When Stella came to, she was bound and gagged, tied to a chair. Her clothes had been stripped off her, down to her panties, and she was wearing an unfamiliar white t-shirt, which was soaking wet. She struggled for a minute, testing the ropes, but they were pulled tight, wrapped around her body, tying her arms and wrists behind her. Her left eye was swollen shut -- the whole left side of her face was throbbing where Dean had hit her. There was a small gash under her eye from his ring. She looked around with her one good eye. Peeling wallpaper, two double beds, a desk and another chair. A cheesy motel room. The beds faced a TV that was on, showing the Skin channel, and the sound was turned up -- loud. The Skin channel? Jeezus, these guys were perverts! She could hear the shower running, but she was alone in the room. She struggled against the ropes again. She'd been tied up before, but never involuntarily.

Wiggling her fingers, she could feel her rings still on her right hand, and the hard metal of her silver necklaces on her throat. Well, she thought to herself, they may have had their fun stripping my clothes off, but they didn't take my jewelry.

The door burst open and Dean came in carrying three coffees and a breakfast bag, humming Staying Alive, "Ah, ah, ah, ah, staying alive, staying alive. Ah, ah, ah... ah, you're awake! Hey Sammy!" he called into the bathroom. "Get out here! Our guest is awake!"

The sound of the shower stopped and Sam stepped into the room for a brief minute wearing a towel around his waist. Not taking his eyes off Stella, he grabbed a pair of jeans off the chair by the desk and stepped back into the bathroom, pushing the door partially closed behind him. It's not like I could see anything, anyway, Stella thought to herself, looking over at Dean with her one good eye. He turned her chair toward the bed next to her and sat on it facing her.

"Now, I'm going to take this gag out of your mouth and we're going to talk. Got it?" He asked.

Stella nodded, meekly.

Dean reached up slowly and pulled the bandana off her mouth, dropping it around her neck. When he did, she lunged toward him, biting him deep in the arm. "Arrgh, crap!" he shouted as Sam came running back into the room and grabbed her from behind. Pulling her loose from Dean, he held onto her head so she couldn't bite at them again.

"You bit me!" Dean said, astonished. "We saved your ass and you bit me!"

"You punched me!" she screeched at Dean.

"Yeah, well, you hit me in the groin!" he yelled back.

"And you tied me up!" she screamed at him.

From the other room, someone pounded on the wall, "Keep it down in there!"

Sam reached down and pulled the gag back up over her mouth. "Cut it out, you two! You wanna get us thrown out of here?" To Stella, he added, "Or someone to call the cops?"

Stella glared up at him but he meant business. Sam was standing over her in only his jeans, his head and his chest still wet from the shower. His chest was heaving slightly with adrenaline and he looked like he was about to hit her too. She looked away, not wanting to show fear, knowing he was referring to the shootout the night before.

"Ya know, for somebody who doesn't like guns, you sure have enough of 'em." Dean said to her, turning her attention to her backpack on the bed beside him. Reaching in, he pulled out two small pistols, the shotgun, a handful of Chinese throwing stars (at this, he raised his eyebrows at her, wondering to himself if she knew how to use them), and a butterfly switchblade with a Scorpion on the handle. Next, he pulled out a pair of handcuffs, covered in black fur and dangled them in front of her. When he didn't pull out the black bungie cord, she realized that she was tied up with her own rope.

"Dean!" Sam snapped on seeing the handcuffs. He reached across her to the nightstand, where her purse was laying. Turning his attention to Stella, he said, "Just who are you, Stella? Or should I say, Susan? Or Mary?" he asked, flipping through her wallet.

She grunted at him, unable to answer with the gag back in her mouth. Dean raised an eyebrow, stood up and reached hesitantly for the gag. Before pulling it down again, he leaned in close to her face and said with a growl in his voice, "Bite me again and I'll punch your other eye out!" He pulled the gag away from her mouth.

"Rose," she said, keeping her head down. "My name is Rose."

Sam pulled the desk chair up close to her and Dean sat back down on the bed. They looked at each other, not knowing how to deal with this particular situation. Rose appeared to be human -- they'd tested holy water on her while she was unconscious with no effect -- but they'd seen her kill 3 men. She knew about demons, which likely made her a hunter, but she'd said she didn't know about other hunters. Of course, neither had they until they went to the Roadhouse for the first time. She was obviously a good shot, so Dean doubted she was inexperienced. Other than that, all he knew was that she was violent and unpredictable. Sam spoke first.

"Rose...," he hesitated, looking at her intently, "You killed three people. Not demons, people." He stopped, not knowing what to say next.

She turned her head so she could look at him, answering his intense gaze with her own. Her jaw set in much the same way he'd seen on Dean, her icy stare made him look down at his hands. With one eye swollen shut, this girl looked even tougher than before. Ignoring his statement, she said, "Right. And you're so innocent yourself that you walk into a crowded bar with guns of your own. Not to mention..." she looked down at the t-shirt they'd put on her, so wet it revealed all of her, the rope pulling it tight against her wet skin, "uh, where are my clothes? And, why the hell am I all wet?" She directed this last question at Dean.

"Holy water," he replied.

"Right. Holy water." Rose mimicked him sarcastically. "What? Like you thought I was a vampire or something? So why'd you have to use so much of it?" she added.

Sam shrugged, a guilty look on his face, while Dean grinned back at her, "We had to be sure."

"And as for your clothes," he added, "We couldn't exactly leave these on you." He picked through the clothes she'd had on the night before, laying on the bed next to her bag and held up a garter with another pistol, a throwing knife that she'd had tucked into her bra and a small black zippo lighter with 6 skulls and the word 'Corsairs' written across it.

Still bothered by the fact that he'd played a part in the deaths of 3 men the night before, Sam spoke up again. "Rose, I don't know what we're going to do here. I mean, you killed those men and we --" he motioned to Dean and himself, "...we helped you escape." He had a pained look on his face.

"Self defense," she said. "You said so yourself, they were coming after me. What did you expect me to do? Roll over and play dead and hope they'd walk away?"

Sam just shook his head and looked away.

"Yeah," Dean said, nodding solemnly. The bikers would have killed her if she hadn't killed them first. "Yeah, you're right. Sammy, they were there to kill her. Sammy? Sammy!"

Sam had grabbed his head in his hands, leaning forward in excruciating pain. He looked up at Rose, his eyes wide, "You?" he said, bewilderment in his voice, "but how?" He shut his eyes against the blinding white pain shooting through his head, screaming in agony as he fell to the floor.