S1 EP10 ASYLUM

"So let me guess," Bridget said as Sam hung up the phone in the hotel room, turning a page in her book, pausing long enough to look at him. "Caleb hasn't heard from your dad either?"

"Nope. Neither has Pastor Jim or Jefferson. What about the journal, Dean? Any leads there?"

"No. Nothing I can make out," he shook his head with a smile. "I love the guy, he writes like freakin' Yoda."

"Maybe we should file a missing person," Sam said.

"He's not missing," Bridget said. "He doesn't want to be found. There's a difference."

"She's got a point," Dean said as his phone buzzed and he looked at the screen. "I don't believe it."

"What?"

"A text message. It's coordinates," Dean said and reached for the computer.

"You think Dad is texting us?" Sam asked.

"He's given us coordinates before."

"Dean, dad can barely work a toaster."

"Well, I did teach him how to text," Bridget admitted with a shrug. "Taught him to use a computer too."

"This is good news. It means he's okay."

"Was there a number?" Sam asked.

"No, it says unknown."

Bridget winced, "Yeah, I taught him to block his number too…I probably should have skipped that lesson."

"Okay…where does it point?" Sam asked.

"That's the interesting part – Rockford, Illinois."

"Why is that interesting?"

"I checked the local Rockford paper," he opened up a window on the screen. "This cop, Walter Kelly, comes home from work, shoots his wife, puts the gun in his mouth, blows his brains out. And earlier that night, Kelly and his partner respond to a call at the Roosevelt Asylum."

"Okay, I'm not following. What does that have to do with us?" Sam asked.

"Dad earmarked the same asylum in his journal," he flipped the book open. "Here. Seven unconfirmed sightings, two deaths – til last week, at least. I think this is where he wants us to go."

Sam started pacing. "This is a job. Dad wants us to do a job."

"I mean, maybe we'll meet up with him, maybe he's there," Dean said.

"Maybe he's not," Sam said. "He could be sending us there to hunt this thing alone."

"Who cares? If he wants us there, that's good enough for me."

"This doesn't strike either of you as weird?" Sam asked.

Bridget shrugged, "I haven't had any dreams on this place."

"We're going," Dean said and grabbed his keys. "I'll be back in thirty minutes. Gonna get the car tuned up. You two okay sticking here or you wanna tag along."

"We'll stick around," Bridget said.

Dean shrugged and left the room. Bridget put her hand on Sam's shoulders. "Are you okay?"

"This just seems weird," he said.

"It's okay. It's in your dad's journal anyway and neither of us has had a dream or nightmare in your case, about this place," she let her hand slide down his arm. "It'll be okay…and if it's not I'll make it okay."

"I guess you're right," he sighed rubbing a hand across his face.

She smiled at him sideways, pulling his arm, guiding him towards the bed. "And, you know, we have thirty minutes to make things okay right now…it's been a couple weeks since either of us has had a tune up…."

He laughed at the request, "You sure?"

"You're questioning sex?" she gapped in mock surprise. "Well, fine then. I can do it on my own."

He pulled her back to the bed, "Dean is going to find out."

"He hasn't yet. I'm very very sneaky," she smiled and pulled him onto the bed with her with a giggle, kissing him, using the remaining twenty-seven minutes to get a few things done.

Bridget sat in the pub, stirring her margarita with a small straw and watching Dean play reporter as he questioned Danny Gunderson, the dead cops partner. She could tell it wasn't going well and Sam would have to play good Samaritan and save Danny from the bad reporter. Sure enough Sam stepped into his role, grabbing Dean by the shoulder and shoving him towards the door before sitting down and buying Danny a drink for guy to guy talk.

She stood up from her stool, ignoring the guys watching her from the other table and the random cat calls. She went outside meeting Dean by the car. "Nice work."

"Eh, we knew he might not wanna talk to a reporter," Dean shrugged.

She leaned against the car next to him. "So now we wait. Sam's pretty social, he'll talk to him."

"What about you? Saw some of those guys in there looking at you," Dean observed.

She shrugged, "You get used to it. Besides I would have told them I was here with my boyfriend, that he was the strapping big guy out by the Impala."

Dean raised a flirtascious eyebrow and scooted closer to her. "Really?"

"Yeah…doesn't mean you are," she warned him.

He put his arm around her shoulders, "We should at least make it look real, you know. Just in case one comes out here."

She rolled her eyes but let it be, "Whatever you say but if you touch my boob or my ass you'll be falling on yours."

Luckily, Sam came out of the pub twenty minutes later and Dean hadn't dared touch her. He joined them by the car, leaning on Bridget's other side and she shrugged Dean's shoulder off her.

Dean looked at Sam. "You shoved me kind of hard in there, buddy boy."

"I had to sell it, it's method acting."

"Huh?"

"Never mind, you had your arm around Bridge anyway, method acting as well I'm guessing."

"Definitely," she snorted. "What did you learn from Gunderson?"

"So, Walter Kelly was a good cop. Head of his class, even keeled. He had a bright future ahead of him."

"What about at home?" Dean asked.

"He and his wife had a few fights, like everybody, but it was mostly smooth sailing. They were even talking about having kids."

"All right, so, either Kelly had some deep seated crazy way to bust out, or somethin' else did it to him," Dean put together.

"Right," Sam nodded.

"What'd he say about the asylum?" Bridget asked.

"A lot," Sam said. "I'll tell you when we get to the Asylum."

She watched him get in the car, eyes wide a bit as she crawled into the back seat leaning over the edge. "Wait, wait, wait, we're going there?"

"Yeah," Sam said as Dean started the car.

"Why?"

Dean smiled at her. "Don't tell me you're afraid?"

"Asylum's freak me out. Ever see House on Haunted Hill. Freaky shit."

"Nothing's gonna happen, you won't get sucked into the walls or anything," Dean said.

She leaned back pouting, arms over her chest. Nothing ever went right on hunts, why would it start with a freaky asylum.

Bridget hopped the fence with the boys and walked in, staying extra close to Dean as she did so. It was no offense to Sam, but Dean was a hell of a lot stronger and had been doing this a lot longer.

"So, apparently, the cops chased the kids here – into the south wing," Sam said.

"The south wing, huh? Wait a second," Dean reached into his jacket and pulled out his dad's journal, flipping to a page. "In 1972, three kids broke into the south wing. Only one survived. The way he tells it, one of his friends went nuts and started lighting up the place."

"So, whatever's going on, south wing seems to be the heart of it," Bridget said, stepping closer to Dean.

"Yeah, but if kids are spelunking the asylum, why aren't there a ton more deaths?" Dean asked.

"Looks like the doors are usually chained. Could have been chained for years," Sam pointed out.

"To keep people out…or to keep something in," Bridget said with a shiver. Sam stepped towards the door and it swung open easily. Bridget was gripping Dean's arm now as they walked through the south hall while he used the EMF reader.

"Let me know if either of you see any dead people," Dean teased.

She gripped his arm harder causing him to wince before letting go deciding to walk closer to Sam who didn't mind but glared at Dean.

"Well aren't ghost attracted to your guys ESP thing?" he asked

"It's not ESP, dumb ass. It's just a vibe thing…and Sam's nightmares," Bridget added.

"And your picture dreams," Sam said.

"Yeah, whatever," Dean shrugged.

"Are you getting a reading or not?" he asked.

"Nope. It doesn't mean nobody's home."

"Spirits can appear during certain hours of the day," Sam admitted.

"And the freaks come out at night," Dean said.

Bridget whimpered. "Night? Back here…there are days I love my job, this is not one of them."

"Hey Sam, who do you think is the hotter psychic – Patricia Arquette, Jennifer Love Hewitt, or Bridget?" Dean asked and was double hit by Bridget and Sam. He laughed rubbing the spot as they entered another room. On seven tables there were jars preserving body parts and different tools scattered around the room. Bridget felt her stomach sink.

"Man," Dean whistled. "Electroshock, lobotomies – they did some twisted stuff to these people. Kind of like my man Jack in Cuckoo's Nest," he grinned at Bridget who rolled her eyes. "So, what do you think? Ghost are possessing people?"

"Maybe," Sam said. "Or maybe it's more like, uh, Amityville."

Bridget shivered, "Or House on Haunted Hill…except I don't think it's calling back survivors from a long lost fire…it's just playing."

"Yeah, spirits drivin' 'em insane. Kind of like my man Jack in the Shining," Dean said.

"Dean, when are we gonna talk about it," Sam asked.

"About what?" Dean said.

"About the fact Dad's not here."

"Oh, uh, let's see, never."

"I'm being serious."

"So am I, Sam. Look, he sent us here, he obviously wants us here. We'll just have to pick up the search later."

"I don't think he wants to be found," Bridget said.

"It doesn't matter what he wants," Sam said.

"See, that attitude, right there? That is why I always get the extra cookie."

Bridget swept his foot out from under him. He fell to the floor on his ass, glaring at her as he got to his feet dusting himself off, "And that's why I always got the front seat."

"Dad could be in trouble. We should be looking for him. We deserve some answers, this is our family we're talking about," Sam said.

"I understand that, Sam," Dean said. "But he's given us an order."

"So what?" Sam said. "We've got to always follow Dad's orders?"

"Of course we do," Sam gave him an annoyed look but dropped the subject.

Bridget removed the sliding plaque from the door in front of her. "Sanford Ellicott. You know what we need to do? We've got to find out more about the south wing, and see if something happened here." She handed the plaque to Sam. "And you seem like the one who should see the psychiatrist."

Bridget stood out of the building with Dean, waiting for Sam to come out of his therapy appointment and quiz session with Dr. Elliot the son of the Asylum doctor.

She grew bored of reading her book and tossed it back of the car, folding her arms over her chest as she leaned against the car. "You and Sam aren't a whole lot a like."

"You barely noticing," Dean snorted.

"Well, you're the daddy's boy and he's the rebel."

"Hey, I'm a rebel."

"Yeah, but not against your father, not the way Sam is. You do everything he tells you, no questions asked, while Sam thinks outside the box."

"What are you getting at?"

"I'm just saying I understand both of you when neither of you can understand the other. I know how Sam feels in some ways and I know how you feel in other ways. Just like you understand Sam's ways and you understand your father's, you referee them like I referee you guys…this isn't easy for him, Dean. He really wants to find your Dad and get this guilt off of him. He's having a hard enough time with whatever's causing the dreams."

"Well, you deal with it."

"Yeah, but I've been like this my whole life and I don't get the same kind of visions. I get snapshots of things that will happen, he gets things he can change. It isn't easy."

"I don't get it."

"I'm not asking you too, all I'm saying is try to see where he's coming from."

The door to the building opened and Sam came out. "Dude, you were in there forever. What the hell were you talking about?"

"Just the hospital."

"And?" Dean asked.

"And the south wing. That's where they housed the real hard cases – the psychotics, the criminally insane."

"Sounds cozy," Bridget said.

"Yeah, and one night in 64, they rioted – attacked staff and attacked each other."

"So the patients took over the asylum?" Dean asked.

"Apparently."

"Any deaths?"

"Some patients, some staff. I guess it was pretty gory. Some of the bodies were never recovered including out Chief of Staff, Ellicott."

"Wait," Bridget said holding up a hand. "What do you mean never recovered?"

"Cops scoured the place, but I guess the patients must have…stuffed the bodies hidden somewhere," Sam answered and Bridget paled.

"That's grim," Dean winced.

"Yeah," Sam went on. "They transferred all the surviving patients and shut down the place."

"Okay to sum it up we've got a bunch of violent deaths and a bunch of unrecovered bodies."

"Which means a bunch of angry spirits," Sam added.

"Ohh, good times," Bridget said and ran her fingers through her hair.

"Let's check out the hospital tonight," Dean said. Bridget groaned and got into the back seat.

She wondered what the hell she was doing here briefly. She didn't like psych wards. Haunted houses she could deal with but these places held the truly evil and most violent. And all they had was a couple flashlights, the EMF reader and a video camera…but Bridge had brought two shotguns, one slung over her shoulder. She thought ahead. She could hear the EMF reader going off.

"Sounds like you're getting readings," she said to Dean.

"Big time," he nodded.

"This place is orbing like crazy," Sam noted.

"There's probably multiple spirits out," she said.

"If these unrecovered bodies are causing this…"

"We've gotta find 'em and burn 'em. Just be careful though. The only thing that makes me more nervous than a pissed off spirit is a pissed off spirit of a psycho killer. Stay close…"

Bridget was already at his side. "Don't gotta tell me twice…"

"Here," he handed her the pistol and took the shot gun.

"You know, I know how to use those?"

"I know, I just like carrying the big gun."

She rolled her eyes as they continued walking on, hearing noises along the way but seeing nothing. Sam spun the camera around and his eyes widened as a spirit was walking towards them, her face distorted.

"Dean. Dean! Salt gun!"

"DROP!" Dean shouted and Sam and Bridget hit the floor as Dean shot the spirit and she vanished.

"That was weird," Sam panted and took the extra shotgun from Bridge.

"Yeah, you're tellin me," Dean said and Bridget scrambled to her feet, standing close to Sam.

"No, Dean, I mean it was weird that she didn't attack me."

"Looked like she was from where I was standing," Dean said.

Sam shook his head in dismay. "She didn't hurt me. She didn't even try. So if she didn't want to attack me then what did she want?"

"No, idea. Maybe a date," Bridge said with a shrug and they continued down the hall. A noise from the room to the right caused them to swing their guns in that direction and step into the room. Bridget stayed close to the brothers as they turned to a table, they lowered their guns when they found a girl crouched behind it crying.

"It's all right, we're not gonna hurt you," Dean said and she stood up. "What's your name?"

"Kat – Katherine."

"What are you doing in here?" Bridge asked her.

"Umm…my boyfriend, Gavin –."

"Is he here?" Dean asked.

"Somewhere," she said with a shrug. "He thought it would be fun to try and see some ghosts. I thought it was all just you know…pretend. I've seen things. And I heard things…and Gavin screamed and…"

"Okay, Kat. Come on, Sam's gonna get you out of here and then we're gonna find your boyfriend," Dean reassured her.

"No, no. I'm not gonna leave him. I'm coming with you."

"It's no joke around here, okay? It's dangerous."

"That's why I have to find him," she said.

Dean sighed. "All right, I guess we're gonna split up. Bridge you go with Sam and -."

"I can go on my own," Sam said.

"I can go with you," Bridge said.

"No offense but I know you don't like it in here and two paranormal sensitive people together isn't a good thing for a place like this," Sam said.

Bridget nodded. "He does have a point."

"Fine," Dean looked at his brother. "But be careful."

They split up then, the three going down one hall. "Gavin. Gavin," Kat called out.

Bridget looked at her, "Hey, I got a question for you, Kat. You ever see a horror movie?"

"Yeah."

"Do me a favor. The next time you see one, pay attention. When someone says a place is haunted, don't go in," she kept on walking ahead and Dean smiled.

He shrugged at her, "Girl makes a clear cut point."

They kept searching the hall, Dean, Kat and Bridge standing near each other. The flash light Dean carried started flickering and went out. "Son of a bitch," Dean sighed and Bridget felt Kat touch her arm. "It's all right. I've got a lighter."

The hand tightened suddenly. "Ow!" Bridget said suddenly. "Kat, you're hurting my arm, you're holding on too tight."

"Huh?" Kat said from a step ahead of her.

Bridget felt a cold dread, "Dean, are you touching my arm?"

"What are you talking about?" Dean said and shined the flame from the lighter towards her arm. Her eyes widened as she saw the decayed hand holding her arm.

"Oh my God!" she shouted just as the spirit snatched her and sent her flying backwards into a room, the door slamming shut.

"Dammit!" Dean shouted and tried to open the door, it was locked. He pounded on it when it wouldn't budge. "BRIDGET!"

"DEAN! Get me out of here!" Bridget pounded on it from the other side. She was officially freaking out now. No weapon, no way to physically kick this things ass and no way out. Not only that but she hated asylums. "DEAN!"

Dean tried pulling the door again but to no avail. "Bridge, hang on."

"Here try this," Kat handed him the crow bar and he tried pulling the door open with it, but nothing seemed to work.

Bridget turned around in the room and saw the spirit coming towards her with its distorted twisting face. She did the only thing that came naturally. She screamed. "DEAN!"

On the other side Sam and Gavin had found the others and he saw his brother and Kat trying to pull the door open. "What's going on? Where's Bridget" Sam asked.

"She's inside with one of them," Dean said.

Bridget shouted again. "Get me out of here!"

"Bridge, it's not going to hurt you," Sam said.

"Get me out, Sam!"

"Listen to me! You have to face it. You have to calm down!"

"YOU CALM DOWN!"

"She has to what?" Kat asked.

Sam continued talking to Bridget. "You have to listen to what it says."

"I have to what? Are you nuts!"

"The spirits – they're not trying to hurt us. They're trying to communicate with us. You've gotta listen to it, you've gotta face it."

"You are crazy!"

"No, it's the only way to get out of there."

"If I die, Sam, I'm haunting your ass!" she said but calmer now.

"Deal," he said. "Now just look at, that's all. You can do it, Bridge. We've faced way worse than this."

Bridget nodded. Though she was thinking she'd rather take on a Wendigo or Bloody Mary again. Slowly she turned around, pressing her back to the door and looked at it. It approached her slowly and leaned closer to her, whispering in her ear as she cringed slightly. Not every day she had a decaying guy in her face, not even in her line of work.

On the other side of the door the four stood there waiting nervously.

"Bridge?" Dean said.

"I hope you're right about this for her sake," Gavin said.

"Yeah…me too," he said feeling the heavy ball of guilt on him already. If something happened to her he'd never forgive himself. It would be the last straw to his sanity and the undoing of everything. Bridget was a vital part of him and Dean as well. The door clicked and opened and Dean rushed to her before Sam could, his brother really did like her, he could tell by the relived look in his eyes.

"Bridge," he brushed the hair from her face, one hand staying on her cheek, the other on her arm. "Are you okay?"

She nodded, "I never want to do that again…dead psychward guys whispering in my ear are so not cool…I'll take regular poltergeist any day."

Dean smiled, relieved she was okay if she was being a smart ass.

"What did it say, Bridge?" Sam asked, hand on her shoulder.

"One thirty-seven," she said. "It's a room number…can I please carry a bigger gun now…"

Dean dug through the duffle bag and handed her one.

"All right," Sam said. "So if the spirits aren't trying to hurt anyone-."

"Wait!" Bridget said holding her hand up. "You weren't sure it was only trying to talk?"

"No, not exactly, I was guessing-."

His words were stopped as Bridget punched him in the stomach.

"Sorry, I was guessing you'd see that coming," she said. "What do they want then?"

"Maybe," he wheezed standing up straight. "That's what they're trying to tell us."

"I guess we'll find out," Dean said and addressed their two guests. "So…now are you guys ready to leave this place?"

"That's an understatement," Kat said.

"Okay," he looked at Sam. "You get 'em out of here. Bridget and I are gonna find room 137."

Bridget walked the halls with Dean, flashing her flashlight against the walls. "Here it is," she said and pushed the door open slowly around the messy room. She searched the desk while Dean took to the cabinet. He pulled out a leather case full of papers. "See, this is why I get paid the big bucks."

"Dean, we don't get paid at all," Bridget reminded him.

"If we did, I'd get a good chunk," he said and Bridget walked over to look at it. "Patient Journal."

"Sounds interesting…"

He flipped through it which had horrifying pictures of human torture that made Bridget's stomach twist. "All work and no play make Dr. Ellicott a very dull boy."

"Let's go find Sam," Bridget said and Dean nodded. They backtracked to the front and were about to turn the corner. Bridget felt her necklace get warm around her neck and she grabbed Dean, "Look out!" They tumbled to the floor, narrowly missing the shot fired at them.

"Damn it!" Dean said. "Don't shoot! It's us!"

"Sorry!" Kat apologized. "Sorry!"

They stood up. "Where's Sam?"

"He went to the basement, you guys called him," Gavin said.

"I didn't call him," Dean shook his head.

"His cell rang," Kat said. "He said it was you."

"Basement?" Bridget asked and Gavin nodded.

She was already heading there before Dean caught up with her. "Why the rush?"

"We didn't call him, Dean, then what did? Because I'm betting it was Ellicott."

"We need to be careful," he said as they approached the stairs.

"Aren't I always?" she said with a smile. She took the stairs quietly, moving her flashlight around. "Sam?"

"Sammy? You down here?"

"Sam? Answers me."

"Sammy!" Dean called out and turned around, jumping as his brother was standing right in front of him. "Jesus, don't do that. You all right?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "I'm fine."

"You know that wasn't me who called your cell, right?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, I know I think somethin' lured me down here."

"I think I know who – Dr. Ellicott," Bridget said. "That's what the spirits have been trying to tell us…" she paused, something didn't seem right with him. "You haven't seen him have you?"

"No, how do you know it's him?"

"Cause I found his log book. Apparently he was experimenting on his patients – some awful stuff."

"But it was the patients who rioted," Sam said.

"Yeah, they were rioting against Dr. Ellicott. He was working on some sort of rage therapy. He thought if they could vent their anger he could cure it. Instead it made them worse and angrier," Bridget explained.

"So I'm thinkin' what if his spirit is doin' the same thing? To the cop, to the kids in the seventies – making them so angry they become homicidal. Come on. We gotta find the bones and torch 'em," Dean said and Bridget nodded in agreement.

"How? The police never found his body," Sam asked.

"The log book said he had some sort of hidden procedure room down here where he'd work on his patients," Bridget said.

"I don't know, it sounds kind of-."

"Crazy?" Dean asked.

"Yeah."

"Yeah, exactly why we think it's down here," Dean said and he and Bridget started trying to find the hidden room.

"I told you," Sam said following. "I looked everywhere. I didn't find a hidden room."

"Well that's why its called hidden," Dean stopped suddenly, grabbing Bridget's arm. "You hear that?"

"Yeah…wind…but there aren't any windows."

Dean crouched, putting his hand by the space between the wall and the floor. "There's a door here."

"I think we found it," Bridget said and looked over her shoulder, eyes going wide at Sam pointing the gun at them, his nose bleeding. "Oh God, he got you…Dean…"

Dean tuned and stood looking just as shocked. "Sam…put the gun down."

"Is that an order?" he asked angrily.

"No, it's more of a friendly request."

"I'm getting pretty tired of taking orders."

"Ellicott got you, didn't he," Bridget asked.

Sam swung the shot gun, hitting her with the back of it hard enough to send her sprawling to the right onto the floor, her nose bleeding from the impact. "And I'm sick of you always taking his side and trying to be the peace maker."

"Bridget, are you-."

Sam swung the gun back around. "For once in your life just shut your mouth."

"What are you gonna do, Sam? The guns full of rock salt. Not gonna kill me."

Without a pause Sam shot him, sending him crashing through the wall. "No, but it'll hurt like hell."

"DEAN!" Bridget scrambled to him.

Sam grabbed her arm, pulling her with him through the hole before roughly shoving her to the side. "Don't make me hurt you any more, Bridge, because I will if you keep up with the interfering."

"Sam," Dean gasped on the floor. "We gotta burn Ellicott's bones and this'll all be over. You'll be back to normal."

"I am normal. I'm just telling the truth for the first time. I mean, why are we even here? Because you're following Dad's orders like a good little soldier? Cause you always do what he says without question? Are you that desperate for his approval?"

"This isn't you talking, Sam," Bridget said standing to her feet wiping the blood from her nose with a hand. "This is Ellicott, he's controlling you."

Sam shook his head. "You always have to right, Bridget. You always follow what Dean says and what my dad says without question. They're not your family. Yours is dead."

"So you just gonna kill yours too, then? Huh, Sam?" She asked him.

"I'm going to shut you up first," he said and back handed her into the wall before turning back to Dean. "So are you gonna kill me?"

"You know what? I am sick of doing what you tell me to do. We're no closer to finding dad today than we were six months ago," Sam said.

"Well, then, here. Let me make it easier for you," he took the pistol out of his jeans and handed it to Sam. "Go on. Take it. Real bullets are gonna work a hell of a lot better than rock salt. Take it!" Sam dropped the shot gun and took the two steps to Dean to grab the pistol.

Bridget looked at the shot gun on the floor and concentrated on it from where she lay on the ground. She stretched her hand out, willing it, pushing it. She felt the familiar warm rush in her head and tingle in her hands and the gun quietly slid the foot towards her.

Dean was still talking, distracting Sam from her as she stood up. "You hate me so much. You think you could kill your own brother? Then go ahead. Pull the trigger. Do it!"

Sam pulled the trigger causing Bridget to jump slightly as she held the shotgun in both hands. He tried again and again but nothing happened. Dean shook his head with a smile, "Man, I'm not gonna give you a loaded pistol."

"Sorry, Sam," she said from behind him and raised the butt of the gun and slammed it into Sam's head. He fell to the ground in a heap, unconscious. She dropped the gun and rushed over to Dean, helping him stand. "Are you okay?" she asked, looking at his shoulder. Not much damage.

"I'm good. How are you?" he asked noticing the bruise on her cheek and the dried blood from her nose.

"I've had worse…let' find this son of a bitch," she said sternly and they searched the room but found no body.

"Hey Bridge," Dean called and she turned to him. There it was in a white cabinet the rotting corpse of Dr. Ellicott.

"Oh that's just gross," she gagged.

He grabbed a bottle of gas from the duffel bag and Bridge took out the salt. Together they poured it on the corpse. "That's right, soak it up," Dean said.

The flashlight next to them flickered and a table flew towards them hitting Bridget and sending her across the room. She rolled a few times before coming to a stop, wincing slightly, pushing herself up back on her hands. Ellicott had Dean, hands on his face as Dean struggled to light the lighter. It dropped to the ground, lit a foot or so from the cabinet. This poltergeist bitch was trying to kill her family, had taken over Sam, tortured a bunch of people and she had been locked in a room by a dead guy…she was pissed enough for this to work as she stared at the lighter using her anger to fuel it. The lighter twitched and Bridget narrowed her eyes. It jumped into the cabinet torching the body and Ellicott disintegrated, letting go of Dean. She stood to her feet, limping over to Dean. "You okay?"

"Never better, you?"

"I'm good."

A few feet away, Sam woke up, slowly getting to his feet. Dean stared at him. "You're not gonna try and kill me are you?"

"No," he said, rubbing the back of his head.

"Good, because that would be awkward for all of us."

The five of them were now standing outside the asylum, dirty and somewhat bloody, definitely sore after the night.

"Thanks you guys," Kat said, the sun was rising up now.

"Yeah, thanks," Gavin nodded.

"No more haunted asylums, houses, clubs, garages, anything, okay?

They nodded and walked back to their car.

The three headed towards their own. Sam broke the silence, "Hey, Dean. I'm sorry. I said some awful things back there."

"You remember that?" Bridget asked.

"Yeah…it's like I couldn't control it. But I didn't mean it – any of it. I didn't mean what I said to either of you and I never wanted to hurt you."

"You didn't huh?" Dean mumbled.

"No, of course not," he said and Dean shrugged, "Do we need to talk about this?"

"No," Dean said. "I'm not really in the sharing and caring kind of mood. I just wanna sleep."

"Amen to that," Bridge said and slid into the back seat. "Oh, but wait, I'm agreeing with Dean when I shouldn't cuz, you know, he's not my family."

Sam winced at the jab, "Bridge, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that, it wasn't me."

She nodded and rested her head against the window as Dean drove to the hotel. "Of course you didn't…just like you hitting me in the face twice wasn't you either."

"It wasn't…" he saw the bruise on her cheek. "Bridge, I'm sorry, I'd never hurt you…"

I know you wouldn't, Sam, but the fact it was your body that did it doesn't change the uncomfortable feeling," she admitted and was glad once they got to the hotel.

She didn't bother changing her clothes. She removed her shoes as Dean climbed in to one of the beds setting his phone on the night stand. Bridget climbed into his bed causing Dean to look mildly surprised, usually she bunked with Sam.

"I'm sleeping in your bed tonight," she told Dean. "Try anything and I'll smother you with your own pillow."

She was asleep a few minutes later and so was Dean. Sam wasn't far behind. Dean's cell started to buzz waking Sam from his sleep. He groaned. "Dean…phone." Dean didn't so much as flinch. With a sigh he reached over and grabbed it. "Hello?" he sat up suddenly, wide awake now. "Dad?"