Emma jolted awake. Her eyes popped open, and a groan escaped her lips. In her unconsciousness, she'd been able to briefly forget where she was, but now reality was back. She was in the same, dark torture room, strapped to the same chair she'd been in this morning. Or was it evening? Yesterday evening? She really couldn't tell. All she knew what that this Crowley bastard had strapped an IV full of dead man's blood to her arm and only weaned her off when he wanted to come and torture her some more. Which must be the case, if she was awake.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!"

The sound would have made her jump, but she was used to it by now. It had become a sort of routine. First, Crowley would stop the IV on her, and then, while he was waiting for her to wake up, he'd go and torture the guy down the hall. Or, so she assumed, based on timing. The interesting bit, though, was that Emma was pretty sure that "the guy down the hall" was an angel. She hadn't seen him, but she could smell him; in a building full of demons, and one vampire, the angel shone the brightest. He hadn't been here as long as her, though. From the bits and pieces of conversation she'd been able to pick up from Crowley's cronies, he'd been moved here from another of their warehouses. Something had happened there, to do with the prophet. She wasn't sure what, though. In any case, she promised herself that she'd try to save the angel, too, if she ever figured out how to get out of there. Maybe, if she was nice, he wouldn't kill her afterward.

The click of the lock in the door stirred a memory, and Emma realized she'd forgotten her favorite part of the routine: mealtime. Between her waking up and Crowley coming to torture her, one of Crowley's demons would come in with a bag of not-dead-man's-blood and strap it to her other arm. She doubted they really cared that she was hungry, but having been fed did make her a bit more lucid.

And then she remembered something else.

The last time Crowley had finished with her and put her back under, a different demon had put the less fun IV back in, and he'd accidentally bent the tubing. While he went to get another one, Emma had used her last bit of strength to mumble a spell to loosen the chains binding her, though not enough for anyone to notice. And by "anyone," that did not include Crowley. It had to be now or never.

Emma sucked in a breath, and tried to summon every ounce of strength she had in her. She watched as the demon stepped into the room, and closed the door behind him. She smelled, and then saw, the bag full of human blood in his hand. Ignoring her hunger, she sized the demon up, and realized that he had a good foot on her, and also appeared to be in perfect health. The logical part of her brain told her that she shouldn't even bother, but the other half said that it was time to get out. And so, as the demon came to stand in front of her, Emma let out the breath and lurched forward.

The iron chains slipped from her body easier than she had expected, though the IV ripping from her arm made her wince. The demon took a step back in surprise, and this gave Emma a moment to gain her balance, get a good grip on one of the chains, and fling it around his neck. Though she was already dizzy from the effort, she somehow managed to spin him around and maneuver him into the chair. She then picked up the rest of the chains and threw them over him. "Ligatis," she said, and the chains lifted themselves up like snakes and bound him to the chair. As a bonus, they covered his mouth without Emma even having to ask. Still got it, she thought.

As she turned toward the door, she noticed the IV bag the demon had brought in, still intact, laying on the floor at her feet. She picked it up and tucked it under one arm, then slowly made her way to the door, listening for even the slightest of sounds. When she reached it, she pressed an ear against it, and listened some more. Down the hall, she was certain Crowley was still torturing the angel, who she'd promised she'd try and rescue. Other than that, the nearest demon was a few floors up. "Celare," she said, and felt a familiar tingle spread through her body, and watched as her fingers, and then her arms, disappeared from sight. Uncertain how long she'd be able to keep the spell working, she quickly pulled open the door and slipped out into the hall.

As she quietly closed the door behind her, a door down the hall banged open, and Crowley came storming out, cursing. "Bloody useless," he said, wiping blood off his face with a handkerchief. Emma held her breath as Crowley stalked past her, and let it out when he was safely beyond her door and heading up a flight of stairs. Still, she didn't know how long it would be until he was back, and she didn't really want to find out. She made her way down the hall and poked her head into the door he'd conveniently left open. She froze. "You poor thing," she whispered. The angel was strapped into a chair not unlike her own, but he was much bloodier, and he had an angel blade sticking out of his thigh. His head was rolled to one side, clearly unconscious. Even from the doorway, Emma could see the tears on his cheeks. This surprised Emma the most; she hadn't known angels could cry. The Enochian symbols drawn on the floor and walls probably had little to do, at this point, with what was keeping him in place.

Emma stepped into the room and closed and bolted the door behind her; if Crowley came back, she wasn't going to make it easy for him. "Revelare," she said, and she popped back into existence. She then made her way over to the angel and knelt down beside him. "Hey," she said, shaking his shoulder, "Wake up." The angel moaned, and his eyes opened a fraction. For a moment, he focused on her, before drifting back into unconsciousness. Emma shook him again, "Hey, no. I need you to wake up." When the angel didn't move, she considered leaving him and getting herself out of there, but she knew she couldn't. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, and then smacked him, hard, across the face. The angel's eyes flew open as he cried out. Emma grabbed him by the chin, and made him look at her. "Do you know what I am?" she asked. It took the angel a moment to focus, but when he did, she was certain she could see the confusion etched behind the blood. "Vampire?" he said weakly.

Emma nodded, "Okay, good." She then, as gently as possible, pulled the angel blade out of his thigh, ignoring the noise he made as she did so. Holding the blade up in front of him, she said, "I'm going to try and get you out of here, but if you try anything, I will not hesitate in killing you. Understand?" The angel studied her for a moment, and then inclined his head slightly.

"Like you have the strength for it, anyway," she said. She stood up and took a step back. For a brief moment, she wondered, again, if she shouldn't just leave him, but then she heard herself say, "Dimittam," and the bonds holding the angel fell to the floor. Tucking the IV bag into her tattered jeans, and the angel blade through a remaining belt loop, she stepped forward and slung one of the angel's arms over her shoulder. Slowly, she helped him stand. That's when she heard footsteps.

Emma cursed. "Alright, you're going to have to move your feet," she said to the angel. As quickly as she could, she dragged the both of them to a corner and lowered the angel to the floor. She crouched down beside him. The adrenaline rush that had kept her going this far was slowly starting to fade, and she could feel her energy draining. But she didn't have time to think about it. She gripped the angel's arm tightly and again said, "Celare." She faded first, and then the angel.

"WHERE IS SHE," Emma heard then. Crowley must have just entered her room and found his demon tied up instead of her. She could just imagine his face.

"She better not have taken the bloody angel with her," Crowley said next. Listening closely, she could hear that he was just leaving her room, the demon she'd tied up on his heels. They were heading toward them. "Don't make a sound," she whispered to the angel.

When Crowley reached the door and found that he couldn't open it, he cursed, kicked it, and then blasted it off. Pieces of metal shot around the room, and Emma put an arm up to protect herself. In the next moment, though, she put it down so that she could watch Crowley, who was daintily stepping over the bits of metal to stand before the angel's empty torture chair. "That's a clever trick," he said, his eyes wandering the room, "but the door was locked from the inside. I bet you're still in here."

The demon Emma tied up was standing in the doorway. He took a quick survey of the room, then frowned. "Where?" Crowley rolled his eyes. "She's a witch, too, you know. She's probably got an invisibility spell going on." With that, he marched to the nearest wall and pressed himself against it, arms out. He slide to the left and kept going. "I'll find you," he sang. "Even if I have to make a fool of myself doing it."

Shit, Emma thought. Crowley was currently on the opposite side of the room, so she had a bit of time, and she already knew a spell that would work, but she didn't know if she could actually make it work. But she had to try. So she waited until Crowley was on their wall, and only a few feet from them, before thinking, ACCIPERE CORPUS MEUM. Emma cringed as Crowley's butt went through her face, but she was too relieved to really care. She watched with amusement as Crowley crept around the rest of the room, growing more anxious as he went.

"Or maybe not," he said, once he'd reached the center of the room. Then he looked up. "Or maybe you're ON THE CEILING." Crowley threw his hand up, and fire burst from it, covering the ceiling. Emma covered herself once again as burnt debris rained down on her. When the fire stopped, Emma glanced up to see Crowley's disappointed look at the lack of charred bodies that had turned up at his feet.

Crowley sighed and turned to the other demon. "Guess they're not here," he said. Then added, "That was a nice trick, though." The demon blinked. "What trick?"

"Her locking the door from the inside to hold us up," Crowley said. "If she wasn't St. Vampire, I'd consider giving her a job."

The demon nodded. "Would you like me to get some men together to look for her?"

"Nah, you won't find her, not now," Crowley said, pushing past the demon into the hallway. "But I'm sure we'll run into her again eventually. In the meantime, find me someone else to torture. Who else do we know that might know something about the tablets?"

"Revertetur corpus meum," Emma whispered as Crowley and the demon made their way back down the hallway. When Emma felt her hand against the angel's arm again, she slung it back around her shoulder and pulled him up. As she started to make their way toward the door, the angel started to mumble something. Emma stopped. "What?" she said. "The...Enochian symbols," he said.

Oh. She'd completely forgotten about that. Glancing around the room, she saw that the fire had destroyed some of them, but others were still intact. "Delere orbem rigidum," she said. She watched as the remaining symbols lifted themselves from the walls, and the angel on her shoulder felt a few pounds lighter. "Thank you," he said.

"Don't thank me yet," Emma said, as they stepped out into the hallway. She had no idea where she was going, or which way would take them to the nearest exit, but she knew she didn't want to be anywhere near Crowley, so she turned and went down the hallway the opposite way from which he'd always come.

Sometime later, Emma dumped the angel on his back behind a bush about 10 yards into the forest just beyond the warehouse. Emma fell down beside him. "Revelare," she said at last. As far as she could tell, the warehouse was in the middle of nowhere, with only one road stretching out east and west. At the moment, there wasn't much she could do about that, but maybe, once she'd had something to eat...

She pulled the IV bag out of the band of her jeans, and brought it to her mouth. She torn a hole with her teeth and began to drink. Nothing had ever tasted sweeter.

And then she noticed the angel watching her.

Instinctively, her hand went to the hilt of the angel blade, still in her belt loop. The angel watched this happen, but he didn't look concerned. Perhaps he was still too weak to be. "It's rude to stare," she snapped, then continued to drink from the bag, one hand still on the blade.

"Can you get us out of here?" the angel asked. He was still watching her.

Emma wiped her mouth. "Well, no," she admitted. "Not without a car, anyway. But I was thinking, once I stop feeling like shit, maybe you can do that soul-thing to me and then you can get us out of here."

The angel frowned. "What soul thing?"

"Don't play dumb," Emma said, "The thing where you touch someone's soul and it heals you. I've heard it works with vamps, too."

"You do know how dangerous that is?" the angel asked. "It's extremely painful. And I could kill you."

Emma rolled her eyes. "I survived being tortured by the King of Hell for who knows how long. I'll take my chances."

The angel continued to watch her as she finished off the bag and tossed it to the side. His eyes then shifted down to the hand that was still holding the blade. "How do you know I won't just do it and then leave on my own? Or kill you first?"

Emma shrugged. "I don't. But it's either that or try walking to the nearest town. Which may be far. In tattered, bloody clothes. And there's also the fact that I just saved your life. I'm hoping that that will be a contributing factor in your decision."

"Are you sure?" the angel asked. Emma pulled herself up into a sitting position. She was starting to feel much better. "Go for it," she said, turning toward the angel. The angel nodded and hesitantly reached a hand up and gently placed a hand on her stomach, just below her breast. In the next moment, Crowley's torture felt like nothing.

The next thing she knew, a hand was brushing the hair out of her face and a voice was asking her if she was okay. Emma groaned and opened her eyes. The angel, now bright-eyed, but still covered in blood, was kneeling over her. Without thinking, Emma scooted backward, out of his reach, and pointed the angel blade at him. To her surprise, the angel actually looked hurt by this.

"I won't hurt you," he said. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Emma said, not dropping her hand.

Even now, the angel seemed to be unconcerned with the blade, as if he didn't think she'd actually use it. Instead, he looked her in the eye and asked, "I think I may be able to get us out of here now. Is there anyplace in particular you'd like to go?"

Emma stared at the angel suspiciously. He didn't appear to mean her any harm, but it was sometimes hard to tell with angels. Slowly, she decided to lower her hand. "Um...New York City. 11 East 61st Street."

The angel nodded. "As you wish," he said. Emma watched as he leaned forward and pressed two fingers to her forehead.

For a moment, everything went black, and then she was lying on the cold, marble floor of her hotel lobby. A quick look around her told her that everyone in the vicinity was staring at the two, blood-caked individuals who had just appeared out of nowhere. No one said a word.

Until...

"Samandriel?" a deep voice said.

The angel turned to his left, and Emma followed his gaze. A man in a trenchcoat was staring at them incredulously. Another angel.

"Castiel?" The angel, presumably Samandriel, said. He sounded confused.

And then, past Castiel, another figure stepped into the lobby, and froze when he saw her. Emma frowned. I must be seeing things, she thought. But then the figure turned to look at someone behind him, someone she didn't recognize. "Emma?" Benny called. Several of the lobby's occupants turned to look at him. All Emma could do was stare in amazement. You're supposed to be dead.