DISCLAIMER: HAPPY EASTER
SEA 2 EP33 PLAYTHINGS
Bridget sat on the bed flipping quietly through the channels and stopping to watch Grey's Anatomy. It was nice to watch someone else's drama instead of her own. Between her blood filled therapy needed past and the events over the last few months including her break with Sam she needed a vacation. She yawned as Sam finished on the phone with Ellen and Dean came in with coffee.
She jumped off the bed, grabbing one of the cups from him before settling down to watch Derek say something sweet to Meredith and fought the urge to snort. Things like that never really happened.
"What Ellen have to say?" Dean asked Sam.
"She's got nothing. Me, I've been checking every database I could think of –- federal, state, and local. No one's heard anything about Ava. She just…into thin air, you know? What about you?"
"No, same as before man, I'm sorry," Dean apologized, sitting on a corner of the bed across from Bridget.
"Ellen did have one thing," Sam said.
"Which would be?" Bridget asked.
"A hotel in Cornwall, Connecticut –- two freak accidents in the past three weeks."
"What's it got to do with Ava?" Dean questioned.
He shrugged, "It's a job. I mean, a lady drowned in the bathtub, then a few days ago, guy falls down the stairs, head turns a complete 180. Which isn't exactly normal, you know? Look, I don't know, Dean, it might be nothing. But I told Ellen we'd think about checking it out."
"You did?"
"Yeah, you seem surprised," Sam said.
"Well, it's just not the patented Sam Winchester way, is it?
"And what way is that?"
"I just figured after Ava, there'd be more angst, droopy music, staring out the rainy windows," he said and Bridget snorted as Sam stared at him. "I'll shut up now."
"Look, I'm the one who told her to go back home. Now, her fiancée's dead, and some demon has taken her off to God-knows-where, you know? We've been looking for a month now. We've got nothing. So, I'm not giving up on her, but I'm not gonna let other people die either. We've gotta save as many people as we can."
Even Bridget's eyes widened, "Wow. That attitude is just way too healthy for me. I'm officially uncomfortable now. Thank you."
Dean chuckled. "Call Ellen. Tell her were on it."
Bridget lowered her sunglasses as they pulled up in front of the hotel. It looked like a haunted house, iron fence and all. She would have found it funny if two people hadn't wound up dead.
"Dude, this is sweet," Dean grinned as they got their stuff out of the trunk. "We never get a job like this."
"Like what?" Bridget asked. "Because I don't see a beach in the backyard."
"Old-school haunted houses, you know? Fog, secret passageways, sissy British accents. We might even run into Fred and Daphne while we're inside," he smiled. "Mmm, Daphne. Love her." He looked at Bridget and she held up a hand stopping him.
"Dean, if you make a sexist comment I will knock you on your ass."
He shut his mouth as they walked up the stairs to the front door. Sam paused a moment, noticing a mark on a hanging plant. "Hey, wait a sec. I'm not so sure "haunted" is the problem."
"What do you mean?" Bridget asked.
Sam pointed at a mark on the pot to the plant. "See this mark here. That's a quincunx. It's a five-spot."
"A five spot?" Dean asked.
"Yeah."
"That's used for hoo doo," Bridget added with a frown. "With bloodweed it's used to ward off enemies."
"Yeah, except I don't see any bloodweed. Don't you think this place is a little too white-meat for hoodoo?" Dean asked.
They continued to walk inside, "Maybe."
The place was huge and as they came in a woman came from around the corner to the front desk. "May I help you?"
"Hi, yeah, I'd like a couple rooms for the night," Dean said.
A child ran from around the corner, the little girl bumping into Sam.
"Hey," Susan called after her. "Sorry about that."
He shrugged it off. "No problem."
"Well congratulations. You can be our final guests."
Dean smiled, "That sounds vaguely ominous."
She smiled, "No, I'm sorry. I mean, we're closing at the end of the month. Let me guess –- you guys are here antiquing?"
They exchanged a look, "How'd you know?"
"Oh, you just look the type," she said. "So, uh…king size bed and a single?"
"What? No. We're brothers," Dean said and slung his arm around Bridget. "Me and the little missus wouldn't mind the king sized bed though. She's the antiquer."
"If it had a nice couch that'd be great too," Bridget smiled, shooting a glare at Dean.
"You know, speaking of antiques, you have a really interesting urn on the front porch. Where did you get that?" Sam said.
"You know, I have no idea. It's been there forever. Here you go, Mr. Mahogoff," she handed Dean a key. "You'll be in room 327 with your wife. And you get the room next door," she handed Sam the other key.
A bellhop showed himself just then and the woman gave him directions. "Sherwin, can you show then to their rooms."
"Antiquers?" he asked.
Dean tensed and Bridget smiled, elbowing him lightly as they followed the man up the stairs and down a hall. The older man carrying the bags.
"I can give you a hand with that," Dean said.
"I got it," he told him.
"So the hotel's closing up?" Sam asked.
"Yep. Susan tried to make a go of it, but the guests just don't come like they used to. Still, it's a damn shame," the old man nodded.
"Oh yeah," Bridget said.
"It may not look it anymore, but this place was a palace. Two different vice-presidents laid their heads on our pillows. My parents worked here. I practically grew up here –- gonna miss it. Here's your room," he said opening the door and putting down the bags. "The door right there leads into the smaller room with the singled bed and it has its own bathroom." He held out his hand to Dean who stared at him reluctantly. "You're not gonna cheapin' out on me now are you boy?"
Dean bit his lip and handed him a five.
Sam wasted no time going through a stack of papers and Bridget felt the need to help since Dean's weak point seemed to be research. Dean chuckled. "What the…"
"What?" Bridget asked.
He pointed at the old dress hanging on the wall as a decoration. "Tell me that's not weird. What they hell do they stay open? I'm surprised it lasted this long."
Sam seemed to ignore him as he laid out some papers. "All right. Victim number one –- Joan Edison, forty-three years old, a realtor, handling the sale of the hotel. And victim number two was Larry Williams, moving some stuff out to Goodwill."
"There's a connection. They both want the place shut down," Bridget said.
Sam nodded, "Yeah. Maybe someone here doesn't wanna leave and they're using hoodoo to fight back."
"Who do you think the witch doctor is? The Susan lady?" Dean questioned.
"That doesn't seem likely. She's the one selling."
"So what then? Sherwin?"
"I don't know," he shrugged.
"Of course, the most troubling question is, Why do these people assume we're gay?"
"People always assume you two are gay which is funny because they completely look over me like I'm too good for either of you which they're probably right on. But I think it's because you're too butch," she said to Dean and looked at Sam. "And you come off so sensitive."
He glared, "I'm not sensitive."
She raised her eyebrows and stood up stretching, "Okay Sally. Can we go find something to eat?"
"Now you're talkin," Dean grinned."You comin' Sally?"
Sam glared at both of them but grabbed the room key and left with them down the hall. Sam did a double take on a vase sitting on a table. "Hey," he called. Bridget and Dean paused turning to look. Both frowned when they saw the same symbol on the vase. "More hoodoo."
"How odd," Dean said and knocked on the door.
It opened and Susan peeked her head out. "Hi. Is everything okay with your room?"
"Yeah, everything's great," Sam nodded.
"Good. Well, I was just in the middle of packing so…" she trailed off.
"Hey are those antique dolls," Bridget pointed at the ones lined up on the shelf. "Because my brother in law here," she patted Sam's shoulder. "He's got a major doll collection back home. Don't you?"
He gritted his teeth, his lips pressed in a tight line. "Sure do."
Dean caught on. "Big time. You think we could come take a look at them?"
"I don't know," she said reluctantly.
"Please. I mean, he loves them. He's not gonna tell you this, but he's always dressing them up in these little, tiny outfits, and you'd make his day," he looked at Sam. "She would, huh? Huh?"
Sam's face was lack of any emotion along with his tone, "Sure."
"Okay," she opened the door. "Come on in."
"All right," Dean inspected the shelf. "That is a lot of dolls. Not super creepy at all."
Susan laughed. "Maybe they're a little creepy. But they've been in the family forever."
Bridget walked over to the large doll house, bending down to look at it. "Is this a doll hotel? A replica?"
"Yeah. An exact replica custom built."
Bridget shared a look with Sam as she picked up one of the figures who's head was twisted all the way around. "This one's head got twisted. What happened?"
"Tyler probably," she sighed.
The little girl came in from another room. "Mommy, Maggie's being mean."
"Tyler, tell her I said to be nice okay?" Susan said to her.
"Hey, Tyler," Sam called to her taking the figure from Bridget. "I see you broke your doll. Do you want me to fix it for you?"
"I didn't break it. I found it like that."
"Oh. Well, maybe Maggie did it," Bridget suggested.
"No. Neither of us did it. Grandma would be mad if we did."
"Tyler, she wouldn't get mad," Susan told her.
"Grandma?" Dean asked.
"Grandma Rose," the little girl nodded. "These were her toys."
"Oh really…where's Grandma Rose now?"
"Up in her room," she said.
"You know, I'd really love to talk to her about her incredible doll-"
"No," Susan said sternly, cutting him off. "I mean I'm afraid that's impossible. My mother's been very sick and she's not taking visitors."
It wasn't long before they were ushered out of the room and found themselves back in the hall walking to their room.
"Well, what do you think? Dolls with their heads twisted, hoodoo, Grandma's locked in her room," Bridget asked out loud to them.
"Dolls are used in all kinds of voodoo and hoodoo rituals. Like curses and binding spells," Sam said.
"Yeah, maybe we've found our witch doctor. I'll go see what I can dig up on Booming Granny. You get online, check old obits, freak accidents, that sort of thing. See if she's whacked anybody before," Dean said.
"Right," Sam nodded.
"And don't go surfing porn. That's not the kind of whacked I mean," Dean said.
Not an hour later she found herself going downstairs with Dean and standing on the porch watching a body be put into the back of an ambulance. She never heard a thing, never felt so much as a tremble from her necklace.
"What happened?" she asked as Susan approached.
"The maid went in to turn down the sheet and he was just…hanging there," she said.
"That's awful," Dean said. "Was he a guest?"
She nodded. "He worked for the company that's buying the place. I don't understand."
"What?" Bridget questioned.
"I've had a lot of bad luck around here. Look, if you'd like to check out, I'll give you a full refund."
"No, thanks. We don't scare that easy," Dean said with a soft smile. Susan walked past him into the lobby with a nod.
Bridget turned to Dean. "Someone is stopping these people from taking this place and it's putting up one hell of a fight."
"You can say that. Drowning, falling down stairs, now hanging."
"We better figure this one out or I'm never getting my vacation," she sighed as they took the stairs and went down the hall to the room.
Bridget opened the door and stepped into the dark room. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust and see Sam sitting in a chair by the window. That wasn't peculiar at all she thought sharing a look with Dean.
"There's been another one," Dean said, shutting the door. "Some guy just hung himself in his room."
"Yeah. I saw," he said grumply.
Bridget started looking through the papers on the table, "We gotta figure this out. Before it happens again. Did you find anything on the Grandma?"
"You're bossy," Sam said and she paused turning to look at him.
Dean blinked. "What?"
Sam gestured at Bridget, "She's bossy," he pointed at Dean with a chuckle. "And you're short."
"Are you drunk?" Bridget asked, standing up straight.
"Yeah, so?"
She sighed and pointed at the mini fridge behind Dean. He turned to look and saw the empty bottles lined up. There were at least nine of them. He shook his head. "Dude, what are you thinking? We're working a case?"
Sam shook his head, his eyes watering up. "The guy who hung himself…I couldn't save him."
"What are you talking about? You couldn't have known or done anything. Hell, Bridge's necklace didn't even twitch that something was going on," Dean said.
"That's an excuse, Dean. I should've found a way to save him. I should've saved Ava, too."
There it was Bridget realized. His held back emotions were going to spill forth in a drunken heap of tears and vodka. "You can't save everyone, Sam."
"No, Bridget, you don't understand. The more people I save, the more I can change."
"Change what?" Dean asked.
"My destiny!"
Bridget nodded walking over to him. "Okay, time for bed Jack Sparrow." She helped him stand up and led him shakily to the bed that wasn't far away. But he refused to sit for the moment.
"I need you guys to look out for me," he said.
"Yeah, we always do," Dean said helping Bridget settle him down.
"No, no, no. You have to watch out for me, all right? And if I ever turn into something that I'm not…you have to kill me," he told them both.
"Sam…" Bridget said.
"No, my dad told you. Both of you to do it."
Dean shook his head, "Yeah, well, Dad's an ass. He never should've said anything. I mean, you don't do that, you don't lay that kind of crap on your kids."
"No, he was right to say it. Who knows what I might become? Even now, everyone around me dies!"
"We're not dead, Sam," Bridget told him. "We're not dying, okay? And neither are you, come on let's get you to bed." She got him to sit down.
"No, please. Dean, Bridge, you're the only ones who can do it. Promise."
"Sam, don't ask me that," Dean told him. Bridget occupied herself with removing his shoes to avoid the question all together. Kill Sam. The first guy she loved after Will. She couldn't fathom it even if they were on break.
"You have to promise me," he repeated.
Reluctantly Dean answered, "I promise."
Bridget stood to help him lay down, "Come on, lay down."
Sam grabbed her wrist and she moved her eyes to his. Saw the tears and the pleading. "Promise me, Bridget."
She licked at her teeth and swallowed hard, "Yeah, Sam. I promise."
"Thanks…thank you," he pulled her down next to him which caught her by surprise as his other arm came around encircling her waist and lying her down next to him. He turned onto his stomach, burying his face in the pillow and was sound asleep. Bridget looked at Dean pleadingly unable to maneuver away from his leg crushed onto hers or his arm draped heavily over her.
"Help."
He smiled with a chuckle. "Looks like I get the king bed to myself."
"Don't leave me here," she hissed.
Dean waved and headed for the conjoining door.
"Dean!" she whispered angrily as the door shut. She let her head hit the pillow with a sigh. Sam started snoring. It was going to be a long night.
Bridget rubbed at her neck. Sleeping like that was a bit of a killer but thankfully she had slept a few hours and Sam woke up long enough for the alcohol to hit him hard in the stomach. He was now bent over the toilet, head resting against the rim. From her count as it flushed this was the third time he puked.
The door opened and Dean walked in. He smiled at her. "How'd you sleep?"
"You do know I'm going to hit you at some point today right?" she reminded him with a glare, rubbing the back of her neck. "That you will fall down and be in pain."
"I look forward to it," he turned to look into the bathroom. "How you feelin', Sammy? I guess mixing whiskey and Jager wasn't a gangbuster idea? I bet you don't remember a thing from last night do you?"
Bridget eyed him carefully knowing exactly what he was hinting at.
Sam groaned, "Ugh, I can still taste the tequila."
"You know," Dean smiled. "There's a really good hang over remedy. It's a greasy pork sandwich wrapped in a dirty ashtray."
Sam threw up again, "I hate you so bad…"
"I know you do. But while you were passed out with Bridget here I found something out. Turns out when Grandma Rose was a tyke, she had a Creole nanny who wore a hoodoo necklace."
"So, you think she taught Rose hoodoo?" Sam asked flushing the toilet again and getting to his feet.
"Yes, I do."
"Looks like we're getting answers," Bridget said standing up as Sam came out of the bathroom to stand in front of them.
"All right, I think it's time we talk to Rose then."
Bridget coughed waving a hand in front of her face as Dean scrunched up his face. She pointed at the bathroom. "You need to brush your teeth first."
Ten minutes later they were standing in front of Susan's door down the hall. Sam knocked first. "Hello? Susan?" No answer came and it didn't sound like anyone was inside.
"All clear?" Bridget said as she inspected the staircase. No one was coming or going.
Sam bent lower and took a metal tool out of his pocket. He inserted it into the lock, twisting the handle and the door creaked open. As they entered they noticed an open door leading up a staircase and took it to the attic. An elderly lady was sitting in a wheelchair in the barely lit room down a hall to their right staring out the window as the rain came down.
"Ms. Thompson?" Bridget called out as they approached slowly. "Mrs. Thompson?...Rose?"
They moved to the front to look at her and saw she looked frightened but wasn't speaking. Bridget shared a look with the other two and Sam kneeled down next to the elderly lady. "Hi Mrs. Thompson. We're not here to hurt you, it's okay…Rose?" Her mouth moved to speak but no words would come out. He stood up straight and pulled Dean and Bridget aside. "She had a stroke."
"Yeah, but hoodoo is hand's on," he said.
"Yeah," Sam agreed.
"You've gotta mix herbs and chant and build an altar," Bridget said. "She couldn't do that."
"So, it can't be Rose," Sam nodded. "Could not even be hoodoo."
"You know, she could be faking," Dean said.
Bridget and Sam gave him a look. "Yeah? What do you wanna do Dean? Poke her with a stick?" Dean rubbed his chin at the idea and Bridget smacked his shoulder. "Dude, you are not going to poke her with a stick!"
Susan chose that moment to enter the room, eyes wide in shock. "What the hell? What are you doing in here?"
"Oh, we just wanted to…" Dean trailed off not able to think of a story.
"We wanted to talk to Rose," Sam went with the truth.
Susan knelt next to her mother, "Look at her, she is scared out of her wits. I want you out of my hotel in two minutes or I'm calling the cops."
"Well that went well," Dean said as they drove down the road.
"What eles could we do? We couldn't convince her to let us stay," Sam said.
Bridget sat in the back going through the drawings in her book, trying to find another case they could go over. "Yeah, well, we tried."
"Not enough," Sam shook his head.
"We just need to think of a plan."
She listened to them discuss their ideas while she flipped through her book. She paused on a drawing and frowned. It was a swing set and teeter totter. There was a woman standing with her back to the page and a car was coming at her from behind, she couldn't see it. Off the page was someone running into frame wearing, she looked at the picture closely. There was a cast on the left wrist. Her eyes widened just as her necklace warmed against her skin. This was going to happen. Now.
"Go back!" she said suddenly, lurching forward to lean into the front seat. "Go back now!"
"What? Why?" Dean asked.
Bridget dropped her drawing pad into the front seat. "Because Susan's next and Sam's stops it! Go, Dean!"
Dean swung the car around and sped up back in the direction they came. "Are you sure?"
"Have my drawings ever been wrong?" she asked. "You need more proof," she untucked her necklace from her shirt so they could see it pulsing slightly. "It tends to do that when a drawing is about to happen."
Dean hit the gas harder. They were back at the hotel in record speed. He slammed on the brakes and Bridget pointed. "There she is! Sam, go!"
Without another word from her Sam was sprinting towards Susan. Bridget and Dean got out of the car and hurried to them. They watched as Sam knocked Susan out of the way before the car could crash into either of them.
Bridget was helping Susan stand. "Come on, let's go inside."
"Whiskey," Susan said the minute they stepped into the bar area.
"Sure. I know the feeling," Sam nodded and grabbed a bottle from the bar.
"What the hell happened out there?" she asked the three of them.
"You want the truth?" Bridget asked.
"Of course."
"Well, at first, we thought it was some sort of a hoodoo curse. But that out there? That was definitely a spirit," Bridget told her.
"Here," Sam handed Susan a glass.
She took a drink. "You're insane."
"You were almost hit by a car going sixty with no driver and we're insane?" Bridget asked.
"Look, I'm sorry, Susan. We don't exactly have time to ease you into this. But we need to know when your mother had the stroke," Sam asked.
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"Just answer the question," Sam said.
"About a month ago."
"Right before the killings began," he said and looked at Dean and Bridget. "See? So what if Rose was working hoodoo but not to hurt anyone, to protect them?"
"She was using the five spot urns to ward off evil," Bridget pieced together.
"Right. Until she had a stroke and couldn't do it anymore," he nodded.
"I don't believe this," Susan shook her head.
"Listen, sister, that car didn't try to run you down by itself, okay," Dean told her point blank. He thought about it. "Well, I guess it did technically, but a spirit can- forget it."
"Just believe what you want, all right? But the fact is you and your family are in danger. So you need to clear everybody out of here –- your employees, your mother, your daughters, everyone," Sam said.
Susan frowned. "Um…I only have one daughter."
Bridget paused. "One…I thought Tyler had a sister named Maggie?"
"Maggie's imaginary."
Her eyes widened and she looked towards Sam and Dean, they had the same expression on their face. Maggie was more than imaginary. "Where's Tyler?"
They burst into Tyler's room to find the little girl gone and many of the dolls broken along the floor and shelves.
"Tyler!" Susan yelled frantically. "Oh my God, Tyler! She's not here."
"Susan," Sam grabbed her arms. "Tell us what you know about Maggie."
"Not much. Tyler's been talking about her since Mom got sick," she said scared.
"Okay, did you ever know anyone by that name?" Bridget asked.
"No," she shook her head.
"Think," Dean said. "Maybe someone that could have lived here. Someone that passed away."
Her eyes widened slightly, "Oh my God. My Mom. My Mom had a sister named Margaret. She barely spoke about her."
"Did she happen to die here as a child?" Bridget asked.
"She drowned in the pool," she nodded.
Dean let out a deep breath, "Come on."
Bridget ran full speed right behind Sam and Dean towards the pool house. The glass doors were shut. They reached them, trying the knobs but they wouldn't budge. They could see Tyler standing on the other side of the railing above the pool.
Susan banged on the glass, "Tyler! Tyler!"
Sam was trying to break the glass but it wouldn't so much as crack.
Tyler turned around to look back, "Mommy!" She suddenly screamed as she fell from the railing into the pool.
"Is there another way in?" Dean asked frantically.
"Around back," Susan said.
"All right come on," he looked at Bridget and Sam. "Keep trying."
"Of course," Bridget brought her foot up and kicked at the glass. "Come on!" She touched her necklace hoping to get some help. "Please…please…" she felt it warm up in her hand and lashed at the glass again this time causing it to shatter.
Sam stared at her in surprise and she ushered him in first. He was quick to run in and jump over the railing. Bridget followed right behind him, splashing into the water seconds later. Sam got to the little girl first and Bridget swam to the edge of the pool, climbing out as Dean and Susan entered. Sam laid her at the edge and she started coughing up water.
"Oh, thank God," Susan sighed in relief.
"Mommy," Tyler cried, clinging to her.
"Tyler, did you see where Maggie went?" Bridget asked kneeling next to her.
She shook her head. "She's gone."
The three followed behind Susan and Tyler up the staircase towards the Grandma's room. Bridget, rang out her hair not knowing why she bothered when she was soaked anyway. Another pair of boots ruined. Least she had three pairs just like them in the car. The only problem was water made her skirt shrink up and Dean was behind her.
"You know, Bridge, you look good like that," he said.
Bridget lashed her foot out, catching him in the chest and knocking him on his ass on the landing hard enough he winced. "I warned you I'd hit you at some point."
He got back to his feet and started up the stairs this time walking along side her to prevent further injury.
"I don't get it though," Sam said. "Did Maggie just stop?"
"Seems like it," Bridget shrugged.
"Where the hell did she go?" Dean asked.
As if his words were the key, Susan screamed from upstairs. They were quick to take action and run up the stairs and down the hall to find Rose dead in her wheelchair. The reason Maggie had stopped.
Bridget found it nice to be in dry clothes again even though she didn't like watching bodies get put into the back of an ambulance. She approached Susan with Sam and Dean.
"The paramedics said it was another stroke," she informed them. "You think Maggie could have done it?"
"We don't know," Bridget shook her head, "But it is possible."
"Susan, I'm sorry," Sam apologized.
She waved her hand in front of her, "God, you have nothing to be sorry for. You've given me everything." Tyler appeared by her side from inside the house carrying her back pack. "You ready to go?"
"Yeah."
"Tyler, you sure Maggie's gone?" Dean asked.
"I'm sure, I'd see her," she nodded and headed towards the awaiting taxi with her mother.
Dean sighed as they walked towards the Impala. "Well, I guess whatever's going on must be over. You saved the mom, you saved the little girl. Not a bad day. You know, I could have saved them but I didn't want you to feel useless."
Sam chuckled, "Yeah, I'm sure."
"Feels good to be back in the saddle again, doesn't it?"
"Feel better on a beach," Bridget mumbled leaning against the car.
"Yeah, it does," Sam agreed. "But it doesn't change what we talked about last night."
Bridget pursued her lips finding her nails rather interesting at the moment. "What about last night?"
"Yeah, we talked about a lot of stuff last night," Dean nodded.
"You both know what I mean," he said.
Bridget bit her lip, "You were wasted, Sam."
"But neither of you were. And you both promised," he said and got into the car. Bridget and Dean shared a look over the car. She turned away first, getting into the back seat and grabbing her drawing book going through it as they drove away.