claire hears a rushing noise of wings being outstretched. Cassie kicks her chubby legs with delight.

Castiel kisses Cassie's forehead and gently lays her back in her crib. "I am so glad I was able to meet you," he whispers down to the twins, running a finger across Jimmy's plump cherub cheek. 'He's crying,' Claire thinks, and a jolt of alarm snakes through her stomach. Something is wrong.

"Are...are you okay?" she asks, her mind racing to fading grace or unknown angelic viruses. An angel can't die of broken heart, can it?"

Castiel stares at her, his blue eyes soft. "I am fine, Claire," he replies, smoothing back her hair from her face in a tender gesture that only creates more knots in her stomach.

"Something is wrong," insists Claire, her heart thudding, her eyes widen and childlike, full of fear just like the first time they met.

"You aren't happy," Castiel states, stroking her hair like her father did when she was a child.

"What? I don't - "

He cuts her off. "You cannot be both a hunter and a wife. And a mother. Your heart is torn..."

Claire sputters, caught of guard by the truth of what he's said. All those years ago she had decided to become a hunter like Sam and Dean. Like Castiel. She had known the risks: the low life expectancy, the lonely travels. And then she had met Ben and nothing was so certain. When Jimmy and Cassie were born, suddenly she could understand why her dad had walked away all those years ago to protect her and her mother. She now knows what it meant to love someone so desperately you would do anything to keep them safe.

"I am so proud of you, Claire," Castiel whispers. She looks back up, startled at the tenderness in his voice. "You are so brave and so much like your mother and father. I will miss you, but I promise to watch over you and them. You will never be alone, Claire Novak..."

"Wait...Castiel..." she begins. She knows what he's going to do, and she is shaking her head furiously in denial. "No, I don't want to forget you -" but he tenderly presses his fingertips to her forehead.

Claire stands blinking, feeling disoriented. She had come upstairs to put up the laundry and had come into the twins room – but why? She reaches up and touches her face, her cheeks wet with tears. 'Why am I crying?' she thinks. A happy cooing noise catches her attention and she looks down at her daughter, Cassie, who is kicking her legs happily and making burbling noises. Claire laughs. "Look at mommy," she jokes, as she picks up the little girl. "Crying for no reason."

She can no longer see the angel standing in the room, watching over her and her family.