AN: Quick note on timing, this is set in season two, not long after episode 13 but before the events of episode 14. Also, fair warning, updates on this one will probably be sporadic.

Dean let his gaze skim over the crowd at the bar as he waited for his drink. The place had a decent crowd, which he hoped was a good sign for the quality of the food. Nice to finally be somewhere.

Sam was only just easing up on the lockdown he'd insisted on ever since that mess at the bank. If Dean was being honest, laying low made an amount of sense. He was wanted by the FBI as a serial killer and attempted bank robber. But that had been several weeks ago, and they were in a different state now. What were the chance that anyone would recognize him? Dean was to loosen the reins and dive back into work.

No better way than hunting down a nest of vamps.

Well, probably vampires. They weren't a hundred percent sure yet, but the signs were clear enough.

"Here you go," the bartender said, passing him a glass. Dean thanked him and took the drink. He turned from the bar to head back to the table he and Sam had claimed, but had to draw up short to avoid running over a young woman that had been walking behind him. She drew back with a startled gasp.

"Sorry about that," Dean said with an apologetic smile.

She looked up at him, and Dean immediately noticed how pretty she was. Hazel eyes framed by dark lashes, dark brown hair that tumbled down past her shoulders, and full lips painted pink. When she met his gaze, her eyes widened, her face went pale and then flushed. Then she pasted on an obviously fake smile and said, "No worries." She brushed past him, walking away with steps just a bit too quick to be casual.

Dean watched her go with a frown. Okay, that was weird. What reason could she possibly have to be afraid of him? He was sure they'd never met before.

No. No way.

She went to a table on the other side of the bar's dining area that held several other people. She spoke briefly to another woman as she picked up a jacket and purse hanging off the back of an empty chair. Pulling on the jacket, she headed for the door.

That doesn't look good.

It might be nothing. Maybe he just reminded her of an old ex or something. Or just maybe Sam was right, and the chances of someone recognizing him were much higher than Dean had wanted to believe.

Dean set his drink down on the bar and followed after the woman, though at a slightly slower pace. When he stepped out into the cool night air, he spotted the woman dialing someone on her phone as she rounded the corner of the building. The area was deserted, so Dean followed quicker this time, hoping to catch what she was saying.

"Hi, yes, I need to report a sighting of that serial killer, Dean Winchester."

Shit.

He had to stop her. He dashed around the corner, and she whirled around at the sound to face him. She let out a startled yelp and her phone slipped out of her hand and clattered to the pavement. Dean took a step towards her and she scrambled backwards. Her foot stumbled over something, and she fell with a cry that was quickly silenced when her head hit the ground.

Dean cursed as he knelt over her. She wasn't moving, but there was no blood, and when he pressed his fingers to her neck he could feel a steady pulse. Probably concussed, but at least she was still alive.

"Miss? Are you alright?" came the voice of the 911 operator from her phone.

Dean reached over and turned it off before chucking it into the bar's nearby trash can. He looked back down at the woman. What was he supposed to do with her? He couldn't just leave her laying there, and he couldn't let her go either, not while he and Sam were trying to work a case in the area.

No, he could only see one solution, terrible as it was. Sammy is going to kill me. Dean picked her up, glad that she was tiny since it made this easier. After one last check to make sure the parking lot was still clear, Dean headed for the Impala.

"Dean, are you insane?"

"What else was I supposed to do, Sammy?"

"I don't know, how about not kidnap an innocent woman?"

Isadora cringed at the throbbing in her head, which wasn't helped by the sounds of the two unfamiliar voices arguing. She whimpered as she opened her eyes, trying to figure out where she was. She was lying in the backseat of a car, her left hand handcuffed to the door. Two men were in the front, and it took her fuzzy memory a moment to remind her what had happened.

Dean Winchester!

She'd run into him at the bar, in what was probably the worst case of bad luck in her life. Of course she'd recognized him, though they'd never met in person before. A person didn't really forget seeing the face of their soulmate on the news as they were announced as a serial killer, and one with a penchant for torturing their victims.

Isadora's heart sped up. Does he know?

No, he couldn't. The handcuff was on her left arm, and she was still wearing her jacket and the wide bracelet on her right. No way could he have seen.

"She's waking up. Hey are you okay?"

Isadora blinked as she forced her eyes to focus on the guy in the passenger seat. He was looking back at her with an expression of concern on his face.

Was she okay? Her head hurt, she was probably concussed, and she was being kidnapped by a serial killer.

"Are you kidding me?"

He winced, probably realizing just how stupid his question had sounded.

Isadora struggled to push herself into a sitting position with her left arm at an awkward angle, but immediately regretted the action as the lights flashing by made her headache worse and her stomach churn. She slumped back down in the seat so she couldn't see out the window. "I'm going to be sick."

"Hey, hey, no!" Dean said. "You do not get sick in my car!"

She was tempted to let herself be sick just to spite him, but she didn't know how far they were going, and she didn't want to have to ride with that smell for long. It took some effort, but Isadora fought down the nausea.

"Would you like some water?" the other man offered.

Isadora squinted up at him. "No." Like she was going to trust anything they gave her. They were probably planning to murder her, and she wasn't going to make it easier on them by accepting drugged water or food.

Bad as I feel right now, they probably don't need to drug me.

Silence fell over the car for a moment. Isadora's eyes drifted shut. She should be trying to think of a way to escape, but with her pounding head, all she really wanted to do was sleep. "Hey." Her eyes jerked open when she felt the guy's hand on her shoulder.

He pulled back when he saw she was awake. "Sorry, but I'm pretty sure you have a concussion. You shouldn't be sleeping."

Isadora glared up at him. What did he care about her health? "Are you this considerate of all your murder victims?" It was probably stupid to antagonize them, but if they were planning to kill her anyway, what did she have to lose?

"Woah, okay," Dean said, "we are not murderers."

She switched her glare to the back of Dean's head, the only part of him that she could see from her current position. "I saw the news stories about you!" She'd seen footage of the hostage situation at the bank first, which had led to her searching for any other information about Dean. What she'd found about the other murders attributed to him had made her feel sick, and not just because of the horrific details.

Soulmates were supposed to be a perfect match. They were supposed to be the person that one loved above any other. What did it say about Isadora, that her soulmate was a serial killer?

She tried not to think about it.

"Yeah, well they got it wrong," Dean snapped. "I was framed, okay? I'm not a murderer, and no one is planning to kill you."

"Then why am I here?" Isadora asked, jangling the handcuff for emphasis. "Why'd you attack me?"

"I didn't attack you! You tripped and hit your head! It's not my fault if you're a klutz."

Isadora huffed. "Right. You just followed me for totally innocent reasons. You weren't planning to hurt me or anything."

"I wasn't!" Dean protested.

"You didn't have a plan at all," the other guy muttered.

"Hey! I – okay, fine, I didn't."

"That's what I thought. I'm Sam, by the way," the other guy said. "You know who Dean is, obviously. What's your name?"

Isadora hesitated for a heartbeat. It was on the tip of her tongue to refuse to answer at all, but it wouldn't do to have them digging into who she was. She didn't know what Dean would do if he found out the truth, and frankly, she didn't want to know.

"Rose," she answered. She was glad for the first time that middle names weren't included in soul marks. Otherwise she'd have to remember a name that wasn't hers at all, and that was another headache she didn't need to deal with.

She could feel the vehicle slowing down as they made a left turn, and then they came to a complete stop. She didn't realize that they'd made it to their destination though until Dean turned the car off.

"Look," Dean said, "we don't want to hurt you or anything. But we need to be in town a couple days, and we don't need you calling people and making things more complicated. So here's the deal; you're going to stay with us while we work our case, and when we leave town we'll let you go."

There was a moment of silence and Isadora realized he was waiting for a response. "You actually expect me to agree with my kidnappers?"

Sam winced at her question, and Isadora noted that he was probably the one with more of a conscious out of the two of them. She might be able to make use of that. Dean sighed. "Just don't scream and don't try to run."

They got out the car, and Isadora pushed herself up into a sitting position. The view outside the window wasn't promising. They were in the poorly lit parking lot of a motel so run down that she wouldn't have been shocked to find out it was actually closed. The warning not to scream was really unnecessary. The area looked deserted. Even if Isadora did scream, there was no one to hear her.

Dean opened her door, tugging Isadora's arm with it, courtesy of the handcuffs. He unlocked the cuff and stepped back so she had room to get out of the car, though not enough room to try and make a run for it. Not sure where he thinks I'm going to run to. There's nothing around.

Isadora stood, but she moved too quickly for her aching head and wobbled. Dean's arm curled around her to keep her upright. "Geez, you're clumsy."

She glared up at him, though the dim lighting made the expression ineffective. Isadora wasn't clumsy, earlier accident aside. She didn't correct him though. If he wanted to underestimate her, well that could only work to her benefit in the long run.

Dean kept his arm around her holding her close to help her make it to the motel. He's tall. She'd vaguely noticed that earlier, but it hadn't really sunk in until this moment. She'd always hoped that her soulmate would be tall.

Nope! No, no, no! Not interested in murderers!

Isadora refused to allow herself to get attached to him. Screw what her soul mark said. She wouldn't allow herself to be connected with Dean just because of some accident of fate.

Still, she'd been so curious about her soulmate for so long, it was hard not to notice the things she'd wondered about.

Sam led the way to their room, giving Isadora her first good look at him, and she was dismayed to realize that he was even bigger than Dean. I don't think I'm getting away from these guys. At least, not while they were around. She'd have to hope that they didn't kill her right away and left her alone.

Julie will have noticed I'm gone by now. I told her I was just going outside to make a call. Plus, I got cut off in the middle of a call with 911. That has to make them suspicious, right?

But as she was led into the rundown motel room, the thought failed to make Isadora feel better. Dean led her to the bed furthest from the window and snapped the handcuff on the wooden headboard. Once she was secured, he caught her chin in one hand and tipped her head back saying, "Hey, look at me."

Isadora glared at him, but didn't try to jerk away because sudden movements probably wasn't a good idea at the moment. His eyes are really green.

She wanted to kick herself as soon as the thought crossed her mind. The little details she'd always wondered about him didn't matter, because he was a terrible person, and Isadora was going to get away from him as soon as she could and make sure he was arrested, because that's what murderers deserved.

He only held on to her chin for a moment before letting go and stepping back with a grimace. "Definitely concussed."

"I'm pretty sure we've got some Tylenol," Sam said as he set the to-go boxes Isadora hadn't noticed him carrying earlier on the small, rickety table against the opposite wall.

"No thanks," Isadora said. If she wasn't going to take a drink from them, she definitely wasn't going accept pills, no matter how much her head ached.

Dean rolled his eyes before heading over to the table and grabbing one of the boxes. "We already told you that we're not going to hurt you. It's just Tylenol."

Isadora just rattled the handcuff in response.

"What if we buy some Tylenol?" Sam asked. "Will you take it then?"

Why is he so set on giving me medicine? He actually seemed genuinely concerned for her wellbeing. It had to be an act, and Isadora wouldn't let herself fall for it.

Her head really did hurt though, and she wished she could take something for it. Wish I had my purse. I've got Tylenol in there.

Actually, there was a decent chance they had her purse somewhere. Leaving it out by the restaurant would have looked too suspicious, right? "Do you have my purse?"

Dean paused in the act of raising the burger he'd gotten for dinner to his mouth. "What?"

"Did you bring my purse, or did you leave it?" Isadora asked. "I've got Tylenol in there. I'd take that."

"It's in the trunk," he said. He dropped the burger back in its box with a sigh and stood.

An awkward silence fell when Dean left the room. Isadora shifted on her feet. She wanted to sit, but cringed at the thought of sitting on the bed. Who knew when the bedding had last been washed? Isadora didn't trust the staff of this particular motel to handle the cleaning properly. She'd have to give in and sit eventually, but Isadora wanted to put it off for as long as possible.

Sam busied himself eating his meal, and it occurred to Isadora rather belatedly that kidnapping her must have interrupted their dinner, and their meals were probably cold now. She allowed herself a sort of petty satisfaction that she had at least managed to inconvenience them.

Dean returned, her blue purse in hand. "What do you keep in here?" he complained. "This thing must weigh fifteen pounds."

"I like to be prepared," Isadora said stiffly.

Dean set her purse on the table and opened it. "Hey!" Isadora said, taking a step in his direction before being pulled up short courtesy of the handcuff. "You can't just go through my purse!"

Dean cut his eyes in her direction. "You think I'm just going to hand you a bag of stuff? For all I know you could have weapons in here."

Isadora opened her mouth to protest that she didn't carry weapons right as Dean pulled her can of mace out of her bag. Her mouth snapped shut. It wasn't like she'd have tried to use it on them. At least, not while she was still cuffed to the bed.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Dean said. He set the mace aside and kept digging through the purse until he located the bottle of Tylenol. He also found the mini bottle of water that she carried, which made Sam raise an eyebrow.

"You carry bottles of water?"

"It comes in handy," she grumbled. Like now for instance.

Dean carried the two items over to her before returning to his seat. Isadora gingerly settled on the edge of the bed, trying hard not to think of the germs, so she could more easily manage getting the medicine. She closed her eyes after swallowing the pills and massaged her temples, hoping that the medicine would kick in quickly.

Sam and Dean seemed content to ignore her at this point, which was okay by her. They spoke to each other as they ate, their voices low, though the size of the room meant she could still easily hear what they were saying. Not that Isadora particularly cared what they were talking about, so long as they weren't discussing how they were going to murder her. She couldn't help but pay attention to what they were saying though once a couple of their words filtered through.

"So if the deaths happened here, here, and here," Sam was saying while gesturing to something on his laptop screen, "then that means that the nest is probably somewhere in this area."

"Still a big area to search," Dean said. "We've got to narrow it down some more, or we could be searching for days."

What are they going on about?

Dean had said something about working a case earlier. There was no way the two of them were cops though, or any kind of legitimate law enforcement. So what were they, some kind of private investigators or something?

"I'll talk to the victims' families tomorrow, so hopefully we'll be able to narrow things down a bit," Sam said.

Are they talking about those weird deaths?

Isadora wasn't from the area; she was just visiting her friend, Julie, so Isadora didn't know much about the local news. But the topic of the three weird deaths had come up at dinner. Supposedly they were the result of animal attacks, though Julie had expressed doubt. She worked at a veterinary office, and said the injuries didn't sound like any animal attack she'd ever heard of. Isadora had stopped her at that point, because details of horrific deaths wasn't exactly something that she wanted to discuss over dinner.

They're investigating those deaths? Why?

Isadora peeked in their direction. Dean was staring at Sam, his eyes narrowed. "You'll talk to the families?"

"Yeah, I will," Sam said. He gestured in Isadora's direction. "You said she called the cops. That means you're on lockdown until we leave town."

Dean groaned. "Come on, Sammy!"

Sam held up a hand. "Nope. You don't get to complain. If you'd let me get the food to-go like I wanted to in the first place, we wouldn't be in this mess. I will talk to the families tomorrow. You will stay here."

Isadora closed her eyes again, fighting back the sounds of distress that she wanted to make. She was going to be stuck here, alone, with Dean Winchester. A known serial killer.

I think…I think I'm going to die.