Standard Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.

Secondary Disclaimer: I've never actually seen Supernatural. This is based off of a dream I had, plus episode descriptions on the internet. Don't kill me if I get something wrong, I don't have access to the channel or Netflix. I CAN'T watch it. Anyway on with the show(ish).

When I woke up, I wasn't in Kansas anymore. At least I don't think so. I was in a police interogation room. There was a young man, mid-twenties, staring open mouth at me, for good reason. I glanced down just in time to see a glow fade from my limbs, and opened my mouth to scream. The man must have guessed my intention, because a deep voice frantically whispered, "Don't scream! The police don't like people materializing in their interogation rooms." Shock clear on my face, I sat in the chair opposite to him. Well more like collapsed. "Where am I?" I asked urgently. "What's going on? There's no way this is one of those gotcha shows, I don't even watch Supernatural!" Oh yes. I recognized him. Jenson Ackles. Dean Winchester. Thanks to my friends, and the internet, Supernatural is my worst Second Hand Fandom Disease.
He started to raise his hands placatingly, but they were 'cuffed to the table. "Look sweetheart, I don't know how you got here, but my name's Dean Winchester, and what d' ya mean, Supernatural?" I groaned. There is no way! "Crap, crap, crap! Oh, this cannot be happening! Judging by your face, it is. Oh, crap. At a guess, season 1, so I at least know SOMETHING about what's going to happen. Great. I-" Dean cut me off, mid-rant.
"Hey, calm down. We'll figure this out." He paused at the commotion outside the room. "I knew Sam'd think of somethin'. You got a hairpin?" I sighed, resigned, and pulled a bobby pin from my hair. I might as well go with him, Cas was my only shot at going home, and he was three seasons away. I would be better off feigning amnesia. Speaking of... "You got a name, kid?" I opened my mouth, closed it, opened it again. Sadly, I'm a pretty convincing liar.
"I...don't know. Why don't I know?!" Dean freed his hands and grasped my shoulder. He turned me and looked me in the eye. "We'll figure it out. Right now, calm. Down. Follow me." He said sternly. Then he grabbed my hand and dragged me from the room. We snuck out of the station and quickly found a payphone. "Faked nine-one-one call, I'm impressed. That's illegal you know...Sammy, will you shut up a minute man?" He glanced at me. "Dad's not here anymore. He left Jericho." So that's where I am. Man, this is the pilot. "I've got his journal...Yeah, well he did this time...Ah, the same old ex-marine crap, when he wants to let us know where he's going...I'm not sure yet, Sam? Sam!" He hung up the phone. "Somethings going on with Sam, come on." And he took off down the street.

We approached a rundown farmhouse, and I heard a voice, "-I've never been!" Then a yell of pain. Dean fired a gun and glass shattered. There was a screech, and Sam growled, "I'm taking you home!" Then the car shot forward and into the house. We ran for the hole in the wall as Dean called, "Sam! Sam? You okay?!"
"Yeah, help me?" I watched Dean haul Sam out of the drivers side door. Then a picture smashed, and a dresser flew across the room, pinning the boys to the car. I caught a glimpse of the ghost before I flew across the room myself, and landed in the wall, dazed. Water began pouring down the staircase, and the ghosts of two children appeared. "You've come home to us, Mommy!" They chorused. The children embraced the woman, and she screamed, flickering. The lights surged and the boys freed themselves from the dresser, Dean running to pick me up. I leaned heavily on his arm as I swayed, dizzy. "You found her weak spot, nice work Sammy." Dean slapped Sam on the chest, and Sam laughed slightly.
"Who's this, exactly?" Dean glanced down at me, being 5'6", I was several inches shorter than him. "We don't know." Sam looked at us, incredulous. "WE don't know? How can she not know her own name?" Remembering I wasn't supposed to remember, I started breathing heavily. "I...I can't..."
Dean quickly explained, and shot Sam a look that said, HELP. Sam rolled his eyes at his brothers inability to deal with emotions, and quickly said, "Hey, it's okay. I'm Sam. Um... We need something to call you in the meantime. How about Emery?" I nodded and sniffed. Dean released a breath as I calmed down. "Let's get going before the cops come looking for me again, and we'll go to a mall to get Ems here some clothes." He winced slightly at the thought of going shopping. "Um, Dean?" Sam started hesitantly.
"You're not coming." Dean stated quietly. Sam looked down at his shoes.
"The interview's in like ten hours, man. I gotta be there."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I'll take you home." He glanced at Sam again before pulling the car back out of the house and heading down the road.

We were parked in front of an apartment building, Sam leaning in the driver side window. "Call me if you find him." He commented looking Dean in the eye. Dean nodded, and Sam glanced over at me. "Hope you remember who you are." I gave him a faint smile. Something was about to happen, otherwise Sam wouldn't be in later episodes. I just didn't know what. But we pulled away and drove on in silence, til Dean glanced at his watch. He pulled a sharp U-turn, and sped back towards the apartments. I saw the glow of a fire in the building as Dean yelled, "Stay here!" And took off into the building. A few moments later, he returned with a struggling Sam.

I glanced behind me as I heard shells being loaded in a shotgun. Sam placed the gun back in the trunk with a sigh. "We have work to do."

Dean was true to his word. The next city we came to, he drove to the mall. He pulled me into the luggage and bought me a duffel bag and said, "You can buy whatever you want, but it has to fit in the bag." He grimanced as he handed over a credit card. Then followed me as I made my way to a map of the mall. I glanced at it, my eidetic memory kicking in, and I marched with purpose to the Victoria's Secret. I stopped suddenly in the doorway and turned, Sam plowing into Dean in an attempt to stop before running me over. I poked Dean hard in the chest, stating, "Stay right here." Then flounced around and into the store, ignoring the look of shock on Dean's face, and the laughter in Sam's. When I was done there, I went into Bath and Body works for lotion and soap, then into Hot Topic. I was shocked they had one in this universe, but there it was. As Sam and Dean were inspecting some odd item, I turned my head towards the ceiling. "I'm obviously here for a reason, so could you help me out? I'm gonna buy Psychic Paper, and a Sonic Screwdriver, could you make them real? And Maybe the Screwdriver have a stealth mode?" I grabbed the two items and payed, then walked into a department store. I bought one suit, for 'undercover opperations', three plaid flannel overshirts, four t-shirts, three pairs of jeans, a pair of shorts, a leather jacket, a sweatshirt, and a skirt. Ten minutes in the shoe store and I had a pair of converse, heels to wear with the 'monkey suit', and a pair of sturdy combat boots. Dean was shocked it took me under two hours to find, try on, and purchase all of it. Then we popped into walmart for a toothbrush and paste, hair brush, eyeliner, mascara, shampoo and conditioner, two rolls of duct tape, a sketchbook and pencils, and a bottle of black nail polish. Dean (or whoever's name was on the credit card) also bought me a phone.

When I was alone in the bathroom of the motel that night, I decided to test my new Sonic. I pulled the Screwdriver out of the plastic and pointed it at my new phone. All of my music and apps from my old phone popped up on the screen. "Success!" I whispered. I swiftly scrolled, "Come on, come on, come on...Ha!" I found the CW app and scrolled to watch episodes of the shows currently airing. Supernatural popped up as an option. I paused the episode as Dean pounded on the bathroom door. "You about done in there, Red?" He called. I opened the door. "Red?" I questioned. He shrugged. "Yer hair's red, well coppery, but same difference, so..." I grinned.
"I like it." I announced. Dean smiled softly at the grin on my face. "Good. I like it when you smile." He muttered softly. I cocked my head as he blushed and shoved past me to the bathroom. "What was that?" I asked Sam, bewildered. He laughed softly. "Dean doesn't like to do what he calls, 'chick flick moments'. He avoids compliments and emotions like the plague." I giggled, then flopped on the roll away bed. "Are you sure you don't want the real bed?" Sam questioned for what had to be the fifth time that night. "Nah, you guys are huge. I mean no offense, but you're just dang tall." I waved my hand flipantly. "Y'all need the bigger beds. 'Sides," I yawned, "I can sleep in the car."
"It's a 1967 Chevy Impala!" Dean hollered from the bathroom. Sam and I both chuckled before Sam glanced back at me. "How are you doing?" He asked. "Being here, 'teleporting' from who knows where?" I shrugged.
"Well It's not like I can do much about it but pray I figure out the reason for my being here."
"You believe in God?" Sam asked.
"Yes, I'm a christian. There's too much evidence proving his existance for me to doubt."
Dean emerged at this. "If there is really a God, why is all this happening?I mean, why are you here with only half your memorys?"
"I don't know the reason, but I know there is one. Where I come from, and I don't know how I remember this, but there's this TV show. The main character has a sonic screwdriver and psychic paper. At the mall, I bought the props, and prayed that if I was here for a reason, they would be real. The screwdriver works, I haven't tested the paper yet." Sam looked at me sharply.
"Test it." I quickly ripped open the packaging, thought up an alias, and showed them. "Georgia Donaldson, FBI." Dean read aloud. I closed it and thought up a new name, then showed them again. "Pauline Byrom, CIA?" Sam looked deep in thought, while Dean snatched the paper and held it up. "What's it say?" He asked. I glanced up and snorted. "Um... That Dean Andrew Winchester should keep his hands off, signed, C." I grinned. Castiel. He heard me. Disgusted, Dean threw it my direction, but over shot. It landed in Sams lap and he chuckled. "Samuel James Winchester, good luck with Dean, signed, C." I snorted again. Yup, that's Cas all right, he sounded like the Marauder's Map. Sam handed the paper back, grinning.
"Alright, we got miles to go tomorrow, go to sleep." Dean grumbled. Then he flipped out the light and flopped on his bed like a moody teenage girl. Sam chuckled while I fought to contain my giggles.

I couldn't figure out the boys middle names, so I made some up. This was based loosely off of a dream I had where I woke up in the back seat of the Impala. The physical description is also of me. You will get more details as I go along.