DISCLAIMER: I own nothing but the idea of Bridget
S1 EP17 HELL HOUSE
Three weeks after the Meg ordeal and Bridget was glad her cheek had healed fine. Her leg was better but she still felt it was best to wear jeans until no trace of a scar was left. She was drawing in the back seat of the car, nothing from a picture dream though. She was drawing Sam. He sat sleeping in the front seat, his face completely healed from the cuts just as Dean's was.
"Hey Bridge," Dean said.
"Hmm?"
"Watch this…get out your cell phone," Dean told her and she frowned. He picked up a plastic spoon with a deviant smile. He stuck in Sam's mouth and she rolled her eyes at the childish behavior but, like Dean, she took a picture of it.
Dean winked at her and turned up the radio. Sam burst awake and spit out the spoon, glaring at Dean and turning the radio down. "Ha ha, very funny."
"Sorry, not a lot of scenery here in east Texas, you gotta kinda make your own."
"Man, we're not kids anymore," he said. "We're not gonna start that crap again."
"Start what up?" Dean asked innocently.
"The prank stuff – it's stupid and it always escalates."
"He did it to you too?" Bridget asked.
Sam turned to look at her, "Yeah, wait. You're sayin' you two played this before?"
Bridget nodded, "Oh yeah. Not even a year after I met up with him and your dad. It started out innocently with flushing the toilet when I was in the shower to the point I put perspiration H in his toothpaste."
"That wasn't funny."
"No, funny was when I dyed your hair pink, that was funny. He hasn't messed with me since. So you two, have at it. But don't come crying to me," she warned them and closed her sketch book.
"We won't have at it," Sam said.
"Oh, what's the matter, Sammy, you afraid you're gonna get a little Nair in your shampoo again, huh?" Dean taunted.
Sam shrugged with a sigh, "All right. Just remember, you started it."
"Oh, bring it on, Baldy."
"Where are we anyway?" Bridget asked leaning over the seat between the brothers.
"Few hours outside of Richardson. Give me the lowdown again, Sammy," Dean said.
Sam picked the paper off the dashboard. "All right, about a month ago, this group of kids goes poking around in this local haunted house."
"Haunted by what?" Dean asked.
"Apparently, a pretty misogynistic spirit. Legend goes, it takes girls and strings them up in there rafters. Anyway, this group of kids see this dead girl hanging in the cellar."
"Anybody ID the corpse?" Dean asked.
"Well, that's the things. By the time the cops got there, the body was gone. So, cops are saying the kids are yankin' their chain."
"Maybe the cops are right," Bridget said.
"Maybe, but I read a couple of the kids' firsthand accounts. They seem pretty sincere."
"Where'd you read these accounts?" Dean questioned.
Sam bit his lower lip, fidgeting a little. "Well, I knew we were gonna be passing through Texas. So, uh, last night I searched some local…paranormal website," Dean rolled his eyes and Bridget snorted. "And I found one."
"And what is it called?" Bridget asked.
"Hell Hounds Lair dot com," he mumbled,
Dean chuckled, "Let me guess, streaming live out of Mom's basement."
Sam laughed with him, "Yeah, probably."
"Most of those websites wouldn't know a ghost if it bit them on the ass," said Bridget.
"Look, we let our Dad take off, which was a mistake, by the way. And now, we don't know where the hell he is, so, in the meantime, we've gotta find ourselves something to hunt. There's no harm checking this thing out," Sam said.
"All right," Dean gave in. "So, where do we find these kids?"
"Same place you always find kids in a town like this," Sam said.
"Ughh…a teeny bopper hang out."
"Yup…" Den said as they pulled up to the Rodeo Drive In.
"This is worse than a hanging," she mumbled, getting out of the car.
Bridget felt somewhat lucky as she sipped her soda listening to this teenage boy go on and on about the "haunted house" and the body he saw hanging from the ceiling. A quick glance at Dean with his chin resting on his hand, eyes trying to stay focused told her he was having as much fun as she was.
"It was the scariest thing in I ever saw in my life. I swear to God," the boy said to her.
"Uh huh, I'll bet…"
"The minute we walked in the walls were painted red and had these freaky symbols. Crosses and stars and pentagons."
"You don't say," she mumbled, crunching on some ice.
"But I can damn sure tell you this much, no matter what anybody else says. That poor girl with the blonde hair, she was kicking and it was real, hundred percent real."
"Okay…" she nodded. She had interviewed the other two before that and the walls went from black to red and the girl had been blonde, brunette then a red head. "So how did you find out about this place?"
"Craig took us."
Least that was one thing they all had agreed on every time.
"Where can we find Craig?"
"Record store down the way."
"Thank you so much for your time, but I need to be going," she said and slid from the booth.
"So," the boy asked giving her a smile. "You seein' anyone?"
She pointed over at Sam. "That really tall guy over there. He may look lanky but trust me, he can pack a punch, see you later."
She moved over to where Sam and Dean had finished their last interviews looking as ready to leave as she was. "Record store?"
Dean nodded, "The only thing they all agreed on. I feel like we're chasin' a ghost story."
"That's how they all start," Sam said and led the way out.
The Record Store was only a few blocks away from the diner and not a populated area. Bridget was thankful, she wasn't sure she could take anymore teenagers. A young man was stalking old albums as they walked in. "Gentleman and lady, can I help you with anything?"
"Yeah, are you Craig Thurston?" Sam asked.
"I am," he nodded.
"Well, we're reporters with the Dallas Morning News. I'm Dean, this is Sam and Bridget."
"No way. Yeah I'm a writer, too," he said putting the albums away. "I write for my school's lit magazine."
"Oh," Dean said with no interest. "Food for you, Morrison."
Sam gave him a look. "We're doing an article on local haunting and rumor has it you might know about one."
He froze for a moment, "You mean the Hell House?"
"That's the one," Bridget nodded.
"I didn't think there was anything on the story."
"Why don't you tell us the story?" Bridget asked, leaning across the table towards him with a sly smile.
Craig cleared his throat, fidgeting, "Well, supposedly, back in the thirties, this farmer Mordechai Murdoch, used to live in the house with his six daughters. It was during the Depression. His crops were failing. He didn't have enough money even to feed his own children. So, I guess that's when he went off the deep end."
"How?" Sam probed.
"Well, he figured it was best if his girls died rather quick than starve to death. So he attacked them. They screamed, begged for him to stop. But he just strung them up, one after another. And then, when he was all finished, he turned around and hung himself. Now, they say his spirit is trapped forever, stringin' up any other girl who goes inside," he looked at Bridget. "You should probably stay away from there in case its true."
"Where'd you hear all this?" Dean asked.
"My cousin, Dana, told me. I don't know where she heard it from. You've gotta realize, I didn't believe this for a second."
"But now you do?" Bridget asked.
He shook his head with a dry laugh in disbelief, "I don't know what the hell to think. Guys, I'll tell you exactly what I told the police, okay? That girl was real. She was dead. This was not a prank. I swear to God, I don't wanna go anywhere near that house again."
The three exchanged a look and Dean thanked him. They left the building and got into the car. "Guess we should check the place out," Dean said.
Bridget sighed, "I get to be ghost bait?"
"Well, you fit the requirements. You're female," Dean said.
She rolled her eyes, ignoring him and not able to argue for the most part. He was right after all. This farmer ghost went after girls and she was the only one available.
It was getting dark out now as they walked towards the house. It was dark and abandoned for what looked like years. The shabby roof, busted windows, creaking wood and dark exterior were the perfect beginning for a haunted house legend.
"Can't say I blame the kid," Sam said.
"Seriously a creepy place," Bridget agreed.
"Yeah, so much for curb appeal," added Dean as they walked to the side of the house. The EMF meter in Dean's hand started beeping.
"You got somethin'?" Sam asked.
"Yeah, but it's no good," Dean shook his head.
"Why?"
Dean pointed at the nearby telephone pole, "I think that thing still got juice in it. It's screwin' with all the readings."
"That'll do it," Bridget nodded.
"Well, let's go in," Dean said and opened the door gesturing at Bridget. "Ladies first."
"Gee, thanks," she said and went in, noticing the symbols on the wall.
"Looks like Old Man Murdoch was a bit of a tagger," Dean said and looked around.
"And after his time, too," Sam mumbled and pointed to different symbols on the wall, taking pictures with his cell phone as he went. "The reversed cross has been used by Satanists for centuries, but this sigil of sulfur didn't show up in San Francisco until the sixties."
Bridget and Dean stared at him for a moment.
"And you studied what in Stanford?" Bridget asked.
"See, this is exactly why you never get laid," Dean said and turned around to look at the symbols on the wall. Bridget and Sam exchanged a look and she bit her lower lip to keep from smiling. Sam grinned and covered it with a cough. Dean pointed at one of the symbols. "Hey, what about this one? You ever seen this one before?"
Sam crossed over to where Dean stood and took a picture of it, looking at it. He shook his head. "No."
Dean frowned slightly, "I have…somewhere."
Bridget ran her finger over it, "It's paint. Seems pretty fresh too."
"I don't know," Dean said. "I mean, I hate to agree with authority figures of any kind, but the cops might be right about this one."
"Yeah, maybe."
"You know what, I'll go look in the basement. It's where all this happens right?"
"Yeah, but I don't think that's safe."
"When is this job ever safe," she said and turned on her flashlight. "I'll take a quick look. If I'm not back in five minutes come get me."
"Bridge…" Sam started.
She held her hand up, "I'm bait, if nothing comes after me then it's fine. If it does, well…you guys will save the day. Five minutes."
"Three," Dean called out after her.
Bridget waved her hand and went through another room until she found the basement door. With a deep breath she went down the stairs, shining her light around. Couple old tables and chairs, few shelves with old jars containing things she probably didn't want to know. But no sign of a dead girl or angry farmer spirit.
"Ghost story after all," she mumbled under her breath.
A skittering noise caused her to spin around, aiming her flashlight in time to see a rat run across to another corner. Other than that just the empty table and cobwebs. There was nothing here. Above her a rope slowly started sinking down. She let out a deep breath deciding to go find Sam and Dean, let them know what she found or didn't find before they came to find her. So much for being bait.
The rope snaked around her neck, catching her off guard and lifted her up so her feet barely touched the floor. She dropped the flashlight, choking, trying to pry the rope loose. She couldn't breathe, couldn't call out for Sam or Dean. Her eyes searched wildly and stopped on the table. She kicked her foot out, knocking it, but it tilted back to her. She lashed her foot out again, hitting it and it tumbled over with a loud crash. She hoped they heard that. Her vision was starting to darken. She heard her name being called, heard footsteps on the stairs but couldn't see anymore.
"Bridget!" Dean yelled taking the stairs two at a time, Sam right behind him. He came to the landing and cursed when he saw Bridget hanging, barely flaying anymore as she tried to get the rope off.
Sam had already turned a chair back over and had his knife in his hand, cutting the rope and catching Bridget at the same time.
"You got her!" Dean asked panicked, helping grab Bridget and get the rope unwound from her neck. Sam moved the chair out of the way, still partially holding her and feeling her neck. He noticed the bright red marks that would surely leave a bruise and then felt her heartbeat against his fingers.
"She has a pulse," he said and Dean let out a sigh of relief. Sam tapped her cheek lightly. "Come on, Bridge, wake up."
After the third tap her eyelids fluttered and she coughed with a groan, opening her eyes. One hand touched her throat with a slight wince as she looked up at the now relieved brothers' faces. "Don't scare us like that," Dean scolded her and grabbed her hands, slowly helping her stand while Sam kept his hands on her shoulders.
"Sorry," she croaked with a rough voice. "Rope came out of nowhere."
"What happened?" Sam asked.
"I was standing here," she said clearing her throat with a grimace. "Saw nothing but a rat. I was goin' back up stairs for you guys and this rope got around my neck."
"You didn't see Murlock?" Dean asked.
She shook her head, "No, but can I say we're done for tonight. I'm done being bait."
"I say that's a damn good idea. We need to research this place some more."
She lifted her hand as they went up the stairs, Sam's hand still on her shoulder, "I volunteer to do that in a safe library."
"I'll help," Sam chimed.
Dean made sure to shut the door behind them, hoping no one was dumb enough to come back in here. A loud crash from the next room caused Bridget to jump and Sam to pull her closer while Dean took the front and walked through the doorway, prepared for a fight but bumping into two guys with cameras. One carrying a video camera the other carrying a duffel bag.
"Cut!" the guy with the camera and glasses sighed irritated. "Just a couple of humans. What are you three doing here?"
"What the hell are you doin' here?" Dean countered.
"Uh, we belong here. We're professionals," he said as if they should have known.
"Professional what?" Bridget asked.
He dug in his pocket and handed them each a card. "Paranormal investigators. Take a look at that,"
"Oh, you gotta be kiddin' me," Dean rolled his eyes.
"Ed Zeddmore and Harry Spangler. Hell Hound's Lair dot com," Sam read off the card. "You guys run that website?"
"Yeah," Ed, the one with glasses nodded.
"Oh, yeah. Yeah, we're huge fans," Dean said sarcastically.
"And, uh, we know who you guys are too," Ed said and the three exchanged nervous looks.
"Oh, yeah?" Sam asked.
"Amateurs," Ed sorted and they relaxed a bit. "Lookin' for ghosts and cheap thrills."
Bridget touched her neck where the red marks were now fading. "Yeah…cheap thrill all right."
"Yeah, so if you guys don't mind, we're trying to conduct a serious scientific investigation here," Harry huffed.
"Mmm hmmm," Ed nodded with the same frustration.
"Yeah? What do you got so far?" Dean asked, arms over his chest. If there was anything he hated more than cops it was amateurs who didn't know they were amateurs.
"Uh, Harry, why don't you tell 'em about EMF?" Ed nudged his friend.
"EMF?" Bridget played dumb.
Harry smiled brightly, the kind of know it all smile. "Electromagnetic field." He opened his bag and took out the meter. "Spectral entities can cause energy fluctuations that can be read with an EMF detector, like this bad boy right here." It started buzzing. "Whoa, whoa. That's 2.8 MG."
"2.8," Ed repeated with wide eyes.
"It's hot in here," Harry said excited. Bridget wondered if they'd feel that excitement or thrill if they had been hung up in the cellar or faced the kind of spirits she along with Sam and Dean had…she doubted it.
"Wow," Sam acted amazed.
"Huh. So, you guys ever really seen a ghost before?" Dean asked.
"Once," Ed said. "We were uh, we were investigating this old house, and we saw a vase fall right off the table."
"By itself," Harry added in a whisper as if to awe them.
"Well, we didn't actually see it, but we heard it. And something like that, it, uh – it changes you," Ed said.
Bridget bit her lower lip and acted intrigued by it all. Apparently they'd never been nearly drowned in a bathtub by a pissed off spirit before or had a shadow demon toss them around a room. Now that changed you.
"Yeah, I think I get the picture," Dean said less than thrilled. "We should go –let them get back to work." He tugged on Bridget's arm and Sam followed out.
Bridget snorted once outside, unable to contain it any longer. "That was the best. I feel loads better."
"Aren't you worried Murdock will hurt 'em?" Sam asked.
Dean shook his head, "They aren't girls…but I want to find out more about this house and what the hell attacked Bridget."
She sighed, "I love trips to the library…brings back old memories."
"Of janitor closets?" Dean teased and dodged her smack.
"Let's just get this over with."
"You up for it?" Sam asked, concerned.
"It's a library. As long as no ghost that hangs girls is there, I'm good."
"And you aren't wanderin' off again," Dean warned her.
She agreed to it to at least stop an argument from erupting.
Of course, her and Sam did all the research while Dean waited outside for them doing his own research on the dead girl. An hour later they had everything they could possibly find on the place. Dean was waiting for them outside.
"Hey," Sam called to his brother.
"Hey," Dean said and they walked back towards the car. "What do you guys got?"
"Well, we couldn't find a Mordechai, but we did turn up a Martin Murdoch who lived in that house in the thirties. He did have children, but only two of them – both boys. And there was no record he ever killed anybody," Sam filled him in.
"Huh?" he asked confused.
"What about you?" Bridget asked.
"Well, those kids didn't really give us a clear description of that dead girl, but I did hit up the police station. No matching missing persons – it's like she never existed," he said as they reached the car. "I mean, I wouldn't believe any of this stuff if Bridget hadn't been hangin' from the ceiling in there but we got nothin' that explains what did it and those damn Hell Hound boys are clueless. I say we just drop it."
"Something hung me from the ceiling and you wanna drop it?" she asked.
"You could've gotten tangled in something," Dean pointed out.
She thought about it. She could have stepped back and gotten tangled in the rope, not seeing it. The floor was uneven and her necklace hadn't panicked at all. "Could be right…"
"So, I say we find ourselves the nearest bar and some beers and leave the legends of the locals," Dean said and got in the car. Bridget put her hand on the handle but Sam put his arm out stopping her. She looked at him curiously and saw the smirk on his face, the glint in his eye. She took a step back and waited. The moment Dean turned it on, fast paced music blared from the speakers and the wind shield wipers went on.
"What the!" Dean exclaimed and shut it off.
Sam laughed and allowed Bridget to get in now. He was still chuckling as he made a mark in the air for his point and pointed at himself.
Dean glared. "That all you got? That's weak. That is Bush league."
Bridget smelt a war starting to brew and knew Dean would come back with something stronger.
The next day, as they were hoping to leave, they found their plans had changed. Something had happened at Hell House that night. Ambulances and sheriffs were surrounding the old building.
The trio paused next to an onlooker and Dean asked the million dollar question, "What happened?"
The man looked saddened. "Couple of cops say that poor girl hung herself in the house."
"Suicide?" Sam asked.
"Yeah…but she was a straight A student, with a full ride to UT, too. It just don't make sense," he said and walked away.
"What do you think?" Sam asked Dean as they watched the body bag get loaded into the ambulance.
"I don't think I backed into the rope after all," Bridget said and touched her neck where the light bruises had formed.
"I think we missed somethin'." Dean nodded. "We need to get back in there tonight."
Darkness came surprisingly fast and they watched from the bushes as the cops checked all the doors and put police tape up before dispersing the scene yet few cops remained behind making it impossible. They were watching from behind a couple trees in the brush.
"I guess the cops don't want kids screwing around in there anymore," Sam noted.
"Yeah, but we still gotta get in there," Bridget said and heard some whispering. She turned her head to look around and sighed. "I don't believe it."
Sam and Dean turned to see Ed and Harry walking towards the house with their equipment. These guys couldn't be any dumber.
"I got an idea," Dean grinned and shouted from behind the tree. "Who ya gonna call?"
The sheriff turned and caught sight of Harry and Ed. "Hey you!" The two cops began chasing after them and the two took off running while Sam, Dean, and Bridget slipped past them into the house.
Dean looked at the symbol again on the wall, shaking his head and pulling out his gun. "Man, where have I seen that before? It's killing me."
"Come on," Sam motioned for him to follow. "We don't have much time."
They headed towards the basement door and Sam motioned for Bridget to stay close as they moved downstairs and looked around. Dean was fascinated with the jars of goop. He held one up, "Hey, Sam, I dare you to take a swig?"
"What hell would I do that for?" he asked.
Dean was quiet for a moment, "I double dare you."
Sam shook his head and a noise from the other part of the room caught their attention. Dean put the jar down and Bridget had her weapon as ready as the others. Sam slowly opened the cabinet door and several rats scurried out. Dean jumped back in disgust, "Ughh! I hate rats!"
Bridget felt the sensation of déjà vu.
"You rather it be a ghost?" Sam asked.
"This happened last night and that's when I turned and it got me," Bridget said…slowly the three turned around and there was Mordechai with an axe in hand. Sam and Bridget both shot at him causing him to dissolve into smoke.
"What the hell kind of spirit is immune to rock salt?" Sam yelled.
"I don't know," Dean shook his head. "Come on, come on." Mordechai reappeared and started smashing shelves, Bridget and Dean fell with the impact of the debris. Moredchai swung at Sam who put up his rifle to block it,
"Go! Get out of here!" Sam shouted. Bridget shot at him again, causing it to disappear.
She grabbed Sam's hand and shoved at Dean to get him to move faster up the stairs. They bolted for the front door, bursting out of it to the point they fell to the ground, skittering to their feet and having a camera in their face from Ed and Harry. "Get that out of my face and run," Dean managed to say before taking off down the stairs. Mordechai appeared in the front doorway. They could hear Ed and Harry yell behind them but were already towards the car and gone before they could look back.
Bridget was now reading her book on the bed safe in the hotel room next to Dean who was maniacally drawing that symbol and trying to figure it out. Sam sat next to the table, doing research on the house once again.
Dean was mumbling to himself, "What the hell is this symbol? It's buggin' the hell outta me. This whole damn job is buggin' me."
"You're bugging me," Bridget told him, putting her book down.
"I thought the Legend said Mordechai only goes after chicks," Dean said ignoring her.
"He does," Sam answered.
"Well, that explains why he went after you and Bridget, but why me?"
"Hilarious," Sam mumbled. "The legend also says he hung himself but did you see the slit marks on his wrist?"
"Yeah."
"What's up with that?" Sam asked. "And the axe, too. I mean, ghosts are usually pretty strict, right? Following the same patterns over and over."
"But he keeps changing," Bridget said.
"Exactly," Sam clicked on his computer bring up the Hell Hound site. "I'm tellin' you guys, the way the story goes – wait a minute," he frowned suddenly.
"What?" Dean asked.
"Someone added a new post into the Hell Hounds site. Listen to this," Sam said and read from the post. "They say Mordechai Murdoch was really a Satanist who chopped up his victims with an axe before slitting his own wrists. Now he's imprisoned in the house for eternity." Sam looked over at Bridget and Dean. "What the hell is going on?"
Dean suddenly sat up, understanding the symbol. "I don't know, but I think I might have figured out where it all started," he smiled and got off the bed. Bridget and Sam exchanged a look before following him out to the car, locking the hotel door behind them.
Bridget found herself back in the record store following Dean straight to the counter where Craig sat behind the register looking frustrated and upset.
"Hey, Craig," Dean smiled. "Remember us?"
"Guys, I'm really not in the mood to answer any more of your questions, okay?"
"Oh don't worry, we're just here to buy an album. That's all," Dean said and Craig turned away from them. Dean started looking through the albums and pulled one out. They walked over to Craig.
"You know," Dean went on. "I couldn't figure out what that symbol was, and then I realized, it doesn't mean anything. It's a logo for Blue Oyster Cult," Craig turned around looking guilty. "So, tell me, Craig – are you into BOC? Or just scarin' the hell outta people?" He handed Craig the album with the symbol on it that Dean had pondered over. "So why don't you tell us about that house without lyin' through your ass this time."
Bridget leaned against the table, listening intently with Sam and Dean as Craig explained the truth. "All right, um – my cousin, Dana, was on break from TCU, and I guess we were just bored, lookin' for something to do, so I showed her this abandoned dump I found. We thought it would be funny if we made it look like it was haunted. So, we painted symbols on the walls – some from some albums, and some from some of Dana's theology textbooks. And then we found out this guy Murdoch used to live there, so we made up some story to go along with that. So, they told people, who told other people, and then these two guys put it on their stupid website. Everything just took on a life of its own. I mean, I thought it was funny at first, but…now that girl's dead," he started to cry. "It was just a joke, you know, I mean – none of it was real. We made the whole thing up, I swear."
Bridget pulled at the neck of her shirt, "This felt pretty real to me and I wasn't laughing a whole lot."
Craig winced at the bruises on her skin and hung his head, "I'm so sorry…"
Bridget patted his shoulder, "All right."
Dean cocked his head indicating they should leave back to the hotel. Once outside Dean asked the question on all their minds. "If none of it was real, then how the hell do you explain Mordechai?"
Bridget lay on the bed on her stomach, one leg bent up as she read her book, listening to the shower water run. Sam was in there and it took every amount of will power not to want to jump him in there. Dean had stepped out and she wasn't sure when he'd be back so the risk was too high of getting caught. She turned the page in the book, focusing on the words.
The door opened and Dean stepped in with a smirk towards her. She frowned watching him move to Sam's clothes and open the small packet in his hand. She read the label: itching powder. Her eyes widened as he grabbed Sam's boxers and he motioned her to be quiet. She shook her head with a quiet chuckle. The war was on still apparently.
"Hey, I'm back," Dean shouted as the shower water finally went off.
"Hey, where were you?" Sam asked from the other side of the door.
"Oh," he tucked the empty package in his pocket. "I went out."
"So, I think I might have a theory about what's going on?"
"Oh, yeah?" Dean asked.
"Yeah. What if Mordechai is a tulpa?"
"A tulpa?" Dean repeated.
The bathroom door opened just as Bridget was about to answer but Sam was only wearing a towel and still wet. Her eyes were glued to his washboard abs and perfect chest before trailing down to the light line of hair that disappeared just below the towel. She had to remind herself to breathe and was glad Dean was occupied with not looking suspicious to notice her major staring problem.
"Yeah," Sam answered. "A Tibetan thought form."
"Yeah, I know what a tulpa is. Hey, why don't you get dressed? We'll go grab somethin' to eat," Dean smiled and went into the bathroom. Sam walked over to his clothes and glanced at Bridget.
"Staring problem there, Bridge," he said with a smirk.
She nodded still staring but trying not to laugh as he grabbed his boxers off the bed. "Oh yeah, sorry about that. It's just…you look so…" she cleared her throat and turned back to her book, turning to face the wall instead of him so he couldn't see her snicker either and Dean wouldn't think anything of him changing with her back turned. "Your body should be illegal."
Sam chuckled and she could hear him putting his clothes on. She turned back around to see him pulling his shirt down and sighed knowing there'd be no meaningless sex for at least a week. Dammit! She knew this war would affect her in the end. She'd have to end it.
At the restaurant they grabbed their food and sat down at a table. Sam was shifting uncomfortably in his seat wanting to scratch. Bridget took a bite of her burger to keep from laughing.
"Hey, what's your problem?" Dean asked Sam.
"Nothing, I'm fine," he said, still fidgeting.
"Yeah?" Bridget asked.
"Uh huh."
"All right, so, keep goin' What about these tulpas?" Dean asked, eating his French fries.
"Okay, uh, so there was this incident in Tibet in 1915. A group of monks visualized a golem in their heads. They meditate on it so hard, they bring the thing to life – out of thin air."
"So?" Dean said unimpressed.
"That was twenty monks. Imagine what ten thousand web surfers could do. I mean, Craig starts a story about Mordechai, and it spreads, goes online. Now there are countless people all believing in the bastard."
"Okay," Dean held up a hand. "Wait a second. You're trying to tell me that just because people believe in Mordechai, he's real?"
Sam fidgeted again, grimacing slightly at the urge to itch, "I don't know, maybe."
"People believe in Santa Claus. How come I'm not getting' hooked up every Christmas?"
"Cause you're a bad person," Bridget told him.
Sam typed at his laptop. "And because of this," he turned the computer so Bridget and Dean could see it. It was a picture of another symbol on the wall of the house. "That's a Tibetan spirit sigil on the wall of the house. Craig said they were painting symbols from a theology boo. I bet you they painted this not even knowing what it was. Now, that sigil has been used for centuries – concentrating meditative thoughts like a magnifying glass. So, people are on Hell Hound's website starin' at a symbol, thinkin' about Mordechai – mean, I don't know. But it might be enough to bring a tulpa to life."
"It would explain why he keeps changing," Bridget nodded.
"Right. As the legend changes, people think different things, so Mordechai himself changes, like a game of telephone. That would also explain why the rock salt didn't work," Sam said.
"Yeah, cause he's not a traditional spirit, per se," Dean said.
Sam finally scratched, "Yeah."
Bridget her smile behind her cup, drinking her soda.
Dean cleared his throat to keep his smile at bay. "Okay, so, uh, why don't we just get the spirit sigil thingy off the wall and off the website?"
"Well, it's not that simple. You see, once tulpas are created, they take on a life of their own," Sam explained.
"Great," Dean sighed. "All right, so, if he really is a thought form, how the hell are we supposed to kill an idea?"
"Well, it's not gonna be easy with these guys helping us. Check out their homepage," Sam clicked and the video showed the previous nights events at the house. "Since they posted a video, the number of hits have quadrupled in the last day alone."
"Huh…I got an idea. Come on," Dean said and Sam shut his laptop.
"Uh oh…" Bridget mumbled. "He has an idea…"
"Where are we going?" Sam asked, putting his laptop back in the satchel.
"I gotta find a copy store."
"Man, I think I'm allergic to our soap or something," Sam said fidgeting still and Dean finally started laughing, walking away. "You did this?" Sam's eyes widened. "You're a freakin' jerk!"
"Oh, yeah," Dean nodded, exiting the restaurant.
Bridget patted his back as they walked towards the door together. "I'm staying out of this war…and your pants for awhile," she smiled going on tip toe to kiss his cheek before opening the door for him. She figured Sam would get Dean back twice as hard…she grinned, this was getting good.
"So explain to me again why we're at the Scooby Doo club?" Bridget asked Dean, walking with him and Sam up to the trailer that Harry and Ed broadcasted in.
"Just act along with us to get them to buy the story," Dean told her. He banged his fist on the door of the trailer. "Come on out here, guys, we hear you in there."
Ed opened the door and Dean glanced in at all the action figures lining the walls. "Oh, look at that. Action figures in their original packaging. What a shocker."
"Guys, we need to talk," Sam said.
"Yeah, um, sorry, guys. We're, uh – we're a little busy right now," Ed apologized.
"Okay, well, we'll make it quick. We need you to shut down your website," Dean told him and Ed laughed.
"Why should we trust you guys?" he asked.
"Look, guys, we all know what we saw last night, what's in that house. But now, thanks to your website, there are thousands of people hearin' about Mordechai," Sam told him.
"That's right," Bridget nodded. "Which means people are gonna keep showing up at the Hell House, running into him in person and somebody could get hurt."
"Yeah," Ed said not buying it.
Harry on the other hand was, "Ed, maybe he's got a point."
"No, no," he shook his head. "We have an obligation to our fans, to the truth."
Dean cracked his knuckles. "Well, I have an obligation to kick both your little asses right now -."
"Dean, Dean, hey," Bridget grabbed his arm. "Forget it, all right? These guys – I could probably bitch slap them both. I could probably even them that thing about Mordechai but they're still not gonna help us. So, let's just go."
"Yeah, you're right," Dean sighed and they started to walk away. As planned Ed and Harry followed.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa.," Ed said. "What did you say about -? Hold on a second there."
"Wait, wait. Yeah, what thing about Mordechai, you guys?" Harry asked.
"Don't tell them, Bridge," Sam warned.
"But if they agree to shut the website down…"
"They're not gonna do it," Dean said.
"No, wait, wait. Don't listen to him, okay? We'll do it," the three stopped walking to face Ed and Harry. "We'll do it."
"It's a secret, Bridget," Dean sighed.
"Look, it's a pretty big deal, all right? And it wasn't easy to dig up. So, only if we have your word that you'll shut everything down."
"Totally," Ed nodded eagerly.
"All right," Bridget nodded and Dean took out a piece of paper from his pocket, handing it to the boys. "It's a death certificate from the thirties. We got it at the library. Now, according to the coroner, the actual cause of death was a self inflicted gunshot wound."
"That's right," Sam nodded. "He didn't hang or cut himself."
"He shot himself?" Harry asked.
"Yup," Sam said. "With a .45. To this day, they say he's terrified of them."
"Yeah, as a matter of fact," they say if you shoot him with a .45 loaded with these special wrought iron rounds, you could kill the son of a bitch."
Ed and Harry smiled and Harry eagerly ran back to the trailer, Ed following him. The trio smiled, heading back to the car. It was almost too easy.
Bridget sat next to Sam at the restaurant, flicking a sugar packet back and forth using her beer bottle as a goal post. Dean kept pulling the string to a wooden painted fisherman that was mounted on the wall next to him. Every time he pulled the string the fisherman laughed. He'd been doing it for ten minutes. Dean pulled it again and Sam leaned across her turning it off.
"If you pull that string one more time, I'm gonna kill you," Sam warned him and Dean grinned, pulling it again. Bridget kicked Dean's shin under the table.
"Ow!"
"Sorry, my foot slipped," she apologized with a giggle.
"Come on, Sammy," Dean chided his brother. "You need more laughter in your life, you know, you're way too tense." Sam clicked on his lap top. "They post it yet?" Sam turned the computer to him so he could see they had. Dean smiled, "So how long we wait?"
He closed the laptop. "Long enough for the new story to spread and the legend to change. I figure by nightfall, iron rounds will work on the sucker."
"Awesome," Bridget said taking a drink from her beer. "Pay back is a bitch."
"Sweet," Dean smiled and picked up his beer bottle chiming it against theirs. Bridget noticed Sam's smirk as he stared at Dean. Dean went to put his bottle down, but couldn't. It was glued to his hand.
Bridget laughed covering her mouth. "No way!"
"You didn't?" Dean asked mortified.
Sam held up the small container of super glue. "Oh, I did," he reached over and pulled the string to let the fisherman laugh.
"Oh, it's almost too cruel," Bridget sighed. She partially wondered if the war was over now…and partially hoped it wasn't.
It was dark out when they reentered Hell House, each carrying a gun and a flash light. It had taken her a good hour to try and get the bottle detached from Dean's hand. It was the only downside to this war, she was left to deal with any injuries that might occur.
"I barely have any skin left on my palm," Dean grumbled.
Bridget snorted, "Yeah, I'm not touching that line with a ten foot pole. It's just too easy."
Dean glared at her and they found the door to the cellar. "So, you think old man Mordechai's home?"
"I don't know," Sam shrugged.
"Me neither," a voice said from behind him and they spun around aiming their guns at Ed and Harry who jumped back with their hands in the air, "Whoa! Whoa! Hey!"
"What are you trying to do? Get yourself killed?" Bridget hissed.
"We're just tryin' to get a book or movie deal, okay?" Ed said and everyone froze at the sound of sharpening knives coming from behind the door. "Oh, crap…you wanna open the door for us?"
Dean started taking a step back, "Why don't you?"
Mordechai burst through the door and Sam, Bridget, and Dean shot at him several times, but he only dissolved into smoke. Bridget cursed and went into the other room trying to find him with Sam and Dean.
"Oh, he's gone," Ed said dumbfounded.
"Did you get him?" Harry asked horrified.
"Oh, yeah, they got him," Ed nodded.
"No, on camera, did you get him on camera?" Harry reasked.
"Uh…I," he said and Harry took the camera from him. Mordechai suddenly appeared, destroying the camera with his axe barely missing Harry as he fell to the floor.
They reentered the room where the geeks were after not finding Mordechai.
"Did you guys post that BS story we gave you?" Dean asked them.
"Of course we did," Ed nodded helping Harry back up.
"But then our server crashed," Harry added.
"So, it didn't take it?" Bridget asked.
"Uhh…" Ed trailed off.
"So, these guns won't work?" Dean questioned.
"Yeah…"
"Great," Dean rolled his eyes. "Sam, any ideas?"
"We are getting out of here," Harry stated.
"Yeah," Ed agreed and the two left the room heading to the front door.
"He's not gonna let them leave," Bridget sighed, reloading her gun with a new clip. Ten seconds later came the screaming and the three hurried to find them before Mordechai did.
"Hey!" Bridget shouted, reaching Mordechai first where he had the boys cornered. The ghost turned to her. "Come and get me, finish what you started, you ugly son of a bitch." He swung at her and she ducked letting the axe plant itself in the wall. He swung again, this time he pinned her to the wall, choking her with the handle of the axe. "Shit..." she looked at Harry and Ed. "Get out of here! Run!"
The two ran and Dean entered pouring lighter fluid all over the floor.
"Dean, little help," she choked.
"Hey," a voice to her left said and Sam stood there with a can of aerosol and a lighter. Mordechai turned just as Sam lit it, causing a burst of flames. The ghost reared back and Bridget hit the floor. Sam grabbed her arms, helping her up, "Go, go, go! Come on!"
"What are you doing?" she asked when she stepped to Dean with Sam.
"If Mordechai can't leave the house, and we can't kill gum, we improvise," he said and dropped the lighter causing the room to burst into flames. The three of them left the house and Mordechai followed them but stopped in the doorway as they ducked behind some trees.
"That's the solution?" Sam asked. "Burn the whole damn place to the ground?"
"Well, no one will go in anymore. I mean, look, Mordechai can't haunt a house if there is no house to haunt. It's fast and dirty, but it works," explained Dean.
"What if the legend changes again and Mordechai is allowed to leave the house?" Bridget asked.
"Well, then, we'll just have to come back," he said.
They were silent a moment, watching the place burn to the ground. "Kind of makes you wonder – of all the things we've hunted, how many existed just 'cause people believed in them?" Sam said and they all stood there, wondering about the very questions.
They sat on a bench outside the trailer waiting for Harry and Ed the next night. Bridget sat next to Sam, her feet up on the seat of the bench, a batch of brownies in her lap, wrapped with plastic that she had baked earlier that morning.
"Gentlemen," Ed said as he approached carrying a bag of groceries. "And lady."
"Should we tell 'em?" Harry asked Ed.
"Oh, might as well," he said with a grin. "You know they're just gonna read about it in the trades."
"So, this morning, we got a phone call from a very important Hollywood producer," Harry said excitedly.
"Oh yeah? Wrong number?" Dean teased.
"No, smartass," Ed said. "He read all about the Hell House on our website and wants to option the motion picture rights – maybe even have us write it."
"And create the RPG," Harry added.
"The what?" Bridget frowned.
"Role playing game," he rolled his eyes at her.
"Right," she just nodded.
"It's a little lingo for ya. Any who, uh, excuse us, we're of f to La La Land," Ed said.
"Well, congratulations, guys, that sounds real great," Sam said.
"Yeah, that's awesome," Dean said.
Bridget hopped off the bench and handed them the brownies."Here, it's a good thing I made these for you then. Great reason to celebrate with brownies."
"Thank you, we do kinda deserve it," Ed said and Harry took them.
"More than you know," she grinned. "Best of luck to you."
"Oh, yeah, luck – it's got nothing to do with it. It's about talent, you know? Sheer unabashed talent…later," he and Harry got in their car which had the trailer hooked up to it. "See you around."
They drove away and once gone Bridget, Dean, and Sam started laughing walking back to their own car.
"Wow," Dean chuckled.
"I have a confession to make," Sam said, raising his hand.
"What's that?" Bridget asked.
"I was the one who called them and told them I was a producer."
"Well, I'm the one who put the dead fish in the backseat," he said and they laughed,
"Truce?" Sam asked.
"Yeah," Dean nodded. At least for the next hundred miles," Dean said and got in the car.
Bridge folded her arms and leaned over the seat. "I got you both beat. Those brownies I made were definitely well deserved."
"How so?" Dean asked.
Bridget dropped a box on the center seat and Sam picked it up, "Chocolate laxatives?"
"Well, they are full of shit," Bridget grinned and Sam and Dean laughed.
"Oh, I am never pissing you off," Sam shook his head and they drove off to their next destination. Hoping this one would be easier to kill than the last.