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Note: The waywarddaughter: funny you should say that :)...keep reading. I have up to season 3 done already

S2 E24 EVERYBODY LOVES A CLOWN

It was dark and cold despite the fire that was blazing in front of them. Or maybe it just felt so cold because the reason the fire was burning was to cremate John Winchester's body. Bridget stood between the brothers, her hand held tight within Sam's. She could barely feel him squeezing her fingers, she felt so numb watching her friend burn, knowing he died to save Dean and knowing he was going to do it before he even did but he had asked her not to stop him, to let him do this, and she had. She let him die. She knew Sam was crying, she could feel it in the way his body trembled and Dean was staring into the fire, a complete mask of no emotional heed.

"Before…before he…" he paused trying to not sob. "Did he say anything? About anything?"

Bridget felt Dean tense on her other side as she too went over her last conversation with John. Sam couldn't know what they did. "No," Dean said. "Nothing."

She turned her head slightly to Dean to see a single tear roll down his cheek. With very slow cautious movement she reached for his hand, taking it in hers. He didn't reject it and for that she was thankful. They were the last two people she had in the world, and she refused to lose either of them.

Bridget stretched out on the lounge seat in her black and white bikini, feet dangling in the plastic pool. This was not what she had in mind when she said she needed a vacation. She surveyed the junk cars and strewn about car parts, the plastic blue pool her feet rested in was not the twelve foot deep crystal clear one she had in mind. But they'd been at Bobby's for a week and she had to admit she was feeling a whole lot better with very few picture dreams in between and not so much as a twitch from her necklace.

She stared down at the sketch over her sunglasses that she had finished of a clown and turned the page to look at one of the bar she had drawn that she never heard of. The Road House. A shadow blocked out her light and she tilted her eyes up to see Sam staring own at her, one of his legs over each side of hers. He was doing much better than she expected. He had grieved three days straight and she lain in bed with him, comforting him as best as she could and whenever he fell asleep she would go find Dean and sit with him for an hour, watching TV and drinking a beer. But after three days Sam seemed more himself and even she felt more like herself. And then, just the other night, they had had a wild night he had surprised her by initiating. Bobby eventually knocked on the door, telling them to keep it down and both had laughed until they couldn't breathe.

She smiled up at Sam, closing her sketchbook and setting it aside. "Draw anything interesting?"

"Nothing that makes any sense unless you like clowns."

He shivered visibly despite the heat. "Not really. I know this isn't the vacation you had in mind."

She rubbed the inside of his calf with her foot, "Oh, I'd say it's gone pretty well so far…now the pool is a little disappointing, but I'll live."

"Really?" he looked over his shoulder at it. "I think it's great. Water's clear at least."

She snorted, adjusting her halter strap. "Yeah, it'll do."

He bent down closer to her, the bottom of his shorts brushing her legs as he braced his arms on either side of her. She had to remember to breathe when she saw the muscles in his biceps flex. His lips came close to hers and she saw that sexy up to no good smile come across his face, "I think we can make it work."

"Really?" she said back, curious now more than ever.

"Uh huh," he kissed her and it was full of a lot of promise for later. His hands grabbed her arms and he let gravity pull him back and both splashed into the little pool. Bridget laughed and looked at him through her wet speckled sunglasses. Sam removed them, tossing them on the chair and kissed her again while she giggled into his mouth, noticing it was hard to fit a 6'4 grown boy into a kiddie pool, his legs were hanging clear out and he was only partially wet. She sat up, straddling his waist and removing the t-shirt he had on. Now she had to remember to breathe because his body always robbed her of her voice. It was too perfect, too tan, too well muscled. She smashed her mouth onto his, consumed by the lust and complete desire for him. He responded by pulling her tighter to him, kissing her harder. She gasped into his mouth, her nails raking his arm, the other trailing down his chest.

"Get a room you two, sheesh," Bobby said as he walked by carrying a bag of groceries. "Don't make me get the damn hose."

Bridget laughed, pulling away from Sam and moving her hair out her face to look up at Bobby, "Sorry, Bobby."

"Glad to see you two are feelin' better."

"Much better," Sam nodded.

"Yeah, I can hear how much better," he shook his head and went inside.

Bridget looked back at Sam who finally couldn't contain his laughter. She fell against his chest in giggles, trying to catch her breath. She finally straightened up after a full minute went by, "We better go check on Dean, see how he's coming along with the car…but we are finishing this later."

"Oh, definitely," he said and took his shirt back from her. Bridget slid her denim skirt on over her bikini bottoms and put a tank top over her bikini then slid on her sandals walking hand in hand with Sam to the back of the house. Dean's legs were sticking out from under the Impala and she bent down to look. "How's it goin'?"

"Slow," he grumbled from below.

"Yeah. Need any help?" Sam volunteered.

"What, you under a hood? I got better luck with Bridget."

"Need anything else then?" Sam asked.

Dean slid out from under the car, "Stop it, Sam."

"Stop what?"

"Stop askin' if I need anything, stop askin' if I'm okay. I'm okay. Really. I promise."

"Okay, Dean. It's just we've been here a week and you haven't brought up Dad once."

"You know what, you're right," Dean said and threw down the wrench. Bridge took a step back and shook her head knowing he was going to get that stupid humor. "Come here. I'm gonna lay my head on your shoulder and cry, maybe we can hug too."

"Don't patronize me, Dean, Dead is dead! The Colt is gone and it seems pretty damn likely the demon is behind all of this, and you're actin' like nothing happened."

"What do you want me to say?"

"Say something, all right? Hell, say anything! Aren't you angry? Don't you want revenge? But all you do is sit out here all day buried beneath this damn car!"

"Revenge huh?" Dean asked.

"Yeah."

"Sounds good. You got any leads on where the demon is? Are you makin' heads or tails of any of Dad's research? 'Cause I sure ain't but you know what, when we finally do find it – on no, wait. Like you said, the Colt is gone. But I'm sure you've figured out another way to kill it. We've got nothin', Sam. Nothin', okay? So you know what? The only thing I can do is work on the car."

"We do have something, dean," Bridget took the phone out of her bag. "It's one of your Dad's old phones. Sam cracked the voicemail code last night. Listen," she handed it to Sam who plugged in the code.

"John, it's Ellen…again. Look, don't be stubborn. You know I can help you. Call me."

"That message is four months old," Bridget said.

"Dad saved this chicks message for four months?" Dean asked.

"Yeah," Sam nodded.

"Well, who's Ellen? Any mention of her in Dad's journal?"

"No. But I ran a trace and got an address."

They pulled up to the bar in the riggidy van Bobby leant them and Bridget opened her sketchbook up staring at her drawing then at the bar. It was a match.

"This is humiliating," Dean grumbled. "I feel like a freakin' soccer mom!"

"It's the only car Bobby had running," Sam said and got out of the minivan.

"We're on the right track though," she handed the sketchbook to Dean who showed Sam.

"Do you know anything else?" Sam asked her.

She shook her head, putting it back in her shoulder bag and in the car. "Nope, just that whatever I draws means we're on the right track to something else and these things need to happen…" she trailed off, remembering when John had told her exactly that a week ago. "We better see if anyone is here."

Sam nodded and walked around the outside, "Hello? Anybody here?"

Dean sighed, "Hey Sam?"

"Yeah?" he paused.

Dean pointed at the door, "Did you bring the tools?"

"Of course," he reached into his jacket and tossed him the lock picking set.

Dean popped the lock and opened the door. It was empty and quiet and Bridget frowned, noticing a man sleeping on the pool table. Sam poked at him, "Hey buddy?" he continued snoring.

"I'm guessing that's not Ellen," Bridget said and kept looking around. "Hello?"

Sam went into the other room and she stayed in the bar area with Dean. "So you're not gonna ask me how I am?" Dean said.

"Why would I?"

"Because Sammy does every hour."

"I don't ask because I know you, Dean. Same reason you don't ask me, because when I want to talk about it, I'll talk about it. You're the same way. When you wanna talk, I'll listen because I don't ask questions," she told him.

He nodded his head, "Smart girl." Dean froze when he felt the shot gun pointed at his back or at least he hoped. "God, please let that be a rifle."

Bridget had froze as well, standing a few feet from Dean. "Yeah, it's a rifle held but a pissed off blonde girl."

"No, I'm just real happy to see you," she said sarcastically.

"Judging by attitude I say she's seventeen or eighteen," Bridget guessed.

"Nineteen, Hood Rat," she growled.

Bridget rolled her eyes, "I'll act like that's original."

"Neither of you move," she ordered.

"Not movin'," Dean nodded. "Copy that. You know, you should know somethin', Miss. When you put a rifle on someone, you don't wanna rest it against their back. 'Cause it makes it real easy to do," Dean wheeled around, swiping the gun from her hand, "that."

The girl punched him in the face and she grabbed the gun back. "Sam! Need some help here. I can't hit a girl."

Bridget had moved around when Dean was talking to the blonde and twisted the gun from her. The girl turned to hit her and Bridget grabbed her wrist, spinning her around and twisting the arm behind her back, dropping her to her knees. "I can do it though. Now, sweety, if you try moving even an inch you're going to break your arm in two places and dislocate it from your shoulder, so I'd stay real still if I were you."

Sam entered the room and Bridget looked up to see him with his hands on his heads and an older blonde woman with a gun on him. Definitely this girl's mother.

"Let go of my daughter or I shoot this one," she ordered.

Bridget tossed the gun on an empty table and let the girl go. She scrambled to her feet with a pissed off look of bring out done.

"Sorry Dean, but I got held up," Sam said.

"It'd okay, Bridget took care of it for you," Dean said, rubbing at his nose.

Ellen looked stunned. "Sam? Dean? Bridget?" she looked at the boys."Winchester?"

They nodded. "Yeah."

"Son of a bitch," she said dropping the gun down.

"Mom, you know them?" the blonde girl asked.

"Yeah, they're John Winchester's boys and this is Bridget, she's been hunting with John for a few years now. I'm Ellen, this is my daughter, Jo."

Jo nodded, "Hey."

"You're not gonna hit me again are you?" Dean asked cautiously.

"Let's all get a seat," Ellen said and put some chairs down around a table. Bridget sat next to Sam and Ellen while Dean sat on the other side of Sam.

Dean got right to the point. "So you called our Dad and said you could help – help with what?"

"Well…the demon, of course. I heard he was closing in on it," said Ellen.

"Was there an article in Demon Hunter's Weekly that I missed? I mean, who are you? How do you know about all this?"

"Hey, I just run a bar. But hunters have been known to pass through now and then, including your dad a long time ago. John was like family once."

"Oh, yeah. How come he's never mentioned you before?"

"You'd have to ask him that," she said and Dean winced slightly.

Bridget took up the next question to give him time, "So why exactly do we need your help?"

"Hey, don't do me any favors. Look, if you don't want my help, fine. Don't let the door smack your ass on the way out. But John wouldn't have sent you if…he didn't send you," she realized and noticed none of them were looking at her. "He is all right, isn't he?"

Bridget looked at the other two, saw the hurt and pain. "No, he isn't. The demon got him a little over a week ago…he died."

"Jesus…" she whispered sadly. "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," Dean nodded. "We're all right."

"Nothing new for some of us," Bridget forced a smile.

"Really. I know how close you and your dad were Dean."

"Really, lady, I'm fine," Dean snapped a little.

"So, look, if you can help…we could use all the help we can get."

"Well, we can't," she gestured at her and her daughter. "But Ash can?"

"Who's Ash?" Bridget asked.

"Ash!" Ellen yelled, turning in her chair to look at the pool table the guy was sleeping up. He sat up startled wearing a checkered shirt with the sleeves cut off and his hair was in a long mullet.

"What? Closin' time?" he asked with a southern accent.

Sam looked skeptical. "That's Ash?"

Jo nodded, "Mm hmm. He's a genius."

"So you say…" Bridget muttered.

Dean shook his head joining Ash at the bar where he now sat perched on a stool. "You've gotta be kidding me. This guy is no genius. He's a Lynrd Skynrd roadie."

Ash chuckled, "I like you."

"Thanks."

"Just give him a chance," Jo said.

Dean rolled his eyes, sliding the folder to Ash who opened it and started looking through it. "All right," Sam said. "This stuff is about a year's worth of our Dad's work, so…let's see what you can make of it."

"Come on," Ash snorted. "This crap ain't real. Ain't nobody can track a demon like this.

"Our dad could," Dean said.

Ash sighed, "These are nonparametric statistical overviews, cross spectrum correlations. I mean…damn. They're signs…omens. If you can track 'em, you can track this demon – you know, like crop failures, electrical storms. You ever been struck by lightning? It ain't fun."

"Can you track it or not?" Bridget asked.

"Yeah, with this, I think so. But it's gonna take time. Uh, give me…," he paused calculating in his head. "Fifty-one hours." He gathered the paper, walking away and leaving them stunned.

Dean turned to him, "Hey, man."

Ash paused and turned around. "Yeah?"

"By the way, I, uh…dig the haircut."

He tossed his hair. "All business up front, party in the back." He left the room and Sam noticed a folder on the counter next to Ellen.

"Hey, Ellen, what's that?"

"It's a police scanner. We keep tabs on things -."

"No, no, no, the folder."

She picked it up. "Uh, I was gonna give this to a friend of mine, but take a look at it if you want."

"Thanks," Sam took the folder and opened it up.

Dean sighed, "I'm gonna go find out more about this place from the girl."

"She's like eight years younger than you, keep that in mind," Bridget warned him.

"Yeah yeah," he said and walked to a booth where Jo sat.

She turned to Sam once he called her name. "Hey, Bridge…didn't you say you drew a drawing of a clown?"

"Uh huh, why?"

"Read this. Tell me what you think."

She read down the file and pursued her lips, "Not sure we have costumes for this and what about it."

"It's a hunt."

She sighed, "A hunt…already…Sam, it's not the demon."

"I know that, I don't expect it to be but we can't sit around and do nothing."

"What happened to relaxing?"

"We've relaxed enough."

"Says you," she snorted and leaned her head on her hand.

"You drew a clown and you even said that your pictures are where we have to go. I mean, you drew the Road House and we came here found Ash and now we find a file about a clown and you drew a clown. It's the next lead to what we're supposed to do."

She sighed, "All right…I guess it's something. We have fifty-one hours to waste anyway."

Sam looked at Ellen, "We'll take this case."

Bridget shook he head at his eagerness, "Hey Dean, come here."

He ambled back over to them from the booth he had been in. "Yeah?"

Sam slid him the file, "A few murders not far from here that Ellen caught wind of – looks to me like there might be a hunt."

"Yeah, so?" he shrugged.

"So, I told her we'd check it out."

Dean exchanged a look with Bridget and sighed as well, "Okay, we'll go look at it."

Dean shook his head as he drove, it was already dark out. "You've gotta be kiddin' me. A killer clown?"

"That's what I said," Bridget agreed.

"Yeah, but he left the daughter unharmed and the killed the parents – ripped them to pieces, actually."

"And this family was at some carnival that night?"

"Right, the Cooper carnival."

"Oh God, I have to be a Carne?" Bridget groaned.

"Not yet," Dean warned. "So how do we know we're not dealin' with some psycho in a clown suit?"

"Well, the cops have no visible leads, and all the employees were tearin' down shop – alibis all around. Plus, the girl said she saw a clown vanish into thin air. Cops are saying trauma. And, if that's not enough, Bridget had a picture dream of a clown, it's in her sketch book."

"That true?" Dean asked.

Bridget groaned, "Yes…sadly."

Dean smirked ay Sam, "I know what you're thinkin', Sam. Why'd it have to be clowns?"

"Give me a break,' he rolled his eyes.

"You didn't think I'd remember, did you? I mean, come on, you still burst out cryin' whenever you see Ronald McDonald on the TV."

"At least I'm not afraid of flying," Sam growled.

"Planes crash!" Dean argued.

"And apparently clowns kill," Sam countered.

Dean didn't have a comeback to that, "So, these type of murders – they ever happen before?"

"Uh, according to the file, 1981, the Bunker Brothers circus. Same M.O. – it happened three different times, three different locales."

"That's weird though," Bridget frowned. "I mean, if it is a spirit, its usually bound to a specific locale – a house or town."

"So how's this one moving from city to city, carnival to carnival?"

"Cursed object, maybe?" Dean suggested. "Spirit attaches itself to something, and the carnival carries it around with them."

"Great," Sam grumbled. "A paranormal scavenger hunt."

"This case was your idea," Dean reminded him. "By the way, why is that? You were awfully quick to jump on this job."

"So?"

"It's just not like you, that's all. I thought you were hell bent for leather on the demon hunt."

"I don't know. I just think taking this job – it's what Dad would have wanted us to do."

"What Dad would have wanted?" Dean repeated and she heard the edge in his voice.

"Yeah. So?" Sam asked.

"Nothin," Dean shook his head.

They all knew that was a lie, it was definitely something.

The next day they pulled up in the carnival lot and Bridget hung up her cell phone as they got out. "There were two more murders last night. Apparently, they were ripped to shreds and they had a little boy with them."

"Was it a clown?" Sam asked.

She sighed, "That question still bothers me, but yes a clown that vanished into thin air."

"You know we're lookin' for a cursed object – it's like tryin' to find a certain needle in a stack of needles. It could be anything."

"Well, its bound to give off EMF, so we'll just have to scan everything," Dean said.

"Oh, good. That's nice an inconspicuous," Sam said sarcastically.

Dean pointed to a HELP WANTED sign, "Guess we'll just have to blend in."

They walked around and saw a gentleman wearing sunglasses throwing knives at a wall, "Excuse me," Dean said to I'm. "We're lookin' for Mr. Cooper. Have you seen him around?"

The guy became upset, "What is that – some kind of joke?" he removed his sunglasses showing he was blind.

Dean looked taken a back. "Oh, God, I'm so sorry. I-I didn't-."

"You think I wouldn't give anything to see anything," he said angrily.

Dean looked at Sam and Bridget, "Wanna give me a little help here?"

Sam shook his head with a smile, "Not really."

"I think you got it covered," Bridget grinned.

A small person came out of the tent, "Hey, Barry, is there a problem?"

"Yeah, this guy hates blind people," Barry jerked his thumb at Dean.

"Hey, buddy, what's your problem?"

"Nothing, it's just a little misunderstanding," Dean said.

"Little? Son of a bitch," the short guy growled.

"No, no, no! Could somebody please tell me where to find Mr. Cooper?" Dean asked as Bridget and Sam were cracking up. "Please."

Luckily they were saved by an older gentleman with hair turning white who was Mr. Cooper. He took them into his office, "You three picked a hell of a time to join up. Take a seat. We got all kinds of local trouble." There were three chairs, one a regular table chair, one an office chair and one shaped like a clown. Bridget knocked Dean out of the way, sitting in the office chair and he quickly took the regular one. Sam sat uncomfortable in the clown chair.

"What do you mean?" Bridget asked.

"A couple of folks got themselves murdered. Cops always seem to start here first. So, you three ever work for a circuit before?"

"Uh, yes, sir –last year through Texas and Arkansas" Sam lied.

"Doing what?" Cooper asked.

"Little bit of everything, I guess," Dean said.

He paused a moment with a slow smile, "You three have never worked a show on your lives before, have you?"

"Nope," Dean spoke the truth. "But we really need the work…and Sam here has a thing for the bearded lady."

"You see that picture," Cooper pointed to a photo next to him. "That's my Daddy."

"You look just like him," Bridget acknowledged. It was uncannily similar.

"He was in this business – ran a freak show til they outlawed 'em most places. Apparently, displaying the deformed isn't dignified. So, most of the performers went from honest work to rotting in hospitals and asylums. That's progress, I guess. You see, this place is a refuge for outcasts, always has been, for folks who don't fit in nowhere else. But you three…you should go to school, find someone to be with, have 2.5 kids – live regular."

"Sir," Sam said sitting forward. "We don't want to go to school. And we don't regular. We want this."

Dean looked at him curiously.

"You can have normal lives though," Cooper said.

Bridget cut him off, "Look sir, I had a normal life years ago and it was taken from me. I haven't been normal in years, in fact, I don't think I ever was normal and neither are these two. You said this place is a refuge for outcast, for people who don't fit in – trust me, we can't be anymore outcasted than we already are."

He pursued his lips and nodded, "Okay then…you start tomorrow…welcome aboard."

The three walked out a couple minutes later. Dean still looking perplexed.

"Huh," he mumbled.

"What?" Sam asked.

"That whole, uh, 'I don't wanna go back to school' thing – you just sayin' that to Cooper or were you…you know, sayin' it?"

Sam shrugged, "I don't know…"

"You don't know? I thought that once this demon was dead and the fat lady sings that you were gonna take off, head back to Wussy State?"

"I'm havin' second thoughts," Sam said.

"Really?" Bridget asked intrigued.

"Yeah, I think…Dad would have wanted me to stick with my job."

"Since when do you give a damn what Dad wanted? You spent half your life doin' exactly what he didn't want, Sam?" Dean said in anger.

"Since he died," Sam yelled back. "Okay? You have a problem with that?"

Dean shook his head, "No, I don't have a problem at all."

Bridget let out a deep breath and gestured to where Dean had run off too, "I'm gonna go talk to him."

"You always run off to him," Sam scoffed.

She held her hand up, "Don't start with me, okay? Because we both know your brother is a ticking time bomb waiting to explode, Sam. You're emotionally stronger than he is because you vent, he doesn't, I don't have to worry about you breaking down right now…and I'm the only one he can talk to."

"Yeah, why's that?" Sam asked challenging.

"Because it's like your Dad said to me in the hospital, me and Dean are a lot a like and he trusts me because of that. You can go wait by the van while I go find him," she turned and walked back into the carnival. She didn't have to look long, she found him sitting on a bench near the ferris wheel. She sat next to him, crossing her legs.

"Don't start questioning me…"

"You already know I won't," she said simply.

Dean stared down at his hands, "Sam send you to look for me?"

"No I did it on my own, imagine that? A girl who can think for herself? I am a rarity after all."

"Smart ass."

"Takes one to know one," she stuck her tongue at him.

He chuckled and his smile faded a bit, "Does he intentionally try to piss me off?"

"No, he's just doing what he thinks your dad would have wanted."

"Since when does he care…"

"Since your dad died, Deano…he feels guilty because he always defied him and now he figures this is the only way to redeem himself, by doing what your dad wanted. He doesn't mean to hurt you with it or upset you. You gotta remember, he's not like us, Dean. This, even now, is still new to him, he's still adjusting while we've always been a part of it. He's just trying to help out."

Dean turned his head to look at her, "I hate it when you're right, you know."

"You must hate me a lot of the time then," she teased, nudging him with her hip.

"No, I don't think I ever hated you," he said and the tone made Bridget look away swiftly, spotting the ferris wheel.

She tapped his arm, "Come on, I know what will make you feel better."

"What? A lap dance?" he teased and she rolled her eyes dragging him to the ride and hiding the guy two dollars. Dean looked somewhat panicked. "Uhh…I-I'm not a big fan of heights."

"You'll be fine," she said as the wheel spun moving them up to the top. Dean was gripping the bar for dear life in panic. It stopped at the top shaking a bit and she laughed as he cursed from the seat rocking. "It's supposed to do that, Dean, you're fine."

"This is, uh, a little high up."

"Here," she moved his hand from the death grip on the bar and slid her hand in his. "There. That way if you fall to your death you get to take me with you."

"Oh, please don't say that," he shook his head.

She laughed, "Calm down, you're okay."

He squeezed her hand tighter and took a deep breath, calming himself before noticing he was holding her hand, reminding him of just before the crash. "I never said thank you."

"For what?" she asked puzzled.

"For stayin' with me in the car, holdin' my hand, talkin' to me. I'm betting you did that in the hospital too."

She nodded, "Yeah, well…not like you weren't there…"

"Huh?"

"You don't remember, but you were…talking to me. Like your soul was out of your body roaming the hospital and I could hear you when you talked. I was the only one who could."

"Huh? Why?"

She shrugged, "You dad said it was because we're alike or something like that. I don't know, but I had help from you in fixing things…though it doesn't feel like anything was fixed…" she took a deep breath and smiled. "But you're alive and we're hunting a killer clown and life is weird again so, in essence, everything is back to normal."

He chuckled, "As normal as they can be…and hey, Bridge?"

"Hmm?"

"You're not an outcast, you'll always belong here with me," he said and she found herself unable to look away from his eyes. They stared at each other another moment before the ride jerked and he swore, clutching her hand.

She snorted as he all but scrambled off once the bar was lifted. She followed him back to the car where Sam was waiting in the van, going over the file again. "Feeling better?" he asked Dean once he got in the driver's seat.

"Peachy," he said.

Sam turned his head to look at Bridget in the back seat and she gave him an okay sign. Because things were okay for now.

She did not feel okay the next day. In fact, she felt pissed off. Her carnie blouse was a size too small and the clothing department guy apologized to her with a grin as he handed it to her. She couldn't keep the top button done so her breasts were all but bursting out of her shirt. She thanked whatever God there was that she wore a black spaghetti strap underneath it. It gave her some dignity back.

Dean got a kick out of it, "Looks good on you."

"And my fist in your face will look good on you," she growled.

Sam grabbed her back by her arm, "You can do that later, let's just try and find that object."

Bridget nodded, glaring at Dean who continued to grin as they split up. She went with Sam towards the fun house and went inside the black lit room. Sam smiled at her, noticing her white blouse lit up, highlighting her chest. "You have no idea how hot that looks right now."

"What?"

He pointed and she looked down with a groan and roll of her eyes. "This is embarrassing, I'm gonna seriously kick that guys ass for-." She was cut off by Sam's sudden lips on hers and forgot her argument all together by the time he broke the kiss.

"Save this for later tonight," he told her with a promising smile.

"Maybe it's not so bad after all," she shrugged and followed his through the fun house with the EMF reader. She got nothing from anything she scanned and as a skeleton dropped down pathetically, Sam got nothing off it either. He shook his head at her as they left it, calling Dean on the phone and giving him the update or lack thereof.

He hung up, "Dean's gonna meet us here."

"Wanna go back in the fun house and fool around some more?" she asked with a smile.

"We got work to do," he said.

She pouted, "Spoil my fun."

"You'll get your fun later."

"I better after this job," she muttered. "And I'd like to go to a real beach with sand and surf. We need to find a case around Hawaii or something, I'll even take the Keys," Bridget said, watching a little girl and her family walk by.

Dean came to join them at that point.

"What took you so long?" Sam asked.

"Long story," Dean muttered.

The little girl Bridget was watching pointed at something to the right. "Mommy, look a clown."

The mother turned to look and Bridget even followed to where the girl was pointing. There was nothing there. "What clown?" her mom asked. "Come on, sweetie. Come on."

The three exchanged a look. "Did either of you see a clown?" Bridget asked.

Dean shook his head, "Nothin' there…"

"Think we just found the next victim," Sam said.

It was dark out and Bridget through her burger wrapper back in the bag and handing it to Sam to put his own garbage in. They were camped out in the van outside the little girl's home, waiting to see what would happen. Reminded her of old times.

"Dean, I cannot believe you told Barry about the homicidal clown," Sam said in disbelief.

"I told him an urban legend about a homicidal clown. I never said it was real," he said, throwing away his wrappers and grabbing his shot gun.

Sam took the gun from him, "Put that down."

"Oh, and get this. I mentioned the Bunker Brothers Circus in '81 and their evil clown apocalypse. Guess what?"

"Ronald McDonald and Bozo worked for them?" Bridget guessed.

Dean rolled his eyes, "No."

"You said guess," she shrugged.

"Before Mr. Copper owned Cooper Carnival, he worked for Bunker Brothers. He was their lot manager."

"So you think whatever the spirit is attached to, Cooper just brought it with him?" Sam asked.

"Somethin' like that," he nodded and shook his head. "I can't believe we keep talkin' about clowns." He stretched and reclined his set back. "I'm gonna catch a few z's. Watch the house."

Bridget stretched out in the back, reading her book with a book light while Sam kept an eye on the house. Dean was snoring. "You know," Bridget mused. "We could always full around in the back here…"

"We're on a hunt, Bridge," Sam reminded her.

"No, reason we can't have fun," she said.

"Later," he told her.

She let out a sigh and went back to her book. Thirty minutes later Sam nudged her leg and she looked up from the pages, looking out the side window. The light in the living room was on. She shook Dean's shoulder. "Dean, check it out."

He sat up and they watched as the little girl opened the front door and a clown appeared in the living room. This was going to be a challenge as usual…

Saving the little girl had been the easy part, explaining it to the very pissed off parents was a bit more difficult. They never got the credit they deserved, just a lot of yelling and threats for saving their lives. They were now leaving the van by the side of the road the next day, removing the plates and taking what promised to be a very long walk.

"Well, one thing's for sure," Dean said as they walked with their bags.

"Besides the fact we have an awfully long walk and I'm wearing boots, what's that?" Bridget asked.

"We're not dealin' with a spirit. That rock salt hit somethin' solid."

"Yeah, a person?" Sam asked. "Or maybe a creature that can make itself invisible."

"Yeah, and dresses up like clowns for kicks? Did it say anything in Dad's journal?"

"Nope," Sam said and took out his cell phone.

"Who you callin'?" Dean asked.

"Maybe Ellen or that Ash guy will know something. Hey, you think…uh…you think Dad and Ellen ever had a thing?"

"Ewwww," Bridget said at the mere thought.

"No way," Dean said.

"Then why didn't he tell us about her?" Sam asked.

"I don't know, maybe they had some sorta fallin' out."

"Yeah. You ever notice Dad had a fallin' out with just about everybody?" Sam asked and Dean was quiet. "Don't get all maudlin on me."

"What do you mean?" Dean asked.

"I mean this strong, silent thing of yours. It's crap. I'm over it. This isn't just anyone we're talkin' about. This is Dad. I know how you felt about the man."

"You know what, back off, all right?" Dean said. "Just because I'm not caring and sharing like you want me to-."

Sam cut him off, "No, no, no. That's not what this is about, Dean. I don't care how you deal with this but you have to deal with it, man. Listen, I'm your brother, all right? I just want to make sure you're okay."

"Dude, I'm okay. I'm okay! I swear, the next person who asks me if I'm okay, I'm gonna start throwin' punches. These are your issues. Quit dumpin' 'em on me."

They stopped walking and Bridget stood back a bit, letting them deal with it. "What are you talkin' about?" Sam asked.

"I just think it's real interesting, this sudden obedience you have to Dad. It's like 'Oh, what would Dad want me to do?'. Sam, you spent your entire life sluggin' it out with that man. I mean, hell, you picked a fight with him the last time you ever saw him, and now that he's dead, now you want to make it right? Well, I'm sorry, Sam, but you can't. It's too little, too late."

"What are you sayin' this to me?" Sam asked.

"Because I want you to be honest with yourself about this! I'm dealin' with Dad's death! Are you?"

Sam paused for a long time, "I'm gonna call Ellen," he walked ahead and Dean watched him, rubbing the back of his neck. Bridget patted the side of the wooden fence she was leaning against and Dean joined her. "Please tell me that was right?"

"I think you had your points," she nodded. "But I think Sam did too."

Dean groaned, "Not you too."

"Yes, me too. You both need to deal. He was your Dad, that's hard, believe me I understand that. It is hard to lose someone you love, but you have to deal with it otherwise it'll fester and tear you apart, Dean. But we'll all be okay, we will."

He nodded, "What would we do without you?"

"Kill each other and go mad with insanity, not to mention get lost most of the time because you're directions are hell."

He chuckled as Sam came back to them, putting his phone back in his pocket. "Rakshasa."

"What did you just call me?" Dean asked.

Sam rolled his eyes, "It's a race of ancient Hindu creatures. They appear in human form, they feed on human flesh, they can make themselves invisible, and they cannot enter a home without first being invited."

"They dress up like clowns, and children will let them in," Bridget pieced together.

"Yeah," Sam nodded.

"Why don't they just munch on kids?" Dean asked.

"No idea. Not enough meat on the bones, I guess," Sam said.

"What else you find out?" Bridget asked.

"Well, apparently, rakshasas live in squalor. They sleep on a bed of dead insects."

Bridget scrunched her face in disgust, "Nice."

"Yeah, and they have to feed a few times every twenty to thirty years – slow metabolism," Sam added.

"That makes sense – the carnival today, the Bunker Brother in '81," said Dean.

"Right, probably more before that," nodded Sam in agreement.

"Sam, who do we know that worked for both shows?"

"Cooper."

Bridget nodded, "Cooper…you know I thought that picture of his father looked just like him."

"You think maybe it was him?" Sam asked.

"Well, who knows how old he is," she said.

"Ellen say how to kill him?" Dean asked.

"Legend goes a dagger made of pure brass," Sam said.

"I think I know where to get one of those," said Dean.

"Well, before we go stabbin' things into Cooper, we're gonna make damn well sure it is him," Sam said.

"Oh, you're such a stickler for details, Sammy," Dean joked and Sam smiled. "All right, I'll round up the blade, you two go check if Cooper has a bed of bugs."

Bridget crouched down outside Cooper's trailer, Sam right next to her handing her the lock pick. She took the tools and jimmied open the door, handing them back to him. They stepped inside quietly and Bridget moved towards the bed, with a deep breath she pulled back the sheet. Nothing , just a normal bed.

"Not him after all," Sam mused and both froze when they heard the sound of a gun being cocked. They slowly turned around to see Cooper standing there.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Umm…" Sam muttered.

"I was looking for you actually," Bridget said. "Sorry, the door was unlocked so we just stepped in."

"What do you need?" he asked.

"I was wondering if I could possibly get a different job other than cleaning. Fred doesn't like me much, he's always giving me shirts that are too tight and then he's rude to me and crude all the time and it's uncomfortable."

He lowered the gun with a scoff. "That man, I'm gonna have to fire him. He always messes with the pretty girls, causes me to lose business…I'll fire him, get you a different job. I imagine you could make a lot of money in the game booths with your looks and all."

"Thank you, sir," she nodded and grabbed Sam's hand. "It was really bothering my boyfriend so we appreciate it and we're sorry we barged in when you weren't here."

They left the trailer in a hurry, bumping into Dean. "Hey!"

"Hey," Dean said skidding to a stop

"It's not Cooper," Sam said.

"Yeah, I gathered that. It's the blind guy. He's here somewhere," Dean said.

"Well, did you get the blades?" Bridget asked.

"No, it's just one of those days," Dean shrugged.

"I got an idea," Sam said suddenly, spotting the fun house. "Come on."

They went in and suddenly a set of doors closed, separating them.

"Sam! Bridge!" Dean shouted.

"Dean! Dean, find the maze, okay?" Bridget shouted and Sam grabbed her hand.

"Come on, the pipe organ," he said and they hurried to it, trying to remove one if the pipes.

Dean met up with them then, "Hey."

"Hey, where is it?" Bridget asked.

"I don't know. I mean, shouldn't we see his clothes walkin' around?" he asked and Bridget looked, ducking last minute with a gasp as a knife sailed past her, missing her by inches. Two of them pinned Dean to the wall. Sam pulled the pipe off and dodged the last one. Bridget stood back up, trying to pull the knives from his jacket with no luck.

"Where is it?" Sam asked.

"I don't know!" Dean said. He looked up and pulled the lever above his head. Steam hissed from the vents, creating an outline of the creature.

Bridget spotted it behind Sam. "Sam, behind you!"

He twisted around, shoving the pipe into the creature causing it to scream and fall to the ground dead. The knives fell from Dean's shirt and he and Bridget stood next to Sam. Dean shook his head, "I hate fun houses."

Bridget sat at the bar with Sam and Dean drinking a much needed beer after dealing with Bozo the killer freakin' knife throwing clown. Not to mention she was glad they finished working at the carnival. Although she kept the blouse for Sam. It would come in handy later.

"You guys did a hell of a job," Ellen said after serving a couple of the other hunters at the other table beers. "Your dad would be proud."

"Thanks," Sam said with a nod.

"Nothing to it really…just had to wear a skimpy top and get oogled at by an old guy then later get knives thrown at me by an invisible creature that has a knack for dressing like a clown…I'm scared to say that's a normal day," Bridget said with a shrug and Sam put his arm around her with a smile.

Jo came over and sat on the other side of Dean and Bridget drained the rest of her beer. She looked back and forth between Jo and Dean. Sam caught on and cleared his throat looking at Bridge. "Yeah, uhhh…why don't we just go…over there."

She patted his thigh. "Watching you kill that clown demon did make me kinda hot. Let's go start something you can finish over there…I'll even wear the blouse later," she grabbed his hand and he followed her a little too eagerly to Dean.

They stood by the pool table, watching Dean and Jo talk. "I think he likes her," Bridget said.

"I do too which means he won't go for it."

"Why not?"

"Because Dean knows he can't have a steady girlfriend in this life style without it becoming a problem later on. It'll end up being his weakness," Sam explained.

"Am I a problem?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

He shook his head with a small smile. "No, see. You're a hunter, you can stand on your own and take care of yourself, not only that but you got the back up for it," he touched her necklace. "Jo is young and thinks she knows but truth is, she's never hunted, she doesn't know. She doesn't understand but Dean does."

"That's…sad…I guess none us really get a normal life in the abnormality of it all."

"Guess not," Sam said.

Ash came in the room carrying a laptop with him and set it on the bar. Sam and Bridget came back over.

"Where you guys been? I been waitin' for you," Ash said wearing a blue sleeves checkered shirt today.

"We were working a job, Ash. Killer clown," Bridget told him.

"Clowns?" he frowned. "What the fu-."

"Did you get somethin' for us, Ash?" Dean interrupted.

"Did you find the demon?" Sam asked.

"It's nowhere around, at least nowhere I can find. But if this fugly bastard raises its head, I'll know. I mean, I'm on it like divine on dog dookie."

Bridget chuckled at the metaphor, gotta love John Waters.

"What do you mean?" Sam asked.

"I mean any of those signs or omens appear anywhere in the world, my rig will go off like a fire alarm," he had several different programs open on his computer, a weather tracker was the only thing any of them recognized.

"Ash, where did you learn all this?" Bridget asked in awe.

"M.I.T., before I got bounced…for fighting," he shrugged.

"M.I.T.," Sam repeated.

"Yeah."

"Okay," Dean said patting Bridget and Sam on the back, indicting it was time to go. "Give us a call as soon as you know somethin'?"

"Si, senor," Ash nodded.

"Hey listen," Ellen said stopping them for a moment. "If you guys need a place to stay, I got a couple beds out back."

"Thanks, but no," Dean said. "There's somethin' I gotta finish."

"Okay," she nodded and they left.

Back at Bobby's Dean was working on the car and Sam was somewhere inside last she saw them. Bridget had been wandering around the immense junk yard with her sketch book in hand, drawing from a dream she had the previous night. Another vampire by the look of it, a blonde girl from what she could remember. She twisted the ring on her necklace, sitting on the back of a Mustang that was on blocks amongst the other graveyard of piled cars. She looked up at the blue sky that stretched further than she could imagine. She was never a big religious person, but her brother had been and for that purpose alone she wondered if he could see her, if any of them could. She clutched her necklace, they had to be if it reacted so strongly to her and Sam and Dean. She just hoped John was safe, that he was finally at peace with Mary and found that tranquility he could never have here. She hoped she'd find it before death herself because there were days things felt distant between her and Sam despite how much she loved him. It just felt like he pushed away some days.

The necklace warmed in her hand a little and she felt this sudden urge to head back towards where Dean was working on the Impala.

"Okay, Derek, I get the hint," she mumbled and slid off the car.

She paused hiding behind another van as she listened to Sam and Dean talk, it was a brother moment that she didn't need to interrupt. "You were right," Sam said.

"About what?" Dean asked.

"About me and Dad…I'm sorry that the last time I was with him, I tried to pick a fight. I'm sorry that I spent most of my life angry at him. I mean, for all I know, he died thinkin' that I hate him. So, you're right. What I'm doin' right now – it's too little. It's too late," Sam paused and she knew he was close to tears. "I miss him, man. And I feel guilty as hell. And I'm not all right. Not at all…but neither are you. That much I know. I'll let you get back to work."

She peaked out from behind the van and saw Sam go back inside. She took another step out and jumped a little when Dean swung the tire iron suddenly at the window, shattering it. He moved and swung it over and over on the trunk, leaving a huge dent in it. He was breathing heavier and stopped, staring at it. As if sensing her he turned and looked at Bridget.

She stayed rooted, one hand on the van, the other holding her sketch book just watching him. There was no need for her to speak, no need for her to say anything. She waited for him to make the first move. She watched as he took a shuddering breath and the tire iron slipped from his hand. He leaned back on the trunk, hanging his head and she saw the tears fall to the dirt.

"You're close to him…and he's always trusted you," their dad had said to her.

Bridget moved closer to Dean, setting her sketch book on the trunk. She put a hand on Dean's shoulder and he leaned into her, crying harder as he clutched her close. She wrapped her arms around him and his legs gave sending them both to the dirt. He buried his head against her and she held him, stroking his hair, tears in her own eyes as he finally broke. Of all people, he broke to her. Not his brother of twenty-two years, but to her – a girl he'd known for almost five years. He trusted her to see him this vulnerable. Maybe because she was there, maybe because he knew she wouldn't tell anyone, maybe because they were alike. Or maybe for other reasons she didn't yet understand. Nothing mattered now though. All that mattered was that she was there and he was finally letting it go at last.