The first thing she felt was a hand on her forehead.

"Dean, she's cooling down," said a voice.

Then she felt denim on her face, leather seats where her skin was bare, the soft, warm fabric of her shirt... no. It wasn't her shirt. It was far too big on her. Whose shirt was this? Now she felt uncomfortable, so she shifted a bit.

"I think she's waking up." There was that voice again, warm and comforting, yet rough and deep.

She opened her eyes and saw a car ceiling. There was also a face looking over her, presumably the face of the person who held her head in their lap. It was a man with long brown hair, and a face that would seem kind, and vaguely resembled a moose. The only thing wrong was the smear of blood on his face.

So she did what any normal person would do: scream bloody murder.

The Moose Man put a hand over her mouth. She bit it and he let go. Quickly sitting up, she scrambled to the other end of the car.

Maybe a bit to quickly so. Her head was spinning and her muscles ached. Why was she so sore?

"Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty," said another person in the car, the driver. Looking away from Moose Man and to the front seat she saw him. He was shorter than his cohort (in both height and hair) and was wearing a brown leather jacket.

"It's okay," said Moose Man. "We're not going to hurt you." He put his hands up as if to show that he would stay back.

"What's your name, kid?" asked Leather Jacket.

She sat there gaping like a deer in head lights.

"Where are you from?"

Nothing.

"Do you remember what happened?"

"No, but I was wondering why I'm swimming in a plaid shirt that smells like iron and beer." Her voice was hoarse.

"She speaks!" exclaimed Leather Jacket.

Moose Man smiled at her. "I'm Sam. That's Dean. What's your name?"

"Jael. Where the hell are we?" Her voice was regaining strength with each word. She wasn't frightened, but angry.

"Illinois. We just crossed the border," Leather Jacket, Dean, informed her.

"Wait- Sam and Dean? What are you two? Cosplaying Kidnappers?"

"Cosplaying-"

"Yeah. You're like the book characters." She laughed. "I've got to give you props for having the car. A '67 impala, right? I suppose I'll play along. What am I? A demon? A relative of the victim?"

"We'll explain what's going on when you remember what happened. You're more likely to believe us then." Dean pulled into a motel parking lot.

"We're staying here?" Jael eyed the dingy motel. He rest of the neighborhood didn't look to good either. "You guys really take this seriously."

"We're not-" Dean said frustratedly. "You know what? Yes. we do take this seriously. It's practically our lives. can you just go along with it?"

"Happy to."

"Good. I'm going to run in and get us a room. You and Sam stay here." With that, he got out of the impala and left.

They sat in the back seat in awkward silence, until Sam spoke up. "I'm sorry I scared you."

"Don't talk to me. I don't want to end up dead," Jael said curtly.

"Excuse me?"

"Every woman who ever gets close to you dies. I'm very invested in my own survival."

Sam chuckled, but there was pain behind it. "You know, I bet you would make a good hunter."

"Damn right I would. I can shoot. I'm good with hand-to-hand combat. With knives I'm pretty okay and I've already traveled the country looking for..." she trailed off.

"Looking for what?"

"I know it sounds stupid, but my dad. It's pretty much a hopeless cause, but I want to meet him. He doesn't know I exist though, but I have a picture of him and my mom to help me find him." She looked around for a second. "Where's my purse?"

"I threw it in the trunk. I'll get it when Dean gets back."

Just then Dean walked out of the motel.

"Speak of the Devil," said Jael.

"Room 19," said Dean, leaning back into the impala.

They hopped out of the car and were greeted by the cold Midwestern air. Jael shivered. "By the way you two, what happened to my clothes?"

"They were covered in demon blood, which burns the skin," explained Dean as he unlocked the door. "We improvised with one of Sam shirts." He pushed the door open.

Thank God he's a Sasquatch. thought Jael. "It's okay. I have a scissors and some thread in my purse. do you mind if I make some adjustments?"

"Sure. It's an old shirt. Here's your purse, by the way."

"Thanks," said Jael, fishing a photo out of her purse. "Here's the picture of my dad. His name was John Winchester. Hey- wasn't that your dad's name in the books?"

Sam just stared at the photo of his father.