DISCLAIMER: Sorry its been awhile. Its midterm week

S2 EP30 CROSSROAD BLUES

Bridget tapped her fingers against her keyboard, resting her chin in her other hand as she stared at Dean's mug shot on the screen while sitting in the quiet little diner at a back booth. "Well, so much for a low profile. You've got a warrant in St. Luis and now you are officially in the FEDS database."

"So I'm like Dillinger or something," he joked. Bridget snorted, he would find it funny.

Sam gave him a serious look, "Dean, it's not funny. It makes the job harder. We've got to be careful now."

"Well, what do they got on you two?" he asked.

Bridget pursued her lips looking down at the table and Sam cleared his throat realizing she wasn't going to answer that. "I'm sure they just…haven't posted it yet."

His eyes widened. "What? No accessory? Nothing?"

"Shut up," he sighed.

"You're jealous," Dean chuckled.

"No I'm not."

"Yes, you are," Bridget nodded.

"See," he took a drink from his soda. "So what do you got on the case there you harmless young man you?"

Sam ignored the comment and shuffled through the papers he had. He picked up an article and read from it. "Architect Sean Boyden plummeted to his death from the roof of his home – a condominium he designed."

"Hmm. Build a high rise then jump off the top of it. That's classy. When did they call Animal Control?"

"Two days earlier," Bridget said.

"Did he actually say black dog?"

"Yeah. 'Vicious, wild, black dog.' The authorities couldn't find it, no one else saw it. In fact the authorities are a little confused as to how a wild dog could get past the doorman, take the elevator up and start roaming the halls of the cushiest joint in town. After that, no more calls, he doesn't show up for work. Two days later he takes a swan dive."

"Do you think we're dealing with an actual black dog?" Dean said.

Bridget frowned suddenly and opened her drawing pad, flipping through the pages as the two continued talking.

"Well maybe," Sam shrugged.

"What's the lore?"

Sam handed him the papers to look over. "Its all pretty vague. Could be animal spirits, omens. But whatever they are they're nig and nasty."

"Yeah, I bet they could hump the crap out of your leg," he held up a picture. "Look at that one, huh?"

Sam frowned at him.

"What? They could."

"Or they could be a lot worse," Bridget slid her drawing pad onto the table and the boys looked. A ferocious black dog was drawn across the page. Its teeth and claws were razor sharp and its eyes were read, the body seemed to fade off into mist but its shadow was cast against the wall.

"You've dreamt these?" Sam asked.

She nodded, "Yeah for awhile. Wonder if it's the same thing."

"Well, gee, that gives us something to look forward to," Dean sighed. "Let's go find out what's going on."

Bridget sighed as she straightened out her business skirt and adjusted her blouse and jacket. She stood near the counter by Dean. She loved playing reporter. It was wearing the heels and nylons that killed her.

"So, you and Sean Boyden were business partners for almost ten years right?" Sam questioned.

"That's right now one more time, this is for…"

Bridget adjusted her glasses. "A tribute to Mr. Boyden – Architectural Digest," the man laughed and Bridget gave him a stern look. "Funny to you?"

He shook his head in disgust, "No, it's just…a tribute. Yeah, see, Sean always got the tributes. He kills himself, leaves me and his family behind, and he gets another tribute."

"Right," Sam nodded. "Any idea why he'd do such a thing?"

He shrugged and scratched the back of his head, "I have no clue. He lived the charmed life."

"How so?" Dean asked.

"He was a flat-out genius. I mean, I'm capable, but next to him…and he wasn't always that way, either."

"No?"

He became a bit serious, "You wanna know the truth? There was a time where he couldn't even design a pup tent. Hell, ten years ago, he's working as a bartender at this place called Lloyd's, a complete dive."

"So what changed?" Bridget asked.

He shrugged making a gesture with his hand as he shook his head, "You got me. But overnight, he gets this huge commission and he starts designing…he starts designing the most ingenious buildings anyone has ever seen. It was like the level of Van Gogh and Mozart. It…"

He trailed off and Dean pushed. "What?"

"It's funny. The true geniuses –- they seem to die young, don't they? To have that kind of talent…why? Why just throw it away?"

Bridget nodded and shared a look with Sam and Dean. Something was off.

Bridget sat in the back of the Impala leaning across towards Sam as Dean exited the Animal Control building and joined them in the car with a stack of papers.

"What did you learn?" Sam asked.

"The secretary's name is Carly. She's twenty-three. She kayaks. They're real," he grinned.

"Jesus, Dean," Bridget rolled her eyes. "You didn't happen to ask her if she's seen any big black dogs, have you?"

He handed Sam some papers and she leaned over to look as Dean spoke. "Every complaint called in this week about anything big, black, or dog like. There's nineteen calls in all." he took a post it out of his pocket. "I don't know what this is."

Bridget took it and laughed, "You mean Carly's myspace address?"

"Yeah, Myspace, what the hell is that," Sam and Bridget both laughed. "Seriously, is it like a porn site?"

Bridget handed him back the note, "You're incredible." She took her glasses off and let down her hair shaking it out.

Dean made a noise. "That was porn like hot. Can you just fling your hair around now and unbutton the blouse please?"

She smacked him. "You're a perve."

"You started it," he snorted.

"I'm changing into the pant suit."

"You look better in the skirt," Sam told her.

"Fine but I'm taking the nylons off."

Dean turned in his seat until Sam smacked him over the head, "You drive and keep your eyes on the road and off Bridget."

Dean pouted. "Spoil my fun."

Bridget flung the nylons onto the dashboard.

"Awe, not that's plain cruel," Dean said.

Bridget left her hair down and pulled it back with a clip this time, leaving the glasses in the car to Dean's disappointment as they knocked on the door to the mansion.

"I swear if this is another Pomeranian barking in the neighbor's yard," Dean grumbled. The door opened and he grinned at the maid holding up his badge. "Afternoon ma'am. Animal control."

"Oh, somebody came yesterday."

"We're just doing a follow-up," she looked at her notes. "We're looking for a doctor Sylvia Perlman."

"The doctor well she…she left two days ago. I don't know when she'll be back."

"Okay. And you are?"

"I'm Miss Perlman's maid," she said and ushered them inside.

"So, where did the doctor go?"

"I don't know. She just packed and went. She didn't say where. The stray dog , did you find it finally?" she asked hopefully.

"Not yet," Bridget shook her head. "The dog, you didn't happen to see it did you?

"Well, no. I never even heard it. I was almost starting to think the doctor was imagining things, but she's not like that, so…"

Dean started up, "You know, I read she was the chief surgeon at the hospital. She's gotta be, what, forty-two, forty-three? That's pretty young for that job."

"Youngest in the history of the place," she nodded. "She got the job ten years ago."

Bridget's head jerked up at that, catching her interest. "Ten years…an overnight success huh."

Dean was staring at the fridge. "Yeah, we know a guy like that," he pulled a picture off of it and looked at the back. His eyebrows went up. "Oh, look at this." He held it up. "Lloyd's bar."

Bridget took that as a cue. "Well, thank you for the information. Let Dr. Perlman know we stopped by when she gets back."

They bid farewell and got into the Impala. "Lloyd's bar, huh?"

Dean nodded. "You guys thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Yeah, it's time to pay this bar a visit," Bridget said. "I'm changing into my day clothes."

"Can I watch?" Dean asked.

"No, you drive," she glared.

"Can I watch?" Sam asked.

"Sure," she said and Sam gave his brother a smug smile.

The car pulled up to the bar and the three got out. Bridget in a jean skirt with her knee high boots and a red cami top. They paused in the middle of a dirt crossroad. Dean frowned suddenly pausing.

"Hey."

"What?" Bridget asked stopping.

"That's weird," he walked over to some yellow flowers planted on the side of the road and looked across. They were planted at every side of the crossroad. "You think someone planted these?"

"In the middle of all these weeds?" Sam asked.

"These are uh…" he touched some of the flowers. "What do you call them?"

"Yarrow flowers," Bridget answered.

"Yeah. Used for rituals."

"Summoning rituals," Sam said catching on.

"So, two people become sudden successes about ten years ago, right around the time they were hanging out here at Lloyd's," Bridget put together.

"Where there just happens to be a crossroad," Sam added on. "You think?"

"Let's find out," Dean stood up and walked to the middle. "This seems to be dead center right?"

"I'll get the shovels," Bridget sighed and opened the trunk of the Impala. She came back and handed it to Dean. "You can do the dirty work."

He took it from her, "Don't I always?"

"I don't know I seem to be the one who examines bodies more often, you just dig."

He shook his head and started digging. Three scoops in it hit something. "Bingo!" He bent down and removed a metal box opening it and finding seven objects inside.

"What we got?" Sam asked kneeling down.

Bridget removed the jar of dirt and the bone. "I'm willing to bet this is graveyard dirt and a cat bone."

"That's one serious work. That's like deep south voodoo," Dean said.

"And it's a summoning spell for a demon," Sam said.

"Not just summon one. Crossroads are where pacts are made. These people are actually making deals with the damn thing. You know, 'cause that always ends good," Dean said.

"They're seeing Hell Hounds," Bridget pieced together. "That's what I was drawing. They're coming to collect them and pay the debt."

"Whoever this demon is, it's back and it's collecting. And that doctor lady, wherever she's running, she ain't running fast enough," Dean said.

"So, it's just like the Robert Johnson legend, right? I mean, "selling your soul at the crossroads" kind of deal?" Sam said

"Yeah except that wasn't a legend. I mean you know his music," Sam stared at him blankly and Dean looked surprised and looked at Bridget.

She nodded her head, "Yeah, my Dad listened to it a lot. So did my brother. Uh, Crossroad Blues, Hellhound on my Trail."

"See? She knows her music. Story goes he died choking on his own blood muttering something about black dogs."

"And now it's happening all over again," Sam sighed.

"Yeah."

"We've got to find out if anyone else struck bargains around here," he said.

Dean shook his head in disbelief. "Great. So we've got to clean up these people's messes for them? I mean, they're not squeaky clean. No one held a gun to their head and forced them to play Let's Make A Deal."

"So what we should let them die?" Sam argued. Bridget stood back. No need to go getting in the middle of this one.

"Somebody goes over Niagra falls in a barrel, you gonna go after them?" Dean asked.

"Dean…"

He growled, "All right, fine. Ritual like this you gotta put your photo into the mix," he held up a photo from the box. "So this man probably did the summoning. Let's see if anyone inside knows him…if he's still alive."

After an hour of asking questions someone finally had a legitimate answer and they found themselves walking up the stairs of an old apartment building.

"What's this guy's name again?" Sam asked.

"George Darrow," Bridget said. "Apparently quite the regular at Lloyd's. But I'm guessing this house won't be on MTV Cribs anytime soon…what kind of shitty bargain did he make?"

"Don't know but it wasn't for cash," Dean said. "Maybe his place is full of Angelina Jolie babes. This guy has an epic bill due, I just hope he had fun."

They finally reached the banged up apartment door and Sam frowned pointing down. "Look." There was a line of black dust framing the bottom of the doorway.

"Is that pepper?" Dean asked as the door creaked open.

"Who the hell are you?" George demanded.

"George Darrow?" Dean asked.

"I'm not buying anything," he started shutting the door.

"Looks like you went for the wrong shaker there. Usually when you want to keep something out you use salt," Bridget said.

"I don't know what you're taking about," the old man shook his head.

"I'm talking about this," Dean held up the photo he got from the box. "Tell me…you seeing Hell Hounds yet?"

"Look, we wanna help," Sam pleaded. "Just give us five minutes."

He looked around warily and opened the door letting them inside before shutting it and locking all the dead bolts into place. Normally Bridget would think that was being paranoid but considering what was after him she felt it wasn't enough.

"So what's that stuff out front?" she asked.

"Goofer dust," he said, tossing Dean a bag. "It's a hoodoo to keep demons at bay. My grandma showed me when I was just a boy."

"Well demons we know," Dean said.

"Keep it then," he said. "Maybe it'll do you some good."

Bridget was admiring the art work around the apartment. Gorgeous paintings and drawings on canvases surrounded the place.

"We know you got yourself into trouble. Maybe we can help," Sam said.

He shook his head, "Listen…I get that you three wanna help. But sometimes, a person makes their bed, and they've just got to lie down in it. I'm the one that called that demon in the first place."

"What you get for it?" Dean asked.

He shrugged, "I was weak. I mean, who don't wanna be great? Who don't want their life to mean something? I just…I just never thought about the price."

"Was it worth it?" Bridget asked, still admiring the paintings.

George sat in an old beat up green chair drinking his scotch. "Hell, no. 'Course, I asked for talent. Should've gone for fame. I'm still broke…and lonely. Just now, I've got this pile of paintings nobody wants. That wasn't the worst."

"Go on," she said.

"The demon didn't leave. I never counted on that. After our deal was done, the damn thing stayed at Lloyd's for a week, just chattin', makin' more deals. I tried to warn folks, but who's gonna listen to an old drunk?"

"That's breaking the rules," Bridget said more to herself.

"How many others are there?" Sam asked

"This architect, a doctor lady –- I kept up with them. They've been in the papers. Least they got famous."

"Who else, George? Come on, think," Dean asked.

He snapped his fingers, "One more. Nice guy, too. Hudson –- Evan, I think. I don't know what he asked for. Don't matter now. He's done for."

"No, there's got to be a way," Sam shook his head.

"You don't get it," he smiled sadly."I don't want a way."

"But you don't-"

He cut Sam off, "I called that thing! I brought it on myself! I brought it on them! I'm going to hell one way or another. All I want is to finish my last painting –- day or two, I'm done. I'm just trying to hold 'em off till then. Buy a little time. Okay, it's time you went. Go help somebody that wants help."

"You don't really-"

"Get out…I got work to do…"

Dean grabbed Sam's arm and gestured to the door knowing the conversation was over. Bridget gave one last look at the paintings. "They really are beautiful."

"You an artist?"

She shrugged a bit. "I draw what I see…"

He grabbed one she had been looking at of a disfigured portrait that had more going on inside the body of it. "Here. Take it."

"I couldn't," she held her hands up.

"Please…least my art will be out there and appreciated by someone who gets it."

She took the canvas with a nod. "Thank you…I hope you find the peace you're looking for Mr. Darrow." With that she turned her back and left to catch up to Sam and Dean.

Bridget yawned as they walked up the steps to the front door of the Hudson house. She still wasn't sure what the plan was to convince him to listen to them, but Dean seemed to know what he was doing as he knocked on the door.

It opened and a middle eyed man stood there. "Yes?"

"Evan Hudson?" Sam asked.

"Yeah," he nodded hesitantly.

"You ever been to a bar called Lloyd's?" Dean asked and Bridget rolled her eyes. Way to be subtle. "It would have been about ten years ago."

The door slammed in their face. "Come on! We're not demons."

"Brilliant idea," Bridget snorted. "Now what?"

Dean lifted his leg and kicked down the door. They saw Evan rush into his office and followed. The door shut and Dean moved to kick it down. Bridget grabbed his arm. "Let's try it my way," she pushed the knob, opening it.

"Evan?" Sam called.

He held up his hands. "Please don't hurt me."

"We're not going to hurt you. We're here to help you," Bridget told him.

"We know all about the genius deal you made," Dean said.

"What?" he asked confused. "How?"

"Doesn't matter," Sam shook his head. "We're here to help that's what matters."

"How do I know you're not lying?" he asked.

"Well, you don't, but you're kinda low on options," Dean pointed out.

"Can you stop it?"

Bridget shrugged her shoulders. "Don't know but we'll try."

"I don't wanna die," he said brokenly.

"Of course you don't. Not now," Dean said.

"Dean stop," Bridget warned him.

"What you ask for anyway?" he continued. "Never need Viagra? Bowl a perfect game?"

"My wife," he said quietly.

"Right. Getting the girl. That's worth a trip to hell."

"Dammit, Dean, stop," Sam said this time.

"No," Evan said with a defeated sigh, leaning against his desk. "He's right. I made the deal. Nobody twisted my arm. That woman, or whatever she was said she could do anything I wanted. I thought she was nuts at first, but," he sighed. "I don't know…I was desperate."

"Desperate?" Bridget asked.

He ran a hand over his face. "Julie was dying."

"You did it to save her?" Dean asked.

"She had cancer, they had stopped treatment, they were moving her into hospice. They kept saying, "Matter of days." So, yeah, I made the deal. And I'd do it again. I'd have died for her on the spot."

"Did you ever think about her in all this?" Dean asked. Bridget took a deep breath, knowing his own anger at his father was fueling this one.

"I did this for her."

"You sure about that? I think you did it for yourself…so you wouldn't have to live without her. But, guess what, she's gonna have to live without you now. But what if she knew how much it cost? What if she knew it cost your soul? How do you think she'd feel?"

Bridget grabbed Dean's arm. "Okay, that's enough. Evan, you sit tight. We're going to figure this out," she dragged Dean out into the hall with Sam following. "I get you're pissed Dean, but don't take your anger out on Evan. He's doing what he thought was right."

"Don't go there, Bridget. I'm fine."

"Whatever you say. So now what do we do?"

"I've got an idea," Dean reached into his jacket and pulled out the bag of goofer dust. "You two throw hoodoo at the hellhound and keep it at bay while I go to the crossroad and summon the demon."

Sam's eyes widened. "Summon the demon? Are you nuts?"

He shrugged, "Maybe a little. But I can trap it. I can exorcise it, and I can buy us time to figure out something more permanent."

"Yeah, but how much time," Bridget questioned.

"I don't know, a while. I mean, it's not easy for those suckers to claw their way back from hell and into the sunshine."

Sam shook his head, "No. No way."

"You're not allowed to say no, Sammy, unless either of you got a better idea."

"You can forget it. I'm not letting you summon that demon," Sam said.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't like where your head is right now."

"What are you talking about?"

"You know, you've been on edge ever since we found that crossroads, Dean, and I think I know why and so does Bridget."

Dean started walking away. "We don't have time for this."

"You think Dad made one of those deals," Sam called after him. Bridget winced. She knew he did, she had seen it. "Hell I've been thinking it to."

Dean turned around. "It fits, doesn't it? I'm alive. He's not. What if he struck a deal? My soul for his."

"Then he did it for a reason, Dean and who are you to undo it…Just like Will died for me, you're Dad died for you and if you trade then he'll turn around and trade it right back and you know it," Bridget said and Dean was quiet, thinking about it.

"I think I hear it!" Evan shouted. "It's outside."

Dean hurried to the door. "Just keep him alive. Go!"

Sam and Bridget hurried back into the room, locking the doors behind them. Sam opened the bag and created a circle around the three of them in the middle of the room. "What is that stuff?" Evan asked.

"Goofer dust," Sam answered.

"Are you serious?"

"Look, believe us don't believe us," Bridget said. "Just whatever you do stay in the circle."

Evan jumped suddenly looking out the window.

Bridget and Sam looked around and saw nothing. "What?"

"You hear that?"

"No, where?" Sam asked.

He pointed at the doors. "Right outside." The doors suddenly started to rattle. Sam jumped grabbing Bridget's arm and pushing her behind him.

"Oh, this isn't good," she mumbled. "Come on Dean…"

The doors stopped rattling suddenly and they stayed tense. "Do you hear it Evan?"

"No. Is it over?" He asked. Bridget touched her necklace, it was vibrating. It wasn't done. Evan's eyes widened and he looked up. "It's in the air vent…it's here!" The vent burst up causing them all to jump.

"Stay in the circle!" Bridget yelled at Evan.

Claw marks started to appear in the floor. "Oh shit," Sam muttered. "Move it Dean."

A wind started to blow around the room causing the dust to move. "Sam!" Bridget yelled, grabbing his arm.

"The circle's broken, come on," he grabbed Evan and shoved him to move. They ran into a closet, shutting the door behind them and leaning against it. "Come on Dean. Come on!"

The door suddenly stopped and the three exchanged a glance. "Is it really done this time?"

Bridget touched her necklace. It was silent. "It's done." She opened the door and stepped out. There were scratch marks across the floor and the door was all but destroyed, but it was done.

Bridget sighed and leaned her head near Sam's in the Impala. "What a day?"

"Yeah," he nodded staring out the window.

She frowned a bit. "Sam, you okay, hun?"

He nodded again.

"What is it? You been acting kind of odd."

"I just…I think it's best if we don't do this anymore," he said to her.

Bridget frowned, "Do what...?"

"This…us…I just," he raked a hand through his hair. "I need a break…it has nothing to do with you. It's just these visions and my Dad and the demon…"

She put a hand on his shoulder with a smile. "Its okay, Sam. I understand. We'll take a break so you can clear your head, not like I won't be seeing you every day."

"Yeah," he said with a small smile.

Dean entered the car then. "You guys ready to hit the road."

Bridget sat back, "More than ever." Though she knew she wouldn't be getting far enough from the pain she was feeling. She took a pencil out of her bag and started drawing.

"Demons lie all the time right?" Sam said out of the silence twenty minutes later.

"Come on, is that really what you think? How could he do it?" Dean said.

"He did it for you, Dean," Bridget said.

"Exactly. How am I supposed to live with that? You know, the thought of him, wherever he is right now –- he spent his whole life chasing that yellow-eyed son of a bitch. He should have gone out fighting. That was supposed to be his legacy, you know? Not bargaining with the damn thing. Not this."

"He did it to save you because he loved you."

"Evan Hudson is safe because of what Dad taught us," Sam said. "That's his legacy, Dean. Now, we're still here. So we gotta keep fighting. For him. Hey Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"When you were trapping that demon, you weren't…I mean, it was all a trick, right? You never considered actually making that deal, right?"

Dean said nothing just kept on driving. Bridget continued to draw, ignoring her own pain and tears just as the other two were.