Chapter 2- Intent

Set during Season 13, Episode 14-Good Intentions

Back at the Men of Letters bunker, Donatello was working on deciphering the ingredients for the spell they needed. They had brought Emma in, still sleeping, and given her one of the many rooms available. After he brought Donatello breakfast, Castiel stopped in the kitchen and talked with Sam and Dean. "We should be out there looking for Lucifer," he said. "Every opportunity he has, he will get stronger. And war is what Michael does. He shouldn't have an opportunity to get stronger either." Sam and Dean listened to what he had to say, but didn't seem as concerned as he was. He shook his head, realizing it was useless to argue with them right now. He made a breakfast plate for Emma and brought it to her door. Taking a deep breath, he knocked softly.

"Emma? Are you awake?" he asked.

"Yes, come in." Her voice was still a bit raspy, but otherwise she felt fine. The door opened and Emma inhaled deeply, looking at the strange man entering her room. He was tall, with short, dark hair that looked like it avoided a comb at all costs. His blue eyes shone like sapphires, but were warm and tender as he looked at her. There was a bit of stubble along his chiseled jawline. He wore a tan, oversized trench coat that was hanging loosely from his shoulders, unfastened in the middle. Under that, was a suit jacket, white shirt and blue tie that appeared to be on…backwards? His dress pants hugged strong, muscular thighs that barely showed under the trench coat. She felt a warm glow spread throughout her body as she looked at him.

"I thought you might like some breakfast. Sam said you woke up about 30 minutes ago." He smiled, and his white teethy grin made her smile.

"Yeah, that was a bit of a shock." After waking up and being startled by the man quietly reading a book in the corner of her room, she realized that Sam was the one who had carried her in and told her it was okay. He had stayed briefly to let her know where she was and what was going on, given her some clothes to change into, then left and told her he'd send someone with breakfast.

But the man now standing over her with the breakfast tray wasn't Sam, and yet, he seemed familiar somehow. As Emma looked up at him, she inhaled sharply again at the beautiful blue eyes staring down at her. She detected no malice, no evil intent, just gentleness and insatiable curiosity. He tilted his head slightly and a look of confusion…wonder…curiosity crossed his face. He paused for a moment, then set the breakfast tray down on her lap and pulled a chair up to the bedside. "Are you hungry?" he asked.

She looked down at the tray. There was a plate filled with scrambled eggs, bacon and toast. A container in the form of a bear was filled with amber colored liquid, and a mug of hot tea along with silverware completed the rest of it. She stared for a moment, knowing what these things were, but not why she needed them. She felt an unpleasant sensation in the middle of her body and heard a low growl.

The man laughed. "Sounds like your stomach thinks you are." She had seen humans eat many times. Maybe she could just model what she saw. Emma reached out for a slice of bacon. She held it to her lips and inhaled the smoky, pleasant scent. She opened her mouth, bit down, and felt a salty, smoky explosion in her mouth. She closed her eyes, savoring the flavor and texture of the crisp bacon. She didn't realize that she'd moaned until the stranger smiled again and his eyes twinkled. "That good, hmm? Dean would be proud of you. My name is Castiel. What's yours?"

She looked at him, and even though his expression didn't change, she saw a mental image of the same face looking down at her, shadowed by gigantic black wings overhead. She knew him. Castiel, the fallen angel of Thursday. Emma swallowed hard and said, "Emma." He looked at her again, this time with deep blue eyes that seemed to penetrate her soul.

"Strange, I thought you would have said Gabriella." Castiel looked down at his hands folded in his lap. Then he rose to leave. "Get some rest and enjoy your human food. We will speak again very soon." Before he closed the door, he looked back at her one more time. She couldn't quite tell what she saw in his eyes. Pity? Sadness?

Emma did enjoy the rest of her breakfast and even tried the amber liquid from the bear, but found that it was very sticky and sweet. She got up, picked up the tray, and realized that she felt much better than before. She grasped the door handle with her free hand, and took a deep breath before she ventured out into the hallway.

Castiel walked down the hall in silence, his thoughts racing and his head throbbing. He had been through so much lately- Jack bringing him back from death, Jack and Mary being trapped in Apocalypse World, Lucifer coming back, learning that Dean had almost died… He shook his head. Not to mention the fact that they should be out looking for Lucifer to keep Michael from coming back. Sam and Dean hadn't seem worried, but they didn't know Michael like he did. Michael was all about war. And then to rescue another…he just couldn't take much more.

Dean had just finished his coffee and bacon and was starting towards his room when he came around the corner and literally ran into Emma. The tray in her hands clattered to the floor. The mug shattered and the silverware clattered on the floor like drumsticks doing a rim shot. "I'm so sorry!" Dean exclaimed. He knelt down and started picking up the remnants of the mug on the floor. One shard of the blue mug was near her foot. As he reached out to retrieve it, the pedicured pink toes lifted as to back away. "Don't move, dammit." Dean growled. "Do you want pieces of porcelain in your pretty pink feet?" He looked up at her milky white legs leading up to blue green flannel, pressed against her legs by trembling, manicured hands.

"No, …I…I'm sorry." She looked down into his green eyes and silently cursed herself for being unable to stop the trembling working its way up her arms. Here she was, shivering like a shy schoolgirl in Sam's plaid shirt and flannel shorts. The clothes had seemed so comfortable a minute ago, and now she was only too conscious of how she just wanted to drown in them.

Dean finished tossing the shards he could see back onto the tray, stood up, and extended a hand. "I'm Dean Winchester. You must be Emma." As her eyes rose up to meet his, he gave her a grin and a sly wink. He loved to flirt with pretty women. But what he saw in her hazel eyes was nothing like what he expected. It was….fear. In fact, it seemed as if she was about to start hyperventilating. His face softened a bit. "Are you sure you're OK?" She took one look at him, did an about face, and ran back the other way.