A/N: Sorry this took so long. I FINALLY had a couple days off work and got my computer back from being repaired since the hinge broke. This is far from over…many more seasons to go and the storylines get deeper. Reviews are VERY welcome to motivate me to write faster.

S 3 EP 50 RED SKY

Bridget sat awkwardly in the backseat on the car, yes even though she was officially dating Dean she still sat in the backseat. More or less by her choice since it consisted of more leg room and she preferred sitting on the left side of the car, more room to draw since she was right handed. But she had a book open with her reading light attached to it, though she wasn't doing much reading. The silence in the car was deafening and the tension radiating off Dean was unbearable. Sam seemed oblivious to it but that was typical.

She had been cleaning the Colt the day before at the hotel. Sam had stepped out awhile ago to go to the library, meaning he was leaving so they could have sex. Dean, of course, took advantage of the situation. After a shower, Bridget decided to clean the Colt while Dean finished his shower since he had intruded on hers, swearing he wasn't going to hog the hot water again, but did just that. She had become puzzled when she opened the chamber and found a bullet missing. She had asked Dean and he was as puzzled as she was…which left only one other person: Sam. They hadn't said anything to him when he returned, but the pressure in the car was becoming too much.

Dean finally broke it, "So, I've been waiting since Maple Springs. You got something to tell me?"

"It's not your birthday…" Sam played dumb. Bridget sank further into her seat, wishing she could disappear.

"No…"

He looked confused. "Happy... Purim? Dude, I don't know. I have no idea what you're talking –"

Dean cut him off. "There's a bullet missing from the Colt. You want to tell me how that happened? I know it wasn't me or Bridget. So unless you were shooting at some incredibly evil cans... You went after her, didn't you? The Crossroads Demon. After I told you not to."

Bridget stared at the page. Yup, another argument.

"Yeah, well…" he shrugged.

"You could have gotten yourself killed," Dean yelled.

"I didn't," Sam stated the obvious.

"And you shot her!"

"She was a smartass."

"So, what? Does that mean I'm out of my deal?"

"Don't you think I might have mentioned that little fact, Dean? No. Someone else holds the contract."

"Who?" Bridget asked, finally peeking her curiosity.

"She wouldn't say."

"Hence, why you shot her," she snorted, thinking she would have done the same.

"You shouldn't have done it," Dean told him.

"I shouldn't have done it? You're my brother, Dean. And no matter what you do, I'm gonna try and save you. And I'm sure as hell not gonna apologize for it, all right?"

"Dammit, Sam you-"

It was her turn. "All right! Enough! We get it. But it's done, it's over. Move on people or I swear to God the two of you will share a bed tonight and I'll sleep alone AND in the nude."

That got them both to quit talking for the rest of the ride to their new case. Bridget sat back, pleased with herself and the silence. She could finally focus on her book.

Bridget stood in her detective outfit, her hair tied back in a ponytail as she looked at the photos on the mantel of the young girl who was now dead…from drowning…in the shower. How did a healthy young woman drown in a shower? It had demon written all over it which brought them here to talk to the seventy year old woman about her niece.

The woman, Gert, frowned though her eyes twinkled when she looked at Sam. Granny apparently still had desire after all these years and liked them young, "But I don't understand. I already went over all this with the other detectives."

Bridget nodded, "Right, yes. But, see, we're with the Sheriff's Department, not the police department - different departments"

"So, Mrs. Case," Sam started.

She cut him off with a smile, "Its Ms. Case."

"Okay. Um, Ms. Case, um... you were the one who found your niece, correct"

"I came home and she was in the shower," she nodded.

"Drowned?" Sam asked.

She shrugged, "So the coroner says. Now, you tell me, how can someone drown in the shower?"

He bypassed the question, "How would you describe Sheila's behavior in the days before her death? I mean, did she seem frightened? Maybe she said something out of the ordinary?"

"Wait a minute. You're working with Alex, aren't you?" Gert asked skipping his question.

"Oh, yeah. Absolutely," Dean nodded, not knowing who she was talking about.

"Why didn't you say so? Alex has been such a comfort. But I'm sorry. I thought the case was solved."

Sam shook his head, "Well, no. No, not yet."

"I see…"

"So anyways, we were talking about your niece."

"Well, yes. Sheila mentioned something quite strange before she died. She said she saw a boat."

"A boat?" Bridget frowned, thinking back to a drawing she did recently and suddenly wondering if there was a connection. She had drawn a pirate like ship at night that resembled something out of Pirates of the Caribbean.

"Yes. One minute it was there, then it was gone. It just disappeared right before her eyes. You think it could be a ghost ship? Alex thinks it could be a ghost ship."

Bridget sighed, it had to be the same one. "Could be…"

"You let me know if there's anything else I can do for you," she smiled, tracing a finger down Sam's arm. Bridget and Dean tried not to laugh. "Anything at all."

They left the house and walked along the dock, staring out at the ocean.

"What a crazy, old broad," Dean snorted.

"Why? Because she believes in ghosts?" Sam asked.

"Look at you sticking up for your girlfriend? You cougar hound."

"Bite me," he mumbled.

"Not if she bites you first. So, who's this Alex? We got another player in town?" Bridget asked.

"Maybe, Maybe not. Doesn't change our job."

"And what looked like a ghost ship, right?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, and it makes sense. I drew one a couple nights ago. Thought it was from watching too many Jack Sparrow films but looks like we got a Black Pearl on our hands," Bridget said.

"That connects it then," Sam said. "It's not the first one sighted around here, either."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Every 37 years, like clockwork, reports of a vanishing three-mast clipper ship out in the bay. And every 37 years, a rash of weirdo, dry-land drownings."

"So, whatever's happening is just getting started," Dean stated, looking out over the ocean and draping his arm around Bridget's shoulders.

"Yup."

"What's the lore?" Bridget asked, enjoying the feel of Dean next to her.

"Well, there are apparitions of old wrecks sighted all over the world. The S.S. Violet, the Griffin, the Flying Dutchman -almost all of them are death omens."

"So, you see the ship and then a few hours later, you pucker up and kiss your ass goodbye?" Dean asked.

"Basically."

"Awesome," Bridget nodded. "What's the next step?"

"We gotta I.D. the boat."

"That shouldn't be too hard. I mean, how many three-mast clipper ships have wrecked off the coast?"

"I checked that too actually. There are 150."

"Wow," Bridget said with a whistle.

"Yeah," Sam nodded.

Dean hung his head. "Shit…"

"We better get working on it," Bridget said and they slowly made their way back to the car…except the spot was empty where the Impala had been.

Dean's eyes widened as he looked around, "This is where we parked the car, right?"

"Yeah," Bridget nodded, confused.

"Did you feed the meter?" Sam asked, looking around as his brother panicked.

"Yes, I fed the meter. Sam, where's my car? Somebody stole my car!"

"Calm down," Sam told him.

"I am calmed down! Somebody stole my ca—" he started hyperventilating and Bridget put her hand on his arm.

"Whoa. Babe, calm down. It's okay."

A voice behind her made her cringe and her stomach bubble in anger, "The '67 Impala? Was that yours?" The accent gave her away.

She turned to see Bella standing there, lethal and gorgeous as ever with a smug smile on her face that Bridget so desperately wanted to wipe from her face.

Dean's eyes narrowed on her, "Bella…"

"I'm sorry. I had that car towed."

"You WHAT?" Now Dean was pissed and though Bridget wouldn't ever promote hitting a woman, she would let Dean hit this one.

"Well, it was in a tow-away zone," she said smugly.

"No, it wasn't," Bridget hissed.

Her eyes shifted to her and Bridget felt angrier, "It was when I was done with it."

"What do you want?" Sam asked.

"Just out yachting."

"You're Alex. You're working with that old lady," Bridget pieced together.

"Gert's a dear old friend," she said.

Dean snorted, "Yeah, right. What's your angle?"

She waved her hand in dismissal, "There's no angle. There's a lot of lovely old women like Gert up and down the eastern seaboard. I sell them charms, perform séances so they can commune with their dead cats."

"It's all a con," Bridget shook her head.

"Oh, the comfort I provide is real."

"How do you sleep at night?" Sam said in disgust.

"On silk sheets, rolling naked in money. Really, Sam. I'd expect the attitude from him, but you?"

"You shot me!" he reminded her.

She huffed, "I barely grazed you."

Bridget interjected. "You don't know what's going on here. This ghost ship thing, it's real."

She nodded, brushing the hair from her face with her free hand, "I'm aware. Thanks for telling Gert the case wasn't solved, by the way."

"It isn't," she repeated.

"She didn't know that. Now the old bag's stopped payment and she's demanding some real answers. Look... just stay out of my way before you cause any more trouble. I'd get to that car if I were you... before they find the arsenal in the trunk. Ciao," she smiled and walked away.

Dean looked at Bridget with a pout. "Can I shoot her?"

"Not in public," she mumbled and started their walk to the hotel.

They managed to get the car out of impound early that morning and heard the news while at the station that another person had drowned in their bathtub. Highly doubting it was a coincidence the three left, only pausing to change into their detective gear before showing up at the house where Mr. Warren was. To no surprises thy saw Bela's car there.

"Does she ever give up," Bridget mumbled.

"That's an easy no," Sam snorted.

"I might shoot her after all," she said walking up the pathway.

"No fair! I had called dibs," Dean told her.

"I'm a girl, it won't look as bad if I do it."

They interrupted her as a reporter questing Mr. Warren. Dean flashed his badge, "Ma'am, I

think this man's been through quite enough. You should go."

A flicker of annoyance crossed her face. "But I just have a few more questions."

"No, you don't," Sam said sternly.

She smiled at Mr. Warren. "Thank you for your time." She made sure to shoulder Bridget on her way out. She bit her tongue to keep from grabbing Bela by her hair and pulling her back.

Dean patted her shoulder sensing her irritation and spoke to Mr. Warren. "Sorry about that, they're like cockroaches."

"So," Sam cut in getting to the point in case. "We heard your brother saw the ship?"

"Yeah," the man nodded. "That's right."

"Did he said what it looked like?" Bridget asked.

He frowned slightly, trying to recall, rubbing his forehead as he thought. "It was, uh... like the old yankee clippers. A smuggling vessel. The rakish topsail, a barkentine rigging. Angel figurehead on the bow."

Bridget raised an eyebrow in surprise, "That's a lot of detail."

"We were diving, I saw it too," he said.

Sam glanced out the window, noticing Bela speaking to the cops and pointing at the house just outside. He nudged Dean and tapped Bridget's shoulder. They both took notice.

"Oh, okay. Well we'll be in touch soon," she told him quickly as they headed out the back and snuck back to the car.

"I am going to punch her so hard first chance I get," she fumed as they stopped in the woods area of the town.

"Now, now, honey. We all want to hit her," Dean patted her shoulder and popped open the trunk, handing her a shot gun to load.

"I see you got your car back," an irritating British voice said from behind.

Dean saw Bridget's jaw tighten as she looked thoughtfully at the shot gun, getting the same idea he did. "Do you really want to come near me with a loaded shot gun?" he asked Bela.

She tilted her head with a smile Bridget wanted to knock off, "Now, now. Mind your blood pressure. Why are you even still here? You have enough to I.D. the boat."

"That guy back there saw the ship," Sam told her.

"Yeah? And?" she said not getting the point of helping another person.

"And he's going to die, so we have to save him."

"How sweet," she said nonplussed.

"You think it's funny?" Bridget asked her, anger rising every minute.

She looked at them blankly. "He's cannon fodder. He can't be saved in time, and you know it."

"Yeah, well, see, we have souls, so we're gonna try," Dean explained to her.

"Well, I'm actually going to find the ship and put an end to this. But you have fun," she started to turn away.

Dean called out to her, "Hey, Bela, how'd you get like this, huh? What, did daddy not give you enough hugs or something?"

Bridget saw her tense. Dean had gotten to her. She turned her head and snapped back, "I don't know. Your daddy give you enough? Don't you dare look down your nose at me. You're not better than I am."

"Ohh, far better than you. We help people," Bridget said coldly.

"Come on. You do this out of vengeance and obsession. You're a stone's throw from being a serial killer. Whereas I, on the other hand, I get paid to do a job and I do it. So, you tell me - which is healthier?"

"Bela, why don't you just leave? We've got work to do," Sam told her, feeling the tension.

"Yeah. You're 0 for 2. Bang-up job so far," she turned and left this time, leaving them to try and save one innocent person from a ghost ship. How they planned on doing this? None of them knew.

Back in her denim shorts and tank top, Bridget felt more comfortable as she sat in the car with Sam and Dean, retying her calf high boots. They were parked outside Peter Warren's house, waiting to see if anything happened. Sam had his laptop open in the passenger seat. "Anything good?" she asked him.

Sam sighed with a shake of his head at the files he had opened, "No, not really. I mean, both brothers are Duke University grads. No criminal record. I mean, a few speeding tickets. They inherited their father's real estate fortune six years ago."

"How much?" Dean asked.

"112 million," Sam said.

Dean whistled, "Nice life."

"Yeah. I mean, nice, clean, aboveboard. So why did they see the ship? Why Sheila, too? What do they all have in common?"

"Maybe nothing."

"There's always something," Sam said and looked over his shoulder at Bridget. "You get anything?"

She opened her sketch book, "Just a drawing I did a week ago of a ghost ship. Thought it was because I had Jack Sparrow on the brain, but apparently this has nothing to do with dreams of Johnny Depp whisking me away on the Black Pearl to shine his sword," she sighed.

Dean frowned at her, "Really? Johnny Depp? You couldn't pick someone manlier than me?"

"That is manlier than you," she snorted at him with a smile.

"I'll show you a sword later and rock your boat," he grinned back.

Sam groaned leaning his head on the window, "Ohh God, let the ship kill me next."

"Hey! You!" a voice said and they could see Peter coming towards them from his house.

"Looks like we've been spotted," Dean said scrambling out of the car. Bridget and Sam followed, approaching the upset man. "What are you guys doing? You watching me?"

Sam put his hands up, "Sir, calm down, please."

"You guys aren't cops! Not dressed like that. Not - not in that crappy car."

That got Dean as his eyes widened in offense. "Hey! No need to get mean."

Bridget butt in, "We are cops, okay? We're undercover. We're here because we think you're in danger."

"From who?" he asked perplexed and still upset.

"If you just settle down, we'll talk about it," Sam promised.

"Look, you guys just stay away from me!" he started heading back to his house and unlocked his car.

"Wait!" Bridget yelled after him.

"We're trying to help you, moron," Dean called out.

He started to drive off but made it as far as the front of his house before his car died.

"Oh, that can't be good," Bridget mumbled.

"Nope, get the salt guns," Sam said and he and Bridget ran to the car while Dean ran to the Impala. Bridget stopped at the driver's side and her eyes widened. A sea captain ghost sat in the passenger seat, cold eyes staring at Peter with a deathly look on his face as Peter choked on water in his car.

"Peter!" Sam shouted as the man collapsed against the steering wheel, not responding.

The ghost stared at them with a smile as Dean approached. "Duck!"

Sam grabbed Bridget pulling her down as Dean fired, hitting the ghost. Bridget stared at the lock and felt the heat in her rise as it popped open. She was getting better at using it. Sam yanked the door open, grabbing Peter out, He checked his pulse and looked up at Bridget and Dean with a shake of his head. Dean growled in frustration and kicked the door.

"Now what?" Bridget asked quietly.

To that, no one had the answer.

Bridget lay on her stomach on the bed, reading a book, her sketch book opened near her as she drew an evil looking Santa Claus. She had pulled out the book to distract her from the thought of them going against an evil Santa. She had ghost ships to deal with at the moment and couldn't handle or process the thought of a story book character come to life to eat people.

There was a knock on the door and Bridget tensed. They weren't expecting anyone. Her hand slid to the gun next to her, keeping it hidden under her book as Sam answered the door slowly, shoulders relaxing as he opened it the rest of the way to reveal Bela.

"Dear God, are you three actually squatting in this hell hole?" she asked stepping inside carefully as if the floor would eat away her designer shoes. "So, how'd things go with Peter last night?"

Bridget's hand tightened on the handle of the gun as Dean and Sam looked down at the ground. "That well, huh."

"I swear to God, if you say I told you so, Bela, I'm gonna start swinging."

"The way you have your hand on that gun, I think you'll start shooting first. You can put it away, it's just me."

Bridget brought it up, and held it casually in her hand. "Exactly why I have it out."

"Look, I think the four of us should have a heart to heart."

"That's assuming you have one," Dean said, sitting on the bed near Bridget.

"Dean, please... I'm sorry about what I said before, ok? I come bearing gifts."

"Like what?" Sam asked.

"I've ID'd the ship. It's an old merchant sailing vessel," she dusted a part of the desk and leaned against it. "Quite a colourful history. In 1859 a sailor was accused of treason. He was tried aboard a ship in a kangaroo court and hanged. He was 37."

Sam nodded, folding his arms across his chest. "Which would explain the 37 year cycle."

"Aren't you a sharp tack," she smiled at him making Bridget want to hurl and went through the file she had in her hand. "I have a photo here," she handed it to Sam.

Sam held it out to Dean and Bridget looked at it. "Isn't that the ghost from last night?"

"You saw him?" Bela asked surprised.

"Yeah, that's him. Except he was missing a hand," Bridget nodded, getting a closer look and sitting up on her knees.

"His right hand," Bela asked quietly.

"How'd you know?" Sam asked.

"The sailor's body was cremated, but not before they cut off his hand to make a hand of glory," she sighed.

"A hand of glory, I think Bridget gave me one of those last week," Dean chuckled until Bridget elbowed him.

Sam looked at him seriously. "Dean, the right hand of a hanged man is a serious cult object and is very powerful."

"So they say," Bela nodded.

"None of this explains why he's choosing these victims," Bridget said.

Bela sighed irritated. "I'll tell you why, who cares. Find the hand, burn it and stop the bloody thing."

"I don't get it, why are you telling us this."

"Because I know where the hand is," she told them, biting her lower lip.

"Where?" Dean asked, standing up.

"At the Sea Pines Museum, it's a carp bit of maritime history. But I need help."

Sam looked at her warily. "What kind of help?"

"Getting into the ball."

Bridget's eyes widened. "A ball?"

"Yes. I imagine you guys have tuxedo's in your arsenal of clothing and I happen to have two very pretty dresses in my car for us girls."

"Why would I want to wear anything you brought."

"Because I have taste and you have jean skirts which would work on a street corner picking up rich married men but not at something as high class as his event."

Bridget's hand tightened on the gun and Dean put his arm around her. "Sounds like a plan. You'll be Sam's date Bela. We should be getting ready," he said and Bridget gawked as Bela left the room to get the dresses.

"You're joking, right? A ball, Dean."

He smiled at her. "Why not? I owe you a classy night besides eating McDonalds and watching Redbox films."

She looked at Sam for support, hoping he'd at least protest being Bela's date. He shrugged his wide shoulders. "Let's give it a shot, Bridge. It's better than pretending to be cops." He walked past her into the bathroom to change.

She shook her head as Bela came back in, somehow already in her red sparkling gown, handing her a black bag with a dress inside it. "Go clean up. Sam and I will meet you two there."

With a glower, she walked into the other room to change. Part of her dreading this and the other half, the larger half was giddy at the thought of attending a formal event.

Dean sat on the couch, glancing at his watch for the hundredth time. Bridget was still in the bathroom getting ready. Had kicked him out over an hour ago to put her dress on and fix her hair and still she wasn't finished. "Bridget, you almost ready? I literally don't have all year. Bela and Sam are already there by now."

"Not okay with this!" Bridget called out from behind the door. "I don't feel comfortable."

"Does the dress fit?"

"Yeah, it fits."

"Then what's the problem, babe?"

"I'm just…I'm not used to looking like this…"

"Well, come out here. Let me see," he said and to his surprise he heard the door open. He shot to his feet as she appeared, eyes wide at the sight of her.

Her dress was backless, hooking behind her neck in a halter style. It fit perfectly on her, hugging ever curve and dropping in sparkling material to the floor where her heeled feet could be seen through the see through bottom layer. Her hair was up in a twist with pieces hanging down in spiral curls in what he guessed was carefully picked places given the curl and light make up brought out her eyes and lips.

"What do you think?" she asked with a small smile.

"I…ughh…you look…," he couldn't seem to find the words. "You look amazing."

"We better get there," she said gesturing to the door and picking up her clutch. "Sam has work to do with Gert and I really, really don't want to miss this."

"You're right," he said holding the car door open for her. "It'd be wrong not to watch Sam be embarrassed."

"Ten bucks says she cops a feel on his ass," she snorted.

"You're on."

The arrived fifteen minutes later and got upturned looks at the fact they drove an Impala and not a Ferrari. They found Bela over by the catering table smiling amusingly into a glass of champagne as she watched Sam with Gert. To her utter disproval, she and Dean moved over to Bela and stood with her.

Bela raised her eyebrow at Bridget. "I'm impressed. You clean up very well, Bridget."

She smiled coldly and grabbed a glass drinking half of it to numb herself from her company. "Thanks. How long has Sam been smooching his date?"

"Since we got here. She latched on him and hasn't let go."

Sam had spotted them and pried himself loose from Gert, his face serious as he approached them. "Exactly how long do you expect me to entertain my date?"

"As long as it takes," Bela told him.

"I thought you were my date," he told her.

She shrugged. "She has a fascination with you, dear. Now play along."

"Look, there's security all over this place, alright, this is an uncrashable party without Gert's invitation, so..." he gestured her way.

"We can crash anything, Dean."

"But this is so much more entertaining," Bridget smiled.

"You know there are limits to what I'll do, right?"

Dean nudged her, "Oh, look. He's playing hard to get."

"It's so cute," she agreed. She turned Sam around and gave him a push towards Gert. "Give us the details in the morning."

She looked at Dean. "Should we get to work on getting upstairs?"

He glanced at the stairs then over to the band. "In a minute. I'll be right back."

He stepped away and she frowned. "What's he up to?"

"Who knows?" Bela shrugged, watching the stairs. "A lot of security here. Need to figure out a way to get upstairs."

"We will. I'm sure it's possible."

Dean was reproaching her, a serious look on his face and he smiled. "Dance with me?" Dean asked, holding his hand out to her once he got back from the band.

"What? You don't like to dance, especially slow dance," she snorted with a frown.

"I think I'll make an exception to this song," he said. The music began and Bridget's frown disappeared slowly. Her eyes widened a bit and her lips parted into a soft touched smile. The keys of the piano started the song and she looked at Dean in dismay as Celine Dion's voice came from the speaker softly. "Tale as old as time…"

"Beauty and the Beast…" she said in awe.

"Dance with me," he said again and this time she slipped her hand into his. He pulled her closer to him, moving them to the floor, his hands moving to her waist while hers went around his shoulders, a smile on her face and surely reaching her eyes. He never ceased to surprise her with his caring romantic side. He spun her out on the big crease in the song and brought her back to him.

"You amaze me," she whispered to him.

He grinned slyly. "All part of my charm."

"It's bitter sweet and strange finding you can change," she said with the song to him.

He chuckled softly as the song slowed down and leaned his forehead against hers. "Only for you, but don't tell anyone. I have a reputation to uphold," his grin softened. "I love you."

"I love you too," she said and kissed him with a soft passion that held promise for later as the song ended. She glanced to her left and tapped Dean's shoulder, pointing at an agitated Sam and Gert who had her hand firmly on his ass.

"Dammit," he mumbled, pulling a ten out of his wallet.

She plucked it from him, tucking it in her top. "Thank you."

"We got a lot of security. They're not going to let us just walk up there."

"Sure they will," she smiled at him. "Play along."

Dean only had time to frown as Bridget groaned and fell. He caught her as a guard approached.

"Everything alright, sir?"

"My wife, she had a little too much champagne," he told them as she groaned again. "Is there any where she can lay down until she feels better?"

"Right this way," the guard nodded. Dean swept Bridget into his arms, giving Sam an okay nod at his concerned face. The guard let them into a room and Bridget sat up the minute he left.

"You could have warned me," he told her.

"No fun in that. So it has a glass case wire alarm. You go get it, I'll wait in the room in case the guard comes to check on us."

He nodded, "I'll be right back."

Bridget sat on the bed waiting for Dean, fiddling with the edges of her dress. She had to admit, this was the easier of the cases they worked and one of the classier. It was better than being on the movie set or playing a cop as they usually did. The door swung open and Dean shut it quickly and quietly. She stood, moving to him about to ask him what was going on when he pulled her to him and kissed her quickly. There was a knock on the door and he pulled away leaving her breathless and flushed.

"Tell him we need a minute, it's the guard. Saw him coming up the stairs as I came down the hall," he moved her to the door.

"Sir? Ma'am? Everything alright in there?"

Bridget cracked the door open, peeking out, face flushed. "Hi."

"Feeling better, I see," he said.

"Much, thank you."

"So if you're done with the room…"

"Ohh…can we have another minute," she asked coyly.

"Uhhh…sure," he nodded and walked away.

She closed the door, leaning against it. "You could have told me."

"Where's the fun in that," he teased back.

"Did you get the hand?" she rolled her eyes.

Dean pulled it out of his jacket pocket. "You bet."

Bela bumped into Dean, "Watch where…oh it's you two? Thanks for letting me in on the plan," she said with a stern look.

"No time," Bridget said. "Besides it was easier without you in the way."

"Did you get it?" Bela asked.

"Yes."

"Let me see."

Dean made a noise. "Ha. No."

"Fine…I'll meet you all at the cemetery." She left with a turn of her head.

Sam approached them next, looking flustered. "You got it right? Tell me I didn't get groped all night by Mrs. Havisham for nothing."

"I got it," Dean nodded.

"Let me see," Sam asked.

Dean reached into his inner jacket and frowned. A look of realization crossed his face and his jaw set tight. "Oh, I'm gonna kill her."

Bridget rubbed the bridge of her nose. Of course this would happen to them. "Tell me she didn't bump and grab."

"We better find her," Dean said and they headed for the door.

After an hour of driving around and no sign of her they went back to the house, sitting in the living room. Bridget folded her legs under her, glad to be back in her jean skirt but partially missing the dress. She was more irritated at the moment to think of how great the night had been. "You know what, your right. I'm not gonna kill her, I think slow torture is the way to go."

"You need to relax," Sam told Bridget.

Dean snorted, putting a hand over his eyes. "Relax, oh yeah, I'll relax. I can't believe she did this again to us."

"You," Sam corrected.

"What?" Bridget asked, eyes snapping to him.

"I…I mean she got one over on you, Dean. Not us."

"Thank you! Very helpful," Dean growled.

There was a loud knock on the door and Bela could be heard through the door. "Hello, could you open up?"

"Give us one good reason not to shoot your stupid ass," Bridget called out swinging the door open as she flooded inside.

"Listen I can explain," she said in a hurry, holding her hands up. "I sold it, I've had a buyer lined up since I knew it existed."

"So you used me and Dean to get it," Bridget cracked her knuckles. "Oh, I'm going to enjoy rearranging your face."

"I needed a cover, you were convenient."

"Not helping," Bridget warned her, stepping closer.

Sam put a hand on her arm pulling her back, "Look you sold it to a buyer, just go buy it back."

"It's halfway across the ocean, I can't get it back in time," she said in defeat.

"In time for what?" Dean asked.

"What's going on with you Bela, you look like you've seen a ghost?" Sam asked.

A smile played on Bridget's face as it dawned on her. "Or a ghost ship."

She nodded, sagging onto the couch. "I saw the ship."

"You what?" Dean repeated in disbelief. Then shook his head with a chuckle. "Wow, you know, I knew you were an immoral thieving con artist bitch but just when I thought my opinion of you couldn't get any lower ."

"What are you talking about?" she asked the three in confusion.

Sam explained, "We figured out the spirits motive, this is the captain of our ship. The one who hung our ghost boy."

"Yeah, and?"

Bridget folded her arms, "So they were brothers, Cain and Able. So now, our spirit, he's going after a very specific kind of target, people who've spilled their own families blood. See first there was Shelia who killed her cousin in a car accident and then the Warren brothers, who murdered their father for the inheritance and now you."

"My God," she gasped, putting a hand to her mouth.

Dean put his feet up on the table. "So who was it Bela? Hmmm who'd you kill, was it daddy? Little sis maybe?"

She glared at him. "It's none of your business."

"No, your right. Well have a nice life, you know whatevers left of it," he grabbed his keys and gestured at Sam and Bridget. "Let's go."

"You can't just leave me here," she cried stunned.

"Watch us," Bridget said with a snort.

"Please," she clutched the arm of the couch. "I need your help."

"Our help? Now how could a few losers possibly help you with?" Dean asked, pausing.

"Okay, so I'm a bitch."

"That's not why you're gonna die," Sam told her.

"What did you do, Bela?" Bridget asked sternly.

"You wouldn't understand, no one did," she shook her head then stood up. "Never mind, I'll just do what I've always done, I'll deal with it myself."

"You do realize you just sold the one thing that could save your life," Sam reminded her.

"I'm aware."

"But, it may not be the only thing," Sam said.

"What do you have in mind, Sam?" Bridget asked.

"We need to get to the cemetery," he said.

She made a face. "I was afraid you'd say that."

The graveyard was dark and deserted as Sam made his circle with blood and candles, his latin spell book open in his hands as he stood in it.

Bela wrapped her arms around herself. "Do you think this is going to work?"

"Probably not," Dean shook his head.

A storm suddenly started coming down. Bridget sighed, soaking wet. "Ohhh, this can't be good," she shouted over the wind and rain.

"Sammy, read faster!" Dean yelled and a second later was thrown back to the ground by a force.

Bridget stood near Bela, looking around with her shot gun but seeing nothing. Her necklace flared on her neck and she turned in time to see the handless ghost right in front of her. He stared at her and moved his one hand, she went crashing to the ground with an "oomph".

She looked up in time to see him standing in front of Bela, hand on her chest as she started coughing up water. He stopped suddenly as another ghost appeared, his brother. The handless ghost stared at him, an angry look set across his handsome features. "You…you hanged me!"

"I'm sorry," the older ghost apologized as Dean crawled towards Bridget and they made their way to a gasping Bela, sitting near her in the soaked grass.

"Your own brother!"

"I'm so sorry," he apologized as his brother charged at him. He broke through him and they disappeared in an electrical charge. The rain suddenly stopped and Bridget stood up, helping Bela up.

"Is it over?" she asked.

Sam nodded, "Yeah…he needed to see his brother. The person he was mad at for killing him. His own family."

"Nice thinking," Bridget sighed and looked her rain soaked clothes. "Of course, it could have been done in a drier matter."

"Where's the fun in that," Dean said sarcastically with a smile.

They finished packing the next morning in the house they had stayed in. Bridget put away her sketch book and paused, pulling an old one out of her back pack and flipping through it to stop on that drawing from years ago…when Will had died along with her brother and his family. The thought of the ghost ship haunted her still as it dragged up the memories she had buried away. She twisted the rig on her necklace as Dean came in the room.

"Hey, you almost ready?" he paused, seeing the sketch book and the drawing she was staring at. "What's wrong?"

"If the ghost ship came after people who killed their family then why didn't it want me?"

He put his hands on her shoulders, "What are you talking about?"

Her eyes never left the drawing, "I was there that night. I watched Derek die. I had seen it happen. I had seen their deaths. So why not me? Why am I not guilty?"

"Hey," he took the drawing pad from her hands and closed it, putting his hands on her face so she'd look at him. "There was nothing you could do, whether you saw it or not, it was going to happen. Will stopped you from trying to get to Derek because he knew you'd die too. And Will saved you from being killed by Lilith. None of it was your fault and the ghost knew that, so should you."

Her eyes glittered with tears, "I wish…I wish I could have stopped it…I wish I could stop it all…I wish I could save the people I love."

Dean knew she meant him in that sentence. He hugged her, "I know. I know, Bridge."

"It's not fair, Dean."

"I know."

She pulled back, "I'm going to find a way."

He just nodded, knowing there wasn't one. He'd be in hell this time next year and nothing could stop it. "Let's get going."

She put her old drawing pad in her back pack and carried her newer one. She had an itch to draw and wasn't sure if she'd like what she was going to see.

Bela was standing in the living room. "You three should learn to lock your doors, anyone could just barge in."

"Anyone did," Bridget snorted. "Have you come to say goodbye or thank you?"

"I've come to settle affairs... giving the spirit what he really wanted. His own brother. Very clever, Sam... so here. It's ten thousand, that should cover it," she tossed them each a wad of cash. I don't like being in anyone's debt."

"So ponying up ten grand is easier for you than a simple thank you? You are so damaged," Dean said, sliding the money into his jacket.

"Takes on to know one," she headed for the door. "Goodbye."

"She's got style, you gotta give her that," Sam said as she left.

"You're going to make me puke. And of you start crushing on her. I will punch you in the face," Bridget threatened and headed out the front door to the car.

"You know, we don't know where this money's been," Sam pointed out as they got in the car.

"No, but I know where it's going," he laughed and handed Sam the map that had a circle on it.

Sam rolled his eyes, "Seriously, Dean. Atlantic City."

"Hell yeah, play some roulette. Always bet on black."

Bridget rolled her eyes, "You're seriously going to blow your three thousand on gambling?"

"Yeah, what are you going to do?"

"I need new clothes and a new drawing pad."

"Anything in the sketch book of interest?" Dean asked, driving.

She thought of the evil Santa. "Yeah, you can say that. But I don't think we'll bump into it just yet."

"Do we even want to know?" Sam asked.

"It involves a cannibalistic Santa."

They were both quiet as they thought it over. "Yeah, it can wait," Dean said and turned up AC/DC on the stereo as they headed towards Atlantic City and onto the next case.