Zoey woke with several conflicting emotions racing through her.

The first was a bone-deep peace that she had never known before. Not only had she not slept like that in her life, she also couldn't remember the last time she woke up without being covered in sweat. She had always run hot, and it had gotten worse after puberty. The monks she grew up with had let her sleep outside regularly, so it hadn't really been a problem until Lucifer had risen.

When that had happened, everything had changed.

Her body had started exuding heat with a passion. During the day she controlled it a little better, but she wasn't able to at night. As gross as it was, she had woken up damp every morning since the devil had been freed.

But now, she was wrapped up in a cool, firm body, her face pressed against a hard chest, and it was the most comfortable she could remember being in a very long time.

Her eyes popped open. Oh, dear.

She looked up into striking blue eyes, and felt her heart start to beat faster. Oh, dear.

He was looking at her seriously. "Are you feeling better?"

She suppressed the shiver that went through her again at the gravelly voice and nodded. "Um, yes, yes I am, thank you," she whispered.

He nodded. "Good."

"How long have we been here, like this?" she asked, still whispering.

"You've been in bed for two days. I have been in bed for one."

The blunt way he put it had her smiling. "Very well," she said softly. "We should probably get out of bed, then." She wrinkled her nose. "I need a shower, I imagine I smell terrible."

He shook his head. "You smell fine."

Her eyes widened, and she became aware again of their position. They were lying facing one another, her head level with his chest. His long legs were tangled with her much shorter ones, his strong arm was around her waist, and she was basically cuddling with an Angel of the Lord.

"Oh, my," she said softly, her eyes dropping down to his chest again. She frowned when she saw the dampness on his shirt. Sexy, Zoey, seduce him with your night sweats.

"This is rather embarrassing," she said softly.

"Why?"

She smiled and pressed her face back into his chest without thinking about it. "Because, I am one hundred and four years old, and I'm blushing like a schoolgirl because I'm in bed with a man."

"Well, in all fairness to you, I'm not technically a man," he said reasonably.

She laughed softly. "Regardless, I should go clean up." She looked up at his handsome face, smiling a little. "As polite as you've been about it, I know I'm sweaty, and I suspect you're lying about how I smell."

With that, she transported herself back to her apartment. She landed with a thud on the floor, since she hadn't been standing when she'd left. She stayed there for a moment, accepting that today was not going to be her day.

Mrow?

She smiled and turned her head so the other cheek was resting on the floor. "Murphy, darling, I have completely humiliated myself in front of a handsome man. What's new with you?"

Mrow.

She smiled and pulled herself up off of the ground. "Agreed, dear," she said softly. "Shower and then back to the Winchesters, Mr. Singer, and that bloody angel."

xxxxx

Castiel sat up in the bed Zoey had just vacated and tried to understand the way he was feeling.

Emotions were a strange side-effect of falling from heaven. Things had been much simpler for him before, when he had been a soldier for the Host. He hadn't questioned orders, he had simply done what he was told.

But meeting the Winchesters, fighting alongside them, had changed all that.

So now, he had to try to understand how he was feeling. It was extremely unsettling.

His first feeling was relief. Relief that Zoey wasn't going to die, and relief that she was out of the bed and out of his arms. Although she was wrong, she hadn't smelled terrible, it must be uncomfortable for her to be in damp clothes. And her being in his arms brought up other feelings that he wanted to think about even less than these.

Such as the second feeling, which was… Disappointment? This one didn't make sense to him. Surely he wasn't disappointed because she was well? That would be what Sam called "insensitive," and Castiel found himself not wanting Zoey to think he was insensitive.

Which was strange, because she was a Cambion, and he should not care what she thought of him.

But he found himself caring very much as he snapped his fingers to clean his clothes, put his shoes and coats back on, and unlock the door so he could join the Winchesters again.

Before he could walk out, Zoey reappeared in front of him. Her hair was now an electric blue hue, and she had clearly showered and dressed.

"Castiel," she said softly, and he frowned. None of the vulnerability that had been in her voice before was there now. Just sarcastic Cambion. "Listen, as much as I enjoyed snuggling up to you while I sweat my brains out, can we keep that between the two of us, please?" She smiled. "I don't really want to hear the Winchesters mock me for the rest of my days, though they are numbered."

He stared at her for a moment, another emotion swirling through him. "I won't tell them."

Hurt? Was he hurt? Ridiculous.

xxxxx

Zoey saw the hurt flash in his blue eyes, and it set her heart to stuttering again. Get it together, Zoey.

She turned on her heel and walked out the door without speaking to him about it. Part of her wanted to reach out and comfort him, assure him that she wasn't necessarily ashamed of him comforting her. Which was ridiculous, because he wasn't… He was nothing to her. He was a means to an end.

The end being dying next to Lucifer.

So even if she did want to… Reassure… The angel, it would be moot. In a few days, she would be dead next to his brother.

One night of making sure you didn't die doesn't mean anything. You're a century old, act like it, she scolded herself as she walked down the stairs.

She was greeted with the sight of Bobby alone in the kitchen, standing at the counter.

She smiled. "Good morning, Mr. Singer. I hope there were no adverse effects from the healing?"

He turned and shook his head. "No, they're great. And you gave me the ability to walk again, so you'd better call me Bobby."

She smiled. "Bobby it is, then." She looked around. "Where are the Winchesters?"

He shrugged. "Gone. They left last night."

She felt Castiel's presence behind her. "Left for where?" he rumbled.

"Dunno."

Zoey rolled her eyes. "Well, I can find them." She looked at Bobby, then turned to look at Castiel. "Who wants to come with me?"

"I'll stay here and hit the books again," Bobby said, looking at her strangely, "You go track down those idjits."

Zoey frowned. "What is an 'idjit?'"

"How can you find them?" Castiel asked from behind her.

She turned to look at him. "You won't like the answer."

"I don't care," he said evenly, his blue eyes unreadable to her. "Tell me how you can find them."

She sighed. "Because, Castiel, Sam is the Boy King. I assume most demons can probably sense him on some level, but I can track him." When he continued to look at her, her eyes narrowed at the accusation in his. "This isn't my fault, Castiel, I didn't do it on purpose. He is who he is, and I can sense him, so let's just go find the bloody idiots before they get themselves killed. Deal?"

He looked at her for another moment, then, "Fine."

She rolled her eyes and grabbed his big, cold hand, ignoring the little shiver that had nothing to do with temperature that it sent through her. "Good," she said softly, "we're going."

She closed her eyes and searched, but only needed a moment to find them. "Hold on tight, big boy," she said softly as she transported them to where the Winchesters were.

When she opened her eyes, they were in a motel room. Dean and Sam were on the two beds, facing the room, their hands held up in surrender. Zoey looked over at the two men in ski masks, holding rifles on the Winchesters.

"Spot of trouble, then, gentlemen?" she asked cheerfully, ramping up her accent.

"Who the fuck is this?" one of the masked men snapped.

When he pointed his gun at her, she felt Castiel tense. She kept her grip on his hand and met the man's eyes evenly. "Oh, my. You know, in my country, it's considered the height of rudeness to point a gun at someone you just met."

She flicked a hand and his head twisted to the side hard, with a satisfying crack as his neck broke. He crumpled to the ground, and she watched him dispassionately. "Of course, it's also considered rude to kill someone without knowing their name, so I don't know where that leaves us, manners-wise." She looked up at the other man. "Do you happen to know?"

His eyes were wide under the mask. "What the fuck are you?"

She smiled. "I believe the phrase is, 'your worst nightmare.'" She flicked her hand again, and he dropped next to his companion.

She turned to the Winchesters and smiled. "Well, I'm glad we got here when we did!"

Sam was wide-eyed. "What the fuck?"

She frowned. "What?"

"You just… You just killed those guys!"

She shrugged. "They were going to kill you first."

Dean nodded and stood. "I, for one, am glad Zo's here."

She glared. "Don't call me 'Zo.'"

Sam was staring at her, and she wished he would stop. "You can't just go around killing people, Zoey."

She sighed. "Sam, this is a war. This is the end. If we're not brutal and bloody now, it's going to be brutal and bloody later, and you can bet that if it's later, you and I won't be the ones suffering." She put on a bright smile. "So buck up, and let's get a move on."

xxxxx

Castiel watched Zoey help the Winchesters pack their things, making disparaging remarks about the beer cans scattered about. He stood in the corner, arms crossed, considering her.

He agreed with her. Brutality was a part of war, and they were definitely in a war. He was just surprised that she realized it. He was having trouble reconciling the woman who had begged him to stay with the woman who had killed those men.

He was not having trouble, however, starting to believe that she could beat the devil.

xxxxx

Hi everyone! Here's my notes:
I own only Zoey Crane, the original character. I don't own Supernatural or the characters. (heartbroken)
Reviews, comments, and kudos give me the warm fuzzies and keep me going.
If there are any mistakes in continuity, canon, or geography, blame me.