DISCLAIMER: Sorry for the long wait. I barely got my computer back after putting it in a week ago. But here's the next chapter

S2 EP36 BORN UNDER A BAD SIGN

Bridget was tapping her foot impatiently as Dean talked on the phone with Ellen. They were still trying to find Sam after he disappeared again. They woke up and he was just gone. No sign. No note. Nothing. And Dean and her were going crazy yet again to find him.

Her phone buzzed and she picked it from the back of her jean skirt pocket hoping it was Bobby. Her eyes widened when she saw Sam's name on the screen. "Dean!" she called his name to get his attention. He turned to look at her. "It's Sam." His eyes widened and he hung up with Ellen as she answered her phone. "Sam? Where the hell are you? Are you okay?" She listened to him on the other end and Dean leaned in trying to hear. "Hey, hey. Calm down. Where are you, Sam?" She nodded. "Okay, sit tight. We'll be right there."

She hung up and looked at Dean. "He's at Star Hotel in the next town over. He's panicking. We got to hurry."

They pulled up to the hotel twenty minutes later and Dean knocked on the door. "Sam? It's us." He pushed it open and they stepped inside. Sam looked up from the bed but didn't move.

"Sam…hey," Bridget said quietly, careful.

"Hey…" he said.

Bridget kneeled down next to him, having noticed the dark stain on his shirt from across the way. "Oh my God, are you bleeding?"

"I tried to wash it off…"

"Oh my God," Dean said and sat next to him.

Bridget saw there was no wound and looked up at him. He shook his head. "I don't think it's my blood."

"Whose is it?" Dean asked.

"I don't know."

"Sam, what the hell happened?"

"I…I don't remember anything."

Dean came back a few minutes later with food though Bridget wasn't sure if she could eat considering Sam had no memory of the blood on him or how he got here.

"What you learn?" Sam asked, having changed his clothes for Bridget to dispose of.

"You checked in two days ago under the name Richard Sambora. Of course, I think the scariest part about this whole thing is the fact that you're a Bon Jovi fan."

"Hilarious," Bridget monotone. "Anything useful?"

"You're rooms been quiet, Sam. No one has seen anything unusual."

"You mean no one saw me walking around here covered in blood?" Sam asked.

Dean nodded. "That's what I mean."

"Then how the hell did I get here?"

Bridget shook her head, "I don't know, all right? But you're okay, that's what matters. Everything else we can deal with."

"What if I hurt someone or worse," he said the question that was on their minds.

Dean didn't want to hear it, "Sam…"

"What if this is what Dad was talking about?"

Dean waved his hand stopping him, "Hey, whoa, whoa. Come on, man, let's not jump the gun here. We don't know what happened. And we've just gotta treat this like any other job. What's the last thing you remember?"

He thought about it for a moment, "Just me, Bridget, and you…just in that motel room in West Texas. I went out to grab some burgers and—"

"West Texas," Bridget repeated. "That was over a week ago."

"That's it. Next thing I knew, I was sitting here –- bloody. Felt like I'd been asleep for a month."

"Okay. We'll retrace your steps," Dean said walking over to the window to look out. "Manager said you went out yesterday afternoon and…hey," Bridget and Sam walked overseeing the blood on the latch of the window. This wasn't good.

They started off in the parking lot. "Recognize anything?" Dean asked.

"Not really," he said as they continued walking down the street into a storage alley and Sam stopped. "Wait…I think I was here."

"You remember something?" Bridget asked.

"No it just feels familiar," he pointed at storage unit two. "This one," he reached into his pocket and pulled out a key and handed it to Dean. "Yeah."

Dean pulled the sliding door up and they stared at a beat up blue Volkswagon beetle. "Please tell me you didn't steal this piece of junk?" Bridget asked.

Sam shrugged and opened the door sliding his fingers along with steering wheel and wiping up blood with a pale look on his face. Bridget became paler. "Hey Sam…backseat."

He turned and looked like he was going to be sick as he picked up a bloody knife. "You think I used this on someone?"

"I'm not thinking anything," Dean shook his head. "Okay now this is disturbing," he picked up a pack of cigarettes from the counsel. "This couldn't have been you. It had to be somebody else, somebody who smokes menthols."

"Hey," Bridget reached down and picked up a piece of paper off the floor. "It's a gas receipt, few towns over."

Bridget got out of the car and stretched, this was going to be a long day. She desperately wanted a vacation. With a frown she touched her necklace, it felt a bit warmer for some unknown reason, especially the ring. With a shake of her head she followed Sam and Dean.

"All right, the receipt said ten gallons on pump ten . You getting any déjà vu senses yet?" Dean asked him. "Maybe someone in here will know you."

"You!" the clerk screeched causing them to jump in surprise. "You, get out. I'm calling the cops!"

Bridget frowned. "Are you talking to him?"

The clerk nodded, "Yeah, I'm talking to him. Jerk comes in yesterday, stinkin' drunk, grabs a forty from the fridge, starts chugging."

She frowned deeper. "This guy?"

Dean looked at Sam. "You're drinking malt liquor?"

"Not after he whipped the bottle at my head!" the clerk stated.

"This guy?" Dean said in disbelief.

"What? Am I speaking Urdu?"

"I'm really sorry if I did anything-" Sam started but was cut off.

"You know what? Tell your story walking, pal. Popo will be here in five."

Dean put up a hand, "Okay, we're leaving, he's leaving. Put the phone down."

"Dean…"

"Go wait in the car," Bridget said. Sam glanced at the clerk and left. "Okay, look. We just want to talk to you. That okay, sir?"

The clerk slowly put the phone down. "Now when he took off yesterday which way did he go?" Dean asked.

"Why don't you ask him?"

"Because I'm asking you," Dean said. "Do me this favor?"

"Oh, do you a favor? Well, that is what I live for. You know, your buddy didn't pay for the booze or the smokes, which he also illegally lit up."

"You saw him smoking?" Bridget asked.

"Yeah. He's a chimney," he said.

Dean took out his wallet and put some money on the counter. "That should cover it."

"He went north on Route 71."

Dean and Bridget left getting in the car and driving out of town on Route 71.

Dean shook his head, "What's going on with you, Sam? Hm? 'Cause smoking, throwing bottles at people –- that sounds more like me than you."

Sam's eyes widened. "Dean, wait, wait. Go down that road."

"Why?"

"I don't know, I just know go that way."

They stopped in front of a house and approached the porch. A security camera was mounted on the side. "Wow, whoever lives here doesn't like surprises," Dean observed.

"Should we knock?" Sam asked.

"I don't know…look," Bridget pointed at the shattered window.

"I'm surprised the cops didn't show, place like this would have an alarm."

Bridget pointed at the busted breaker box. "It was taken care of."

They entered the dark house and found nothing. Bridget walked down the hall while Sam and Dean checked the other rooms. Her necklace began to pulse slightly and she followed the feeling into a dark office. Her eyes widened. "Sam! Dean!" They were at her side seconds later. There was a body lying on the floor. The mans face was covered in blood and so was the carpet.

Sam was in a panic. "Dean, I did this."

"We don't know that," he said calmly.

"What else do you need? I mean, how else do you explain the car, the knife, the blood—"

Dean cut him off, "I don't know, man, why don't you tell me? Look, even if you did do this, I'm sure you had a reason –- self-defense, he was a bad son of a bitch, something," he checked his pockets. "He has no ID."

"I need your lock pick," Sam said.

Dean hand him the tool and Sam picked the lock on the closet. There was a wall of guns and maps lining the inner wall.

"Holy…he's a hunter," Bridget said in shock.

"I killed a hunter," Sam swallowed hard.

"Let's find out," Dean said and grabbed the security tape, hitting play. On the screen Sam entered the office and began attacking the man. He dragged him to the closet and took out a knife slitting his throat. The man fell to the floor and Sam stood there covered in blood. Dean paused the tape and they glanced at Sam who appeared to be as stunned as they were.

Sam sat at the desk reading a letter from the man's child while Bridget and Dean worked on cleaning it up.

Dean gestured at the computer, "How do you erase this, Sam?"

"I killed him, Dean," Sam said. "I broke in and killed him."

"Listen to me. Whoever this guy is, he's a hunter. Which means that other hunters are gonna come looking for his killer, which means we've gotta cover our tracks, okay," Bridget reminded him.

"His name was Steve Wandel. This is a letter from his daughter," he tossed it on the desk.

Dean sighed and grabbed the computer, throwing it to the ground in shatters. Bridget nodded. "That'll work."

He tossed Sam a rag. "Wipe your prints and lets go."

Back at the hotel they tried coming up with a plan.

Dean nodded, running a hand down his face, "All right, we get a couple hours of sleep, then we put this place in our rearview mirror. Look, I know this is bad, okay? But you've gotta snap out of it. Sam, say something!"

"Just get some sleep and leave in the morning? Murder, Dean. That's what I did," Sam said tired.

"Maybe…what about shapeshifter?"

Bridget sighed, "There was no eye flare, no distortion, Dean."

"But it wasn't you, all right? I mean, yeah, it might've been you, but it wasn't you," Dean said.

"I think it was," Sam sighed lying down on the bed.

Bridget twisted the ring on her necklace unable to shake her odd feeling. Something wasn't right about this. "What do you mean?"

"For the last few weeks I've been having these feelings," Sam explained.

"What feelings?" Dean asked sitting next to Bridget on the bed.

"Rage…hate. I can't stop it. It just gets worse day by day."

"You never said anything," Bridget said.

"I didn't want to scare you," he explained.

Dean shook his head, "Well bang up job there."

Sam sat up, "Dean, the Yellow-Eyed Demon –- you know he has plans for me. And we both know that he's turned other children into killers before, too."

"No one can control you but you," Dean reminded him.

"It sure doesn't seem like that, Dean. It feels like no matter what I do, slowly but surely, I'm just becoming—"

"What?"

"Who I'm meant to be. I mean, you said it once yourself, Dean. I've gotta face up to who I am."

"We didn't mean this," Bridget said.

"But it's still true!" he looked at Dean. "You know that! Dad knew that, too! That's why he told you if it ever came to this—"

"Shut up, Sam!" Dean yelled.

"Dean, you promised. You both promised me."

"We'll figure this out," Bridget said getting to her feet. "Okay, no one is going to have to kill you. There's a way."

"Yeah, there is," Sam pulled a gun out of the duffel bag and handed it to Dean. "I don't want to hurt anyone else."

Bridget stared in shock."Oh God…"

Dean shook his head. "You won't. Whatever this is…we can fight it."

"No. I can't. Not forever," his eyes teared over. "Here you've gotta do it." He put the gun in Dean's hand, tears falling down his face.

Dean shook his head, "No."

Sam looked at Bridget and she shook her head, "No. Sam, no." She turned her back away facing the wall, listening.

"I've tried hard to keep you safe," Dean said.

"I know."

"I can't," Dean said and she heard the gun fall to the floor. "I'd rather die." She felt something warm on her chest and her hand slid to her necklace it was getting hot. She frowned. It was going crazy. It only did that when there was a demon. Her eyes widened as she figured it out, spinning around in time to see Sam knock Dean out. He turned to her and she saw the blackness in his eyes, the familiar glint. "Oh God…Meg…"

"Miss me," Sam back handed her and everything went black as she hit the floor.

Bridget awoke with a groan, tasting blood in her mouth and opened her eyes. It was dark and there was movement going on. She was in the trunk. She moved her hands but found they were tied behind her back and so were her ankles.

"Shit," she mumbled. "Shit, shit…"

Sam was possessed by none other than Meg and took her to finish the job she started years ago not to mention revenge for shoving her out a window. Bridget felt around blindly in the dark for anything sharp but couldn't find anything. She tried bending to reach the knife in her boot but it was just out of reach. The car came to a stop and he relaxed her body, closing her eyes. The trunk opened and she knew Meg was looking at her, trying to tell if she was awake or not. She felt fingers in her hair and tried her hardest not to flinch away. "Just one quick stop at the bar to figure some things out…I'll be right back." The trunk slammed and she opened her eyes.

They were at Ellen's bar but what did she want to know. Bridget struggled harder reaching towards her shoe. "Come on," she gritted her teeth, brushing the top if the knife. "Come on…please…please help me with this." She felt the familiar tingle in her body and could feel the knife slide up her boot. Her fingers were just brushing it now. One last tug and it was in her fingers. She flipped it up and started sawing at the rope which took some work. She got them weak enough to break off and then moved her legs up cutting the bonds from her ankles. The trick was getting out of the trunk.

She slid the knife between the cracks and wiggled it trying to get it to pop free. There was starting to seem like no luck until it opened on its own. She held the knife defensively until she saw Dean staring down at her.

"Dean!" she said with a sigh of relief as he gave her a hand out of the car. "Never thought I'd be happy to see you."

"Where's Sam?"

"Inside. But it's not Sam. It's Meg."

"Meg?" he repeated. "We killed her."

"We killed her host and sent her to hell. She's back and she's pissed."

He touched her lip that had been bleeding. "I can see that."

She tucked her knife in her boot and Dean handed her a gun. "Just in case."

She swallowed the lump in her throat. "Hoping not."

They walked into the bar to find Sam holding Jo pinned against it as she struggled to get away.

Sam grabbed the knife turning around and holding Jo to the front of him. "Sam, put the knife down and let Jo go," Bridget said.

"Well aren't you Houdini," he mused.

"I got a lot of tricks up my sleeve."

"I told you to stop me."

"Put the knife down, dammit," Dean ordered.

"I told you, I can't fight it! My head feels like it's on fire, all right? Dean, kill me, or I'm gonna kill her! Please! You'd be doing me a favor. Shoot me. Shoot me!"

"No, Sammy, come on," Dean said lowering his gun.

Bridget uncapped the bottle she had in her pocket, making it look like she was tucking her gun away.

"What the hell is wrong with you two? Are you that scared of being alone that you'd rather let Jo die?"

Bridget held the bottle tight and sprung it forward, splashing Sam with it. "Holy Water, you bitch!"

Sam thrashed letting Jo go and jumping through the tavern window. Dean untied Jo. "He's possessed?"

"Yeah, you stay here," he said following Bridget who was already running towards the warehouse after Sam. She paused taking the gun out of her skirt and waiting for Dean.

They entered together cautiously. "Come out, Meg."

"You're no fun," he said from somewhere inside.

"So you've been in Sam for a week," Bridget asked.

"Should've seen your face when you thought he murdered that guy. Pathetic."

"Why didn't you kill us? You had a dozen chances," Dean said trying to find Sam. Bridget was on the opposite side still in eye shot of Dean.

"No, that would have been too easy. Where's the fun in that? See, this was a test. I wanted to see if I could push you far enough to waste Sam. Bridget came close, I give her that. Should've known you wouldn't have the sack. Anyway, fun's over now."

Dean shook his head, "Well, I hope you got your kicks. 'Cause you're gonna pay hell for this, I'm gonna make sure of that."

Sam chuckled. "How? You can't hurt me. Not without hurting your little brother. See, I think you're gonna die, Dean. You and every other hunter I can find minus Bridget because she's too much fun. I need her."

Sam took the opportunity to run out the warehouse. "The roof," Dean yelled to Bridget. "Go!" They both headed towards the staircase running up and out the door. They searched around the darkness and couldn't see him anywhere. "I'll check here. You go there," he gestured to the other side where the barrel were. Bridget nodded, keeping an eye on Dean as he went towards the edge looking down into the water. She checked the barrels but they were empty. No sign of Sam. Her necklace heated then and she gasped turning around in time to see Sam standing a few feet from her with a gun in hand.

"Dean! Look out!" She yelled. He turned too late as Sam fired the bullet striking him and knocking him off the roof.

"No!" She screamed and ran. Sam tackled her, knocking her down and the gun from her hand. He wrapped an arm around her and yanked her to her feet. "Dean! No!" She kicked and thrashed, tears in her eyes."You bitch! I'm gonna kill you, you stupid bitch!"

He grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her head back, "You are going to do exactly as I say or while we're at our next stop I will kill Bobby in front of you. Slowly while you watch. Got it?"

She said nothing. "I'm going to kick your ass, Meg, first chance I get."

"Well until then," he hit her upside the head with the gun, rendering her unconscious. "You can sleep on it."

Bridget came to as they pulled up to Bobby's house. She sat up and then felt the gun in her side. Sam smiled at her. "Remember what I said? You give any hint, say anything. I'll kill Bobby."

She nodded, biting her tongue. "You remember what I said. First chance, I'm kicking your ass."

"I'd love to see that," he got out of the car walking around to her door and opening it, yanking her out. He tucked the gun away and held her hand tight despite her efforts to break free. He squeezed and she winced. "Play nice."

Sam knocked on the door and Bobby answered. "Hey Bobby."

"Sam, Bridget, where's Dean?" he asked as he let them in walking into the living room.

Bridget swallowed the lump in her throat, feeling that pang of pain in her chest and Sam answered. "Holed up somewhere with a girl and a twelve pack."

"Yeah, she pretty," Bobby asked going into the kitchen.

"Oh you know Dean. She's blonde and young with a short name," Bridget hinted and Sam squeezed her hand.

"Yeah, you know Dean. He's in way over his head," Sam said and frowned looking up his eyes going black. Bridget glanced up and smiled.

Bobby came in handing them each a beer. Bridget drank it thankfully, needing alcohol in her system. "To John, Bridget."

"Oh sorry," she hiccupped and toasted. "To John." She drank again and sighed.

Sam frowned dropping the beer and her hand. Bobby grabbed her arm and pulled her to him. Smoke emitted from his mouth and he fell to his knees. "What did you do to me?"

"A little holy water in your beer. Sam never would've noticed. But then…you're not Sam, are you? Don't try to con a con man," he showed Sam the bottle.

Bridget stepped up to him. "Why don't you sleep on it?" She hit him hard across the face, knocking him out with a sigh. "That felt good."

Bobby bent down picking up Sam and setting him in a chair. Bridget handed him the rope. "How did you know?"

"Dean called."

Her eyes lit up, "Dean's alive."

"Yeah, he's alive."

"Thank God," she said helping secure Sam to the chair. "Meg got a hold of Sam. For some reason she's loving playing with me."

Twenty minutes later the front door opened and Dean came into room. "Dean," Bridget said relieved and hugged him.

"Ow, shoulder," he said.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

"I'm not dead," he said and touched the side of her face where a bruise was forming near her temple. "You okay?"

She winced as he touched it, "I'm fine."

He tucked the hair behind her ear after staring at her for a moment. He cleared his throat. "How's sleeping beauty?"

"Sleeping," she muttered turning back to Sam.

"Let's wake him up," Dean stepped into the circle with Bridget and slapped Sam across the face. "Hey!"

Sam blinked his eyes open with a smirk. "Dean –- back from the dead. Getting to be a regular thing for you, isn't it? Like a cockroach."

"How 'bout I smack that smartass right outta your mouth?"

"Oh, careful now. Wouldn't wanna bruise this fine packaging."

Dean observed the cut on Sam's lip. "Seems like Bridget had an okay time hitting you."

"Wouldn't mind doing that again," Bridget smiled.

"Oh, don't worry. This isn't gonna hurt Sam much. You, on the other hand –-," Dean dumped the holy water on Sam causing him to scream. "Feel like talking yet?"

Meg chuckled, "Sam's still my meat puppet. I'll make him bite off his tongue."

Bridget shook her head, "No, you won't be in him long enough. Bobby?"

Bobby began reading in Latin from a book and Dean explained as he withered in pain. "See, whatever bitch-boy master plan you demons are cooking up–- you're not getting Sam. You understand me? 'Cause I'm gonna kill every one of you first."

Sam started to chuckle. "You think that's what this is about. The master plan? I don't give a rats ass about the master plan…seems to me your spell isn't working. I learned a few tricks of my own." He started chanting in latin and the house began to shake. Books and papers were flying off shelves.

"Bobby, what's going on?" Bridget asked.

The trucker stepped forward and lifted Sam's sleeve to show the burn mark. "Shit she's locked herself in Sam."

"What the hell do we do?" Dean asked.

"I don't know," he said.

The ceiling cracked breaking the spell rendering it useless.

"There. That's better," Sam smiled and jerked his head. Bobby and Dean flew into the wall leaving Bridget standing there. He broke the binding from his wrist and grabbed Bridget by the throat. "Consider this your wish granted." He hit her across the face, sending her reeling sideways. He hit her again and she fell, blood dropping from her lip. "Do you want to know why I choosing Sam was so fun?"

"Sure, I love story time," she said and Meg kicked her in the ribs. Bobby and Dean were getting back up and she flung them into the wall again causing them to crumble to the floor.

"I figured if I took a body of someone you loved, you wouldn't hurt me, because killing me means killing Sam," he touched Bridget's face and she jerked away in disgust, he backed handed her. Her hair flew in her face and she looked back with the same amount of hate, blood dripping from her nose as she gasped. "How sad…you love him even though he left you. He didn't want you anymore, no one wants you Bridget…everyone leaves you…everyone you love dies…"

"Because you killed them, bitch," she growled.

He hit her again and Bridget chuckled, turning her face back to Meg. "I'm really going to love killing you again someday."

"You know I'm sad to say you're family isn't there, but John is…he was family right…or was he more than that."

Bridget's eyes widened. Meg smiled. "Oh, no one else knows…well when you can see someone's memories, you see all of it. He never told but I know what went on during those hunting trips the two of you took…now you can't save him where he is, tortured in pain screaming…for you."

Bridget lunged, "You bitch!"

Meg hit her hard across the face knocking her out. She turned her attention to Dean who was trying to get up. "Bridget…" he mumbled.

"You know, when people wanna describe the worst possible thing, they say, "It's like hell," Meg said and punched Dean in the face. "Well, there's a reason for that. Hell is like –-," he hit him again. "It's like Hell." He hit him again. "Even for demons. It's a prison made of bone and flesh and blood and fear," he hit Dean harder, causing his nose to bleed. "That's where you sent me."

"Sorry Meg," he said wearily. "Thought it'd be a trip to the Bahamas."

"By the way," he grabbed Dean bringing him closer. "–- I saw your dad there. He says, "Howdy." All that I had to hold onto was that I would climb out one day, and that I was gonna torture you, nice and slow. Like pulling the wings off an insect. But whatever I do to you, it's nothing compared to what you do to yourself, is it? I can see it in your eyes, Dean. You're worthless. You couldn't save your dad. And deep down…you know that you can't save your brother. They'd have been better off without you."

Bridget had gotten to her feet behind her, her necklace pulsing beneath her shirt as she approached Sam. She balled her hands into fist. "I need him," Sam turned around at the voice and Bridget decked him in the face.

She stood over Sam, grabbing his collar and punching him again. "You're really stupid, Meg, to think I won't fight back despite the body you're in," she kicked Meg in the stomach, twice, then pulled him up by his hair and hit him in the face again. "Because I'll kick your ass all night, bitch. Whether you're in Sam's body or not." She kicked him twice in the chest. "You forget, I threw the blonde girl out a window, I'm no mercy when it comes to you." She hit him in the face again. "That was for John."

Bobby grabbed Sam's arm and placed the hot poker on it, burning off the mark as Bridget fell back, tired and beat next to Dean. A black cloud erupted from Sam's throat and vanished out the window.

Bridget sat there gasping with Dean as Sam blinked a few times.

"What did I miss?" Sam asked looking around at his beaten and bruised brother and ex girlfriend.

"Sam?" Dean questioned. "Is it you?"

"Yeah," he nodded.

Dean nodded and hit him in the face, once his face turned the other way, and Bridget hit him causing his face to go back to where it had been. Sam held his jaw that now hurt on both sides. "What was that for?"

Bridget wiped at the blood on her face and glanced wearily at Dean and they both shook their head. She laid her head on the floor, too tired to sit up.

"Bridge, are you okay?" she felt Sam's hand on her shoulder.

"I am peachy," she mumbled and winced rolling onto her back. "Freakin great."

After a few minutes they managed to move to the couch and Bobby handed them each an ice pack. She wasn't sure where to put it or what hurt worse so she went with her face.

"You two look like crap," Bridget joked.

"Right back at you," Dean mumbled as Bobby entered the room.

"What is it?" Sam asked.

"You three ever hear of a hunter named Steve Wendel?"

"Why do you ask?" Bridget said.

"Just heard from a friend –- Wandel's dead. Murdered in his own house. You wouldn't know anything about that?"

"Nope," Dean shook his head.

"Dean…" Sam trailed off.

"Good. Keep it that way. Wandel's buddies are looking for someone, or something, to string up, and they're not gonna slow down to listen to reason. You understand what I'm saying?"

"Yeah…mind if I take a nap," Bridget asked. "It'd be nice to get an hours sleep that isn't caused by being knocked out."

"Go ahead, hun, guest room is right over there," he pointed at a door right across the way.

"Thanks," she winced getting up and headed to the room to lay down.

"You know that's not sounding like a bad idea considering I chased your as around all over the state while you had a week's coma," Dean joked to Sam and followed after Bridget.

"Mind if I take up this extra space," Dean asked, gesturing to the empty half of the bed.

She patted it, "Knock yourself out."

He kicked his shoes off and eased himself down with a sigh of relief, "I don't think knockin' out is gonna be a problem for either of us right now."

"I need a vacation…," she groaned.

"Me too…hot babes on the beach…" he winced slightly trying to get comfortable.

"You okay?" she yawned.

"I'm beat."

"Good one."

"I try," he mumbled already drifting off. His hand fell onto Bridget's back and he waited for her to object but she was too tired and too far gone to care.

Sam stood watching the two sleep awhile later. Bobby came to stand next to him after awhile. "She looks beat," Sam said still watching her from the doorway.

"Because she is," Bobby said. "She took a good beatin' from Meg."

Sam's face darkened and he leaned his head against the doorway, "From me."

"No, not you. Meg. She possessed you thinkin' Dean and Bridget wouldn't do anything to stop her because they wouldn't hurt you…judgin' by the bruises on your face she was wrong, Bridget got her hits in that's for sure."

Dean rolled over onto his back on the bed next to Bridget. Sam's eyes watered slightly, "I shot my own brother…"

"Meg shot your brother, Sam, you gotta stop beatin' yourself up over this," Bobby reminded him.

"How can I not…" he said. "She hurt them because of me."

"No…they do this for you. There's a difference. You're a lucky guy cuz they won't turn their backs on you."

Two hours later Bridget and Dean woke up feeling better than they had in awhile despite the soreness. The right side of Bridget's face had taken to a pretty purple blue color and her lip had scabbed over while Dean had a blue green shade on the left side of his face.

"We better hit the road," Dean said.

"Least it won't hit back," Bridget teased. "Anyone know where we parked?"

"Here takes these," Bobby handed them each a charm on a rope to wear.

"What is it?" Dean asked.

"Charms. They'll fend off possession. That demon is still out there. This'll stop it from getting back up in you."

"That sounds vaguely dirty, but thanks," Dean said with a nod.

"You're welcome. You three take care now," he waved them off as they got into the Impala.

"You okay?" Bridget asked Sam after a few minutes. "You've been really quiet."

"I was awake for some of it. I watched myself kill Wandel with my own two hands. I saw the light go out in his eyes."

"That must have been awful," Dean sympathized.

He shook his head, "That's not my point. I almost carved up Jo, too. But no matter what I did, you wouldn't shoot."

"It was the right move, Sam. It wasn't you," Bridget pointed out.

"Yeah, but what about next time?"

"Sam, when Dad told me that I might have to kill you…it was only if I couldn't save you. Now, if it's the last thing I do, I'm gonna save you," Dean said and then he chuckled.

"What?"

"Nothing," Dean said.

"No what?"

"Dude…you had a girl inside you for a week…that's pretty naughty," he teased and even Bridget had to laugh.