You were Claire’s older sister. Jimmy Novak’s daughter. Four years older, always a step ahead, at least, that’s how it used to be.

But everything changed the day your father said yes to Castiel.

You didn’t understand it. Didn’t want to. All you knew was that he chose something else over you. Over your family.

So you got angry.

At him. At the world. At everything.

And you left.

You told yourself it was better that way. That Claire would be fine. That your mom would figure it out.

But you still left her behind.

Years passed, and somewhere along the way, you fell into hunting, running with the Winchesters, chasing monsters instead of your past.

You never went back.

And then the call came. A “home for troubled teens” about Claire Novak.

They didn’t have a place for her anymore and couldn’t reach her mom, so you had to pick her up.

The same cycle, just a different version of it. She got angry too. She ran from home too.

Just like you. And suddenly, five years didn’t feel like that long at all. Because now you had to face her.

—

The place smelled like cheap detergent and soap.

You leaned against the front desk, arms crossed, trying to look more put together than you felt.

“Name?” the woman asked.

You hesitated for half a second.

“…Novak.”

She nodded and disappeared down the hall. Your foot started tapping before you could stop it. The door at the end of the hallway opened.

Claire stepped out.

Older. Obviously. But it wasn’t just that. There was something closed off about her now, something that hadn’t been there before.

Something you put there.

She saw you.

Stopped.

Her expression didn’t soften.

If anything, it hardened.

“…Wow,” she said after a beat. “They really let anyone in here now.”

You swallowed. “Hi, Claire.”

“Don’t.” Her voice was sharp, immediate. “Don’t say my name like that.”

Like you still had the right to it.

You nodded once. “Okay.”

She crossed her arms, keeping her distance like you might disappear again if she got too close.

“So what is this?” she asked. “You get bored? Thought you’d come check in on the life you ditched?”

“It’s not like that—”

“Then what is it like?” she cut in, stepping forward now, anger simmering just under the surface. “Because from where I’m standing, you left. Just like him.”

That stung.

“I’m not Dad,” you said quietly.

“No,” she snapped. “You’re worse.”

That landed heavier than anything else.

“At least he had an excuse. Some angel, end-of-the-world crap.” Her voice shook slightly, but she didn’t stop. “You just decided I wasn’t worth sticking around for.”