S3 EP49 BEDTIME STORIES
AN: Sorry for the wait. This one goes quite a bit differently at the end from the episode it's based off of. Hope you enjoy!
Bridget stared out the window, hand under her chin as she listened to the two argue in the front yet again. They couldn't go three days without a ridiculous argument. She continued coloring the red apple on her page, drawing more fairytales. She was in a Snow White mood at the moment considering she was in the car with Grumpy and Dopey.
"Why not?" Sam argued for the hundredth time.
"Cuz I said so," came Dean's sharp reply that Bridget knew well enough she mouthed it while she continued drawing.
With a yawn of boredom from going through this many times before she flipped the page to look at her earlier drawings. The Big Bad Wolf, the spinning wheel from Sleeping Beauty with Aurora's hand reaching for the sharp point with her fingers outstretched for eternal sleep, even a pumpkin for Cinderella. She wanted to turn these two into pumpkins.
"We got the Colt now," Sam argued for the twentieth time.
"Sam," Dean shook his head.
"We can summon the crossroad demon and pull the trigger."
"No, we're not summoning her."
"We'll force her out of your deal."
"We don't know that'll work!" Dean said sharply. Bridget continued doodling. She heard this argument before and could probably recite it back.
"If we shoot her she dies and it'll go away."
"We don't know that'll work! All you're pitching is a bunch of ifs and maybes and it's not good enough because what if you're wrong and you die."
"And if we don't you die."
Bridget had enough of the building frustration. "Jesus, so then one of you dies no matter what! Let it go already! Because if I have to keep listening to this, you both die! Now please, tell us about the psychotic killer we got going on because I've drawn nothing resembling that."
Sam grudgingly changed subjects. "Rips victims apart with brute like force."
"Any mention of his razor sharp teeth or his four inch claws or animal eyes," Dean asked.
"No, but the lunar cycle is right and we only have til Friday."
"Two days, no sweat. Any drawings of werewolves, Bridge?"
"Not unless you count the Big Bad Wolf."
"You still drawin' fairytales?"
"Yup. Beats reality right now."
"Can't you draw something relevant?"
She glared at him through the mirror. "I feel like fairytales so bite me."
"Someone's grouchy."
"Someone's tired of being in the car with you two bickering. Can we just go to the hospital in peace to see what's going on with this werewolf creature?"
"Well, if it's a werewolf it'll be easy," Dean said.
Sam sighed saying what Bridget had bee thinking, "When is it ever easy?"
She had hoped to shower before playing cops, but it looked like Dean wanted to get straight to the point as they pulled up to the hospital and walked in with business suits on, Bridget in her skirt and heels, hair twirled up in a bun. The doctor led them straight to their only survivor from the wolf attack. They flashed their badges at the middle aged man lying tired in the hospital bed. Obviously still shaken from seeing his friends killed at the construction site. "I'm Detective Plant, this is Detective Page and Detective Jones," Dean introduced them, tucking away his badge. "We're from the County Sheriff's Department."
"Yeah…uh, I've been expecting you guys," he said with a slight nod.
"You have?" Dean asked puzzled.
"All morning. You are the sketch artist right?" Kyle asked.
"Absolutely," Dean smiled causing slightly confused looks to cross Sam and Bridget. More so for Bridget when Dean grabbed her elbow, pulling her forward. "My partner, Detective Page here is an artist. The things this lady can do with a pen," he chuckled.
"Including shove it in places you wouldn't like," she said quietly so only Dean would hear before smiling at Kyle. She reached into her bag and took out her pad and pencil. "If you don't mind me asking, sir, how did you get away?"
He shook his head. "I have no idea. I was hiding and he found me. He was coming right for me and he just stopped. Stared at me with this blank look. After that he just took off running."
She nodded. "Give me as much detail as you can."
"Uh yeah. Uh, he's about six feet tall…muscular figure."
"Okay…what about his hair?"
"Dark…"
Bridget wasn't getting much, "His eyes?"
"His eyes?"
"Blue."
She frowned, "Blue?"
"May, it was dark."
"Did they seem…animalish?" Dean asked.
"Huh?" Kyle asked confused.
"What about his teeth? Anything strange about them?" Bridget changed subjects.
He shook his head. "No, they were just teeth."
"What about his fingernails?" Dean pressed.
Kyle finally snapped. "OK look he- he's just a- a normal guy, with normal eyes and- a-and teeth and fingernails!"
"Look, sir, it's ok if-"
Kyle cut Bridget off, face red with his anger. "No. Those were my brothers. This guy, he- he killed my brothers. How would you feel?"
"It's horrible…I know," Bridget said sadly touching her necklace absentmindedly.
"I can't imagine anything worse," Sam added and glanced at Dean who looked away.
After a moment, Dean continued, "I know this isn't easy but if you could remember any more details."
Kyle nodded and his brow furrowed as something came to his mind. "Th-there was one more thing he had a- a tattoo on his arm of a cartoon character. It's, uh, it's the guy who's chasing the Roadrunner-."
The doctor came back in the room at that point. He was middle aged with graying hair and soft eyes that were haunted by darker times, "Kyle?"
"Dr. Garrison," Kyle nodded at him.
"How you holding up?"
"Okay…considering…" he broke off saying no more.
"You're Kyle's doctor?" Dean asked him.
"Yes," he nodded.
Dean held up his badge. "Can I just ask you a few questions?"
After Dean's initial questioning the three started walking back to the car while he inspected Bridget's drawing. "So it's a man…not a werewolf?"
She shrugged and took the pad back. "Your guess is as good as mine. What did Kyle's doctor say about him and the other two guys?"
"Not much, they were D.O.A. at the scene. He did give me the lowdown on the Coroner's report," Dean explained.
"Let me guess," Sam said. "Their hearts were missing."
"Nope," Dean shook his head. "Chunks of their kidneys, livers, and intestines were."
"That's not werewolf behavior that's just gross," Bridget observed, face scrunched in disgust
Sam ran a hand over his face, "So, what? Demon? Attacker could've been possessed.
"Why would a Demon stop halfway through an attack?" Dean asked.
Sam thought about it before shrugging his shoulders. "Yeah, I got nothing."
"Me neither," Dean looked at Bridget. "What about you?"
She shuffled through her drawings, not finding anything but her fairytale drawings and princess settings. "I got nothing that doesn't belong in a Disney movie in here."
Dean snorted. "Yeah and happily ever after's don't happen to us."
"Sad to say we'll have to see what happens next."
That wish didn't take long. It never took long for something bad to happen for them to get their next lead. Though grateful for one, Bridget couldn't help feeling bad for the people it had to happen to since it often lead to tragedy. She found herself back at the hospital in her same suit with a different blouse. They paused halfway down the hall as two cops left the room they needed to go into. She turned, examining her drawing pad in her hand while Sam and Dean preoccupied themselves with flowers of all things. The police walked past them and once cleared they went into the room the two had previously exited.
Dr. Garrison was standing next to a young woman with disheveled blonde hair and tear streaked cheeks with dark spots under her eyes as she begged him to let her go.
"Hey, we need to observe you while the drugs still might be in your system," he told her softly.
"I have to go. I have things to do, arrangements I need to make," she said frantically.
"It can wait. Now you need to rest. Stay. Be back in a few minutes," he turned to leave and saw the three standing there. "Detectives."
"Dr. Garrison," Bridget nodded.
"What the hell is going on here?" he asked them. "My whole town is going insane."
"We'll let you know as soon as we do," Sam promised.
He nodded and left the room leaving them to question Julie Watson.
Bridget approached her cautiously, knowing the signs of someone on edge and how being as blunt or demanding as Dean could send her into an emotional uproar. "Ms. Watson? Hi. We just need to ask you a few questions if that's okay."
She closed her eyes, tears spilling down her cheeks. "Do we have to go over this again, now?"
"We'll try to be brief. Ms Watson, can you tell us how you got away?" she asked, putting her hand on the bed.
She nodded, "I didn't eat as much as Ken did, so I wasn't as out of it. And, when the old woman was... carving up Ken, I shoved her and she fell. Cracked her head on the stove. She's dead, right? I- I killed her?"
Bridget nodded, "Yeah, she's gone."
"Do you have any idea why she did this to you?" Dean asked and Bridget's lips tightened. Exactly the bluntness and emotional detachment she had expected from him.
"No! One minute she was a sweet old lady and the next she was, like, a monster," Julie breathed heavily.
"Can you remember anything else?" Sam asked.
"Um, yeah. Did you find a little girl there, by any chance?" she asked with a frown.
"A little girl?" Bridget asked confused. "At the house?"
"I thought I saw her outside the window. She just disappeared. Just vanished, into thin air."
She shared a look with the two brothers as Julie continued. "It m-must've been the drugs."
"The disappearing girl, what did she look like?" Bridget asked her.
"Does it matter?"
"Yes, just in case she was really there. Every detail matters," Bridget told her.
"She had this dark, dark hair and really pale skin. She was around eight. She was a beautiful child, it was... odd to see her in the middle of something so horrible," Julie said shaking her head.
Bridget continued to draw what Julie described the girl to look like. They thanked her for her time and left with the sketch in hand.
"So we got a disappearing little girl and a crazy woman who turned witch on them," Dean said on the way to the car.
"I say we go check out this house, see what we can find in this freak show," Bridget suggested.
Sam removed his tie, "Great idea."
"And I need out of this damn skirt and back into my jeans," she said, undoing the blouse to reveal the spaghetti strap top beneath.
Dean smiled wiggling his eyebrows as she slid into the back seat. "You gonna put on a strip show."
"You peak and you'll die a lot sooner than planned," she threatened.
"Least it'll be with a smile," he grinned, pulling on his t-shirt and tossing the jacket and collared shirt in the back with her.
"Not before I know it off your face," she growled.
Sam rolled his eyes, "Can we please just go? You two always have the same sexual tension fight that I have to sit through."
"What?" Bridget balked having successfully slid her jeans on and pulled the skirt off without revealing her underwear. "There is no tension or flirting."
"We're just playing around," Dean agreed, putting the car in drive.
"Whatever you guys say," Sam snorted.
Bridget sat silent in the back, wondering if there was any merit in what Sam had said.
The old lady's house was like any other house, well kept, neatly cleaned and organized. Nothing portraying her to be a psychopathic cannibalistic serial killer. Dean finished checking the windows and doors for any traces of demon activity.
"Well there's no sign of sulfur. What you getting on the EMF?" he asked Sam.
Sam's gadget was lighting up. "Yeah, it's going nuts. Right over here by the window. There's definitely a spirit here."
"You mean something stood outside the window and watched?" Bridget said.
"Looks like," he nodded.
"What the hell do you make of that?" Dean asked them.
"Actually I do have a theory," Sam said then pressed his lips in a tight line. "Uh, sorta. Kinda goes with Bridget's drawings.
"Which is?" Dean asked and Bridget listened curious as to how any of this tied to her sketches.
"Well…it has to do with fairytales."
Bridget's eyebrows arched. "Fairytales? Really?"
Dean rolled his eyes at Sam. "Oh that's- that's nice. You think about fairy tales often?"
"No, Dean I'm talking about the murders. A guy and a girl? Hiking through the woods, an old lady tries to eat 'em? That's Hansel and Gretel. Then we got three brothers arguing over how to build houses, attacked by the Big Bad Wolf like Three Little Pigs and Bridget's been drawing fairytales for weeks now. It makes sense."
"Don't those all end happily ever after?"
"No, no. Not the originals. See the Grimm brothers stuff was kinda the folklore of it's day, full of sex, violence, cannibalism. Now, it got sanitized over the years, turned into Disney flicks and bedtime stories."
"So you think the murders are uh, what? A re-enactment? That's a little crazy," Dean said.
"Compared to what?" Bridget snorted. "The vampires and demons and poltergeist we usually hunt?"
Dean considered it, "Touché. How's the creepy ghost girl involved?"
"Umm, well, she must've been here for a reason. I'm willing to bet you top dollar she was at the construction site too," Sam bet.
"This means research, doesn't it?" Bridget asked with a pout.
Sam nodded and both Dean and her groaned with their heads down, sulking their way to the car to get to the library.
Even then it was a bust as they found nothing in any archive in the history of a little girl with a violent death. They met back with Sam at the park, walking through it as they shared information they found which on their part wasn't much.
"Well you ever hear of Lillian Bailey? She was a British medium from the 1930s?" Sam asked, revealing what he had found.
"She got a thing for fairy tales?" Dean asked.
"Nah, trances. See she'd go into these unconscious states where uhm, get this, her thoughts and actions were completely controlled by spirits."
"Think that's what this kid is doing? Sending wolfboy and grandma into trances, making them go kill-crazy?"
"Could be," he shrugged.
Dean paused, "Trances I get, but fairy tale trances? That's bizarre even for us."
A croaking noise drew their attention to a bullfrog sitting in the middle of the walkway through the park. "Yeah, you're right," Bridget said gesturing at the frog, staring at the bullfrog that wasn't normally a reptile that would get this close to humans or be out of its natural environment. "That's completely normal."
It croaked again and Dean shook his head, "All right maybe it is fairy tales. Totally messed-up fairy tales. I tell you one thing, there's no way I'm kissing a damn frog."
Sam tapped Bridget's shoulder, "Hey, check that out. It's like one of your drawings."
Across the street on a porch sat a pumpkin with two little mice sitting next to it. "This is getting stranger by the minute."
"So, it's close to Halloween," Dean suggested as they walked over to the house.
"What? D'you remember Cinderella? The pumpkin that turns into a coach and the mice that become horses?" Sam told him.
"Dude, could you be more gay?" Dean asked. Sam gave him a nonplussed look and Dean shook his head, "Nevermind don't answer that." He bent forward and picked the lock, pushing the door open. "Well, who knows, maybe you'll find your fairy godmother?"
Sam gave him a look, "Let's just check the place out."
Dean shut the door and paused, hearing a noise. He pulled out his gun, looking around the room. "Did you hear that?"
"Shh," Bridget shushed him as she heard it again.
"Help I'm in here!" a voice cried out from another room.
They hurried into the kitchen, pausing at the sight of a dark haired girl handcuffed to the oven.
"It's ok," Sam said to her. "We're here, we got you."
"You have to help me," she said panicked. "She's a lunatic."
"What happened?" Dean asked, picking the lock.
"My step mom, she just freaked out, screamed at me, beat me. Chained me up," she said in tears.
"Where is she?" Bridget asked.
"I don't know."
Bridget looked around, pausing at the kitchen door. A girl stood there, peaking in through the window. She had pale skin and long dark hair with a red head band. "Sam…Dean…"
Both looked up to see the girl staring back at hem before completely vanishing. Bridget hurried to the door, pulling it open to find the girl standing there. "Who are you?"
She just smiled at Bridget which sent a chill down her back. It wasn't a normal warm smile of a child, there was something cold and dead behind it. The girl vanished and Bridget saw the red apple sitting on the ground where she had been. She bent and picked it up as Sam came in behind her. "Where'd she go?"
"I don't know," she held up the apple. "But she left this behind."
She sat on the hood of the Impala ten minutes later, Bridget tossing the apple back and forth between hands as Cinderella was loaded into the ambulance. Sam walked over and sat next to her. "She's going to be fine," he told her.
"That's good," she nodded, staring at the apple. She tossed it to Dean.
"So…little girl…shiny red apple. I'm guessing this means something to you," Dean asked Sam.
"It's Snow White," Sam nodded.
Dean frowned, "Snow White? Ah I saw that movie. Oh the porn version anyway. There was this wicked Stepmother? Woo, she was wicked."
Bridget kicked him in the leg. "Ow! What was that for?"
"For being you," she said. "There is a wicked Stepmother. And she tries to kill Snow White with a poison apple."
He rubbed his shin, "But the apple doesn't actually kill the girl, right?"
"No. Puts her into a deep sleep, so deep it's almost like she's dead," Sam told him.
"Another trip to the hospital," Dean sighed, tossing Sam the apple.
They figured this would be easier to do since it was happening in this town and therefore would have to be in the only hospital the town had. But, again, it wasn't that simple. The nurse shook her head, "No, sorry. We don't have any comatose little girls."
"You sure?" Bridget asked.
"Totally. It's mostly old guys. And well...Callie. She's been around since before I started here," the nurse said sadly.
"Who's Callie?" Dean asked.
"Yeah, it's so sad. And poor Dr. Garrison he just won't give up on her."
"She's one of his patients?" Dean asked.
"No, she's his daughter," she said.
That caused the three to exchange a look and they thanked her, walking down the hall. They paused when they heard Garrison reading out loud and peaked in the room to see a full grown woman unconscious in the bed while Garrison sat there reading her Little Red Riding Hood. He noticed them and put down the book, heading out of the room.
"We heard about your daughter, we wanted to say how sorry we are," Bridget said.
"Thank you, I must be going."
"Oh, heading this way? We'll walk with you. How long's Callie been like that?" Dean suggested.
Sam stared at Dean with a slight shake of his head and spoke to the doctor. "We don't mean to intrude, we can't possibly understand how hard it must be for you seeing her like this."
"It's not easy. She's uh, been here since she was eight years old."
"That's when she was poisoned?" Bridget asked.
The doctor nodded slightly, clearly pained by telling the story. "Yes. Swallowed bleach. Never figured out how she got her hands on the bottle. My wife found her, uh, brought her to the ER here and I was on call."
Bridget lifted her eyebrows slightly. "You're wife was uh, was that Callie's stepmother?"
He stopped walking and looked at her in surprise. "Actually, yes. How'd you know that?"
"Lucky guess," she said.
"Well, Julie was the only mother that uh, Callie ever knew. My wife passed away last year and uh, it's just my daughter and me now. She's all I got left. Uhm, excuse me I gotta get back to work."
They nodded and he walked away. Bridget folded her arms over her chest and gave Dean a pointed look.
He rolled his eyes. "Ok. You were right. It's Snow White."
She grinned. "I love hearing I'm right, but yup. Step-mom poisons the girl, puts her into a deep sleep. What's the motive you think?"
Dean shrugged. "Could be like Mischa Barton. Sixth Sense not the O.C."
"Huh?" Sam frowned and even Bridget rolled her eyes.
"Hey, you know fairy tales, I know movies. She played the pasty ghost. You know the, uh, remember the mom had that thing you know, where you keep the kid sick so you get all the attention?"
"Yeah," Sam nodded as they continued down the hall.
"So say all these years Callie's been suffering silently because nobody knows the truth about what mommy dearest did?"
"And after all this time her spirit just gets angrier and angrier, until it finally just starts lashing out," Bridget added.
"Right. Meanwhile she has to listen to dad tell her these deranged stories about a rabid wolf or a cannibalistic old lady, it's enough to drive anybody nuts."
"OK, but how are we gonna stop her, I mean Callie's stuck here, her father's keeping her body alive," Sam pointed out.
Dean sighed. "It does make it a bit hard to burn the bones."
Bridget smacked him up the head for thinking it. "You think?"
Before Dean could say anything about the smack two EMT's came through the front door of the hospital, pushing in a gurney with an old woman on it. A doctor came by, taking over as they watched.
"OK, what's her status?"
"Seventy-two year old female, sustained multiple lacerations and puncture wounds. BP is eighty over forty and falling. Sinus tachycardia."
"Looks like she was mauled by a mad dog or, maybe a wolf?"
Bridget's eyes widened as she looked at Sam and Dean, the same look of shock on their face. "What was the last story Dr. Garrison was reading Callie?"
Sam looked grim. "Little Red Riding Hood."
Bridget paced back and forth in the hotel room, rubbing at her neck. She had never been this stressed over a case before. Usually it was simple, at least simple in their terms. Dig up a body and burn the bones, case solved. But this was different, this was a living person trapped in a coma and living the life of Snow White while putting others through terror.
"Pacing is not gonna help," Dean said from where he sat on the bed.
"It's helping me. How do we stop a living person?"
"No idea yet," Sam said closing his laptop and rubbing his face. "We're gona have to tell Dr. Garrison."
Dean snorted, "Yeah I can see that working. Gee, Dr. Garrison your comatose daughter is killing people through stories you read her, you're gonna have to pull the plug."
"It's the only shot we got," Bridget sighed.
Dean reached out and pulled her on the bed, "Stop, you're making me nervous now."
She sat up on the bed, picking up her drawing pad that was on the nightstand, "We got to tell him, Dean."
He sighed, "You're right…before she gets another story. But not before I eat."
"Dean…" Sam sighed.
"No, it can wait an hour. She just got a story not even an hour ago, she's good for now. I'm not." He patted Bridget's leg. "Want me to get you something?"
She nodded, drawing still. "Yeah, you know what I like, Dean."
He winked at her hand still on her leg, "You got it."
"Don't be perverted," she warned with a smile.
"Me? Perverted? Never. Hamburger, no onions, extra pickle, light on the mayo, add mustard. With a large fry, add ranch and a root beer," he stood up, grabbing his keys.
"Years of training paid off," she said.
"No, I just listen to you even when you think I'm not," he said.
She looked up seeing that odd look in his eyes she had noticed a few times over the years and couldn't exactly place. "Thanks, Dean."
"Yeah, not a prob," he cleared his throat. "Sammy, you wanna go for the ride since Bridget's too busy doodling.
"Uh, yeah sure," he nodded.
"We'll be right back. Don't let the Big Bad Wolf in while we're gone," Dean told her, only half joking.
"Don't worry, no one's blowing this door down," she promised.
She followed them to the door locking it behind them and closing the curtains. She cracked her fingers then rubbed the back of her neck, wondering when this would be over and how to end it and slightly wondering about the feelings she was having towards Dean and the confusion it was causing her. Her fingers slid the ring on her necklace back and forth, not sure what to think since it had gone so wrong with Sam, she couldn't go through that pain again and not with Dean when he was notorious for being…well Dean…and not when he was destined to die so soon. She swallowed the painful lump in her throat.
The lights behind her flickered, casting shadows on the door she was still staring at and the room was glowing an odd green. A low humming captivating music could be heard and Bridget slowly turned to see what it was. A spinning wheel sat spinning softly across the room, a green glow emitting from it and the music playing softly with the spin. Another fairytale was playing out in the room and Bridget was too entranced to realize the deadly situation she was in as she slowly stepped towards it in a daze.
Downstairs Dean frowned as he neared the car, he could hear a humming. "Do you hear something?" he asked with a frown.
Sam paused but shook his head, "No, what do-."
"Shhh," Dean cut him off holding up his hand. He looked around. Cars were going by on the highway, but he couldn't hear anything, nothing but the music that filled the air in a low hum.
"What is that? What's going on?" Sam asked suddenly hearing it and noticing nothing else could be heard.
Dean felt a cold chill travel down his spine as he turned glancing up the stairs. The window to their room was glowing green behind the dark curtains. "Oh God…Bridget!" He and Sam ran, heading for the staircase.
Inside, Bridget reached her hand out towards the spinning wheel, enticed by it. She stretched her fingers out towards the needle, part of her screaming back to not touch it, that this was a very bad idea. But the motion of the neon wheel and the glittering of the needle was too alluring.
"Touch it," the voices around her whispered sweetly through the humming. "Touch the needle…make all the thoughts go away…all the heartache…touch the needle."
Behind the whispering she could hear footsteps pounding up the stairs, hear the brothers calling out to her. "Bridget! Don't do it!" she heard Dean yell from down the stairs.
"Don't touch anything!" Sam yelled right after him. "Don't move!"
Her head tilted to the door, coming out of her daze a bit. Sam and Dean, her friends, the two boys she loved, coming to her rescue…just like a fairytale. Her hand dropped away. A shine caught her attention back to the spinning wheel, ignoring the pounding on the door behind her. It was glowing brighter, the needle sparkling now. "Touch the needle…touch it…touch the needle and it'll all go away."
Bridget moved her hand the last few inches and touched the needle with her middle finger. A gasp escaped her as a cold wave flushed through her, stealing away her vision. She felt herself sink into the darkness and heard a voice cackling as she fell, then she heard nothing at all.
"Bridget!" Sam yelled again as they reached the door.
Dean tried the doorknob hearing the whispering voice behind the door. It wouldn't budge. "Dammit!" he yelled and stepped back, kicking his foot out. It gave on the second kick, falling off its hinges.
Both brothers gasped as they came into the room, frozen in place. Bridget lay collapsed on the floor, one hand upturned, the blood visible on her finger. Dean was first to reach her, falling to his knees next to her and picking her upper body up into his arms. His free hand touching her cheek. "Bridget? Bridge, come on. Wake up…dammit, Bridget, wake up!"
A laugh filled the room, coming from the walls it seemed. "She has til midnight…midnight or else she's gone forever, no more happy endings."
The lights came back on and the spinning wheel was gone. Everything was normal except for Bridget's comatose form. "Dammit!" Dean yelled.
"Dean," Sam said slowly and his brother turned his head, still holding Bridget.
Sam slowly held up Bridget's drawing pad. The picture was of a spinning wheel and an unconscious girl on the floor; Bridget. "We got a little over an hour til midnight."
"We have to kill the bitch," Dean growled, eyes on Bridget's sleeping form.
"It won't be easy. She's in a hospital. Her dad is a doctor there."
"Well it's her or Bridget and I'll be damned even further if it's gonna be Bridget."
"What do we do?"
Dean hoisted Bridget into his arms, heading for the door. "Let's go talk to the doctor."
They managed to get in undetected by any nurses or security through the backdoor that Dean picked open. He laid Bridget down in an empty room on a bed. She looked as if she was only sleeping, her dark hair framing her face, her lips a dark red, cheeks rosy, completely peaceful, except she was trapped and stopping Callie was their only hope.
He gripped her hand tightly, "I'll be right back." With much hesitation, he left her there. Sam and Dean found the Doctor down a corridor.
"Dr. Garrison! I need to speak with you," Sam said quickly.
"Detective's. What can I do for you?"
Sam scratched his head, knowing there was no easy way to get around it. "Well, uhm. It's about Callie."
That seemed to worry him, "My daughter? What about her?"
"Umm. All right Doctor, this isn't gonna be easy."
Dean cut in, "What happened to Callie was not an accident. Your step wife poisoned her."
Sam gave him a pointed look and he shrugged. "Sorry. It's true. No easy way around it and we don't have time to sugar coat it."
"You have no idea what happened to my daughter," he started walking away. "Why would you say something so horrible to me?"
"Because we need your help," Sam told him.
"You both stay away from me, and my daughter, you understand?" He slammed Callie's door in their face.
"I don't have time for this shit," Dean growled and kicked his foot out, breaking the door and nudging it open.
Garrison looked shocked, "I'm calling security."
Dean stopped him, grabbing the phone and yanking it from the wall. "No, listen. I don't have time to do this nicely or let my brother sugar coat it, doc. If you don't listen to me more people are going to get hurt and my friend will die, because Callie is going to hurt them." He grabbed a book on the table, not surprised it was on Sleeping Beauty. "She's using these."
Garrison stared at him appalled, "What the hell are you talking about?"
Sam stepped in behind Dean, "You're going to think I'm crazy, but just understand me. Your daughter Callie is still here. She's a spirit."
He sat solemnly on her bed, "So you've seen her too."
"What?" Dean asked shocked.
"I sensed her, Callie. Her presence, her scent. I even saw her standing at foot of my bed but I never...believed it, I thought I was dreaming."
"You weren't dreaming," Sam told him. "She's trying to talk to you."
"You aren't cops are you?"
Dean shook his head, looking at his watch; ten minutes til midnight. "No. We're just guys who know this sorta thing."
"But what you said about my wife poisoning Callie, that's-."
Sam cut him off, "She told us."
"What?"
"Not in so many words, but in her own way. She told us."
"My wife loved Callie. So how is- how is that possible?"
"I don't know but it is and we got to stop her," Dean said, pressing the issue. "Look, Callie is killing people. She's angry. She's desperate, because nobody will listen to her. So you have to listen to you kid. Please, listen to her…my friends life depends on it." He pleaded, completely desperate himself.
"I'll try," the doctor nodded, seeing the look on Dean's face. He grabbed his daughter's hand in his. "It's me, Daddy. Is it true? Mommy do that to you? I know I wasn't listening before, but I'm listening now. Daddy's here. Please honey, is there something you wanna tell me?"
Sam patted Dean's arm and pointed. At the edge of the bed was the little girl. "Hey Doc…" Dean said. Garrison looked up and saw Callie standing there, staring at him. Tears welled in his eyes as he looked at her. "Is it true, sweetheart?"
The little girl nodded her head.
Tears streamed down his cheeks. "I'm so sorry, baby. But listen to me. You gotta stop what you're doing, OK? You're hurting people. I know everything now. I know the truth. It's time for you to let go. It's time for me to let you go."
The little girl smiled at him and vanished. Garrison closed his eyes and kissed the forehead of his daughter on the bed just as her heart monitors buzzed. She was gone. Callie was at rest.
Sam and Dean looked away, letting him grieve. Dean pulled on Sam's arm, glancing at the clock on the wall that was scaringly close to midnight, "We got to get to Bridget."
They hurried out of the room and down the hall to the room they left her in.
"Bridget!" Sam dashed to her side, lifting her upper body off the bed and into his arms, waiting for her to awaken. "Come on, Bridge, wake up. It's over now."
She didn't so much as twitch and Sam looked at his watch, five minutes til midnight. "Dean, she's not waking up."
"Maybe you have to kiss her," he suggested through his panic.
Sam looked at his brother in confusion, "What?"
He let out a breath of mixed emotions; panic, fear, defeat. "Kiss her, like in the fairy tales…just cuz I think they're crap doesn't mean I don't listen. You usually gotta kiss the girl to get her to wake up. True loves kiss and all that crap."
"But I'm not the one."
"You have to be the one, you're the one she loves and you love her. Now kiss her already before it's too late," Dean said. Bridget couldn't die, they needed her too much. He needed her even if he couldn't have her. She had kept him sane after Sam had left to college, come right into his life when he had needed her the most and when she had needed him. He couldn't lose her now.
Sam glanced down at Bridge's face and touched her cheek with his other hand. With new found resolve he bent his head and kissed her. He parted, waiting for her to awaken but nothing happened and he tried again to no avail. "It's not working," he said.
"What do you mean?" Dean asked in his own panic, moving closer to them. Bridget was still unconscious, still as pale as death.
"The kiss. It isn't working."
"How can it not? This is a freakin' fairytale. The kiss always works," he all but yelled.
"I don't…" he trailed off in thought and it dawned on him suddenly, the reason had been in front of him all along. He looked at his brother. "It's not me…"
"What? How could it not be you? It can't be Will, he's dead. It has to be you. How is this not working?"
He said it simply, "Because it's you, Dean."
His mouth fell open in shock, he shook his head, "No, no, it can't be. She loves you."
"You love her," he pointed out. "I know it. I've seen it all these years. I see how you look at her."
He opened and closed his mouth a few times, unable to think of a lie, "Well…yeah, but-."
"And you two have been closer because…because I screwed up. You two have known each other longer. It was only right for her to fall out of love with me and into love with you. I think she's always loved you…you do it," he said.
"Sam…" he said almost in apology.
"Dean, she'll die and you'll never get your chance," he said sternly.
Dean took a deep breath and took Sam's place, shifting Bridget in his arms so her head was in the crook of his arm. Her face was pale, lips pure red, dark lashes resting against her cheeks, just like a fairytale princess, just like the girl he always loved. He bent closer to her lips. "Please don't leave me, you promised you wouldn't," he whispered and kissed her. He heard his watch beep midnight and pulled back from her.
She still didn't move and he feared they were too late, that they had been wrong about the kiss. That he hadn't been the one after all. The kiss had to be true, she had to love him just as he had to love her. She wasn't waking up…they had been wrong. He saw Sam turn his head down, leaning against the wall in defeat.
Dean leaned his head against hers, fighting the tears that threatened to overwhelm him. He lost her, after all the years together, he lost her. Not that it hadn't been the first time. She had chosen Sam and even after their break up she had still had feelings for him and there was always Will, the one person no one could compete with in her heart…but she had been alive, she had still been around. He could still joke with her and occasionally flirt. He could still share his bed with her. He could live with that, but this was like losing Sam, losing his Dad…it hurt. He'd never get too see her now, even when he died. She'd be in Heaven, he was sure of it, and he'd be in hell. It was the deal after all. She was gone forever from him and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. That hurt worse. A few tears escaped him, one falling onto Bridget's cheek as he buried his face in her hair.
A warm hand touched his face and his breath caught in his throat as he moved his head enough to look at her. Bridget's eyes were open, her warm brown ones staring up into his. She was awake, she was alive. "Dean…"
His tears continued but out of relief as he let out a laugh and hugged her tighter, "Bridget! You've alive! You're okay!"
"If you hold me this tight I won't be," she muttered and he loosened his grip enough that he wouldn't suffocate her but didn't let her go. He wasn't sure if he ever wanted to.
"Never scare me like that again," he told her.
She smiled at him, hand on his shoulder now. "I knew you'd save me. I knew you'd both come after me."
"I'll always save you," he promised her.
"And it only took a fairy tale psychopath to get you to reveal it while I was trapped in Sleeping Beauty. Though I think I've lived the Beauty and the Beast tale for the last five years with you."
He let out a breath, "I thought we were too late…thought it wouldn't work…I thought," he looked at Sam who was smiling despite it all and shook his head in amazement still.
Her hand moved back to his face, "You thought it was Sam…"
"Well…yeah…I mean…you two had a good thing goin' and I just thought…"
"I do love Sam, but things change…and I never stopped loving you."
"Huh?"
She rolled her eyes, "You are dense."
"Why didn't you say anything?" he asked.
"Why didn't you? And those corny flirting lines do not count," she snorted.
"So you mean…you had a thing for me."
"No," she smiled again, fingers moving across his cheek. "It's not a 'thing'. I love you."
He blinked a few times hearing the words. "Huh?"
"Yes, he's this dense," Sam sighed. "I already tried explaining it to him."
"You love me?"
"I'd be dead otherwise, which is how I know you love me," she said.
"I never said that."
She rolled her eyes, "Will you stop ruining the mood and just…oh forget it I'll do it," she said and pulled him into another kiss. This one deeper than the one that awoken her. Dean succumbed to it, giving into what he had wanted for years and feeling what he hadn't felt in so long. Love, not lust, but true actual heartfelt love. His hand caressed her face as he kissed her and hers winded in his hair. He had to be dreaming. This was too much to be real, but he never wanted to wake up.
The three stood in front of the nurses station with Dr. Garrison a while later. He smiled sadly. "I'm glad you're alright," he told Bridget.
"Thank you," she said biting her lower lip. "I'm sorry about your daughter though."
"Thank you…so it's over," he asked.
"Yeah," Sam nodded. "Because of you."
"Callie was the most important thing in my life. But I should've let her go a long time ago," he said with a solemn expression.
Dean nodded unsure of what to say. He patted him on the back. "See ya around, doc."
"I hope not," he muttered as they left, Dean's arm around Bridget as they approached the car.
"You know what he said? Some good advice," Dean said.
"What ? You mean I should let you go?" Sam said.
Bridget gritted her teeth at the thought of another argument erupting out of what had become a great night. "The only thing anyone is letting go of is control when we get to the hotel."
Dean's eyebrows shot up, "You mean…sex control, right?"
"Is there any other kind?" she smiled.
"You mean…after all these years of fantasizing I get to see you naked?"
She nodded, "Yeah I think that's what I mean."
Dean pressed his lips in a tight line, "Everyone in the car," he pointed at Sam. "You're getting a room next door."
Sam groaned getting in the front seat, "I'm getting a different hotel across town."
"Don't care," Dean said peeling off.
Bridget smiled in the back, glad everything was finally looking up and she was truly happy, even if there was darkness just on the horizon and something darker beyond it she sensed, but for now she was happy and for now she'd live in the moment.