DISCLAIMER: Once again episode 4 didn't have enough to add Bridget so I went straight into Bloody Mary where we get a little deeper into who Bridget is.

S1 EP5 BLOODY MARY

Bridget was sketching again, glancing at Sam to finish the sketch. This was one of him sleeping, she liked drawing him when he was sleeping. There was something about the way he looked that just seemed so real. Her eyes moved up and she noticed he was having another of his nightmares as he started mumbling. She leaned over and shook him, "Sam. Sam, wake up."

He woke with a start and looked at Bridge then at Dean. "I take it I had a nightmare."

"Yup, another one," Dean nodded.

"Least I get some sleep."

"We're going to have to talk about this," Dean warned him.

Sam cut the question, "Are we here?"

"Yup, welcome to Toledo, Ohio."

"I'm so excited," Bridget mumbled, flipping her sketch book closed and brushing the hair from her face, glad she wore a long sleeved shirt today, grant it, the sleeves were lacy and it was off the shoulder and somewhat see through at the top, but sleeves nonetheless. She bought it from Victoria Secret after all.

Sam picked up the newspaper with the obituary. "So what do you think really happened to him?"

"We're about to find out," Dean said as he pulled into the morgue lot.

They walked inside down the tile hall that was dimly lit and as grave as one suspected it would be and into room 144. There was a man sitting behind a desk who looked up as they came in. "Hello."

"Hey," Dean nodded.

"Can I help you?"

"Yeah, we're the med students."

"Sorry?"

"Oh Doctor Figlavitch didn't tell you? We talked to him on the phone. We uh…We're from Ohio State. He's supposed to show us the Shoemaker corpse. It's for our paper."

"Well, I'm sorry," he shrugged. "He's at lunch."

"Oh well he said uh…Oh well, you know, it doesn't matter. You don't mind showing us the body do you?"

"Sorry, I can't. Doc will be back in an hour, you can wait for him if you want."

"An hour? Ooo," Dean winced and looked at Sam and Bridget. "We have to get back to Columbus then don't we?"

"Yeah," Sam nodded.

"Uh," Dean scratched his head and gave him the whole gee shucks smile. "This paper is half our grade, so if you don't mind helping us out."

"Please," Sam asked.

"Oh look man, no," he shook his head.

Dean turned to the two of them still smiling. "I'm gonna hit him in the face, I swear it."

Bridget smacked his arm and walked over to the desk, pulling her top down a bit more and leaning over, palms on the table. "Look, this is really important to us. I need an A in this class to graduate…you know how hard it is being a med student," she put a hand on his arm. His eyes were on her chest and she felt him shift in his seat. She was winning. "So, if you don't mind, can you show us the body? I'd really appreciate it…please," she bit her lower lip, giving him the pouty eyes and he cleared his throat, standing up.

"Follow me," he walked ahead.

She smiled and straightened up looking over her shoulder at Sam and Dean who were in awe. Dean shook his head, "You never do that to me."

"You don't have anything I want."

"How'd you do that?" Dean asked.

"They're called breasts. They get me whatever I want."

"No fair," he mumbled as the technician stopped in front of a table with a body draped in a sheet on it.

"Now the paper said his daughter found him, his eyes were bleeding," Dean said.

He pulled the sheet back from the body. "More than that, they were practically liquefied."

"Any sign of struggle? Maybe somebody did it to him?" Bridget asked.

"Nope, besides the daughter he was alone," he said.

"What the official cause of death?" Sam asked.

He shrugged. "Doc's not sure. Massive stroke, maybe an aneurysm? Something burst up in there, that's for sure."

"What do you mean?" Sam questioned.

"Intense cerebral bleeding," he answered. "This guy had more blood in his skull than I've ever seen."

"The eyes," Bridget asked, glancing at the body. "What would cause them to do that?"

"Capillaries can burst. See a lot of bloodshot eyes with stroke victims."

"Yeah? You ever seen exploding eyeballs?" Dean asked.

"This is a first for me," he shook his head.

"Think we could see the police report? For our paper," Dean asked.

"I'm not supposed to."

Bridget grabbed Dean's wallet out of his back pocket without him noticing and took out a twenty. She handed it to the guy. "How about now?"

"No more skin?" he asked taking the money.

She snorted. "You've seen all you're going to see on me. Just like these two have."

Dean nodded, "She's not lying."

The guy sighed and showed them the report, they were out of there twenty minutes later and Bridget managed to put Dean's wallet back without him noticing.

"Might not be one of ours," Sam said as they walked down the stairs. "May just be a freak medical thing."

"How many time in dad's long and varied career has it actually been a freak medical thing and not some sign of an awful supernatural death?" Dean asked.

"Uhh…never."

"Exactly," Dean said.

"All right, let's go talk to the daughter," Sam said and got in the car with the others.

After being pointed in the right direction, the three walked over to where a group of girls sat in a circle. She was glad she'd worn black lacy shirt after all and the black boots that stopped below her knee helped distract that the skirt she wore was denim blue though she was aware of the looks she was getting.

Dean stopped in front of the girls and looked at the girl with the short dark hair. "Donna, I presume."

"Yeah," she nodded.

"Hi, uh, I'm Sam, this is Dean and Bridget, we worked with your dad," Sam said.

"You did?" Donna asked.

"Not me," Bridget shook her head. "I'm just with…him," she grabbed Sam's arm, noticing the blonde girl frown to the right.

"This whole thing," Dean shook his head. "I mean, a stroke."

"I don't think she really wants to talk about this right now," Charlie, the snotty looking blonde, said.

"No, it's okay. I'm okay," Donna said.

"Were there any symptoms? Dizziness? Migraine?"

"No," she shook her head.

"That's because it wasn't a stroke," the young dark haired girl to Donna's left said.

"Lily, don't say that," Donna told her.

"What?" Bridget asked.

"I'm sorry," Donna apologized. "She's just upset."

"Lily," Sam said and bent down to be at her eye level. "Why would you say something like that?"

"Right before he died, I said it," she sniffled.

"Said what?"

"Bloody Mary – three times in the bathroom mirror. She took his eyes, that's what she does."

"That's not why you're dad died," Bridget said ignoring the hatred stare from Charlie. "This isn't your fault."

Dean nodded. "There's no way it could have been Bloody Mary, Lily. Your dad didn't say it, did he?"

"No," she shook her head.

"There you go," he smiled but the look he gave Sam and Bridget told them it was time to go. They said their condolences once more and went back in the house and up the stairs down the hall to the bathroom. Sam pushed the door open and the stains of blood on the floor confirmed it was indeed the room he had died in.

"The Bloody Mary legend – did Dad ever find anything on it?" Sam asked.

"Not that I know of," Dean shook his head looking around.

"I mean everywhere else in the country kids play Bloody Mary and nothing happens," he said.

"Well maybe everywhere else it's just a story but it's happening here," Bridget said, examining the blood stains.

"The place where it began? But according to the legend the person who says," he paused in front of the cabinet mirror and Bridget smiled at his skiddishness as she stood back up, "The person who says you know what gets it."

"But here Shoemaker gets it instead," Dean nodded.

"Right," Sam nodded.

"Never heard anything like that before. Still, the guy did die right in front of the mirror, and the daughter's right. The way the legend goes, "you know who" scratches your eyes out," Dean said.

"Worth checking out," Bridget nodded and they heard foot steps coming down the hall, too close to run for it.

It was Charlie and she looked more lethal and angry. "What are you doing?"

"We had to use the bathroom," Dean said.

"Who are you?"

"Like we said downstairs we worked with Donna's dad."

"Donna's dad was a day trader or something. He worked alone," she snipped.

"No, I know, I meant-."

She cut Dean off, "And all those weird questions downstairs," she said.

Bridget held her hands up calmly. "Look, we didn't come here to start a fight and we don't want any problems."

"And you bring this trashy whore to the funeral."

Bridget's smile became hard, "Now I got a problem, little girl," she took a step forward and Sam put his arm around her pulling her back, knowing she could do real damage.

"Who are you guys? If I don't get answers, I'll start screaming."

"All right, all right," Sam said, still keeping on arm out to hold Bridge back. "We think something happened to Donna's dad."

"Yeah, a stroke."

"No," he shook his head. "That's not a sign of a typical stroke. We think it might be something else."

"Like what?" Charlie asked.

"Honestly? We don't know yet. But we don't want it to happen to anyone else. That's the truth," Sam said.

"So if you're going to scream go right ahead," Dean said.

"And I can give you plenty of reason," Bridge muttered and Sam nudged her.

"Who are you? Cops?"

"Something like that," Dean said.

"I'll tell you what, here," Sam took out a piece of paper and wrote a number down handing it to her. "If you think of anything call us. If you notice anything strange or out of the ordinary." The three walked down the hall, Sam more or less guiding Bridget from strangling the girl.

"I'm gonna kill her."

"No you're not," Sam told her.

"Not a lot, just a little," she growled.

"Save it tiger," Dean told her. "We got work to do."

Bridget sat drawing in her sketchbook again, this time sketching out what she had seen in a dream. A car with scratches in the side and a man with a hook for a hand. Yet another urban legend, but she wasn't so sure. After all, she'd been having weird dreams since she was a little girl, things that happened later on, but she never saw anything drastic which she took for a good sign. It wasn't nearly as weird as what she could do with objects. She found that whether consciously or not she could move things, especially if she was emotional. Just like she had started to move the gun when she and Sam were trapped by crazy ghost lady. She wasn't good at it though and it wasn't something she'd admit to. The only people who'd known about it were long dead.

Sam whimpered on the bed, causing her eyes to move up as his opened, startled from a dream, he glanced at Dean. "Why did you let me sleep?"

"Because I'm an awesome brother," he said monotone.

"What did you dream about?" Bridget asked.

"Lollipops and candy canes," he muttered.

"Yeah, right. And I dream of Santa," she snorted and closed her sketch book.

"Did you find anything?" he asked sitting up.

"Besides a whole new level of frustration," Dean shook his head, plopping the papers on the table. "No, we've looked at everything. A few local women, a Laura and a Katherine committed suicide in front of a mirror, and a giant mirror fell on a guy named Dave but no Mary."

Sam fell back on the bed, running a hand over his face. "Maybe we just haven't found it yet."

Bridget pulled out the papers she printed out earlier. "I researched strange deaths in the area, everything from eyeball bleeding to no eyes and I got nothing."

Sam's phone rang then and he answered it. "Hello?" Dean and Bridge waited and saw Sam's face turn grave, never a good thing. He hung up and looked at them. "Let's go."

They were at the park now, sitting on a bench with a crying Charlie, no longer her bitchy self and no comments on Bridget's red halter top. She couldn't blame her, her friend was dead. No eyes just like Shoemaker.

"And they found her on the bathroom floor in front of the mirror," she cried. "She-she had no eyes."

"I'm sorry," Sam said.

"And she said it," she looked up at them. "I heard her say it. But it couldn't be because of that. I'm insane, right?"

Bridget sighed, "It's sad when insanity is the plus side…but you're not insane."

"Oh God," she buried her face in her hands. "That makes me feel worse."

"Look," Sam tried to explain. "We think something's happening here. Something that can't be explained."

"And we're gonna stop it but we could use your help," Dean told her.

"Tell me again why I'm sneaking into another girl's room," Bridget said.

"Because the thought makes me hot and bothered," Dean said.

She hit him in the arm and he shut up, rubbing the spot.

Charlie opened the window a second later and Bridget went in last, expertly hopping in without flashing her underwear, Britney Spears would be jealous.

"What did you tell Jill's mom?" Bridget asked.

"Just that I needed some time alone with Jill's things," she said. "I hate lying to her."

"Welcome to our world," Bridget muttered.

"Trust us, this is for the greater good," Dean told her. "Hit the lights."

Charlie flipped the switch, "What are you guys looking for?"

Bridget hit a few buttons on her video camera, turning it into night vision. It was easier to see things that shouldn't be seen that way. "We'll let you know soon as we find it."

Bridget turned the camera to Dean. He puckered his lips, "Do I look like Paris Hilton?"

"Oh yeah, just as pretty to," she said moved over to the closet Sam opened for her so she could film around the mirror.

"So I don't get it," Sam said. "The first victim didn't summon Mary, and the second did. How's she choosing them?"

"Beats me," Dean shrugged his shoulders.

Sam closed the door and pointed Bridget towards the bathroom.

"I want to know why Jill said it in the first place," Dean said.

"It was just a joke," said Charlie.

"Yeah well somebody is going to say it again, it's just a matter of time."

Bridget frowned filming the mirror, "What the hell?" she patted Sam's chest since he stood behind her. "Sam, look…what is that?"

He frowned leaning over to look in the monitor display, at whatever was oozing from behind it. "Hey, there's a black light in the trunk right?"

Sam took the mirror off the wall and laid it face down on the bed, scrolling the black light over it where a name came up 'Gary Bryman' a long with a handprint.

"Anyone know who Gary Bryman is?" Bridget asked.

Charlie shook her head, "No."

"I'll find out then," she said and was already crawling out the window back to the car where her laptop was.

After figuring it out they were sitting on a park bench again as she read off the paper she printed. "Gary Bryman was an eight year old boy killed two years ago in a hit and run. The car was a black Toyota Camry. But nobody got the plates or saw the driver."

"Oh my God," Charlie gasped, a hand to her mouth.

"What?" Sam asked her.

"Jill drove that car."

Dean, Sam and Bridget shared look all thinking the same thing. "We need to get back to Donna's house."

Minutes later they were upstairs in the bathroom that Shoemaker died in. Dean had the black light in hand and scanning the mirror. There was a handprint and the name Linda Shoemaker.

"Linda Shoemaker," Sam sighed and they went downstairs to talk to Donna.

"Why are you asking me this?" Donna asked on the defense.

"Look, we're sorry, but it's important," Bridget said, she really didn't care about hurting feelings 85% of the time, especially when it meant saving others.

"Yeah. Linda is my mom okay," she admitted. "She overdosed on sleeping pills, it was an accident, that's it. I think you should leave."

"Now Donna, just listen," Dean started but she cut him off.

"GET OUT!" She screamed and ran up the stairs, a door slammed two seconds later.

"Oh my God, you think he killed her mom," Charlie caught on.

"Maybe," Sam nodded.

"I think I should stick around," she said and gestured up the stairs.

"Okay, but whatever you do," Dean warned her.

"I won't say it, believe me."

Sam had his computer booted up and Dean and Bridget hovered nearby waiting to see what he found. "So we're doing a nationwide search?" Sam asked as he typed at the computer.

"Yep," Dean nodded. "The NCIC. The FBI. At this point any Mary who died in front of a mirror could be our ghost."

"But if she's haunting the town she should be in the town," Sam said.

"I'm telling you there's nothing local," Dean shook his head. "Me and Bridget checked, so unless you've got a better idea."

"The way Mary's choosing her victims, it does seem to be a pattern."

"I was thinking the same thing," Bridget said.

"With Mr. Shoemaker, then Jill," Sam added.

"Both had secrets where people died," concluded Bridget.

"Right. I mean there's a lot of folklore about mirrors-that they reveal all your lies, all your secrets, that they're a true reflection of your soul, which is why it's bad luck to break them," Sam explained.

"Right, right. So maybe if you've got a secret, I mean like a really nasty one where someone died, then Mary sees it, and punishes you for it," Dean nodded.

"Whether you're the one that summoned her or not," Bridget said.

"Take a look at this," Dean pointed at the screen at a picture of a woman lying in a puddle of blood near a mirror. He printed out a page of a mirror with a handprint and the word Tre.

"Looks like the same handprint," Sam said.

"Her name was Mary Worthington," Dean said and grabbed his car keys. "An unsolved murder in Fort Wayne, Indiana."

"Looks like we're going for a car ride," Bridge sighed.

Little over three hours later they were sitting across from an old gentleman, "I was on the job for 35 years-detective for most of that. Now everybody packs it in with a few loose ends, but the Mary Worthington murder—that one still gets me."

"What exactly happened?" Bridget asked.

"You guys said you were reporters?" he questioned.

Sam nodded, "We know Mary was 19, lived by herself. We know she won a few local beauty contests, dreamt of getting out of Indiana, being an actress. And we know the night of March 29th someone broke into her apartment and murdered her, cut out her eyes with a knife."

"That's right," he nodded.

"See sir, when we asked you what happened, we wanted to know what you think happened," Sam restated.

"I think Mary was trying to spell out her killer's name," the detective said.

"Do you know who it was?" she asked.

"Not for sure," he shook his head. "But we thought it was Trevor Sampson. And he cut her up good."

"Now why would he do something like that?" Sam asked.

"Her diary mentioned a man she was seeing. She called him T and said she was going to tell his wife about the affair."

"How do you know it was Sampson?" Dean questioned.

"It's hard to say but the way her eyes were cut out…it was too professional."

"But you could never prove it," Bridget added.

"No. No prints. No witness."

"Is he still alive?"

"No," he shook his head.

"Where's she buried?" Dean asked.

"She wasn't. She was cremated."

"What about the mirror?" Dean asked.

"It was returned to Mary's family a long time ago."

"You have the name's of her family by any chance?" Sam questioned.

Dean hung up his phone as they were driving back. "Go figure, the brother sold the mirror a week ago."

"So wherever the mirror goes, Mary goes," Sam said.

"Her spirit is definitely tied up with it."

"Isn't there an old superstition that says mirrors can capture spirits?" Bridget asked from the back seat leaning forward.

Sam nodded, "Yeah there is. Yeah, when someone would die in a house people would cover up the mirrors so the ghost wouldn't get trapped."

"So Mary dies in front of a mirror and it traps her in it," Dean said.

"Yeah but somehow she can move through like a hundred mirrors."

"I don't know but the mirror is the source," Dean said."I say we find it and smash it."

"Maybe," Sam nodded and his cell phone went off. He answered it, getting a hysterical Charlie. He hung up after a few minutes. "Donna said Bloody Mary with Charlie in the room…she's after her."

They were in Charlie's room twenty minutes later while the scared girl had her eyes squeezed shut and buried in her drawn up knees. Bridget was helping Dean turn things around and cover up mirrors, drawing curtains shut so no glass faced her. Sam sat next to her on the bed. "Charlie, it's okay now. You can open your eyes." Very slowly the girl lifted her head and did so. "Now listen. You're gonna stay right here on this bed, and you're not gonna look at glass, or anything else that has a reflection, okay? And as long as you do that, she cannot get you."

"I can't keep that up forever," she shook her head.

"We need to know what happened," Bridget said sitting on the bed.

"We were in the bathroom. Donna said it."

"That's not what we're talking about," Bridget said slowly."Why is she after you?"

Charlie wiped at her eyes, "I had this boyfriend. I loved him. But he kind of scared me too, you know? And one night, at his house, we got in this fight. Then I broke up with him, and he got upset, and he said he needed me and he loved me, and he said "Charlie, if you walk out that door right now, I'm gonna kill myself." And you know what I said? I said "Go ahead." And I left. How could I say that? How could I leave him like that? I just…I didn't believe him, you know? I should have."

They were driving twenty minutes later, Sam shaking his head. "You know her boyfriend killing himself isn't her fault."

"You know demons and spirits don't see shades of gray," Bridget told him and counted on her fingers. "Someone died and she had a secret, it's all Mary needs."

"I've been thinking, it may not be enough to smash the mirror," Sam said.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked.

"Well Mary's hard to pin down, right? I mean she moves around from mirror to mirror so who's to say that she's not just gonna keep hiding in them forever? So maybe we should try to pin her down, you know, summon her to her mirror and then smash it."

"How do you know that's going to work?" said Bridget.

"I don't."

"Well who's going to summon her?" Dean asked.

"I will. She'll come after me."

Bridget shook her head and rested it on the front seat as Dean let out an irritated sigh. "You know what that's it," he pulled the car over. "This is about Jessica, isn't it? You think that's your dirty little secret that you killed her somehow? Sam, this has got to stop, man. I mean, the nightmares and calling her name out in the middle of the night—it's gonna kill you. Now listen to me—It wasn't your fault. If you wanna blame something, then blame the thing that killed her. Or hell, why don't you take a swing at me? I mean I'm the one that dragged you away from her in the first place."

"I don't blame you," Sam said.

"You can't blame yourself because there's nothing you could have done," Dean said. Bridget was fumbling with her necklace again.

"I could've warned her," he said.

"About what? You didn't know this was going to happen. And besides, all of this isn't a secret. I know all about it and so does Bridge. It won't work with Mary."

Bridget bit her lower lip…she'd work…her secret would work. She could've warned her brother, she had seen in it a dream…she had a drawing to prove it, one she had drawn weeks before it happened. She had known better than to brush anything off as just a dream even back then and Sam and Dean had no idea.

"You don't know all about it, I haven't told you everything," Sam said.

"What are you talking about?" Dean asked.

"Well it wouldn't be a secret if I told you then would it?"

"No, I don't like it," Dean said.

"Dean that girl back there is going to die unless we do something about it. And you know what? Who knows how many more people are gonna die after that? Now we're doing this. You've got to let me do this."

Dean sighed and they kept driving until they reached the shop and it was dark out. "Great," he sighed staring around the mirror shop. "Let's start looking."

Mirror after mirror and nothing, "Maybe they sold it."

Sam's flashlight stopped on a mirror, "I don't think so."

Dean took out the picture, "That's it…you sure about this."

Sam nodded, "Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary." Dean handed him a crowbar before noticing the headlights outside. "Crap, smash anything that moves and watch your backs."

"You should leave, Bridge," Sam warned her.

"No," she said. "I'm staying…she'll want me too."

Sam smashed a mirror suddenly and Bridget jumped slightly. She hadn't seen anything. "Come on, come in this mirror," Sam muttered. Bridget stared at the other mirrors only seeing her reflection. She heard Sam gasp and saw his eyes had started bleeding but his reflection was completely still, almost menacing.

"Sam!" she took a step towards him and froze, not because she saw Bloody Mary in the mirror, not even her own reflection, it was her brother. Derek was staring back at her in a mirror and she couldn't move.

"Bridget…" he said. "You can't save anyone…everyone you care for dies…"

She shook her head.

"You're cursed, Bridget…you see it in your dreams, you see things happen…but you didn't stop it, you let us die…"

She shook her head feeling her eyes hurt. She saw Sam fall to the ground heard his reflection blaming him for Jessica's death because of his dreams…he had seen her die in his dreams…Bridget gasped at the thought. She looked back at the reflection that was now hers, feeling a trail of blood fall from her left eye. "You let them die…"

"I tried to save them…more than I can say for you," she brought her boot up, smashing it into the mirror and falling to her knees, gasping as the pressure was released from her head. Dean smashed the mirror in front of Sam at the same time, crouching down next to his brother. "Sam. Sammy?"

"It's Sam," he croaked.

"Are you okay?" Bridget asked him, wiping at her eye. She only had a trickle, he had a river.

"Uh yeah," Sam nodded and Dean and Bridge helped him stand. They started walking out when they heard a noise and turned around seeing Mary standing there. Bridget shut her eyes in a split second but heard Dean and Sam fall to the ground.

Bridget reached out blindly and grabbed a mirror next to her, facing it at Mary and hiding behind it to open her eyes.

"You killed them! All those people," she heard the reflection say and heard Mary choke. She peeked around the mirror and watched her melt into a pile of blood. She put the mirror back down and stared at Sam and Dean. "Laying down on the job I see."

She bent down and helped them up, wiping at the blood on Dean's face with her sleeve. "So, you guys have what? 600 years bad luck?" she asked walking out of the shop with them. Bridget glanced at the unconscious police officers.

Dean shook his head, "I'll tell you later. Let's get out of here."

"Can I drive?" she asked. "I have the less amount of blood on my face."

Dean nodded and handed her the keys. Grinning, Bridget got in the drivers' seat and they took off back in Ohio in record time and at Charlie's at day break. They were all standing outside at the moment.

"So it's over?" the blonde asked.

"Yeah, it's over," Bridget nodded.

"Thank you," she smiled and turned to head inside.

"Charlie," Sam called out and she stopped. "Your boyfriend's death…you really should try to forgive yourself. No matter what you did, you probably couldn't have stopped it. Sometimes bad things just happen."

She nodded and walked inside and they got back in the car, driving off. Dean nudged Sam's shoulder. "That was good advice. Maybe you should listen to it."

"Yeah."

"Now that it's all over, you wanna tell me what that secret was."

Sam glanced at Dean not noticing Bridget watching him intently. "Look…you're my brother and I'd die for you, but there are some things I need to keep to myself."

His eyes moved to Bridget and he noticed the way she was staring at him that made him uncomfortable. Bridget could tell that Sam knew she knew his secret or at least suspected it.

"So Bridge?" Dean pulled her from her daze. "Why were your eyes bleeding?"

She glanced down at her old sketch book, the drawing of the house on fire and the shadowy dead figure on the lawn with another crouched over it, a different shadow with dark glowing eyes disappearing into shadow. The date on it revealing the future two weeks in advance, just as she'd been able to do all her life. Just as her brother was different like her. "It was from thinking of you naked."

"Ha ha, funny."

"Gave me nightmares and everything. My eyes hurt thinking about it."

"You're a real comedian."

"Don't I know it," she pulled out her book and opened it up to where she stopped, putting her sketchbook away. "Where we going now?"

"No idea yet, we'll see what we find," Dean said and turned up the radio. Bridget stuck to reading her book but kept glancing at Sam. It was going to be one hell of a conversation once she got him alone.