1. Moving On

Jimmy already knows that it is a terrible idea for them to leave him there, even before Dean slaps him on the back with a forced smile on his face, telling Jimmy that “it’s been real” and to remember to erase their numbers from the phone that all three of them think of as Castiel’s.

It’s all in good fun and Sam, for once, looks genuinely happy, like they are doing something really simple and effortless and good. Jimmy is empty and bitter and angry but he’s not a complete bastard, so he grins good naturedly and tells Dean to try to stay alive this time and lets Sam drown him in a manly hug. Then the Impala is roaring off like it’s the end of an old Western movie, leaving Jimmy on the steps of his house with Amelia and Claire staring at him awe-struck while the heroes leave town to save the day, somewhere else.

Claire is the happy one, here; Amelia is cautious and worried, and Jimmy is pretty much the same he’s been since Castiel jumped out of Claire and back into him. She’s sympathetic – she gets it like Amelia never will – but she’s his daughter, not his support network, and Jimmy keeps smiling all night for her sake.

He sleeps on the couch. Amelia doesn’t even put up a token argument, or offer better.

Two years is too long to be out of work, and the economy took a dive while he was in the blackout zone known as Castiel’s loving care, so Jimmy puts in for every job he is remotely qualified for and more than a few he’s not. He never gets called back to interview for any of them. Amelia’s moved up to working as the manager of a retail shoe shop in the mall, which obviously covers the bills and has been covering the bills for a while now, not that Jimmy asks, because it feels like it isn’t his business. Jimmy not only acts superfluous but realizes that he is, in all truth, unnecessary. The girls have been housekeeping without him for over two years, and they try to bring him back into the routine, but he does not really fit anywhere any more. He knows at the conscious level that he needs to eat, shave, and shower every day, but he regularly forgets because Castiel never bothered. Jimmy knows Castiel is long gone (and good riddance) but he’s not sure which memories are his anymore. More than once, Amelia catches him staring the mirror, touching his face, trying to recognize himself.

Claire hugs him every day no matter what he’s wearing or how dirty he is. She talks to him all the time, but it seems designed to put him at ease about her growing up, as if to prove she doesn’t need him anymore when, in fact, he’s the one who desperately needs her.

Amelia doesn’t try.

He does not blame her. He understands at the cellular level how much things have changed, and tells her so late one night when he finds her crying in the kitchen. Nothing is the same, they aren’t the same, and it is more a matter of deciding of where to go from here than trying to recreate what is long, long gone between them. She hugs him, sorry and sad and angry, and he hugs her back, wondering if he’ll ever feel anything other than pain again.

They give Claire a few days to adjust, although she acts surprisingly unsurprised. On Monday, Jimmy packs a bag, takes a bus, hires a cab, and is standing on Bobby Singer’s porch with a weak excuse and a bottle of whisky he picked up somewhere between the bus and the cab. They drink, and laugh, and don’t cry. Jimmy doesn’t ask about the Winchesters, and Bobby doesn’t ask about the Novaks. Jimmy claims one of the upstairs bedrooms after midnight and crashes, surrounded by books and shadowy memories that are all he has left for giving his life to God.

The next day – more like, late morning, when his hangover is tolerable and after he’s taken a shower because he’s finally figuring that out on his own, two months later – Jimmy comes downstairs and picks up a ceremonial knife Bobby had out to study. It reminds him of Sam’s demon knife, which brings back all the memories that he can’t grasp but are there in his brain anyway, leftovers from Castiel shuffling things around as needed. That was all Jimmy ever was, “as needed,” but he’s not needed for anything any more. He wonders if the Winchesters feel that way, but doubts it. They know they are heroes, and always will be, even if the cost is high and even if they hate it.

Bobby watches him with play with the knife and gets it before Jimmy works it out himself, taking the knife away and putting an old, beat up journal into his hands. It’s half empty.

He’s no hero, not really, and his role in saving the world was practically an afterthought. But he knows things now, he sees monsters in the dark and knows they are real, and he thinks that maybe just being in the right place at the right time is all anyone ever needs to be a hero.

Three months later Jimmy drives the car Bobby helped him rebuild off the lot, an old Toyota Landcruiser that Bobby hates with a passion but is essentially indestructible. The weapons cache is well hidden, as are the sigils and wardings carved and sewn into the skin of the vehicle. Jimmy’s tattoos healed a while back, and he feels some kinship with his car for that.

Bobby gives him a baseball cap, an old laptop, several fake identities, a lot of ammunition, and the old half-empty leather journal that once belonged to a nameless hunter, a long time ago. They wave to each other as Jimmy pulls out, friendly and professional, and Jimmy heads West to start his new job.

He keeps Castiel’s phone on him, all the time. It still has the Winchesters programmed in (Jimmy thinks he remembers Sam doing that, once, because he’s pretty sure Castiel did not need speed dial) and Jimmy added Amelia’s number as a matter of course, but in practice Jimmy doesn’t call anyone other than Bobby. The phone never needs to be plugged in or paid for – it stays on, all the time, and always works. It doesn’t matter what number Claire dials because if she needs him, the call gets through to Jimmy on Castiel’s phone. Jimmy’s not sure if it is Castiel’s parting gift, or a loose end he did not care enough about to wrap up. Jimmy suspects the latter.

The world, his family, the Winchesters, Castiel – everyone moved on without him. Now it’s his turn, and he keeps driving, traveling from job to job, saving people and hunting things.

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