"Sammy!" Dean called into the motel room. Sam poked his head out of the bathroom, a toothbrush in his mouth.
He frowned at the sight of the girl, who nervously looked around the motel room. Dean waved his hand at her in a mocking manner, telling her to come in. She was too distracted with looking around she didn't notice, so Dean took her by the forearm and pulled her into the room.
The door slammed behind them as the girl cried out. Sam disappeared back into the bathroom once again, and he came out again with the toothpaste rinsed out of his mouth.
"Who's this?" Sam questioned, giving a certain look to Dean.
"You know those weird sightings?" Dean started off. Sam frowned, giving Dean his signature bitchface.
"The ones we promised to investigate together?" Sam finished. Dean nodded his head, making a sweeping motion towards the girl who looked to have stars in her eyes.
"This is what they were pointing to," Dean finished. The girl finally came back down, and she nervously gave Sam a once-over to ensure herself that maybe he could be trusted.
His eyebrows creased as Sam inquired, "Her? All those signs were pointing to her? What's her name?"
"That's the thing, Sammy. We don't know," Dean said. He pointed between him and the girl who was ready to bolt out the door in case she needed to get to safety.
"'We'?"
"I don't have any recollections to who I am," the girl filled in. "Only the vague memory of the number 'seventeen'."
"And before you ask, no. We don't know what that number means," Dean said before Sam could say anything.
"If we don't know anything about you, how are we supposed to help you? It's not like..." Sam trailed off, giving a pointed look to Dean.
The two boys went over to the opposite side of the room the girl was on, and she looked around the room some more.
"Dean, she may not know of the supernatural world. Which means-"
"That she isn't going to be prepared for what we'd bring her through," Dean finished for him. He ran a hand over his face. "What are we supposed to do about that? Anywhere we bring her, something will follow her."
Sam looked up at the girl who was closely inspecting an old appliance in the motel room. "We have to help her find who she was in the past, or what she was. Then we drop her off somewhere."
"Or we could just drop her off somewhere," Dean suggested, making Sam glare at him. He refused to leave the woman alone if the only memory she had was of a number.
Dean groaned, tugging at his hair. He walked back over to where the girl was. She whipped her head up at the sound of approaching footsteps. Her wild hair flew in all directions at Dean's approach to her.
"Well, I guess you're sticking with us. In the meantime, what are we gonna call you?" Dean wondered. The girl swallowed once, then finally spoke up with her idea of a name. Or, at least, a substitute for one.
"Just call me 'Seventeen'."