Sam and Dean were on a hunt for a vampire in the area; they were in their motel room- Sam was studying upon vampire lore, investigating the incidents in the area. Not a lot had happened, really, until a few days ago when a vampire had killed a random local. Dean was sat on the bed, shoes on and blasting his classic rock, nodding his head along.

you were the vampire they were hunting, but you had no idea they were coming. Of course, you knew who they were; almost supernatural entity knew who Sam and Dean Winchester were- but you didn't know they were after you. You were in the motel room next to them, groaning at the loud music. You slammed the motel door on your way out before you angrily rapped your knuckles against the door to ask if they could keep the noise down. A man opened it with a sigh, his messy hair pushed back slightly. "can we help you?" he smiled a little. You backed away as soon as you saw his face. Sam Winchester. You felt the energy shift; your face falling. You had never seen either of the Winchesters before, but you knew it was them. Your words died in your throat and you quickly left, going back into your motel room and hurriedly throwing your things into a bag- wanting to leave as soon as possible.

Sam looked confused as he watched you leave; Dean grabbed his gun and loaded it. "dude, what?" sam asked him. Dean scoffed. "Cmon, why d'you think she ran? Cos we're scary?" Dean said mockingly, standing up- gun in hand. Sam sighed "she didn't look like a vampire." he stated. Dean just rolled his eyes. "Vampires don't look like vampires!" he snapped, getting annoyed at his brother. "What- you wanna just burst into some poor girls room and check if she has fangs? No thanks." sam shook his head, sitting down. "Suit yourself." Dean mumbled, cocking his gun before walking out of his motel. He spot you, already outside of your motel- walking fast. He followed you from a distance, his gun raised as he watched you sneak into an alleyway, bag over your shoulder. You walked for not even a minute through the alleyway before you half-glanced behind you, your vision cut off as you were slammed against a wall. His eyes ran over your face, trying to determine what you were; he didn't want to have to stick his fingers in your mouth to see if you had fangs but it might have to come to that. "what are you?" his demand filled the night, his gun pointed at you firmly.