In another country, in another room, Claire falls through her nightmare again.

It's getting harder to wake her up, Jesse reports; on the rare nights when Claire manages to fall asleep at all, she goes so deep as to be nearly unrousable. He doesn't say sleep like the dead, but there are certainly nights where the weight of a blanket presses Claire down like grave dirt.

The car crashes. She feels Castiel outside, sees her father inside. Blinks, and her father's face becomes Ben's. He reaches towards her face with his blood-covered fingers, horribly gentle, and Claire is locked in her body as she tries to scream—

"You're okay! You're okay. We're in Veracruz, remember? Some hotel I don't remember the name of, but you're safe." There's the slightest fraction of a pause, and then: "I won't let anything bad happen to you."

Slowly Jesse's voice penetrates the blind panic. He's learned not to touch her when she's like this—the backlash of grace is too much for both of them—but the stream of reassurances, fruitless as they are, grounds her. She never sees Jesse in her dreams. He's one of the realest people she's ever known.

"Okay?" Jesse asks, when her breathing has slowed to a respectable degree.

Claire hates it when he asks her that. It's not like she can lie. "Go back to sleep."

"Only if you do too," says Jesse. He knows it won't happen; even before all this, Claire couldn't fall back asleep once she woke up. It used to be Jesse who woke up with nightmares, and Ben who talked him down from the ledge. She's listened to it from the other bed a hundred times. Now all that's left are the calm hum of Ben's bracelet on her wrist and Ben's words coming from Jesse's mouth.

She can't go back to sleep. She can't bear to see that empty face again.

"We're not far from the ocean," Jesse continues, nodding towards the window. "And it'll be dawn before much longer. Wanna step out for some air?"

Claire climbs out of the bed which is not her grave and follows Jesse outside.

It's warm here, even in February, the air humid with salt and the faint sound of waves. There's music playing at a nearby resort, cut through by a car speeding past with its radio blasting. They don't see any other patrons of this particular hotel, but Claire still twists at her braid, trying to look less like she and Jesse just left the same bed.

To her surprise, Jesse hasn't led them out the main hotel exit but through an interior door to the hotel's open courtyard. His face is lit from below from the wavy blue lights of the swimming pool. "So," he says. "You know how you said a fluke is just a skill you haven't practiced yet?"

Claire tilts her head. She remembers saying that to Ben, on one of the many occasions they were discussing how best to train Jesse's new powers without pushing him too far, but she doesn't recall saying as much to Jesse himself. Her heart clenches at the thought of Ben using her words for encouragement.

"Well, the first time was definitely a fluke," Jesse continues, leading her closer to the pool. It's at this point Claire realizes he too has gone barefoot. "But lately I figured, why not see if I could do it again? And I think I've got the trick of it now."

The chlorine-smell of the air reminds Claire of the last time they stayed somewhere with a pool, the hotel where she took an all-night "laundry trip" to have a psychic tell her her soul was eroding. She'd been so frustrated by the time she got back that she'd parked the truck and walked straight into the water, clothes and all. She screamed until she needed to come up for air and then kept screaming, cursing Castiel even though he never listened, until the sudden sight of Jesse staring wide-eyed over his cigarette had shocked her quiet. Somehow, Jesse is always sneaking up on her.

The Jesse of today gives a wry salute. Then, much like Claire so many months ago, he steps off the deep end.

Except he doesn't sink like Claire did. Jesse leaves solid ground and just keeps walking.

Genuine wonder breaks through the ice and grace surrounding Claire's heart. "Jesse," she breathes. He looks...proud of himself, for once, and Claire realizes she hasn't seen that expression in a long time. Even when Ben was here, he'd been too stressed tracking down a cure for Claire to indulge in learning new tricks just for the fun of it. He walks the length of the pool, does a little spin, and returns to the deeper water.

"Well?" he says, and holds out a hand to her. "Water's fine."

"I'll sink," Claire says at once, though her own hand reaches out by instinct—he's been carrying her so many places these days.

The pool water ripples gently under Jesse's bare feet. "I won't let you."

Claire realizes that she wants to try—just to see, just for herself, even if it ends with a cold plunge. She hasn't wanted anything since Seattle, not really. Something about Jesse's tricks makes her remember what that's like. "Don't drop me," she instructs.

"I haven't yet, have I?" Jesse replies, and tugs her forward.

There's a shock of wetness, not unlike the sensation of dipping her feet in the edge of a river, but gravity doesn't pull them down below the surface. Instead the water supports them with a gentle pressure unlike any ground she's ever walked.

"Jesse," Claire hears herself say again. Looking through the clear water below gives her the same entrancing vertigo as being on top of the Space Needle—better, almost, because for the first time there's nothing to separate her from the drop. She takes a few more steps, watching the water ripple out from her feet. When she tilts her face up to look at Jesse again, Claire can feel her face almost remember how to smile.

For a second she wobbles—one foot slips under, water lapping at her ankle—but the next moment Jesse's grip tightens and he's right there beside her, his other arm around her waist. "Sorry," he says, moving them both above shallower waters. "You looked—sorry."

Claire rests her free hand against Jesse's chest as droplets fall from her left heel. He's swaying a little, whether from her slip or from catching her out of it, but there's still distant music echoing from somewhere outside and after a moment Claire realizes their slow movement has aligned with the rhythm of the drums.

Amazon Rainforest, Brazil

"Do you think this is what it looks like?" asks Jesse as they leave, moving on foot through the towering forest until they find a place without angelic interference to let him jump. "In...Heaven or whatever. Where souls go. Do you think this is what Ben sees?"

Claire has dreaded the thought of Heaven since she was eleven years old, and some days she thinks she only survived this long out of fear of ending up there. Maybe this forest is a close analogue, if the way her skull feels about to vibrate off her spine is any indication.

"I keep thinking about what Marie said," he confesses. "About how he might be—happy there. With his mom."

"He's probably surrounded by angels," Claire retorts. "That's no one's idea of a good time, even if you're a Winchester." She doesn't want Ben to be happy in the afterlife, she realizes; either she is cruel enough to tear him out of Heaven, or cruel enough to hope he is suffering so that even being with her again would be a relief. She kicks away a vine that crosses their path and then crushes it under her heel out of sheer spite.

"But what if she's right?" says Jesse. "Don't you think—"

"No one asked you to think," she snaps. "I don't need the Antichrist's opinion of Heaven. Just take us to the next place."

Jesse stops. Claire does too, silent and glaring. He searches her face, and for a moment it's like he's looking at a stranger.

"I still want him back," Jesse says. "I didn't say I don't."

Claire flicks out her hand like she's drawing a sword. "Then stop wasting time," she says, "and let's go."

She kisses him again later that night, after a piece of grace in Kabul knocks her out too badly to continue. It's not an apology, and she doesn't try to make it one. But it does keep him from asking about Ben again.

Nile River, Egypt

"Just leave some for tomorrow," Jesse says as she wrings out her hair. The locals on shore haven't noticed them yet, but it's getting to be a close thing. "This is already more than we usually get in a day."

"I'm almost done," Claire mumbles. Her mouth tastes like copper. She reaches down again, gets hit with a flash of Castiel fighting off one of his brothers, and comes to with the river breaking across her face as Jesse pulls her up again.

"Claire," he says, holding her upright. "This is stupid. Just stop."

She ignores him, tries to pull away. When that doesn't work, she frowns and aims her mouth at his mouth instead. To her surprise, Jesse tightens his grip on her shoulders and stops her there too. When Claire's eyes refocus, she sees him watching her with a frown.

"Look," he says, quieter. "You can get your blood on my mouth if you want to. I'm still going to tell you you're going too far."

Claire reaches up to wipe her face, petulant, and only now notices that her nose has been bleeding all along. It's not that she didn't think he would notice the pattern, but he's not supposed to talk about it. A drop of red falls off her lip and stains the river red.

Jesse sighs. "It's not like I mind," he says. "The kissing, I mean, or whatever you want to call it. But just 'cause I like it doesn't mean I can't tell what you're doing."

"It's not a reward," Claire grouses.

"It can be whatever you like," says Jesse, too sincere. His hands are still holding her in place, holding her up. "You know that's always been true, don't you? And if you decide you don't want to do it anymore, that's also fine." His cheeks go a little red. "Or if, when Ben is back—"

The warmth of tolerant exasperation curdles in Claire's throat instantly. She pushes out of Jesse's arms, and this time he lets her go. "This isn't," she begins, and then chokes as the truth curse tries to twist her words. She smears more blood off her face and glares at the river. "My usual outlets aren't available right now. I've already explained what this does and doesn't mean to me. You have no excuse for wishful thinking."

She's glad she can't see whatever face he makes at that. By the time Jesse speaks again, his voice is as even as hers. "As I said. You'll do what you like." He steps out of the water. "Let me know when you're done."