After flinging themselves off the bridge, Sam caught himself on the edge and hung on as well as helped Angel keep her grip. He pulls himself up onto the bridge before leaning over and pulling Angel up next.

Catching his breath, he looked her over, "You alright?"

"Yeah." She huffed, "Yeah I think I am- Dean." Her face paled as she didn't see her other little brother anywhere, "Dean!"

They both scrambled to their feet and looked below to see Dean, filthy and annoyed, crawl out of the water and into the mud.

He panted angrily, "What?"

Angel breathes a sigh of relief as does Sam, "Are you all right?"

Dean holds up one hand in an A-OK sign, "I'm super."

Sam and Angel laugh as they scoot away from the edge and go get him. Dean met them next to the impala, leaning on the hood after he checked everything.

Sam motions, "Your car all right?"

"Yeah, whatever she did to it, seems all right now. That Constance chick…" Dean growls, "What a bitch!"

"Well, she doesn't want us digging around, that's for sure." Sam agrees, "So where's the job go from here?"

Sam settles on the hood next to Angel who was in between him and Dean. Dean throws up his arms in frustration, then flicks mud off his hands. Angel grimaced and then moved away from them.

"You smell like a toilet." She covered her nose, ignoring his glare, "Seriously, little brother, you reek."

Later on…

They made it down to a local motel so Dean could get cleaned up. He slammed the VersaBank MasterCard in the name of Hector Aframian on a handwritten guest ledger.

"One room, please."

The clerk picks up the card and studies it, "There some type of reunion happening or something?"

Sam and Angel look at each other before the latter moves forward, "What do you mean?"

"I had another guy, Burt Aframian. He came and bought out a room for the whole month."

After a look from her brothers Angel came forward and gave the man a charming smile, "That's uh, our dad's room. We'll all just bunk with him, sweets."

After they got the key they walked over to the room and swung the door open, entering slowly with their weapons raised. After seeing the room is empty of any person they shuffle inside and close the door. As they looked around they noticed every vertical surface has papers pinned to it: maps, newspaper clippings, pictures, notes. There are books on the desk and assorted junk on the floor and bed, including something with a hazardous-materials symbol.

Angel picked up a paper with familiar writing on it, "Well there's no doubt this is dad's room."

Dean turns on a light by the bed and picks up a half-eaten hamburger sitting there.

He sniffs the burger and recoils, "I don't think he's been here for a couple days at least."

Sam steps over a line of salt on the floor then fingers it and looks up, "Salt, cats-eye shells… he was worried. Trying to keep something from coming in."

Angel nods, "Whatever he's hunting i'm guessing…"

Dean looks at the papers covering one wall and motions, "It's all the Centennial Highway victims." The victims seen on the wall include all the men who disappeared in 1987 at age 25, "I don't get it… I mean, different men, different jobs, ages, ethnicities. There's always a connection, right? What do these guys have in common?"

Angel mumbled, "Besides being ganked by some psycho ghost?"

While they talk, Sam looks at the papers taped to the other walls. There's something about the Bell Witch, two people being burned alive, a skeletal person blowing a horn at several scared people with the note 'MORTIS DANSE', a column about 'Devils + Demons', another about 'Sirens, Witches, the possessed', a wooden pentacle, and a note that says 'Woman in White' above a printout of the Jericho Herald article on Constance's suicide.

Sam turns on another lamp, "Dad figured it out. He found the same article we did. Constance Welch. She's a woman in white."

"Huh." Angel pursed her lips, "That makes sense but dad would have burned the corpse if he knew that so… where does that leave us?"

"She might have another weakness."

"Well, Dad would want to make sure." Dean crosses the room to him, "He'd dig her up. Does it say where she's buried?"

Sam shook his head, "No, not that I can tell. If I were Dad, though, I'd go ask her husband." He taps the picture of Joseph Welch, "If he's still alive."

"So…" Angel pulled out her laptop and sat down, "Let's find out if he's still kicking."

Sam goes to look at something else and Dean nodded at them, "All right. Why don't you, uh, see if you can find an address, I'm gonna get cleaned up."

Angel looks up, "Thank god. This place is already gnarly enough without you in here."

Dean rolls his eyes at her and starts to walk away but Sam stops him, "Wait… uh…" He stops and turns back, "What I said earlier, about Mom and Dad, I'm sorry."

Dean holds up a hand, "No chick-flick moments. It's bad enough we're rolling with a chick."

Angel continued clicking away, "A chick who can hunt twice as good as you so keep talkin."

Sam shook his head at Dean, "Jerk."

Dean pointed at him, "Bitch."

"Idiots." She looks up, "Go was that shit off already. Damn."

Sam laughs again and Dean disappears into the bathroom. Sam studied his sister for a second before he noticed something that made his smile disappear. He gets up quietly and crosses over for a look. A rosary hangs in front of a large mirror, and stuck into the mirror frame is a photo of John sitting on the hood of the Impala, next to a young girl, Angel, a small boy in a baseball cap, Dean, and a younger boy, Sam, on John's lap. Sam takes the photo off the mirror and holds it, smiling sadly.

Later on, Angel is taking a quick break and cat nap on the bed with one of her hats over her face as Sam paces about the room. He held his phone, and took a seat at her feet as he listened to his voicemail messages from Jess.

"Hey, it's me, it's about ten-twenty Saturday night-"

Dean, clean again, comes out of the bathroom and grabs his jacket.

He shrugs it on one shoulder as he crosses the room, "I'm starving. I'm gonna grab a little something to eat in that diner down the street. You guys want anything?"

"So yes." Angel groggily got up but tossed the hat onto the bed, "I could so go for something slathered in bacon right about now. Sam?"

He waved them off, "No."

Dean held up the card, "Aframian's buying."

He shrugs as Sam says no and follows his sister out. Once they are outside the hotel room Dean smirks as he gets the jacket on all the way and they cross the lot.

"I think we got him. Hook, line and sinker."

Angel rolls her eyes, "No i think Jess and Stanford has him hook, line and sinker. We have him till Tuesday."

"Monday."

"Whatever." When something in front of them catches her eye, she jerks him back, "Dean."

At his look she motions over to a police car, where the motel clerk is talking to Deputy Jaffe and Deputy Hein. The Clerk points to them and they quickly turn away, Dean pulling his phone out in the process.

"Who are you calling?" Angel whispered fiercely, "A Bondsman?"

"Sam." He quieted until Sam answered, "Dude, five-oh, take off… Uh, they kinda spotted us. Go find Dad."

As the cops trekked closer to them, Angel intercepted the officers. She pulled out her best charming Winchester smile, although it was a little forced at the moment.

"Well, howdy there, Deputies…" She beamed up at them as she put her hands on her hips, "How uh, how can we help you two?"

Jaffe regarded her with a blank stare before his eye went over to Dean and back to her, "Where's your other partner?"

"Other- other partner?" Angel chuckled, backing up to Dean, "Who? There's only two of us, right?"

Dean chuckled tightly, "Right."

Jaffe glances over their shoulders and jerks his thumb towards the motel room. Hein heads over there as Dean and Angel look to each other warily.

"So." Jaffe grinned fakely at them, "Fake US Marshals. Fake credit cards. You got anything that's real?"

Angel pursed her lips then snapped her fingers, snarkily, "My boobs. These are real c-cups." She inked, "No silicone, god gifted really."

Jaffee glares before motioning to a female deputy and before they knew it the both of them were getting slammed into the hood of a cop car with their rights being read.