"Maybe we should call Cas," Dean suggested. Sam shook his head.
"We already agreed that we can't bring her in on all this supernatural crap," Sam argued.
"What else are we supposed to do? She doesn't have any memory to what 'seventeen' may mean, or anything else about herself," Dean cried out, his hands flying to his hair.
Stressed green eyes wandered the room. The shower to their motel room was running, and Seventeen was no doubt inside of it.
She was covered in dirt when Dean had found her, and some substance that looked suspiciously like blood. No sulfur was found near her, however.
A cry suddenly sounded from the locked bathroom. Sam and Dean both looked to each other before running to the door. Dean banged on the door.
"Seventeen!" Dean yelled, pounding on the door. A sweat grew on the nape of his neck. He had just found her, rescued her. What could have possibly happened since then? He wasn't going to let her die so quickly.
"I..." Seventeen stuttered from inside the bathroom. She had just stepped out of the shower, and it was still running. Fog clouded the mirror as tears ran down her cheeks. "I'm fine, it's nothing."
"Like hell it's not," Dean said, eyebrows furrowed. He pounded on the door again.
Seventeen bit her lip, debating whether to tell them. Shakily, she slid the cotton shirt she had before back over her head after clasping her bra. Her hands shook as she dressed herself in the tattered clothing.
How had she not seen it before? It was such an obvious feature, a contrast her pale skin. Scars lining her body, few dimples, and a brand. Covered by her ratty hair, behind her left ear. A small circle burnt into her skin. A mark of some sort.
But that wasn't it. Of course it wasn't. Tattoos lining her ankle, one on her ribs, one behind her right ear, another on her side, and then the one on her shoulder. They were in such obvious places, yet she failed to notice. Dean also failed to notice them.
Once she saw them, she couldn't stop looking at them.
"Seventeen? Seventeen!" Sam called, rattling the doorknob. Her thin fingers unlocked the door, and the boys burst inside. They looked at her with shocked expressions, especially at the tear tracks.
Wordlessly, she tucked her hair behind her left ear to reveal the brand. The boys paled at the revelation. Wherever Seventeen came from, there was no doubt it wasn't close to anything of the likes of heaven.
"Is that..." Dean trailed, his green eyes closely inspecting the brand. He took a small step forwards.
She began to nod her head, tears still running down her face. She hastily began wiping them, her hair once again covering the brand. Sam sighed, leaning against the old wooden doorframe.
"A brand," Sam finished. "I guess a number isn't the only clue we have anymore."