Thinking about how far I'd flown made my head a little fuzzy. My eyes grew heavy as darkness threatened to engulf me.

"Hey, hey!" Dean said, snapping his fingers in my face.

"Dean," started Cas gruffly. "Eve has a large amount of blood loss. If you would just let me heal her . . ."

Dean folded his arms in thought. Finally, he said, "Alright."

I let out a sigh of relief. I could feel that if my wounds were left untreated for another hour, I'd surely bleed out.

I didn't really understand how Cas would heal me, but I was open to anything at this point.

Cas reached out his hands, raising the first two fingers. This was similar to what Charles did when focusing his power which lead me to believe Cas was some sort of mutant too.

He pressed his fingers to my temples. I closed my eyes at his touch. Immediately, I felt a warm sensation creep over my body. My bones began to snap in place and my wounds began to close.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood up slowly. Luckily I wasn't too unstable; I knew I had to be ready to move fast.

"How can I ever repay you?" I asked the men before me. "You saved my hide for sure."

"Don't worry about it, kid," said Dean.

"You've had a tough day," Sam said, referring to the Battle of Manhattan on the news.

I looked over to where Cas was to thank him as well, but he had disappeared in the same gust of wind that brought him here.

"Cas comes and goes," commented Dean, grabbing a beer from the mini fridge and plopping himself down on the bed.

I stretched my wings and looked down at my sweatshirt which was close to sliding off my shoulders. I needed a new one before I went anywhere public.

"Uh, would you like one of my shirts?" Sam offered noticing mine was in shambles.

I nodded.

Sam grabbed his suitcase from the bedside and flung it up onto the bed. He grabbed an AC/DC shirt from the top.

"Here," Sam said, tossing the shirt to me. It was much too big for me but I was grateful for the clean clothes.

"Thanks," I said. "AC/DC, huh?"

"You listen to them?" asked Dean.

"They're one of my favorites," I said. I changed in the bathroom, taking a hair tie from my wrist and wrapping it around the excess shirt.

I looked in the mirror at my dirtied face. There were blood stains all over me, but no wounds to show for them thanks to Cas. All that was left on my skin were clean white scars. Those aliens had really done a number on me and New York.

My wings took up most of the motel bathroom. I bent one closer to myself so I could examine it in the small mirror. It was caked with blood and dirt.

"Hey, Sam? Dean?" I called from within the bathroom.

They gave my a simultaneous "Yeah?"

"Mind if I take a quick shower to get the blood out of my wings?" I asked, poking my head out of the door.

Dean sat with his feet on the table, beer in hand. Sam at across from him, vigorously reading off this laptop.

"Knock yourself out, kid," said Dean.

As I sat freshly showered and resting on the cheap motel bed, two knocks came from the door. They were harsh and deliberate.

Dean stood up from his chair, pulled his gun from his leather jacket, and stalked over to the entrance.

He peered through the peephole, then motioned for me.

"Do you know this guy?" Dean asked quietly.

I looked through the hole. The man standing outside was one I recognized.

It was that Hawkeye guy from the battle in New York. He must've actually reported me to that Fury guy over his intercom.

I had two options: open the door and face Hawkeye like a real woman or, hide in the closet until Dean shoed him off.

I decided to be a woman.

I grabbed the door handle and swung the door in.

Hawkeye looked surprised I'd come to the door willingly. I was surprised I had come willingly myself.

"Do you know him, Eve?" asked Dean.

"Sort of," I said. "His code name is Hawkeye. He was in New York fighting too."

Behind Hawkeye stood a tall, bald man. He had an eye patch, black trench coat. He was by all means intimidating.

"Who's your friend?" I asked Hawkeye hesitantly. I crossed my arms in an attempt to look tougher.

The man with the eyepatch strode forward. I resisted the urge to throw Dean in between us.

"Evelyn Riolette," the man stated.

"It's Evelyn Xavier now," I said seriously. I hadn't heard my old name is years. It scared me to hear another person say it.

"Barton," started the man, "change that in our records."

Hawkeye, Barton rather, pulled out some tablet and began typing.

Dean had disappeared behind the door, but I felt him listening to make sure I was alright.

"How did you find me?" I asked. "What do you want?"

"A giant human bird fell out of the sky and landed in a motel parking lot . . . The owner was concerned," Barton said simply.

"Security cameras picked up two men carrying you inside their room," continued the other man. "I assume they helped you?"

"Yea, and?"

"Would you say you're in well enough condition to travel?" asked Barton.

"I suppose," I answered.

"Evelyn—" started the eye-patched man.

"Please, call me Eve," I said.

"Okay, Eve," he corrected himself. "My name is Director Fury. I'm here to talk to you about the Avengers Initiative."