Even if Jimmy set the events in motion by hosting Castiel, I still respect so much how quickly and willingly he sacrificed his own life for Claire’s. It moves me. All that he suffered, and yet in true Supernatural style, he chose family. (“And, well, isn’t that kind of the whole point?”)
Through our eyes, the universe is perceiving itself. Through our ears, the universe is listening to its harmonies. We are the witnesses through which the universe becomes conscious of its glory, of its magnificence.
Sometimes I think about how the trenchcoat used to belong to Jimmy Novak. He put it on the night he knew an angel would take his body for God’s work. He wanted to look his best, so he wore his best coat. Maybe he used to wear it to church, or to work, or to dinner with Amelia and Claire. Maybe he used to wear it buttoned up; maybe he buckled the belt. Maybe Claire used to hold onto the sleeve when they went grocery shopping, so she wouldn’t get lost.
When he put on that coat, that night, for the angel Castiel, he didn’t know that one day that coat would mean so much to another person. Another person would pull that bloodstained coat out of the water, fold it up like a flag at a soldier’s funeral. Another person would carry it around for months. Another person would hold onto the sleeve to keep from getting lost.
Amelia Novak’s husband never came home from the secret war. She never got to hang that coat back in her closet. But the apocalypse never happened, and her husband’s body came to belong to someone else, and years later, another man could hold out that coat and think, “Part of me always believed that you’d come back.”