A/N: Well, hello there, lovelies! SO, I don't know if you actually really read this or not (because I'm guilty of doing just that when I read other fanfics on my own time) but this is my first story submission, like ever, so I'm plenty nervous. I definitely want people to criticize my work, so please feel free to do so.

Disclaimer to state that I do not own any of the beautifully flawed characters from Supernatural in this story: right above this line. The OC is mine because we share the exact same name. Other than her and my own account, I own practically nothing on this website.

Alrighty, that's all I have to say for now. Please (and I really don't want to pull an all-outer and end up begging here) leave a comment and say how I did and if I should continue this! No specific plans in mind for this yet, so have a blast :)

"...what do we do with her?" I heard a gruff voice say somewhere to the left of me. I screwed my eyes shut tighter and let out an involuntary groan. My head felt like exploding.

"Dude, shut up. We're technically the ones that hit her in the first place," another voice said. I detected a hint of concern.

"Sammy, we should've just dropped her off at the hospital - there's no way she's gonna be glad that the two men that had run her over took her to their motel room."

That statement made my eyes shoot open. A harsh light greeted me, causing me to wince in pain and bring a bandaged hand up to shield my eyes. "Well, well, the princess finally awakens."

I whipped my head to the side and was met with sparkling green eyes. I frowned. "Who the f-", I croaked, before stopping. My throat burned like hell. A glass of water appeared in front of me, and my eyes traveled up its owner's arm to see soft, hazel eyes. "Here, that should help," he murmured to me.

My eyes narrowed suspiciously at the glass, and then back at the two men, before my thirst took over. I grabbed the glass with a slight nod to the brown-eyed one and proceeded to gulp it all down.

The effect was almost instantaneous. About two seconds after finishing it, I threw the cup at the brown-eyed man in front of me and flew off the couch. I vaguely heard a crash behind me and a loud curse, but my eyes were focused on the door.

I was just about to touch my fingers onto the rusty door knob when a heavy hand landed on my shoulder. I closed my eyes briefly and huffed. It would be useless to try and fight back; the two men were practically giants compared to me.

I turned around slowly - my hand lowering from the knob to lay limply at my side. The sight in front of me was astounding. "Castiel?" The name fell out of my flabbergasted lips. "Er, Misha?"

"Gesundheit. You know her, Cas?"

My wide eyes pulled away from the oh-so-familiar face in front of me to the two men I had previously known as my captors. How did I not recognize them before? Oh, yeah. Probably because of my almost-certain concussion.

I lifted a shaky finger to point at the pair, and then proceeded to turn my dumbfounded expression to the goddamn angel (or deranged actor, which I suppose might have been the more logical approach to thinking) standing next to me. "That's freaking Sam and Dean Winchester."

"Alright," Dean freaking Winchester boomed, simultaneously taking a step towards me. I wasn't fazed in the slightest. Alright, I was a little fazed. I mean, how could you not be when Dean used his big boy voice? "What in the hell is going on here?"

Castiel finally spoke up. His blue eyes pierced into my soul, it felt like. "This is Summer Origenes."

My name didn't seem to ring with the brothers - or, the highly disturbed Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki, which is what the logical side of my brain pointed out on numerous occasions - so they just stood in a baffled silence, probably waiting on Castiel to elaborate. I didn't pay as much attention to it as I should have; I was just still in the process of wrapping my head around it all.

Of all of the Fanfiction stories I've read and AU's I've daydreamed about, it was actually happening. I was in the Supernatural universe.

Unless, it was just a dream. Oh, crap - what if this was all just a dream? A hallucination conjured up by my banged-up skull?

"I assure you, Summer. This occurrence is neither," Castiel suddenly said, still staring down at me with an intense gaze. I forgot he could mind-read. I wonder if he knows why I'm- "I was commanded by God, Himself, to bring you to this universe. For what reason, I am not entirely certain."

I guess he does. I then realized that my mouth was still hanging open, so I closed it with a snap. "So... This is all happening right now then."

"I guess so, sweetheart," Dean said with a wolfish grin. He swaggered over to me and held out his hand for me to take. "My name's Dean Winchester, but I guess you already knew that."

I took his hand almost shyly, which was so not normal for me. But, then again, everything happening to me right now wasn't normal. "Summer Origenes," I responded in kind, a smile curling onto my lips. I felt a sliver of my confidence stream back into my system, and I winked up at him. "But I guess you already knew that."

A smirk took over his face and he stepped back, our hands falling back to their respective bodies. "Sammy, I do believe we almost ran over the hottest girl from another universe I've ever met."

I grinned at his oh, so clever pun, and glanced over at the youngest Winchester just in time to see him roll his eyes at his brother. However, he followed Dean's previous actions and held out his hand as well. I took it instantly. "Don't mind him, he's always been a dog."

A chuckle escaped my lips. "Pleasure to finally meet you, Sam." He smiled in return. I let go of Sam's hand and stuffed my own into my jeans' pocket. "This is all great and dandy meeting my favorite T.V show's characters, but-" I looked up at Cas next to me. "-for what purpose? And why me?"

The trench-coat-wearing angel sighed. "As I had said before, I am not certain of my Father's intention for you, Summer. But I can only assume it was purposeful to place you before Sam and Dean's vehicle."

I held up a finger and shut my eyes, slowly but surely digesting the angel's words. "Are you saying that-that God wanted me to get nearly run over by these two knuckleheads' '67 Chevy Impala? Because agree to disagree!"

At the mention of his car, Dean seemed to throw himself onto my side. "Yeah, what's up with that? I thought God was the good guy here!"

Cas looked like a deer caught in the headlights of oncoming traffic. I caught him murmur, "No conflict," to himself and then he disappeared before our eyes, leaving us with only the sound of beating wings.

I threw my hands up in the air, ready to protest and groan, then automatically regretted it. I was pretty sure my left wrist was sprained. How I knew that exactly, I wasn't entirely certain. The boys must've seen my pained look because, soon after, Sam pulled me into a nearby chair and Dean got started on praying to Cas, "Castiel, damn it, you can't just leave without fixing her!"

"Ah, it's alright," I said dismissively, gratefully accepting a water bottle from Sam. "It's not that bad. I can wait till he's done calming himself down after all that conflict he experienced."

Dean ignored my previous remark and instead eyed my swelling wrist with disdain. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Let's just get some ice on that before it blows up." I glanced over to my side and tossed him the ice bucket that sat near me at the wide coffee table and he caught it deftly with one hand. I muttered, "Show off," and he shot me a wink before closing the motel door shut behind him.

And then there were two. I turned in my seat to face Sam sitting across from me; his legs so long that his knees would occasionally brush against mine. "I-" We both started at the same time. I sent him an apologetic smile and he responded with a shake of his head and a polite gesture for me to continue.

"I'm sorry," I said finally, nodding towards the mess I had made behind the couch. The glass glittered dangerously amongst the wooden floor.

Sam shrugged. "It's really no big deal. It's honestly something I would've done if I woke up in a stranger's motel room."

"Well, you guys are hardly strangers," I confessed with a timid smile. "I know almost everything about you guys and I still didn't recognize you. That was pretty bad on my part. But I honestly just blame it on the migraine."

He looked mildly amused by me the entire time I spoke, but a serious glint now took a hold over his eyes. "Yeah, it felt like we got you pretty bad there; almost scared us to death seeing you lying there, motionless."

I grimaced. "Did I-" I corrected myself. "Do I look that bad?" At the sight of Sam's sympathetic face and withholding silence, I huffed. My eyes trailed across the motel room and came to a stop at a slightly ajar door. The bathroom.

"I mean, you don't look bad," Sam offered helplessly as I got up from my chair and limped over to the door. Everything was starting to hurt now. But at least now I know what it feels like to be hit by a car. I can check that off the bucket list.

I grunted in response as I nudged the door open and flipped on the light switch. And I got to tell you - I looked downright appalling. A legitimate gasp escaped me as I took in my appearance. "How the hell did Dean say I looked hot? The goddamn liar!"

I was roughly aware of the front door opening and slamming shut. "Who's the goddamn liar?" Dean questioned, setting the full, tin ice bucket down onto the table. I purposely ignored him and tugged at the blood-stained bandage wrapped tightly around my head to reveal a nasty gash running alongside my hairline and down my temple. Black stitches were etched jaggedly across it in a zig-zag pattern.

"Don't touch it," Dean scolded from behind me. I glanced at his reflection in the mirror briefly, but continued to prod at my injury. "I touch what I want," I said tersely.

He gave me a disbelieving look. "You really gonna be like that, sweetheart? You're gonna break your stitches."

I stuck my tongue out at him, causing him to scoff and step through the doorway. The bathroom wasn't all that big, so I had to scoot over to the wall for him to fit. "I look like a goddamn ghoul," I grumbled, not fully aware if Dean heard me or not. He did.

"Nah." I watched him wave a dismissive hand. "The pale skin, dirty, ripped clothes, and bloody hair thing works on you."

I dropped my hands from my forehead and turned to him, laughing. "You're an idiot."

Dean only shrugged, chuckling. He turned to face me and leaned his hip against the counter. "Hey, almost forgot about this," He said, a small smirk playing on his lips as he held out a plastic bag full of ice.

I grinned and took it delightedly. "Thank you very much, good sir," I said, pressing the frigid bag gingerly against my wrist. An almost instantaneous relief washed over me - well, mostly my arm, but whatever - and I glanced back up at Dean. He looked rather entertained by me. What's with the Winchester brothers being amused by me?

I watched as the amusement in his eyes dimmed quickly, however, and concern grew in its place. I raised an eyebrow and immediately winced. A sharp pain was radiating from my temple.

"Damn it, Summer," Dean said gruffly, heaving an irritated sigh. "I told you not to touch it!"

Something dripped down the side of my face and he quickly wiped at it with his thumb. I could only assume that it was my own blood. I could feel his warm breath against my cheek as he took my chin between his forefinger and thumb to examine the damage. The stories were right - he did smell like leather and whiskey.

"Sorry," I muttered as he led me out of the bathroom and to one of the twin beds in the middle of the motel room. Dean cast a look at me and my pout over his shoulder and sighed again. "It's fine, just don't do it again 'cause I won't be the one stitching you up."

I nodded, my pout lessening slightly. He sat me down on the edge of the bed and pulled a duffle bag from underneath it. "What happened?" Sam inquired, getting up from his seat behind his laptop to stand beside Dean.

"She broke her stitches even though I had told her not to touch them," his older brother replied, giving me a dark look. My pout intensified.

Sam laughed and my frown deepened even further. I picked at the sides of my nail nervously. I was unconscious when Dean had stitched me up earlier, meaning that I was pain-free. I've never had stitches before in my life; not to mention the fact that I've never even legitimately broken or sprained anything in my body before. This was the first time I've experienced real, physical pain and that scared me.

"So, guys," I started, now wringing my hands. I bit on the insides of my cheek. Literally dozens of my childhood habits were starting up again. How lovely. "Does, you know, stitches hurt? Much?"

Dean looked at me as he poured some alcohol onto a thin needle. "You tell me, sweetheart, you're the only one who's got them at the moment." He stopped what he was doing and cast a strange look at Sam next to me. "That's actually pretty weird-"

"Uh, agree to disagree, Dean," I protested, interrupting him unapologetically. "I wasn't exactly the poster child for consciousness when I got them earlier."

Sam sat down next to me and the corners of my lips tugged upwards at how his weight on the bed made me lean into him. I shifted so only the fabrics of our jackets brushed against one another. "Well, yeah, it kind of hurts a little at first," he said reluctantly. I started tapping my foot at an erratic pace. Sam probably noticed my increased anxiety, I suppose, because then he held up his hands to try and appease me. "But then the pain just lowers to, uh, being uncomfortable."

He really looked like he was just trying to help and I felt like kicking myself for being such a freakin' little baby in front of the Winchester brothers. I cleared my throat and nodded to Dean who was standing before me, needle and string all ready to dig into my skin. I was oddly a bit happy that the oldest Winchester had, at least, the decency to look bad for the pain he was about to inflict upon me.

"Alright, sweetheart," Dean said, watching me carefully as he kneeled onto the floor. I instantly noticed the enormous height difference. "Try not to move, okay?"

I nodded and a nervous laugh bubbled out of my throat. "Sure thing, buddy. I got you."

Dean smiled at me – well, it was more of a kind grimace, but who's noticing that small detail – and Sam put a semi-awkward hand on my shoulder. I then closed my eyes, awaiting the cold needle on my forehead. In actuality though, I noticed Dean's hot breath on my face first, and his chest leaning into my knees. Then it was finally his rough, but gentle hands on the sides of my face. I was suddenly not very sure if I was scared of his close proximity or the needle more.

I took in a trembling breath and he whispered, "Hey, it's alright. Relax," to me, and I smiled shakily. I won't lie, that was pretty loin-igniting, and in any other situation, I probably would've done…something hopefully confident and attractive in front of him. But I only clenched my fists tighter and set my jaw to the point that my teeth were grinding. Only one sentence was running through my mind: don't cry in front of Sam and Dean, don't cry in front of Sam and Dean.

And I thank the quite possibly missing God because, somehow, I didn't.