DISCLAIMER: I do not own the CW characters only the idea of Bridget. Continued from Death Trap….enjoy

S2 EP23 In My Time of Dying

Bridget made a muffled noise, squeezing her eyes together before blinking them open and moving her head off Dean's shoulder, one hand to her own head. She touched the dried blood on the side of her face from earlier. Luckily she seemed pretty uninjured from the wreck itself. She winced slightly touching her lip, feeling the scab at the top of her bottom lip, she must have bit it during the crash, other than that, and feeling sore, she was unhurt. She moved the hair from her face, rubbing at her eyes.

"Bridget?" she heard Sam's voice.

Before she could reply a squeak of metal and a tearing noise caused her to jump, one arm instinctively shielding Dean. The possessed truck driver ripped the door off Sam's side. Dean would be pissed. Sam pointed the gun at him. "Get back, or I'll kill you. I swear to God."

The demon smiled, "No you won't. You're saving that bullet for someone else."

Sam cocked the gun, "Wanna bet?"

The look on Sam's face must have been enough because the demon left the body in a swoop of black mist that left the driver stunned in dismay at the wreck his truck made. "Oh my God."

Bridget turned her head to Dean, covered in blood and unconscious. He had been badly hurt before the wreck, she couldn't tell how much worse it had gotten but it was enough to put her heart in her throat. This had happened because of her after all. Because Yellow Eyes couldn't punish her so Dean took it. "Dean?" she said his name quietly, shaking his shoulder. "Dean?"

He didn't budge. She raised a shaky hand and felt his neck.

"Dean? Dean!" came Sam's frantic voice. "Is he okay?"

"He's breathing and he has a pulse," she reassured him she just didn't tell him how weak it was. "How's your dad?"

"Alive," Sam said with a sigh of relief but she could still hear the fear in him.

She could hear the wail of ambulances coming their way. She undid her seat belt and grabbed her sketch book off the seat. The drawing of the car wreck stared back at her from a sketch she did weeks prior. She lifted her eyes from the picture, scanning the car as faces started to be illuminated by the flashing lights of the oncoming ambulance. John was unconscious in the front seat, shot in the leg from the demon possession she had also seen, Sam's face was a parade of bruises and cuts, more worried over his family than anything. Dean…slumped against the door, blood soaking the front of his shirt and still drizzling from his head. She moved closer to him, sitting up on her knees, one hand went to his shoulder the other to his face.

"Please, wake up," she whispered to him. "You gotta wake up. You have to be okay, you have to live." There was no response and she moved in a trans like state as the paramedics started removing them from the car. She insisted they help Dean first and Sam was all but thrashing away from them as he continuously kept asking about his brother and his dad.

"Ma'am, we need to help you next," the paramedic said once Dean was out.

Still clutching her sketchbook, she shook her head. "I'm fine, really. The cuts are from earlier and I bit my lip that's the worst of it."

"We still need to check you out."

"Okay, but no gurney. I can walk fine," she said and slid out of the car, ignoring the blood that sunk into her jeans as she did – Dean's blood. She noticed there were two ambulances. Sam was already sitting in the back of one next to his brother so Bridget slid into the one with John was still unconscious.

"Is he okay?" she asked as the ambulance took off sirens blaring.

"He's stable," the paramedic said. "Now can you look at me?"

She turned her head to him and let him shine a light in her eyes to check her pupil dilation then followed his finger without moving her head. "You're eyes are dilating normally. Any headaches?"

She shook her head. "No, I'm fine…I'm just worried…"

"Your friends will be fine."

"They're my family."

"They'll be fine," he promised her but the feeling of absolute dread still wouldn't leave her.

Bridget sat numbly in the hospital room. Her cheek had been bandaged with butterfly stitches, two to help it heal over and her lip had scabbed over with ointment they had put on it and two aspirin to handle any pain she had, but her heart was still hurting from the breaking it was slowly enduring. She had never seen so many tubes attached to a person in her life, and there were more machines than she knew what to make of. One for sure was keeping Dean breathing…

She ran her fingers through her hair, leaning her head in her hands. She wanted to break down and cry, wanted to just let go of the sanity she had, but she couldn't. Not when there was still hope to save him, not when Sam needed her more than ever…and she needed him too…but she needed Dean more. He was her rock, the one solid thing she had in her life after she lost her family. He was the strongest guy she knew and this wasn't right and she had herself to blame. The only thing she did know for sure was that she was going to kill Yellow Eyes, he was going to pay dearly for this.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up at Sam's bruised face. She covered his hand with her own, "Hey…"

"Hey…" his eyes moved to Dean. "This isn't right…"

"I know. I keep telling myself that," she said and stood up out of the chair, wrapping her arms around him and sinking into the warmth of his chest. He tensed under her touch and that caused a pain to go through her, that he was rejecting her comfort and her need for it. She pulled away quickly, putting her hands in her pockets.

A doctor came in the room, "Your father's awake."

"Oh thank God," Sam sighed in relief and reached for her hand, strangely wanting that instead of being held.

"What about Dean?" she asked him.

"He sustained serious injuries – blood loss, contusion to the liver and kidney. But it's head trauma I'm worried about. There's early signs of cerebral edema."

Bridget closed her eyes hanging her head down.

"Well, what can we do?" Sam asked with hope though Bridget knew it was slim to none.

"Well, we won't know his full condition until he wakes up – if he wakes up."

Those last words caused her to jerk as if being hit.

"If?" Sam said.

Screw you…I'm wakin' up. She heard a faint voice say that sounded much like Dean, causing her eyes to flash open and her head to turn towards him, but he was unconscious still hooked to tubes…though she swore she heard him. Her imagination was playing with her.

Sam squeezed her hand, "Come on, let's go see my Dad…"

She nodded with one last look towards Dean, swearing she heard him still, but that couldn't be right…

John lay in the bed with a broken arm. He took out a card from his wallet and handed it to Sam. "All right, here. Give 'em my insurance."

Sam read the card skeptically. "Elroy McGillicuddy?"

"And his two loving sons. So…what else did the doctor say about Dean?"

"Nothing good," Bridget said.

"Look since the doctor's won't do anything…then we'll have to, that's all. I don't know, I'll find some hoodoo priest to lay some mojo on him."

"We'll look for someone," John agreed.

"Yeah…"

"But, Sam…I don't know if you're gonna find anyone."

"Why not? I found that faith healer."

"Yeah," Bridget nodded. "And he was killing healthy people to save the sick he healed."

"That was one in a million," John admitted.

"So what? What, so we just sit here with our thumbs up our asses?" Sam asked angrily.

"No, I said we'd look," John told him. "All right? I'll check under every stone. Where's the Colt?"

"Your son is dying and you're worried about the Colt?"

"We are hunting this demon, and maybe it's hunting us too. That gun may be our only card."

"It's in the trunk. They dragged the car to a yard off of I-83," Bridget informed him, leaning against the wall.

"All right," he nodded. "You've gotta clean out the trunk before some junk man sees what's inside."

"I already called Bobby. He's an hour out. He's gonna tow the Impala back to his place."

"All right," he looked at Sam. "You got meet up with Bobby. You get the Colt and you bring it back to me, and you watch out for hospital security."

"I think I got it covered," Sam said.

"Hey," Sam paused as John handed him a list. "Here, I made a list of things I need. Have Bobby pick 'em up for me."

Sam read the list, "Acaia? Oil of Abramelin? What's this stuff for?"

"Protection," he said.

"Hey, Dad? You know the demon – he said he had plans for me and children like me. You have any idea what he meant?"

"No, I don't…"

Sam nodded glumly and moved over to Bridget, putting a hand on her arm. "Can you stay with them? Keep an eye on them for me and call me if anything changes?"

"Of course," she told him.

He kissed her chastely and then left her. She eyed John, not believing him at all.

You sure know somethin'.

She looked around the room, hearing the echoing voice again. But it was right. John knew something and he wasn't saying it. "You're a crappy liar."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

She pushed off the wall, moving closer to his bed and folding her arms over his chest. "You can't bullshit a bullshitter, John, and you taught me well. You know something. About Sam and you aren't saying it. You know why that bastard wants him. Because his abilities, they have to be tied to it all. It's too much to be a coincidence."

He smiled a bit, making him look older, "I did teach you well…but there are some things I can't tell you, least not right now."

She rubbed at her temples. "You're lucky I'm too tired to argue with you. Too much shit in one day, I'm emotionally and mentally exhausted…I'm going to go sit with Dean for awhile."

"Wait," John said suddenly and she paused. "I want to go with you."

She nodded her head, "Okay…but I'm warning you…it looks bad…"

He nodded his head and gestured to the dresser across the room. "They put my clothes in the drawer, can you get them?"

She opened the top drawer and took out the clothes then waited outside the room for him. Once out in the hall she leaned her head on the wall. "God, Dean…you gotta come out of this…I can't hold this family together. You're the glue…you even hold me together…"

Pressure moved against her shoulder with a cold breeze attached to it. She tensed under it and opened her eyes slowly, looking at the spot. Her fingers moved towards it, touching it, feeling it swirl around her hand. The door opened and John came out, the cold disappeared. She walked with John silently to the room and let him go in first, giving him that moment as she watched from the doorway.

He seemed to age as he walked in, shuffling towards the bed and looking down at his son with sad eyes, at all the machines that kept him alive. He sunk into the chair, holding Dean's hand and lowering his head. Bridget moved into the room and put her hand on his shoulder. "He'll be okay."

"I wish I could believe that…" he said hopelessly.

"He will be, I won't let him die, John."

"I know you won't, Bridge…but some things are out of our hands."

"No," she said sternly. "He took Derek, and Lydia, my nephew, and Will…that's all he gets. He doesn't get to add Dean to that list."

"You're pretty determined."

"He's my best friend," she said and sunk into a chair on Dean's other side, touching his cheek. "We look out for each other, always have. It kills me that this is partially because of me. I'm supposed to watch his back and I get him hurt."

"You didn't do this, Bridget."

"Not completely, but that demon tried to hurt me and when he couldn't he hurt Dean because he knew it would hurt me," she shook her head. "Son of a bitch just knew…it should've been me."

"It was the car crash that ultimately did this. Not the demon."

She chuckled humorlessly, "I saw that too…drew it weeks ago."

"You can't stop your visions, Bridge, you see what will happen and nothing will change the outcome."

"Then that's cruel…what's a gift if I can see what will happen."

"Because sometimes it needs to happen for something significant to happen and you need to make sure things turn out the way you see them, you've always been clairvoyant with that."

She thought of the voice she heard earlier and the pressure on her shoulder. Could that have been Dean…

"I think…" she paused, biting the inside of her cheek and looking at Dean's face as she went on. "I think I heard Dean…"

"What do you mean?" he asked eyeing her.

She met his gaze. "Earlier, I heard his voice, like a whisper and I heard it again in your room and then…in the hall I thought I felt a hand on my shoulder…this sounds crazy but – but I think it's Dean."

He stared at her and she thought she was insane after all. He sighed, shifting in his chair. "If anyone can hear Dean, or sense him it'd be you, Bridget."

"Why do you say that? You don't think I'm crazy?"

"No, you've always been special, I knew that from meeting you, noticed you movin' things without touchin' them. Noticed how you just knew things. So I'm not surprised you can sense Dean…you're close to him, maybe even closer than Sammy and he's always trusted you."

She looked back at Dean, holding his hand in hers and closed her eyes, leaning her head in her hand. "God…" she mumbled.

She heard the chair across from her move and saw John standing up. "I need to get back to my room before they come lookin' for me…Sam should be back soon. You stay here, watch out for Dean."

"I've done a bang up job so far."

"He trusts you, Bridge, I don't doubt otherwise."

Bridget sighed. This was more than she could take. Talking to the dead? Not that Dean was dead, but he wasn't far from it, he was here, stuck. And she needed to get him back in his body. "What do I do, Dean? How do I get you back? How do I fix this?" tears slid from her eyes. "This is too much, way too much. I know you're here and I don't know what to do!"

She put her head down on the bed, next to where she held Dean's head and closed her eyes, trying to relax her mind and going back to better days. Days where everything was fine and as normal as they got in their lives. Back to just a couple weeks ago even, hell , yesterday for all she cared because at least they weren't in a hospital.

Dad, Sam.

Her head jerked up as she heard it and felt the cool breeze. It was Dean, she was sure of it. She stood up from the chair hurrying down the hall to John's room and stepped into the room and into the middle of a yelling match.

"You're gonna summon the demon. You care more about killing this demon than saving your own son!" Sam yelled getting in John's face.

"Do not tell me how I feel! I am doing this for Dean."

"How? How is revenge gonna help him? You're not thinkin' about anybody but yourself! It's the same selfish obsession!"

"It's funny, you know what, I thought this was your obsession, too! This demon killed your mother, killed your girlfriend. You begged me to be a part of this hunt! Now, if you killed that damn thing when you were supposed to, none of this would have happened!"

"It was possessing you, Dad! I would have killed you, too!"

"Yeah, and your brother would be awake right now!"

"Go to hell!"

"I should have never taken you along in the first place! I knew it was a mistake!"

SHUT UP!

She heard Dean yell loud and clear and the water glass shattered next to the bed and she took that as her turn. "Will you both shut up!" they turned to look at her, seeing her angry and tired face. "Look at you two, playing the who cares more game…Jesus, are you two ever going to stop! Because I cannot put up with this much longer. I have no idea how Dean did because I'd have thrown you both through walls. I mean you are at each other's throats with Dean fighting for his life a few door down and all you can do is point fingers so now it's my turn." She looked at Sam. "You need to grow up and stop jumping to conclusions about everything your dad does being selfish. He cares for your brother just as much as you do," she looked at John. "And did you really think he could shoot you even if you begged. You're his father. I wouldn't even be able to do it and I'm not even related to you. This was the demon's fault, not ours. Now we just need to find a way to fix and arguing will not help. So knock it off because I'm getting a headache from playing referee."

The cold around her intensified and she grabbed at her necklace as it got warm, turning to look out the door as she saw doctor's rush by. "No…Dean…" She was out the door hurrying to Dean's room, not bothering to see if John and Sam had followed her. When she reached the door, tears flooded her eyes and her hands went to her mouth as she saw doctors using a defibrillator on Dean to try and get his heart beating.

"Oh God, no," she whispered, tears in her eyes.

Sam was next to her, sobbing. "No…"

"Still no pulse," they heard a nurse say.

"Charge again," a doctor ordered.

They zapped Dean again and Bridget shut her eyes, grabbing at Sam's arm with her other hand and thankful when he pulled her closer, needing the same comfort she did. "Still no pulse," she heard them say. She touched her necklace with her other hand, praying to Derek and Will to help, to not let God take Dean, not yet. Not now. Not ever.

Get back

She heard Dean yell, and her eyes opened slightly…'get back' what was he telling to get back.

"We got a pulse," she heard the nurse say and let out the breath she didn't know she was holding.

"Thank God," she breathed a sigh of relief and looked up at Sam. He was frowning. "What is it?"

"I heard something."

She gasped a little, "Was…was it Dean…saying get back?"

His eyes widened as he looked at her, "You heard him?"

She pressed her lips together. "I think I've been hearing him for the last couple hours on and off."

"And you didn't tell me?"

"Sam, I didn't believe it myself. I thought I was going insane, I mean, I didn't break the glass in the room. That wasn't me. That was Dean, he yelled 'shut up' right before I did. I heard him. So now that I know you hear it, what do we do?"

He licked at his lip. "I have an idea…stay with him, Bridge…I'll be right back."

She squeezed his hand letting it slide out of hers, "I'll be here."

She went into Dean's room, pulling up a chair next to his bed and running her fingers through her hair. "We both heard you, Dean. We're going to fix this. Somehow we will…"

She tapped her fingers on her sketchbook and opened it, flipping through the pages, hoping to find that she and drawn something that was going to help. She paused on the drawing of the man in the summoning circle, head down as if defeated, Yellow Eyes smiling broadly and her mouth fell open, her blood ran cold. The man in the picture had his arm in a sling… "You're gonna summon the demon. You care more about killing this demon than saving your own son" Sam had said earlier when she walked in. Sam had thought John was going to summon him and kill the demon…but he was wrong, the picture she drew proved that. She ripped it out of her sketchbook and hurried down the hall, praying she wasn't too late. He was still in his room, back turned to her as he set the plastic bag on the bed.

Bridget stood awkwardly in the room, her eyes filled with tears and a sad look across her face, fidgeting with the folded paper in her hands, the one she had drawn just three days ago. She now knew what it meant and she wasn't wrong.

John turned around, sensing her there. "Bridget, hey…what's wrong?"

She shook her head, "You can't do it, John…"

"Do what?"

"You just can't do it…"

"What is it?"

She filled in the gap between them and unfolded the drawing, handing it to him. It was the one of a man she now knew to be John due to the sling in a circle and the Yellow Eyed Demon standing there with him, a grin on his face. "You can't do this…please. I know you plan to, I wouldn't have drawn it otherwise…but you can't…we need you…"

John looked defeated, his secret out. "You can't stop me, Bridget…"

"I know…but I'll try…you just…you can't do this. You can't make a deal with that bastard."

"I have to."

"No, you don't."

"Dean will die," he said and Bridget winced at the words, knowing he was right. "I can't let my son die. I'll do anything, even if it means making a deal with the devil."

She nodded her head, understanding. "I thought I'd at least try…but even I know that everything I draw happens. I drew the car crash…I drew Yellow Eyes…I drew you making the deal and…" tears fell from her eyes. She couldn't bring herself to say she drew him dead, that would be the final outcome of the deal and they both knew it. "I didn't tell Sam and I don't plan to…so…you go make your deal, save your son for all of us and I promise, we will kill him for you."

John handed her the drawing back and she tucked it in her hand. He pulled her into a hug and Bridget steeled herself not to cry but couldn't help the shuddering breath she took that caused more tears to spill.

"Hey, none of that," he said and backed away enough to look at her. "It'll be okay, honey."

"How is any of this okay or fair? I get pictures that I can't stop from happening, people I care for and love always die. None of this is fair…I can't save anyone I love, I can't have a normal life in the abnormality of it all."

"Stop that," he told her and she sniffled. "I can't explain your gifts, but they're strong enough and mean enough that Yellow Eyes won't kill you, not that he can," he said and gestured at her necklace. "Not while Will and your brother died for you. You can't save everyone, but you can fight like hell to keep them, even when it means sacrificing everything…and you can have a normal life in the chaos that we call ours," he reassured her. "You will someday…maybe not with Sam…but you never know…you'll be okay, Bridget."

She shook her head slightly and hugged him again, tears still coming down her face. "I'm sorry I couldn't help you or Dean. I really wanted us all to be like a family despite things, you guys are all I have left and after Derek and Will died I swore I wouldn't bury any more people I loved because of a demon and now…"

"Oh, Bridget…it's okay. It's okay, sweetheart…you're the toughest girl I know and I have been privileged to know you these last four years. I know I'm leaving my boys in good hands with you," he moved her back again with a sad smile and wiped the tears from her eyes with his good hand before settling it on her shoulder. "I'm honored to have had you in my life."

"Ditto," she added with a partial sob and then sniffled, composing herself. She took a deep breath. "Be careful..."

"I will…" he picked up the bag of contents from the bed and hugged her one last time.

Bridget didn't look watch but couldn't help calling out to him before he left. "Hey John?" she could feel him pause. "If…if you see my brother and Will…can you…" she paused not knowing what to say.

"I will, Bridge…take care of yourself and my boys…" and with that she heard him leave the room. A few more tears spilled down her cheek as she ripped up the drawing in her hand and threw it in the trash can down the hall before going back to sit with Dean, another friend she couldn't save.

Bridget had enough time to gather herself before Sam got back to the room, carrying a plastic bag in his hand and closing the door behind him. She frowned reading the name Target on it.

"What did you go to Target for?"

"Well, for one, I thought you might want a new shirt," he said and pulled out a red spaghetti strap top. She took it, looking down at her dirty blood stained blue shirt.

She grabbed the edges of her shirt and paused, looking at Dean's unconscious form. Didn't mean he wasn't in here watching.

"What?" Sam asked, noticing her hesitate. "Do you need me to turn around?"

She smiled at his good boy nature, "No…it's just, well Dean might be around and he can still see."

"Oh, he can't be that much of an ass," Sam reassured her.

"Yeah right," she said and stripped off the shirt, throwing it to the trash can and adjusting the straps of her black bra. She heard a whistle and knew it wasn't Sam. She shook her head with a chuckle. "Asshole."

"What?"

"Dean whistled," she told him, pulling the top on.

Sam rolled her eyes, talking to Dean. "Can't you have a little respect?"

"What's in the bag?"

He pulled out the Ouija board and even Bridget scoffed, she could almost hear Dean do it too. "He thinks this is ridiculous."

"He spoke?" Sam asked hopeful.

"Well, yeah, a little. He's imprinting on me in a way. The board will help, I can't completely hear him."

Sam put the board on the floor and Bridget sat across from him, putting her fingers on the planchette. "This is almost too stupid," she muttered.

"We need to try," he sighed. "Dean, are you here?"

Yeah

"He said yeah but I could've told you that since he whisteled," Bridget said.

"Dean, will you just move the damn thing," Sam said.

Bridget heard a grumbling noise mixed with words she couldn't quite hear. It moved to yes.

I'll be damned.

"He's in disbelief that it even worked," she said, surprised as well.

Sam sighed in relief, "It's good to hear from you, man. It hasn't been the same without you."

"Really? Cuz I feel like I need to change my name to Odemay Brown," Bridget said.

Damn straight

"Someone's full of themselves," she snorted.

The planchette moved to spell out hunting. "Are you hunting?" Sam asked and it moved to yes. "Dean, it's a hospital, what are you hunting? Do you know what it is?"

One question…she heard faintly.

"He says one question at a time," reminded Bridget.

"Sorry…what is it?"

The planchette moved spelling out reaper.

"A reaper," Sam said. "Dean, is it after you?"

It moved to yes.

"Shit…" Bridget cursed. "That must have been what he was telling to get back."

"You can't kill death," Sam mumbled.

Screwed…

"He says he's screwed," Bridget said still finding it all too freaky to hear her comatose friend.

"There's gotta be a way," Sam shook his head. "Dad'll know what to do."

He stood up and walked past Bridget. She scrambled to her feet with wide eyes. "Where are you going?"

"To talk to my dad."

She felt her heart skip a beat, "We can figure this out. Can't be that hard."

"My Dad will know how to stop this though," he said and walked down the hall.

Bridget waited, trying to remain calm and act like she knew nothing and sat next to Dean.

Sam came back in a minute later. "He wasn't in his room," he said confused and sat next to her and Dean. He set the journal on the bed. "But I grabbed the journal. Maybe there's something in here…"

Five minutes later they were at a dead end and Sam closed it, running a hand through his hair. "Is Dean here?"

Bridget listened and heard nothing, no breeze blew across her. "I don't feel him here…"

Sam nodded and looked at Dean in the bed, "We don't know how to help you but we'll keep trying if you keep fighting," he chuckled a bit. "I mean, come on, you can't leave me here with Dad, we'll kill each other or Bridget will kill both of us," she winced and touched her necklace knowing exactly what John was doing, knowing very soon Dean would be alive and all right. "Dean, you gotta hold on. You can't go, man, not now. We were just startin' to be brothers again…can you hear me?"

Bridget's necklace flared against her, causing a gasp to escape her just as Dean awoke, gagging on the tube in his throat causing Sam to jump back and head for the door in the hall. "Help! I need help in here!"

She closed her eyes as a nurse came in to remove the tube, it was over. It was done and she couldn't feel any worse about it.

The doctor was shaking his head in disbelief. "I can't explain it. The edema's vanished. The internal contusions are healed. Your vitals are good. You've got some kind of angel watching over you."

Bridget snorted from her chair. Devil was more like it.

"Thanks, Doc," Dean said and he left the room. He eyed Sam. "So you said a reaper was after me?"

"Yeah."

"How'd I ditch it?" Dean asked.

"You got me," Sam shrugged. "Dean, you really don't remember anything?"

"No…," Bridget sighed in relief at that. "Except this pit in my stomach. Sam, something's wrong."

John walked in and Bridget tried to keep a poker face. "How you feelin', dude?"

"Fine, I guess. I'm alive," Dean said.

"That's what matters," said John and glanced at Bridget who couldn't bring herself to look at him.

"Where were you last night?" Sam asked.

"I had some things to take care of," John answered and Bridget felt her throat tighten.

"Well, that's specific," Sam scoffed.

"Come on, Sam," Dean said with a warning.

"Did you go after the demon?" Sam asked unrelenting.

"No," John lied.

"You know, why don't I believe you?"

John smiled a bit sadly. "Can we not fight? You know, half the time we're fightin', I don't know what we're fightin' about. We're just buttin' heads. Sammy, I…I've made some mistakes. But I've always done the best I could. I just don't wanna fight anymore."

Sam frowned, "Dad, are you all right?"

"Yeah…yeah. I'm just tired…hey Sam, would you mind getting; me a cup of caffeine?"

"Yeah. Yeah, sure," he nodded and Bridget saw the tears in John's eyes as Sam left. Bridget could no longer stop her own eyes from tearing up.

"What is it?" Dean asked noticing the sadness in both of them.

"You know," John said. "When you were a kid…I'd come home from a hunt. And after what I'd seen, I'd be wrecked. And you'd…come up to me and you'd put your hand on my shoulder and you'd look me in the eye, and you'd…" his voice broke as a couple tears fell. "You'd say, 'It's okay, Dad'. Dean, I'm so sorry."

"For what?" he asked, scared now. He looked at Bridget. "Bridge, what is it?"

"This has nothing to do with her, she just already knows…but you shouldn't have had to say that to me. I should've been sayin' that to you. You know, I put…I put too much on your shoulders, I made you grow up too fast. You took care of Sammy, and you took care of me. You did that. And you didn't complain, not once," a tear fell down his face. "I just want you to know…that I am so proud of you." His bottom lip quivered as he nearly broke down and Bridget was fighting so hard to keep from crying.

"Is this really you talkin'?"

"Yeah, yeah. It's me."

"Why are you sayin' this stuff?"

He put his hand on Dean's shoulder. "I want you to watch out for Sammy, okay? The both of you."

"Yeah, Dad. You know we will but you're scaring me."

"Don't be scared, Dean," he leaned in and whispered to Dean what Bridget already knew about Sam and she saw the shocked look on his face that had been on hers. He looked at his father who nodded and turned to leave. He put his hand on Bridget's shoulder, "Don't follow me…and I won't forget to tell them."

She closed her eyes as a sob escaped her. His hand left her shoulder and she leaned her head in her hands. She felt Dean touch her hair. "Bridge, what's goin' on?"

"I don't know…I just know what you know about Sam. He told me earlier," she said partially lying.

"What do we do?"

"Exactly what your dad said because things are only going to get worse…we just need to stick together."

"We will…all of us."

The siren blared a moment later and Dean sat up watching nurse and doctors hurry down the hall. "Isn't that where Dad's room is?"

Bridget said nothing and would have stayed where she was had Dean not grabbed her hand pulling her along with him. Sam was just outside the room, watching with tears in his eyes as Dean stopped next to him, a look of horror on his face. Bridget moved to the wall, catching a glimpse of the doctor's trying to save John but knew it would be impossible. She slid down the wall, crying, leaning her head onto her knees as she listened to the flatline. "Time of death 10:41 a.m."

She wrapped her arms around her legs, things had just gotten worse and she never felt so helpless in her life.