"Help me out here, Sammie." Dean called over, grunting under the weight. Not that she was particularly heavy, in fact she was very petite, but her whole weight was resting onto him, and Dean was stumbling backwards.
Sam stood up and helped place her onto Dean's bed. "Who's that?"
"Not a clue."
"She seemed to know you."
"Yeah, I hate it when they do that." Dean grumbled. "What do you think?"
Sam surveyed her, frowning. She couldn't have been more than 5"5, and, dressed in jeans, a pale t-shirt, a black jacket and some heeled shoes, she looked very unassuming. Her light hair fanned out in almost a halo like style around her head, and she even had a smattering of freckles across her nose. "She doesn't look... dangerous."
"Yeah, well, they've surprised us before."
"Then we'll check." Sam pulled one of their bags out, pulling out some items. He began with an iron stake, resting it against her arm. No reaction, no blistering skin.
"One down." Dean said.
Next Sam took out a silver knife and laid it flat against her skin. Once again, nothing happened. The same occurred with holy water, and finally Borax.
"So. She's human?"
"Maybe." Dean said, still not trusting her. He opened her jacket and checked the pockets, and, after finding nothing but a pair of gloves, he did the same for her jeans. There was nothing but lint. He frisked her briefly, but stopped when he noticed Sam glaring.
"What? She might have something concealed."
"Sure." Sam sighed.
"We can't be too careful!" Dean grinned, but took his hands off of her leg. He sat back onto Sam's bed, looking at the girl. "So, what do we do?"
"Wake her up?" Sam suggested.
"I dunno, shouldn't we tie her up first?" Dean frowned, unsure. Like Sam, he didn't quite know what to do with their mysterious visitor. Though, he thought triumphantly, this was the least he'd ever had to work to get a girl passed out on his bed.
"Is there any need?" Sam questioned. "She doesn't look like she's looking for a fight."
They both looked at her again. She hadn't moved, but at least the slight movement of her chest moving up and down told them she was still breathing. Dean grimaced and moved towards her, while Sam grabbed the shot gun, aiming it at the girl.
"Um..." Dean knelt, face level with hers, and gingerly shook her shoulder. He berated himself for being so scared of this seemingly harmless girl, when he barely flinched at things that were actually terrifying. "Lady? Wake up."
She rolled her head and moaned, stirring in her sleep.
"Look, you came to us."
"Dean, maybe we should take her to a hospital?" Sam suggested. They hadn't considered that yet.
"Dean..." The girl murmured in her sleep. He raised his eyebrows.
"Yeah, I'm Dean. I'm right here." He tried. He attempted to remember if he'd ever met her before, but he was coming up with nothing.
Suddenly, the girls eyes opened wide. "Dean."
"Yeah?" He moved back a bit, and she looked straight at him. "Dean, it's you."
"Yeah we covered that bit." He agreed. "Who are you?"
She sat up, slowly, and moved back so she was resting against the headboard. "Of course. You don't recognise me." She said slowly, deliberately. Each word was measured and calculated, weighed up before she said it. It reminded him of someone, and something uneasily stirred in his chest.
She looked at him in the eyes, staring, completely focused, unblinking. Then, she spoke.
"It's me, Dean. I'm Castiel."