A/N: I'm out of school so as long as my laptop doesn't break down like its starting to, I can write these out quicker. Leave feedback if you like. It's always appreciated
S2 EP40 HOLLYWOOD BABYLON
Bridget sat pouting on the tour around the studio in Hollywood. Not exactly where she wanted to be in Hollywood when they found a case here. She was hoping to hit some shops and possibly the beach. Not be stuck on a tour with a fat kid eating ice cream. She glanced at the kid then at Dean doing the same thing directly behind him. With a sigh she leaned her head back, doing her best to continue to ignore Sam as she had for the past three weeks. She was starting to become a master at it with being stuck in a car with him and she was enjoying having a bed to herself most nights. Dean did most of the talking for both of them and she did her best to direct everything she said towards Dean. If Sam had an issue he hadn't said anything to her yet. She preferred it that way.
The tour guide spoke from the front of the bus, "Now, to the right, here is Stars Hollow. It's the setting for the television series, Gilmore Girls. And if we're lucky, we might even catch one of the show's stars."
Sam shifted uncomfortably and she smiled knowing he hated that show though she didn't know why.
"I think we should get off here," Sam said, getting off the bus.
"I'm liking the tour though," Bridget shouted at Sam with a grin.
"And as a special treat we'll get to see the sets of One Tree Hill," the guide added.
Bridget's eyes widened as she hopped off the bus, smacking Dean's arm. "On second thought, I'm coming with. I hate that show."
"Got some cute characters in it though," Dean said catching up to her.
"You would think so."
"Now that I think about it you do look an awful lot like Brooke."
"Mention it again and I'll kick your ass to the actual one tree hill," she threatened.
Dean probably would have said something more but got distracted by a man walking past them. He patted their shoulders. "Guys, look! It's Matt Damon."
Sam shook his head, "I don't think that's Matt Damon."
"Yes it is."
"Then why did Matt Damon just pick up a broom and start sweeping," Bridget asked.
"Research for a role," Dean said.
"It's this way," Sam pointed as he found the Stage 9 sign.
Dean pouted, "No this way."
Bridget tugged his arm, "We got work to do."
"But this is LA. Swimming pool and movie stars, girls desperate to sleep with an agent."
"You're not an agent," Bridget said.
He grinned, "They don't know that and they really want that walk on spot on One Tree Hill."
"Dude come on," Sam grabbed him by the collar of his jacket.
"But swimming pools," he pouted.
"This is not swimming pool weather. It's practically Canadian."
He shrugged out of Sam's grip, "Okay, okay. All right. So, this crew guy - he died on set?"
Sam nodded. "Yeah, rumors spreading like wildfire online saying the set's haunted."
"Like Poltergeist?"
Bridget smiled at his movie references. It was just so Dean. "Yes, Dean. Just like it."
Sam frowned, "What?"
Dean rolled his eyes, "You know nothing of your cultural heritage, do you? It was rumored that the set of Poltergeist was cursed. That they used real human bones as props. And, like, at least three of the actors died in it."
"Yeah, it might be something like that."
"So this crew guy, does he have a name?" Bridget asked, pointing the question at Dean.
Sam answered. "Frank Jaffey."
"Is there a death report?" she asked looking at Dean.
Sam switched his weight from foot to foot Dean noticed. This wasn't going to go on quietly much longer like he hoped but it had gone on longer than he thought it would. Sam answered irritated. "No. But the girl who found him said she saw something - a vanishing figure."
"Who's the girl?" Dean asked this time to stop the tension.
"Tara Benchley."
Dean paused eyes wide. "Whoa, whoa, Tara Benchley? From FeardotCom and Ghost Ship, Tara Benchley? Dude, why didn't you say so?"
"Now you're ready to help?"
"Oh, I mean, I'm just a fan of her work. She's very good."
"I'm sure that's why," Bridget said as they walked onto the stage.
The minute they did they were noticed by an important looking guy in a business suit. "Hey you. Green shirt guy."
Dean looked confused as he walked over. "Can you go get me a smoothie from the Kraft cart?"
"A what from where?"
The man looked irritated. "You are the PA aren't you?"
Bridget hurried over taking the twenty. "Smoothie coming right up. What flavor?"
"Go strawberry."
"Awesome. Do you want it crushed or smoothed?"
The guy started to relax, "Go smoothed."
"And one last question, apple juice or milk?"
"You're good," he smiled. "Apple juice. Get one for yourself too, cupcake."
"Right on it, sir," she nodded and grabbed Dean.
"What the hell is a PA?"
"Production Assistant. It means you're a gopher."
"A gopher?"
"Yeah. Go for this. Go for that."
He winced as they got to the Kraft cart and Bridget ordered, "A slave."
"Welcome to Hollywood. That'll be our role here. The three of us are slaves to the industry."
"Least you're starting off well," Sam said to her.
She ignored it with a shrug and took the smoothies. "Looks like I got work to do. You both better find something to stay on that set."
After watching a couple takes of a Latin reading scene for the movie the three regrouped at the Kraft's table. "You get any reading's?" Sam asked them.
"No EMF's anywhere on my end," Bridget said.
"Nothing," Dean shrugged picking up a sandwich.
"Then what do you think?" Sam asked.
"Well, I think being a P.A. sucks. But the food these people get, are you kidding me? Look at these things," Dean held up his sandwich. "They're like little mini Philly cheese steaks. They're delicious. What did you find out about the dead crew guy?"
Bridget sighed. "Frank Jaffey was just filling in for the day. Nobody here knew him or where he lived or anything."
"Oh great so you found out as much as I did," Dean snorted.
"Listen, I did dig up some stuff about Stage 9's history," Sam said.
"Yeah?" Dean said. Bridget tilted her head a little to listen.
"Yeah, four people died messy here over the past eighty years. Two suicides and two fatal accidents."
"Any one of those could be a vengeful spirit," Bridget said with a nod.
"Yeah. We've just gotta narrow it down more."
They both noticed Dean was no longer paying attention. He was fixated on Tara. "You know, I'll get right on that." He grabbed a call sheet off the table and was gone before either could stop it.
"I'm sure you will," Bridget mumbled and grabbed a soda prepared to leave as well then be stuck there with Sam.
"Where you going?"
"Back to work. Gotta find this ghost before it finds someone else." She moved back into the crowd of workers before Sam had a chance to stop her.
"You sure about this?" Sam asked.
"If Dean says he knows the guy from some B-rated movies then you can be sure it's him," Bridget said remembering how Dean would stay up watching the late night horror flicks in the middle of the night.
Dean knocked on the door and an older gentleman answered. Dean smiled. "Gerard St. James?"
He nodded. "Yes."
"You're still alive. And you're not Frank Jaffey."
"Uh…no," he said sheepishly.
"You were Desert Soldier Number Four in Metalstorm: The Destruction of Jared-Syn?" Dean asked.
"I was."
Dean grinned snapping his fingers. "I knew I recognized you. I am a huge fan. I mean, your turn as a tractor crash victim in Critters 3?"
"Yeah," the guy beamed and opened the door. "Please, come in."
He brought them out some coffee as they sat on the couch. Dean admired all the pictures on the wall from the various small characters he played. "Yeah, it was the producers. They brought me up for the day to play Frank."
"To fake your death?" Bridget asked.
"Well, rumors of a haunted film set, free publicity, especially when you're making a horror movie. It's already all over the Internet."
"We know," Sam nodded.
"These days, it's all about new media, building buzz. They say I'm the new LonelyGirl," Gerard said.
"The ghost Tara saw?"
"Projected on a screen of diffusion," he shrugged.
"Isn't that kind of cruel? Messing with their heads like that?" Dean asked.
"Hey, I just play the part. I don't write the script. Speaking of, I'm playing Willy in a dinner theatre production of Salesman at Costa Mesa, all next month."
"Now wait a second, if you're in public won't that ruin the stunt?" Bridget asked.
He waved it off with his had like it meant nothing, "Oh, please. Frank and Willy? Totally different characters."
Sam stood up, "You know what? Thanks very much, Mr. St. James. It was just nagging at us. But we're very glad... you know, you're alive and well."
"Absolutely," Dean shook his hand and the three left the house.
They were surprised on set the next morning to find Brad had been killed. Something that had seemed to be a prank was becoming far to real on the set.
"I thought this was just a gimmick," Dean said as they grouped by the Kraft table. He was loading a plate with taquitos.
"Looks like something might really be going on. I don't think it was a suicide like they're said," Bridget said, sipping a Dr. Pepper.
"Me neither," Sam agreed. "Seems like something is going on. Question is what?"
"Any EMF readings?" Dean asked.
He nodded. "A ton all the sudden. How's it going on your end?"
"It is going really good, man. Tara's really stepped up her performance. I think it's probably from all the sense memory stuff she's drawing on."
"Dean, you know when I ask how it's going in here, I'm talking about the case, right? We don't really work here. You know, I thought you hated being a P.A."
"I don't know. It's not so bad. I kind of feel like part of the team, you know?"
"You are part of a team," Bridget reminded him. "I checked the morgue. Brad is dead for real."
"Good thing we didn't leave," Dean said with his mouth full. "Oh…I do have something I want you both to check out." He grabbed a CD case next to him and led the way to an empty trailer.
"What is it?"
"A take from yesterday when Brad died. Listen," he put it in the DVD player and hit play. Bridget leaned forward.
"All right. Here's where dude falls through the roof," he pointed at the screen.
Bridget frowned. "Whoa, whoa. Rewind that back. Did you see that?"
Sam nodded and leaned closer, "Yeah, go back to where he falls through."
"Stop. Right there!" Bridget said. In the shot was a woman in white who wasn't part of the shot.
"It's like Three Men and a Baby," Dean said.
Bridget nodded, "Yeah it is. Creepy."
Sam looked at the two of them confused. Bridget sighed. "Dean, explain."
"There's a scene in the movie where people say that the camera caught a ghost on film. Apparently, in the background of one of the scenes, there was this boy that nobody remembers from set. Spirit photography."
"I've seen her before," Sam said pointing at the screen. He grabbed his bag that was next to him and pulled out a bunch of papers hurrying through them til he came across one he pulled out. "See. Here it is. Elise Drummond - starlet back in the thirties. Had an affair with a studio exec. He uses her up, fires her, leaves her destitute, so Elise hangs herself from Stage 9's rafters, right into a scene they're shooting."
Bridget looked over his shoulder. It was the ghost from the film. "Just like our man, Brad. So, what, she's got it in for the studio brass?"
"Possibly. I mean, it's a motive. And Brad's death matches hers exactly."
Dean frowned. "We're digging tonight aren't we?"
Walking through Hollywood Forever Cemetery was something that was needed to be done during the day. There were tombstones that cost more than the Impala Bridget was noticing. One they passed had a waterfall trickling off it. She guessed they decided to take their money with them after all. She glanced over at Dean who held the map. Ever thought she'd see those being sold for a cemetery. If they had them in all states it would make their job easier.
"Which way?" she asked.
Dean checked, switching his shovel to lean on his shoulder. "Uh, this way." He pointed to the right. "This map is totally worth it. We gotta check out Johnny Ramone's grave after."
"Why?" Sam asked. "You wanna dig him up to?"
"You hold your tongue," Dean said seriously then was distracted by another large grave. "Oo, that one's cool."
"You know, Dean, what I don't get is why now? I mean, after seventy-five years, Elise Drummond suddenly goes homicidal, you know? Why this movie?" Sam said with a shake of his head.
"Well, maybe she's mad they're making a scary ghost flick."
"Please, its not that scary," Bridget said.
"Here it is," Dean pointed at the headstone.
Bridget handed Sam the shovel. "You boys get to it. You dig faster than I can anyway."
"Oh gee, thanks," Dean mumbled and started digging while Bridget sat back and watched. Fifteen minutes later they struck the coffin and opened it up to find her bones. Sam poured the gas and jumped out while Bridget dropped the match letting it catch fire. "That's all folks."
"Isn't that on Mel Blanc's tomb?" Dean asked pulling out his map.
"I don't know," she smiled, "Let's go find out."
Sam shook his head, "It scares me. You two act like kids at Disneyland while in a cemetery."
"You enjoy it to, sour puss," Dean called out.
Sam shook his head but followed the other two anyway. Glad it was over.
They leaned on the Impala listening to McG talk about the latest "accident" on set. They were dumbfounded as they stood there. They had burnt the body, it was the right tomb, the right person.
Bridget shook her head. "This can't still be happening."
"Oh it is," Dean nodded. "Question is why."
"Run-in with a giant fan. Same thing happened to an electrician back in '66, a guy named Billy Beard," Sam informed them.
"What the hell, dude?"
"I don't know. Doesn't seem like Elise this time, either. It's not her M.O."
"No we burned her," Bridget reminded them as they walked back inside the Stage to try and figure this out. "So, what, are we dealing with another ghost?"
"Maybe," Sam shrugged.
"A tag team?" Dean said confused.
"Problem is the electrician was created," Sam said.
Bridget grabbed a Snapple off the table and watched as they filmed the scene in the cabin once again. "So now what?"
"No idea. Anymore ghost cameos in the dailies?" Dean asked.
Bridget shook her head, "Not in the first six hours. You know, maybe the spirits are trying to shut down the movie because they think it sucks. Because, I mean, it kind of does." She gestured at the scene. They watched and she started to frown as Kendra read the Latin. She glanced at Dean who didn't notice but the look on Sam's face said he did.
"Sam…you hearing this," she said having no choice but to talk to him directly.
He nodded. "Yeah I am…"
"Hearing what?" Dean asked.
"Listen to the invocation. Dean, that's the real deal - a necromantic summoning ritual. What the hell is that doing in a Hollywood movie?" Sam pointed out.
"Let's go have a chat with the writer," Bridget said and started heading back out to his trailer.
They knocked on his door and he answered letting them in. "Hey, we're shut down for the day."
Bridget smiled brushing a strand of dark hair from her face, "Yeah, uh... sorry, man. We couldn't help ourselves. We just had to tell you that we read the script."
"And?" he asked
"It was awesome," she smiled.
"Really awesome," Dean agreed.
"Totally…" Sam added.
"I know, it's pretty rockin', right? I'm glad you guys liked it." Marty said eyeing Bridget as he said. "Wish I'd known you liked it sooner. Could have gotten you a part."
"Yeah, I really liked all the attention to detail," she said, ignoring him.
"Right on, sweet heart, that's my thing. Color me guilty, but that is me. I'm a total detail buff."
"No, I can tell. I mean, the way you worked in all those Enochian summoning rituals and all the authentic language," Sam said.
Marty's smile faded. "What, you mean that Latin crap? No, man, that's Walter. Walter Dixon, the original writer. You like that garbage?"
"Oh, I don't," Bridget shook her head. "But he did. Total nerd stuff."
"Yeah. Walter wrote that crap. He has a clause in his contract to be on set."
"But he wrote the invocations?" Sam asked.
"He wrote a whack-job screenplay. There's no pace, there's no love interest, it's all wackadoo exposition. I had to cut, like, ninety percent of it to make it readable, the other ten percent to make it good."
"And it is really good," Bridget nodded. "But thank you for your time."
"If you ever want a part in a movie let me know," he smiled at her and his eyes flicked over her. "They're remaking The Hitcher. Can totally get you in?"
She smiled but couldn't get it to quite reach her eyes. "Try Sophia Bush. She might be desperate to get off One Tree Hill." She slammed the door behind her and pointed at Dean, letting it be his only warning.
"We need to read the original Screenplay," he said instead.
"I'm sure we can get that," Sam said.
They had it in their hands and were reading it in a trailer twenty minutes later. "They should have kept this. Its way better," she said.
Sam shook his head, "Yeah. And it reads like a how-to manual of conjuration, like a textbook on how to summon ghosts and get them to do whatever you want."
"Like kill people," Dean agreed.
Sam put the script down, "Yep. So, let's say somewhere down the line, Walter learned some pretty black magic."
"Yeah. And let's say he's pissed at these people for wrecking his movie," she added.
"Motive and means," Sam said.
"Meaning he'll want to kill the man responsible for butchering his screenplay to begin with…," her eyes met theirs and they rushed out of their seat at the same time running out the trailer door towards Marty's. Dean banged on the door but the writer wasn't there.
"Shit! Now what?" Dean asked them.
Bridget looked around and her eyes stopped on Stage 9 as her necklace got warm. She touched the ring around it pointing at the Stage. "He's there."
The ran towards it. "You sure?" Dean asked.
"Have I ever been wrong?" she asked.
"Good point," he said as they came to a skidding halt as Marty was being pulled towards the large fan. Walter wasn't standing far away.
"I got Marty, you guys get Walter," Dean said. Bridget put her difference aside as she hurried up the stairs to the scaffold, Sam right behind her. Down below Dean shoot the ghost and shut the fan off, helping Marty to his feet. He looked up to watch the two get to Marty and realized he had sent Bridget with Sam. She'd probably kick his ass for it later but their mental capabilities together might have come in handy.
"What are you guys doing?" Walter asked, backing up slowly.
"We could ask you the same thing, Walter," Bridget said moving slowly.
Walter ran up the next flight up the stairs and they followed.
"Raising these spirits from the dead? Making them murder for you? That's playing with fire, Walter," she said.
"Neither of you understand," he said angrily.
Sam nodded, holding his hands up in defense, "You know what? You're right, we don't understand."
"Just... wait, look. You put your heart and soul into something, years of hard work. It's years, and then they take it! And they crap all over it! And then they want you to smile and say, "Thank you"," he said.
"Walter, listen. It's just a movie. That's it," Sam said.
Walter scoffed, "Look... I've got nothing against you, man. You're not part of this. Just please, please, just leave. But Martin's gotta stay."
"Sorry, can't do that. It's not that we like him or anything, it's just a matter of principle," Bridget said.
"Then I'm sorry too," he shrugged.
Walter started chanting again, holding the talisman.
"Walter! No!" Sam yelled as ghosts began to appear around them. Suddenly they all disappeared and Sam was being dragged across the floor.
"Sam," Bridget yelled and Dean shot it from below. It let Sam go and she helped him up hurrying down the stairs to Dean where they ran into another building slamming the door behind them and reloading his gun.
""Come out to the coast! We'll get together, have a few laughs!"" Dean muttered.
"Not the time to quote Die Hard," Bridget said. "Not unless you're using yippie ki yay."
"Dammit," Sam said and they turned around. They were in the abandoned house set.
"You gotta be kidding me," Dean said angrily.
Marty was panicking, "I can't believe this. Ghosts are real!"
"What makes you say that," Dean asked sarcastically.
"But I don't understand. How is Walter controlling them?"
"The talisman around his neck," Bridget answered.
Sam took his cellphone out of his pocket, putting it to camera mode.
"What are you doing?" Marty asked.
"I mean, if film cameras pick these suckers up, then... maybe..." his eyes widened and he pointed ahead of Dean. "Dean! Ahead of you!"
Dean shot and it disappeared on Sam's phone. "Got him," he scanned the phone. "There!"
Dean shot again and Sam handed Marty the phone as he noticed Walter running above them on the scaffold. "Here you get the idea."
Bridget followed him, deciding two and two was better and no one should split up. "Head him off," she told Sam. "He's going out the back exit." They ran the other way and up the stairs waiting at the door. Just as she thought he burst through it to come face to face with them.
"It's over, Walter. Now give it to me," Sam held his hand out.
Walter ripped it off his neck and threw it to the ground, shattering it. Bridget and Sam were already stepping back from him, eyes wide at what he just did.
"There! Now no one can have it," he said.
Bridget shook her head, "You really shouldn't have done that."
"Oh yeah," he said smugly.
Sam nodded, "Yeah…"
"Why not?"
"Because you just freed them. We can't stop them now. Walter, you brought them back, forced them to murder. They're not gonna be very happy with you," she explained.
Marty and Dean appeared through the door and Dean saw the shattered pieces on the floor.
"Is that what I think it is?" he asked.
"Yeah," Sam nodded.
"This is gonna get ugly," he sighed.
Just as the words left his mouth Walter was knocked to the floor and started screaming as blood flew everywhere. Marty held up the phone, watching in awe as the ghosts tore him apart. Dean pushed his hand down slowly as Marty's screaming died and the ghost disappeared. "Dude, come on."
Marty followed him out, "That'll be great in the movie."
Bridget shook her head and started out the door. Sam put his hand on her arm as they reached the scaffold outside the door at least away from the gore. "You've been ignoring me for the last few weeks. Don't think I haven't noticed. What is wrong?"
She shook her head with a small smile, really not in the mood to be having the discussion she'd been putting off. "You're really stupid if you have to ask me that."
"What did I do?" he asked as she ripped her arm from his grip.
"I saw you, Sam…" she said and finally lifted her gaze to his. "I saw you with Madison."
She saw the realization dawn across his face as he moved his gaze to the floor. That was the confirmation she needed. "See…you know what I'm talking about…"
"Bridget…I'm…"
She held up her hand. "Spare me. Because you're not sorry. You're only sorry you got caught. Do you know how it felt, Sam…Meg possessing you and beating the crap out of me was nothing compared to me finding you with Madison…and then seeing how upset you were over having to kill her…" she said through clenched teeth. "Part of me wondered why you did it? Why I wasn't good enough? What I did wrong? Why you couldn't care for me like that?" she let out a half sob and fought to control herself. "And to be honest, the other part of me doesn't really give a shit."
"Bridget, I didn't mean for this to happen…"
"Shut up, because it's done. You know what the bitch is, Sam?" she asked him angrily. "The bitch of the matter is that despite you hurting me like this, despite you breaking up with me and then breaking my heart until I had to fight with myself to get out of bed and continue doing this job because looking at you tore at me so much more then I could stand…despite all of it, I still care for you, you're still my friend…and that hurts so much more." She turned and walked away before he could see the tears.
Bridget waited outside the trailer door as Dean stepped out looking disheveled with a huge grin on his face just as Sam approached as well. She was really ignoring him now but this time he was letting her. Tara came to the door in only a robe and she smiled shaking her head into her coffee cup.
"You're one hell of a P.A," she told Dean.
"Thanks," he grinned as she went back inside.
The three started walking towards the car. "I love this town."
"You would," Bridget snorted.
"It was great."
"Yeah watching a guy get torn apart is always fun."
"Besides that."
"You mean the rocking sex you got. Not me."
"You still can."
"Don't push it," she warned.
Dean opened the doors and got in but paused when he noticed Bridget only grabbed her bag from the back and shut the door. He got out and frowned at her over the top of the car. Sam paused getting in, noticing suddenly she wasn't in the car either.
"Aren't you coming?" Dean asked gesturing at the car, worried she was leaving them.
Bridget smiled, sliding on her sunglasses. "I'll meet you guys out there. I'm going to take some personal time."
"Personal time from what?"
She kept a smile on her face despite the momentary pit in her stomach. "From everything. From work. From demons. From blood and bruises. From not sleeping. From being stuck in a car. From both of you. I'm taking a vacation. I'll call you guys, find out where you are."
"Is that safe?" Sam asked.
"Considering how many times I've nearly been killed on a weekly basis, I think I'm pretty safe," she slung her backpack over her shoulder and glanced at her watch. "It's nearly time for me to check in to my hotel."
"You made reservations?" Dean asked shocked.
"Yup, a week ago. Been planning this for awhile. I got a seven o'clock massage tonight with Steven," she grinned. "Then a spa treatment all day tomorrow then I'm going to sit poolside for hours on end and just relax. You guys have a ball. See you in a week," she said and got into the taxi that was waiting for her near the car, closing the door before they could say anything else.
"I can't believe she did that," Sam said.
"Really? Because I can't blame her," Dean argued.
"Why? She left us."
"She needed to, Sam."
"Why?" he asked as Dean started the car.
Dean gave him a look, "If you need to ask me that after everything you put her though then you really are an idiot. You're an idiot for letting her get away from you to begin with and screwing it up."
"Like you don't screw up."
"No on someone like Bridget, Sam. That was a real screw up. You have no idea what you lost," he said with a shake of his head and started the car, driving off hoping to have Bridget back soon because he already missed her.
S2 EP41 FOLSOM BLUES
(END)
It had been the best five days of her life so far. No demons. No running. No fighting. Just peace and quiet and lots of relaxation and girly drinks. She basked in the sun deciding she could enjoy this forever though she'd never admit out loud she was missing Dean's company. Only because he'd always been there with her and now he wasn't. She couldn't get used to not threatening him all the time. That was the only thing that bothered her. She hadn't heard anything from them since which meant they were okay since Dean wouldn't disturb her vacation unless he needed to. She smiled and adjusted her sunglasses.
"Ma'am?" a pool boy kneeled next to her with a smile, holding a phone. "Telephone call for you from a Mr. Singer."
Bridget groaned. If Bobby was calling her on her vacation that wasn't a good thing. Mainly because she didn't tell Bobby where she was staying and had used a false last name. But he had found her five days into her break which was actually a day longer than she thought it would take for Sam and Dean to get into trouble.
She sighed and stood up, taking the phone from him and tipping him a five. She walked to a secluded area before answering. "This had better be damn important to interrupt my pool time. What did they do, Bobby?"
"Hello to you to," he said. "How's California?"
"Be better if Floyd and Harry wouldn't get into trouble to have you search me out. What did they do?"
"Short story, they're in prison."
She almost dropped the phone, "Well, that's a new one. I was expecting a witch or crazy cannibals. But the law, that's a tough one."
"Yup. Need you to come here. Get Dean's car. Don't worry, they'll do all the rest."
"They better because the owe me. See you soon," she hung up and sighed going back up to her room to change and pack. At least she got the five days. It was better than nothing and definitely better than prison.
Bridget smiled as she drove off in the Impala after the boys jumped in the car. Bobby was right. All she had to do was be at the spot and they did the rest. She just had to press the gas. "I go on vacation for a week and you guys get arrested five days into it," she sighed. "You boys just fall apart without me."
"How was your vacation?" Dean asked from the back seat.
She snorted, "Better than yours. I wasn't some convicts bitch, eating half cooked cafeteria food."
"How'd it go and how'd you find us?"
"It was great until I got a call from Bobby tellin' me you two bozos were arrested and in prison."
"You missed us and you know it," Dean smiled.
"I missed you all right Dean," she corrected, not bothering to look in the review mirror at Sam. "I missed you." She was surprised by how much she meant it. How much more comfortable she felt with Dean near her. But she'd never admit it out loud.