DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE EPISODE IDEA OR THE CHARACTERS. JUST THE IDEA OF BRIDGET

S2 EP26 DEAD THINGS

"Come on, Sammy," Dean groaned. "This is stupid."

"Why?" Sam asked, he was currently in possession of the wheel.

"Going to visit Mom's grave? I mean, she doesn't even have a grave. There was no body left after the fire."

"So what?" Bridget said in Sam's side. "There was nothing left of Lydia but I still visit her grave when I visit Derek and my nephew."

"That's different. Your brother's there, too."

"It's the significance, Dean," she argued.

"So you guys wanna visit a slab of granite?"

"That's not the point," Sam said.

"Enlighten me," he huffed.

"It's not about a body or a casket. It's about the memory, okay?"

"Mm."

"And after Dad, it just…it just feels like the right thing to do."

"It's irrational, that's what it is," Dean folded his arms over his chest.

"No one asked you to come along," Bridget growled. "You could have stayed at the motel."

"And let you guys take the car? No way. You might decided to have sex in the backseat, can't have that," Dean said.

Bridget smiled, tossing her head sideways, "Who's to say we haven't?"

Dean looked at her in utter horror. "You're bluffing…"

"Am I?" she cocked her eyebrow.

Dean's eyes shifted to Sam who had a similar smile, eyes on the road. He shook his head at the thought, "Oh God, no! Not my car!"

Bridget chuckled, holding Sam's free hand in hers.

"Why don't we swing by the Roadhouse instead? I mean, we haven't heard anything on the demon lately and we haven't been there in almost a month."

"That's a good idea. We can drop you off and pick you up tomorrow."

He rolled his eyes, "Right. Stuck with those people, making awkward small talk 'til you two show up? No thanks. I don't trust you alone with my car anymore."

Bridget hung back, walking around the cemetery and looking at the other grave stones. She didn't want to invade Sam's personal space, it was his mother after all. They never followed her to Will's grave or her brother's for that matter. It was something he needed to do on his own. From where she stood she could see Sam kneeling at his Mom's grave and she could see Dean from the other side, walking around deeper into the cemetery towards a dead looking tree with interest.

With a frown she walked over to where he was, hands in her pockets. When she got close enough she could see what he was looking at. The grass all around the grave was dead in a perfect circle and so were the flowers at her grave.

"What are you thinking, Dean?" she asked, staring at the dead flowers.

"I'm thinkin' somethin' ain't right with this," he said and pointed at the circle. "This is way too perfect to be coincidence. Not with the flowers being dead with it 'cause they're aren't even in the ground and none of the other graves are affected."

"You think we got a case here?" she asked.

"I'm gonna go talk to the grounds keeper and find out…you hang out with Sam, cheer him up, but not too much, it's a cemetery after all, don't go gettin' kinky."

"Oh come on, Dean. You know me."

He grinned. "Exactly why I said it."

He dodged out of the way before she could kick him and she walked back over to where Sam was, slowly approaching, not wanting to bother him. She kept her arms folded over her chest, biting her lower lip. Sam looked up at her as she got closer and smiled slowly though she could see the tears in his eyes. "Hey…"

"I'm sorry, am I intruding?" she apologized. "I'll go wait by the car."

"No, no, stay. Come here," he stood up and held his hand out to her. She took it slowly and he brought her to his side, looking back at his Mom's grave. "Mom, this is Bridget. The girl I was talkin' to you about earlier, the one who helped out Dad and Dean…and me in a way."

She smiled nervously but spoke calmly, "Hi Mrs. Winchester…your sons are wonderful, your husband did a great job with them…and don't worry, I keep them in line."

Sam smiled with a small laugh, "She'd have liked you, Bridge."

"She'd have loved you to death," Bridget told him.

He smiled a bit and his eyes scanned the cemetery, "Where's Dean?"

"He went to go talk to the care taker. We might have a case on our hands."

"Really?" he raised his eyebrows in interest.

"We're not sure yet," she said. "But everything is dead around this one grave in a perfect circle and I mean everything from the grass to the flowers on the grave."

"Could just be pesticide."

"Could be," she said and shivered. It was colder out than she thought and she left her jacket in the car.

Sam saw her shiver and drew her closer, "Here, take my jacket."

"No," she moved her arms around him under his jacket, snuggling into his chest. "This is better because you're always warm."

"It's because I'm fat," he snorted.

"Yeah…right," she rolled her eyes though he couldn't she since she was pressed so close. She moved one hand from behind his back and moved it under his shirt, trailing his abs with her fingers and felt him shiver. "That doesn't feel like fat to me. That feels like your nicely toned six pack." She moved her hand around to his back, still under his shirt, feeling his muscles ripple from it. "That and the fact you wear like three layers of shirts."

She absent mindedly stroked her fingers up and down his bareback feeling warmer already. She also felt a tremor roll through Sam and felt him grip her tighter, one hand a little too close to her rear end. "Sam, we're in a cemetery."

"Uh huh…"

"And in front of your mother nonetheless. I don't think you grabbing my ass would make a great first impression."

"Good point," he nodded and for safety measures she moved her hand from under his shirt. They moved back to the car where she was able to grab her jacket from the back seat but still stayed next to Sam for the added warmth.

Not long after Dean came towards them and held up a piece of paper. "Angela Mason. She was a student at the local college. Her funeral was three days ago."

"And?" Sam said.

"And? You saw her grave, everything dead around it in a perfect circle. You don't think that's a little weird?"

"Maybe the groundskeeper went a little agro with the pesticide," suggested Sam.

"No, I asked him. No pesticide, no chemicals. Nobody can explain it."

"Okay, so what are you thinking?" asked Bridget.

"I don't know. Unholy ground, maybe?"

Both Sam and Bridget frowned at that. Unholy ground in a cemetery seemed unlikely.

"What?" Dean went off their looks. "If something evil happened there, it could easily poison the ground. Remember the farm outside Cedar Rapids?"

"Yeah, but -."

"Could be the sign of a demonic presence. Or that Angela girl's spirit, if it's powerful enough…well don't get too excited, you might pull something," he went around to the driver's side.

"It's just…stumbling onto a hunt? Here, of all places?" Sam asked.

"So?" Dean shrugged.

"So, are you sure this is about the hunt, not about something else?"

"Sam…" Bridget said in a warning voice.

"What else would it be about?" asked Dean.

Sam sighed, "You know, just forget it."

"You could believe what you want, Sam. But I let you drag my ass out here, the least you can do is check this out."

"You're right," Bridget said cutting in to stop an argument. "We did drag you out here and we can check this out because it does sound weird."

Dean nodded at her, "The girl's dad works in town. He's a professor at the school. Bridget, you get to play one of her old friends."

"Something easier for a change," she sighed in relief and got in the car.

Department of Archaeology and Greek Studies. Two things she didn't know went together but she at least knew her Greek studies to pass it off. She knocked on the door to the office, brushing the bangs from her face and straightening out her blouse, another item from Victoria Secret, and was glad she wore jeans with her high heeled boots going under them.

A tire looking man answered the door and she smiled warmly. "Dr. Mason?"

"Yes?"

"I'm Bridget. I was a friend of Angela's. This is my boyfriend, Sam, and my friend, Dean. We wanted to offer our condolences."

"Please come in," he said and stepped aside.

Bridget took a seat on the couch and Sam sat next to her. Dr. Mason pulled out a scrap book of photos. "She was a wonderful girl…" he said, opening it and flipping through the pages.

"I always thought she was so pretty," Bridget said.

"Yes, she was," her father nodded sadly.

Dean frowned at some of the books on the large bookshelf he was standing by, "This is an unusual book," he plucked it from the shelf and held it up, gesturing at the strange symbols and letters."

"It's ancient Greek," he said and Dean put the book back on the shelf. "I teach it."

"So, a car accident. That's horrible," Dean went on to say.

"Angie was only a mile away from home when, uh…" he trailed off.

"That's gotta be hard – losing someone like that. Sometimes it's like they're still around. Almost like you can still sense their presence. You ever feel anything like that?"

"I do as a matter of fact," he said and Dean nodded at Bridget and Sam.

Sam shook his head, "That's perfectly normal, Dr. Mason. Especially with what you're going through."

"You know, I still phoned her. The phone was ringing before I remembered that uh…family is everything, you know? Angie was the most important thing in my life, and I'm just so lost without her," he said and tears fell from his eyes.

"We're very sorry, Dr. Mason. We'll leave you to grieve in private," Bridget said and motioned for Dean to follow warning him with a look not to press the man any further with questions. He wasn't behind the crop circle on her grave. He missed her too much to be responsible for any of that.

"I'm telling you, there's something going on here. We just haven't found it yet," Dean said sternly. He was really believing there was something supernatural going on here.

"Dean, so far you've got a patch of dead grass and nothing," Sam noted.

"Well, something turned that grave into unholy ground."

"There's no reason for it to be unholy ground. Angela mason was a nice girl who died in a car crash. That's not exactly "vengeful spirit" material. You heard her father."

"Yeah, well, maybe Daddy doesn't know everything there is to know about his little angel, huh?"

"You know what, we should never have bothered that poor man. We shouldn't even be here anymore."

Bridget held her breath waiting for it, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"So what, Sammy? We just bail?" Dean asked.

"I think I know what's going on here. It's the reason I went along with you this far."

"What are you talking about?"

"This is about Mom's grave."

Dean scoffed, "That's got nothing to do with it."

"You wouldn't step within a hundred yards of it. Look…maybe you're imagining a hunt where there isn't one so you don't have to think about Mom. Or Dad," Dean was glaring at him now and Bridget was standing up, waiting to intervene. "You wanna take another swing? Go ahead. It'll make you feel better."

"I don't need this crap," he shook his head and headed for the door.

"Dean, where are you going?" Sam asked.

"I'm gonna go get a drink. Alone."

He slammed the door and Bridget grabbed her jacket heading for the door.

"Where are you going?" Sam asked her.

"After him, as usual."

Sam scoffed, "Of course."

She paused at the door, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you always take his side when he throws his temper tantrums and runs off. You always go after him and leave me behind."

"He's my friend."

"And I'm your boyfriend. It'd be nice if you were on my side once in awhile."

"And it'd be nice if you wouldn't nit pick at, Dean, but you do. He's not like you, Sam. He'll talk about it when he wants to talk about it."

"Then why go after him?"

"Because he'd do the same if it was me, because when this is over, when that demon is dead you'll go back to school and Dean will go after me when I'm upset by it. That's why," she shut the door behind her and headed across the parking lot to find Dean. He was just getting in the car and she ran for the passenger door, getting in before he could take off.

"I said I wanted to go alone," he said looking straight ahead.

"That's nice, but I'm going with you."

"You should go back to Sam."

"I don't want to."

"I want to be alone."

"The day I give a shit about what you want I'll let you know."

He shook his head a bit. "Bridget, get out of the car."

She shook her head. "No."

"Get out."

"The mood you're in, I'm not letting you go alone."

His voice was rising she noticed, "Get out!

"I said no!"

He slammed his hand on the wheel. "Dammit, Bridget. I don't want you here."

"Well that's too damned bad because I know otherwise so you can just drive to the bar now or we can sit here and yell because I have all night and plenty of held back anger to do it," she challenged.

"Sam, isn't gonna like you takin' my side all the time or runnin' after me."

"We just argued about that. I made my point pretty clear," she reassured him.

"He doesn't believe me, Bridge…"

"I do, Dean. We got nothing else to do anyway so we might as well check this out to be sure."

He nodded, "I got her address. Wanna go check it out with me?"

"Let's go for it."

He smiled a bit, putting the car in drive and taking off, AC/DC on the stereo. "Just like the old days."

She nodded, hand on the window frame. "Certainly is."

They walked up the porch steps of the darkened house. He tried the knob out of habit but of course it was locked. "Bridge, you got the set?"

She snorted, taking it out of her pocket, "Don't I always?"

Dean picked the lock open and they moved in, shutting the door and looking around. Bridget spotted a picture in a frame and picked it up. "Angela looks like…"

Dean leaned in to look and spotted a reflection in the corner of the frame. He spun around to see another girl standing in the doorway. "Who the hell are you?"

"Wait, wait, wait! Hold on," he called out to her as the girl sprinted into her room, shutting the door.

"I'm calling 911!"

"We're Angela's cousins," he told her.

"What?" he noticed the hesitation in her voice.

"Yeah," Dean said. "Her dad sent me over to pick up her stuff. My name's…Alan. Alan Stanwick and this is my girlfriend…Brooke." He shrugged and Bridget rolled her eyes.

The girl opened the door peaking out, "Her dad didn't say you were coming."

Bridget held up a set of keys that she had snagged from the drawer when Lindsey bolted. "Well, how else would we have the key's to your place?"

A few minutes later they had the crying Lindsey sitting on the couch and they sat across from her on another couch. "So…" Dean went on. "I'm sure you got a view if Angela that none of the family got to see. Tell me, what was she like? I mean, what was she really like?"

"She was great," she sniffled.

"Mm," Bridget snorted, looking at Dean.

"Just…great. I mean, she was so…"

"Great," Dean filled in.

"Yeah," she started crying again and Dean winced handing her a tissue.

"You two must have been real close," Bridget said.

"We were. But it's not just her, it's Matt."

"Who?" Dean asked picking up a trail.

"Angela's boyfriend."

"Right, Matt. What about him?" Bridget asked.

"He killed himself last night. He cut his own throat. Who does that?"

Bridget exchanged a look with Dean. That was almost impossible to do. "That's terrible."

She was crying again. "He was taking Angela's death pretty hard. And I guess…I mean, he'd been messed up about it for days."

"Messed up how?" Dean asked.

"He kept saying that he saw her everywhere."

"Well, I'm sure that that's normal. I mean, with everything that he was going through," Dean reassured her.

"He said that he saw her. As in, acid trip or something."

Dean nodded. "Were Angela and Matt a happy couple? I mean, was there any reason that Angela would be angry with him?"

"What? No, of course not. Why do you ask?"

"Just asking," Bridget sighed. They might have found something after all. "Where did Matt live?"

After jotting down the address they left Lindsey to her grief. Bridget looked at the piece of paper. "We're gonna need Sam on this after we check that apartment, Dean, and you know it. Especially if there's any dead plants."

"Yup, we are. Maybe now he'll believe me."

Bridget frowned as Dean moved to open the door and stopped him, leaning closer to listen. A grin spread across her face and she giggled a bit, motioning for him to listen. "Next, on the Skin Channel, "Casa Erotica 4"."

Bridget opened the door and Sam shut off the TV from where he sat at the edge of the bed. She raised her eyebrow at him.

"Hey," Sam said nervously.

Dean looked at the TV then back at Sam. "Awkward…"

"What?"

Bridget strolled over, looking like the cat who caught the canary. "Whatcha watchin'?"

"Nothing."

"Oh," she pushed the on button on the TV and was greeted by the two Latin beauties nearly naked and in a deep make out session. "Hmm…interesting channel."

Sam quickly shut it off, "I was just, uh, flicking through channels and stopped on it when you came in then I just turned it off."

"I'm sure you did, sweetheart," she smiled and sat next to him, patting his thigh. "But you know if you ever want to have a fantasy night let me know, I mean we got nurses outfits and I'm sure I can find a cheerleader outfit."

"Okay – really don't wanna hear it as much as I'm gonna fantasize about it now," Dean interrupted.

"So where did you guys go?"

"Well, while you were watching Casa Erotica we were working on the imaginary case," Dean said.

"Yeah, and?"

"Well, you were right, we didn't find much. Except Angela's boyfriend died last night – slit his own throat. But, you know, that's normal. Let's see, what else, Bridget?"

"Oh, he was seeing Angela everywhere before he died."

"Right," he snapped his fingers. "But you know, I'm sure that's just me transferring my own feelings."

"Okay, I get it. I'm sorry, maybe there is something going on here."

"Maybe? Sam, I know how to do my job, despite what you might think."

Sam took a deep breath, "We should check out the guy's apartment."

"We just came from there," Bridget said. "Found a pile of dead plants just like the cemetery."

"So unholy ground?" Sam asked.

"Maybe. But I'm not getting the angry spirit vibe from Angela. I have been reading this though," he pulled a pink book from his bag."

"You stole the girl's diary?"

"No, Bridget did. I've just been reading it. She was a little too nice."

"So, what do you wanna do?"

"Keep digging. Talk to more of her friends," Bridget suggested.

"You get any names?" asked Sam.

"You kidding me?" he held up the diary. "I have her bestest friend in the whole wide world," he tossed it to Bridget.

She read through a couple pages, "Looks like it's Neil's house next."

Neil was sitting on the porch outside his house, "I didn't realize the college employed grief counselors."

Dean nodded his head, "Oh, yeah. You talk, we listen. Maybe throw in a little therapeutic collage, whatever helps jump start the healing."

Bridget rolled her eyes and sat next to Neil, "I apologize for my colleague. He's new at this which is why he was sent to observe me and Sam here. We just want to make sure you're doing okay. If you need to talk we're here to listen and it's strictly confidential."

"Well, I think I'm okay. Thanks."

"Well, you heard what happened to Matt Harrison, right?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, I did."

"We just wanted to make sure you were okay. Grief can make people do crazy things."

"Look," Neil said. "I'm sorry about what happened to him. I am, but if Matt killed himself, it wasn't 'cause of grief."

"No? Then what?" Dean asked.

"It was guilt. Angie's death was Matt's fault, and he knew it."

"How was Matt responsible?" Bridget asked.

He shook his head, "She really loved that guy. But the night of the accident, she walked in on him with another girl. She was really torn up, that's why she crashed the car…look, I've gotta get ready for work. So, thanks for the concern, but seriously, I'll be okay." He stood up and went inside.

The three walked back to the car and Dean spoke first, "Well, vengeful spirit theory is starting to make more and more sense. I mean, hell hath no fury."

"And you both better remember that," Bridget nudged them. "But do you think it's over if she was after Matt?"

"Well, there's one way to be sure," Dean said and got in the car.

Bridget slid into the backseat, leaning forward between them. "What's that?"

"Burn the bones," Dean said.

"Burn the bones? Are you high? Angela died last week," Sam reminded him.

"So?"

Even Bridget was a little green knowing exactly what Sam was talking about. "So, there's not gonna be bones. There's gonna be a ripe, rotting body in the coffin."

"Since when are you afraid of getting a little dirty, huh?" Dean asked with a grin and Sam shook his head.

Once again Bridget held the flash light while the two boys dug, grumbling about her not helping. After a good thirty minutes they finished digging up the grave and Dean gestured at Sam, "Ladies first."

"You first," he snorted.

"What are you? Chicken?"

Bridget rolled her eyes and hopped down into the whole, "For the love of God, I'll do it since you're both always pussies." She handed Sam the flashlight and bent to open the casket. Her eyes widened as the lid came open and the three exchanged a look at the empty coffin. "That's not good."

"They buried the body four days ago," Dean said with a shake of his head.

"I don't get it," Sam kneeled down and noticed the lining of the casket was torn. "Look," he pointed at the strange symbols etched into the wood.

"What is that?" Dean asked.

"I'm not sure."

His eyes widened slightly. "I've seen these kinds of symbols before."

"Dean, maybe you should think about this," Bridget suggested for the hundredth time since he fixated on questioning Dr. Mason about the symbols. They were now standing on the porch to his house.

"I know I saw them on that book," he knocked on the door.

"Dean, take it easy, okay?" Sam asked and he ignored him knocking again.

Dr. Mason opened the door, "You're Angie's friends, right?"

"Dr. Mason-." Sam started but Dean cut him off.

"We need to talk about Angie."

"Well, then, come in."

Bridget smiled weakly at him, "Thank you."

Dean didn't waste any time. Dr. Mason barely closed the door before he started asking questions. "You teach Ancient Greek? Tell me. What are these?" he pulled out the piece of paper with the drawings from the coffin on it.

"I don't understand. You said this had something to do with Angie."

"It does. Please, just humor me," Dean said.

He took the paper from him, "They're part of an ancient Greek divination ritual."

Dean nodded, "Used for necromancy, right?"

"That's right."

"See, before we came over here, we stopped by the library and did a little homework ourselves. Apparently, they use rituals like this when communicating with the dead. Even bringing corpses back to life – full on zombie action."

"Yeah. I mean, according to the legends. Now, what's this all about?"

Dean took the paper back from him with a serious look. "I think you know."

"Dean," Bridget warned him.

"Look, I get it okay? There are people who I would give anything to see again. But what gives you the right?" Dean went on.

"Dean!" Bridget just about yelled it this time, jumping up from the couch.

"What are you talking about?" Dr. Mason asked in complete confusion.

"What's dead should stay dead!"

Sam grabbed his brother's arm. "Stop it!"

Dean went on, "What you brought back isn't your daughter anymore. These things are vicious, they're violent, they're so nasty they rot the ground around them. I mean, come on, haven't you seen Pet Semetary?"

"You're insane," Dr. Mason said, backing from him slowly.

"Where is she?" he asked, retching his arm from Sam.

"Get out of my house!"

"I know you're hiding her somewhere. Where is she?"

Bridget noticed the plants and pointed at them. "Dean, stop! That's enough, look. Beautiful, loving plants. Now let's go," she grabbed him arm, tugging at him.

"I'm calling the police," Mason threatened.

Sam helped guide Dean out of the house, apologizing as he went. "Sir, we're sorry. We won't bother you again."

Bridget gave Dean a shove as they left the house, "What the hell is the matter with you?"

"Back off, Bridge," he warned.

"That man was innocent," Sam said angrily. "He didn't deserve that!"

"Okay, so, she's not here. Maybe he's keeping her somewhere else," Dean said.

"Stop it! That's enough!" Bridget warned him.

"I know what I'm doing," Dean told them.

"No, you don't!" Sam exclaimed. "At all. Dean, I don't scare easy, but man, you're scaring the crap outta me."

"You're being overdramatic, Sam," Dean snorted.

"I don't think he is," Bridget said and stood near Sam. He looked surprised that she was taking his side for a change. "You went ballistic in there, Dean, on a human."

"And you're lucky this turned out to be a real case, 'cause if it wasn't, you would just find something else to kill."

"What?" Dean asked, wheeling around on them.

"You're on edge," Sam said, "You're erratic. Except for when you're hunting, 'cause then you're downright scary. You're tail spinning, man. And you refuse to talk about it and you won't let me help you."

"I can take care of myself, thanks," he said.

"No, you can't," Bridget shook her head and now Dean looked shocked at her. "And as much as I care about you, you need to talk to Sam. You can't do this on your own."

"I swear to God if either of you mentions Dad's death again."

"Stop, please, Dean – it's killing you. Please. We've already lost Dad. We've lost Mom. I've lost Jessica and Bridget lost her family. Are we gonna lose you, too?" Sam asked whole heartedly.

Dean paused for a moment, eyes on the ground. "We better get out of here before the cops show," Bridget folded her arms over her chest. "I here you both , alright? I'm being an ass, and I'm sorry. But right now we've got a freakin' zombie running around and we need to figure out how to kill it. Right?"

"Our lives are so weird. I mean, this is a typical conversation for us," Bridget scoffed and got in the car.

"You're telling me, come on."

Dean frowned sitting on the bed as Bridget read through John's journal for some sort of clue of how to rid themselves of a zombie. Sam was next to her on the bed, turning through the pages to find anything at all.

"We can't just waste her with a head shot?"

"Dude, you've been watching way too many Romero movies and playing way too much Resident Evil," Bridget said, lying on her stomach.

"You're telling me there's no lore on how to smoke 'em?"

"No, Dean, I'm telling you there's too much," Sam corrected. "I mean, there's a hundred different legends on the walking dead, but they all have different methods for killing them. Some say setting them on fire, one said…where is it?" Bridget flipped the page and pointed at it. "Right, feeding their hearts to wild dogs. That's my personal favorite," he said and absent mindedly stroked Bridget's back through her shirt. "Who knows what's real and what's myth?"

"Is there anything they all have in common?"

"Other than it kills the zombie, not really. But a few said silver might work," said Bridget.

"Silver's a start," he nodded.

"Yeah, but now, how are we gonna find Angela?" Sam asked.

"We gotta figure out the person who brought her back," Dean said.

"Any ideas?"

"I think if it's not her dad, it might be that guy, Neil."

"Now we're thinkin' on the same page," Bridget smiled, resting her chin on her hand.

Sam looked at both of them, "Neil?"

"Yup."

"How'd you come up with that?"

"Bridget, book please," Dean held his hand out and she maneuvered around to pull the pink diary from her purse, tossing it to him. He caught it. "Let's see, a ha! Here it is. 'Neil's a real shoulder to cry on. He so understands what I'm going through with Matt.' And there's more in here where that came from. It's got unrequited Duckie love written all over it."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean he brought her back from the dead," Sam pointed out.

"Hmm, did we mention he's Professor Mason's T.A.? He has access to all the same books. Found that out from searching school records.

"Now that's interesting," Sam mused.

Bridget picked the lock to the door and pushed it open, letting Dean go first since he had the only gun that would hurt a zombie. "Hello? Neil? It's the grief counselors. We've come to hug," Dean called out and there was no response.

"You got silver bullets?" Bridget asked , standing behind him with one of her blades in her hand. She hoped to not have to use it at such close range.

"Yeah, enough to make her rattle like a change purse," he said and they looked around noticing all the dead plants in the house. They came to the basement door and Sam opened it, moving slowly down the stairs. A bed sat empty in the middle of the room. "Sure looks like a zombie pen to me."

"Yeah, an empty one," Sam said. "You think Angela's going after somebody?"

The window caught Bridget's attention and she found it open, "No, I think she went to Blockbuster, was in an O.C. or Gilmore Girl's Mood."

"Okay, smartass," Sam snorted. "We've gotta find her before she kills someone."

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "All right, she clipped Matt because he was cheating, right?"

"Yeah," Bridget nodded.

"Well, it takes two to, you know…have hardcore sex," he said and Bridget smiled glancing at Sam. Dean groaned a bit and shook his head.

"Right," Bridget nodded. "And it did seem that Angela's roommate was really broken up about it."

"You gotta point there. I say we pay her a visit," Dean said

The scream was the first thing they heard as they got out of the car. Angela was there and she had Lindsey. They ran for the door full speed only for it to be locked. Dean cursed under his breath and kicked at it. It gave way under his foot on the second hit, smashing to pieces and they hurried inside. Angela was sitting on top of a screaming Lindsey, scissors raised in her hand, posed to kill. Without a second thought, Bridget raised her gun and shot at the zombie. The bullets from all three guns hit her and she ran jumping out the window.

Dean and Bridget went to the window while Sam helped the frantic Lindsey up. "I've got you, I've got you," he told her to calm her down.

"Damn," Bridget said, Angela was nowhere in sight. "That dead girl can run."

"What now?" Sam asked, sitting Lindsey on the couch.

"I say we have a chat with Neil," Dean answered.

"What about her?"

"We'll drop her off at a friends house," Dean shrugged.

After dropping Lindsey off at her cousins, they drove on to Neil's and Bridget sat up front between the brother's.

"So, the silver bullets did something?" Sam asked.

Bridget reloaded her handgun, "Yeah, but it wasn't enough. She's still way too fast."

"Anything else you got in the journal, Sam?" Dean asked.

He skimmed through the journal, "Umm…okay. Besides silver bullets, we have nailing the undead back into their grave beds. It's mentioned a few times. It's probably where the whole vampire staking lore came from."

"Their grave beds?" Dean asked. "You serious?"

"Yeah."

"Well, how the hell are we gonna get Angela back to the cemetery?"

"Not like we can get her to lay down in it," Bridget said. "Unless we come up with a good lie…"

They all thought about it and one by one their faces lit up with the same idea.

Neil was in his office at the school sitting behind his desk when they found him. "What are you guys doing here?" he asked surprised and a bit nervous.

"You know, I've heard of some people doing some pretty desperate things to get laid," Bridget remarked and gestured at him with a smile. "But you take the cake? I mean, does that make you a necropheliac?"

"Okay, who are you guys?" he asked nervously.

"You might wanna ask Angela that question," Dean answered.

"What?" he asked coyly.

"We know what you did," Sam said. "The ritual, everything."

Neil scoffed with a smile, "You're crazy."

"Your girlfriend's past her expiration date, and we're crazy. With all due respect, I'm not dating a corpse. When someone's gone they should stay gone. You don't mess with that kind of stuff," Bridget said.

"Angela killed Matt. She tried to kill Lindsey," Sam added.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he shook his head. Dean sighed irritated and walked behind the desk, grabbing Neil by the collar and jerking him out of his seat, holding him in place. "Hey!"

"No more crap, Neil! This blood is on your hands. Now, me and him and her can make this right, but you've gotta tell us where she is. Tell us!"

"My house," he said. "She's at my house."

Dean let him go and noticed the dead plants around the office. She was here. His eyes drifted to the closet door. "You sure about that?"

Neil nodded frantically and sat back down.

"Listen, it doesn't matter where she is," he told him. "There's only one way to stop her, and we've gotta perform another ritual over her grave to reverse the one that you did." He looked over at Sam and Bridget. "We're gonna need some black roots, some scarweed, and some candles," he looked again at Neil. "It's very complicated, but it'll get the job done. She'll be dead again in a couple of hours. I think you should come with us…I'm serious. Leave with us, right now."

Neil shook his head, "No, no…"

Dean leaned over the desk and spoke quietly to him. "Listen to me, get out of here as soon as you can. But most of all, be cool. No sudden movements. Don't make her mad," he gave him a half smile and motioned for Bridget and Sam to follow him out.

They were headed back to the cemetery to perform the "ritual" the best way to lure her there. Bridget lit a few candles putting them around the grave. "You really think this is gonna work?"

"No, not really," Dean said and she rolled her eyes. "But it's the only thing we go."

A noise came from the trees and Bridget stood up, grabbing the gun from the back of her jeans and Sam held up the shot gun. He glanced at them and Dean nodded for him to go look around. He disappeared into the dark and Bridget waited.

"You think it's her?" she asked Dean, gun in hand and pointed at the ground.

"Pretty damn sure," he said and a gunshot sounded.

Bridget was running before she realized it, but she didn't have to run far. Sam brought her straight to them. Angela caught up to him, knocking him to the ground and pinning him in place. Bridget shot her in the head and kept shooting. She was almost out of bullets when Dean took up the rest of the shooting with the other gun, knocking her back into her grave. He ran and slid in after her, stabbing the knife into her chest. Bridget reached the side in time to see him do it and watch Angela die for good.

"What's dead should stay dead," he said but she heard the same tone in his voice hat hesitated her thoughts. It was the chance to see your family again. She couldn't do this to her brother or Will, but she knew the pain and desire of wanting to do almost anything to see them again.

She reached down and helped Dean out of the hole once he closed the casket. "Come on, we got some burying to do."

It took them the remainder of the night and Bridget wiped the dirt from her brow. She felt miserable covered in dirt and sweat and wanted nothing more than a bath and food, maybe two baths.

"Rest in peace," Sam said to her grave as they started walking back to the car, the sun barely rising casting a gray like glow in the cemetery.

"Yeah, for good this time, okay?" Dean added.

"You know, the whole fake ritual thing? Luring Angela into the cemetery? Pretty sharp," Bridget admitted, bumping Dean with her hip.

"Thanks," he grinned.

"But did we have to use me as bait?" Sam asked.

"Bridget's always bait but this was a girl zombie so we couldn't use her. I figured you were more her type. She had a pretty crappy taste in guys," he said and Bridget swatted him.

"What's that supposed to say about me?"

"Nothing," he corrected. "You have a great taste in guys, most of the time."

"I think I broke my wrist," Sam said holding his right arm closer to him.

"Are you okay?" Bridget asked, concerned now

Dean paused to look it over, noting the swelling and disfigured look. "Yeah, you did. We'll stop by the emergency room, get this fixed. Guess you're just too fragile."

Bridget smiled at Sam wickedly, "Guess that means I get to be on top for awhile."

Dean groaned and covered his ears. "I'm not hearing this!"

They reached the car and Dean glanced back and saw his mother's headstone. Sam's smile faded a bit. "You wanna stay for awhile?"

Dean paused to think of it and shook his head, "No…" He put his stuff in the trunk and got into the driver's seat.

It stayed dead silent in the car even after they got a cast on Sam's wrist. The sun was finally coming down and Dean pulled over on the highway. He got out and sat on the hood. Bridget and Sam followed sitting on either side of him.

"Dean…what is it?" Bridget asked softly.

"I'm sorry," he apologized out loud.

"For what?" Sam asked.

"The way I've been acting," he said and paused a moment. "And for Dad. I mean, he was your dad, too, Sam. It's my fault that he's gone."

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked.

"I know you've been thinkin' it. Both of you. So have I. It doesn't take a genius to figure it out. Back at the hospital, I had a full recovery. And it was a miracle. Then, five minutes later, Dad's dead and the colt is gone."

"Dean-."

"You can't tell me there's not a connection there. I don't know how the demon was involved. I don't know how the whole thing went down exactly. But dad's dead because of me. That much I do know."

"We don't know that. Not for sure," Sam said and Bridget felt the weight get heavier on her.

Dean shook his head, "Sam…you, Bridget, and Dad – you're the most important people in my life. And now…I never should have come back, Sam. It wasn't natural. And now, look what it's come to. I was dead. And I should have stayed dead," his voice broke and tears filled his eyes. "You wanted to know how I was felling. Well, this is it…so tell me, what could you possibly say to make that all right?"

Bridget took a shivering breath. She couldn't let Dean go on feeling this guilt and anguish. She had to stop it even if it meant they'd hate her for it. "Dean, it wasn't your fault. You didn't know he'd do it…but I did."

"What?" he asked and looked at her, even Sam was looking at her. She looked away over the horizon, tears in her eyes as she told the truth at last. "I had drawn it before the crash, hell I drew the crash. After Sam was arguing with your dad, thinking he was going to bring the demon back to kill it, I figured out the drawing meant he was making a trade…I confronted him about it and he didn't deny it but I couldn't stop him…my drawings always happen, they can't be stopped. He didn't want me to tell either of you about it, he made me promise…but I knew…it was my fault because I knew. I knew he was going to saver Dean…I knew he'd die…but he died because he loved you. He traded because you were needed, because Sam and I would fall apart without you. He did it out of love to save his son…and I knew about it…you shouldn't have died, Dean. It wasn't your time…it was supposed to happen because I drew it…I'm sorry."

Something unexpected happened then and she felt Dean's arm go around her shoulders, "It's not your fault, either…"

Sam nodded and came around to sit next to her, kissing the side of her head. "He'd have done it anyway. No one could stop him…"

"We just…we gotta find a way to do this…it's the three of us now…" Dean added and they sat there, watching the sunset in silence.