A/N: This took way longer to write than I had hoped and I can hopefully get the next one posted quicker than it took to do this one. Again I do not own any of the characters. Bridget came from watching Brooke (One Tree Hill) and Dean/Sam videos on youtube. Thought it'd be an interesting idea and ran with it so enjoy his newest episode redo.
S3 – Long Distance Call
Bridget sat on a blue bench in the middle of City Square next to Dean, drawing in her book, something she hadn't had the urge to do in awhile. A clock this time, ticking down to its last minutes. To what, she didn't know, but the cold feeling it left in her gut told her it was nothing good. She absent mindedly moved the ring on her necklace back and forth, almost like a pendulum as she stared at it.
Next to her, Dean was finishing up a phone call, the irritated tone snapping her out of her thoughts and she noticed Sam coming back from the campus. "Okay. Yep. I got it. Bye." He looked up at Sam. "So?"
"So, the professor didn't show up," Sam shrugged.
"Shocking," Dean said and stood up. "Come on. Pack up your stuff. We're headed to Ohio."
"Why? What's up?" Bridget asked, shutting her drawing pad and the worry attached to the picture for now.
"That was Bobby. Some banker guy blew his head off in Ohio and he thinks there's a spirit involved."
"So you two were talking about cases?" Sam asked.
Dean rolled his eyes as they headed for the Impala. "No, we were actually talking about our feelings. And then our favorite boy bands. Yeah, we were talking a case!"
"It's a spirit?" Bridget asked.
"Yeah, the banker was talking about some sort of electrical problems at his pad for like a week. Phone was going haywire, computer was flipping on and off."
"Huh…" Sam said and let his voice trail off.
"This isn't ringing any bells?"
"Yeah…but we already got a case."
"Whose?" Dean asked.
"Yours," Sam answered and even Bridget held her breath. This was going to start up again. After a few peaceful weeks of no fighting and no bickering, it was starting again but time was running out and they all knew it.
Dean snorted, "Right. Yeah. Well, you could've fooled me."
She sighed, looking away and letting them argue it out. "What the hell else have we been doing lately other than trying to break your deal?"
"Chasing our tails, that's what. Sam, we've talked to every professor, witch, soothsayer and two bit carny act in the lower 48. Nobody knows squat! And we can't find Bela, we can't find the Colt. So until we actually find something, I'd like to do my job."
"Well there's one thing we haven't tried…"
His trial off made Bridget spin her head around, unable to keep her mouth shut about this. "No! No, we are not going to do that."
"But we could summon Ruby."
"No," Bridget said and set her eyes on him. "I don't trust that bitch as far as I can throw her, Sam, and I'm sure I can toss her demon ass pretty far. She comes off with a bad vibe and I don't like her."
"Just because you don't-"
She cut him off, "And neither does my necklace so drop it!"
That caused him to pause. Her necklace had never been wrong. It was the one Derek had made for her for her birthday. It was unique, made from white gold with diamond bits infused in it to give it an extra sparkle, but that wasn't the only reason it was one of a kind. It grew warm around her neck whenever Sam or Dean were in danger or it would grow hot and thrum against her skin if something evil was present. It didn't like Ruby. She could feel it growing warmer whenever the demon was around. The ring that hung on it was from Will, her late fiancé who died the same night as her brother and his family…killed by Lilith who was still around. The ring would glow if danger was eminent or if she was in pain, like a shield to protect her from it. There was something else in her, too, that she could feel. It only rose to the surface in times she needed it to, when she could move things without touching them and she was sure it was where her drawings came from, but she didn't know what it was…only that it wasn't like Sam's. It wasn't demon blood related.
"She can't help us anyways," Dean shook his head.
"You know that for sure?" Sam asked.
"Yes."
"How?" Sam pushed and even Bridget was curious.
He spun around on them. "Because she told me, ok?"
"What?" Sam asked stunned.
"She told me. Flat out. She can't save me, nobody can."
Bridget stared at him shocked and hurt, "And you neglected to tell me that you went and talked to her?"
"It was no big deal…"
"You know how I feel about her, what everything in me is telling me about her, Dean!"
"Just drop it!"
She bit her lip and hurried to the car letting Sam deal with Dean as she leaned against the door, looking through her drawing pad.
"Well, I really don't care what that bitch thinks and neither should you, so…" she could hear Dean telling Sam.
"So what, now you're keeping secrets from me, Dean?" Sam shot back.
"You really wanna talk about whose keeping secrets from who?" Dean asked quietly.
Bridget stopped on a sketch, one of Sam bent over an arm that was cut open. She shivered internally; he was licking at the blood that dripped out from the wound. She looked up as they headed her way, eyes on Sam. There were more secrets that were going to be kept, just not today…but soon.
Back in her usual FBI getup, Bridget adjusted her blazer, bending down in her heels to study the ground where Ben's body had been found, making sure to tuck her skirt under her legs as she did so.
"I found him there," Mrs. Waters said, gesturing to the spot Bridget was crouched next too.
"Why don't you take us through what happened and tell us what you saw?" Dean asked her.
"You mean besides my dead husband?" she asked coldly and even Bridget flinched.
"Just everything you saw, please," Bridget asked her as she stood up.
She sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. "Blood. Everywhere. The phone was ripped from the wall, his favorite scotch on the desk, what else could you possibly want to know?"
"Why was the phone ripped off the wall?" Sam asked her.
She shook her head, "I don't know."
"You mind if I take a look?" Sam asked her.
"I already went over this with the other detectives," she let out a deep breath.
"We will be out of your hair in a minute, ma'am," Bridget reassured her.
Sam pressed a few buttons on the phone, "Ma'am, what time did your husband die?"
"Sometime after eleven," she told him.
Bridget looked over at him and he tapped the phone display with his eyebrows raised at her and she nodded slightly. "What about strange phone calls? Receive any of those lately, weird interference, static, anything like that?"
"No," she said too quickly to be telling the truth.
Dean looked at her with raised eyebrows and she gritted her teeth. "I said no."
"Mrs. Waters, withholding information is a capitol offense," Dean reminded her.
She bit her lower lip and looked at the ground. "A couple weeks ago…there was this…this…."
"This what?" Bridget asked.
"I woke up one morning, I heard Ben in his study. I thought he was talking to a woman," she said with a shake of her head.
"What made you think that?" Sam asked.
"Because he kept calling her Linda. The thing is, I picked up the other line and nobody was there, Ben was talking to nobody," she ran a hand through her hair. "Just static."
"Did you ever speak to Ben about this phone call?" Bridget questioned.
"No…but I should have," she bit her lower lip and sat on the couch, staring at the spot she had found her husband.
"Did he ever say who Linda was?" Dean asked.
She snapped at him, eyes red from holding back tears. "What difference does it make now? He's dead."
Bridget motioned for the door. "That'll be all. Thank you for your cooperation."
Sam sat on the bed, trying his best to relax while Dean sat sharpening knives and cleaning guns, something he usually did in boredom while Bridget sat next to him, laptop on and looking up everything she could. She nudged Dean with her elbow and tapped on the screen. Dean looked, letting out a whistle. "Linda was a babe."
Sam sat up, "Did you find her."
Bridget nodded. "Her and Ben were high school sweethearts."
"So what happened?" he asked.
"Drunk driver hit them head on. Ben walked away," Bridget told them.
"So a dead flame calls to chat?" Sam questioned with a frown.
"You would think, but Linda was cremated."
"So why is she still floating around?" Dean scratched the back of his head.
Bridget shrugged, "No idea."
"What about the caller I.D.?"
"Turns out, it's a phone number," Sam told them.
"No phone number I've ever seen."
"Yeah, because it's a century old. Back when phones had cranks."
"Okay, so why use that number to reach out to someone."
"Got me there, too. But we should put a trace on it," Bridget suggested.
Dean frowned, "Well how the hell are we going to put a trace on something that's over 100 years old?"
"Oh there's ways," Bridget nodded. "You just need to know where to look."
Fortunately for them, she did and an hour later they were dressed in their FBI gear walking down a basement with a nerdy man leading the way, pushing his glasses up every now and then. "We don't get many people from HQ down here."
"Yes, well the main office mentioned there would be a lunch," Dean suggested.
Sam and Bridget gave him a pointed look at his comment behind the man's back. Dean smiled and shrugged, wanting to get the most out of a bad situation if he'd be stuck doing research on a century year old phone call. The man nodded sheepishly, "I will see what I can do. The man you want to be speaking to is right in here," he opened a door and his face turn into one of irritation. "Stewie, what did I tell you about keeping this damn place clean?"
Bridget entered from behind and couldn't help the scrunch and choking cough that came from the smell of the room that was somewhere between hot garbage and mold with trash wrappers and old pizza boxes scattered about. It explained the flies that were buzzing about the hallway and now in the room, the source of them insects. A middle aged Middle Eastern man jumped at the sound of his boss and clicked on some buttons on his computer in a hurry. "Spam mail…spam mail…" he said at the flashes of porn sites. Bridget snorted, sure that that was far from the truth.
The man shook his head with a sigh and introduced them, "Stewie Myers. Mr. Cambell. Mr. Raimi, and Ms. Berry."
He continued to ignore his boss, clicking off all the sites. There were at least twenty more of them on display. Quite a fetish, she could see. One even involved feet.
His boss flicked him in the back of the head, "From head quarters!"
Stewie quickly spun around crossing his legs and folding his hands in his lap with a smile. The man shook his head. "Give them whatever they need."
"Will do," Stewie complied.
"Thank you," Bridget nodded as his boss walked out of the room.
"So…how can I help you?" Stewie asked.
Dean glanced at the door then gestured at his computer with a smirk, "Is that, uh, ?"
Bridget rolled her eyes as the man eyes widened, "No!"
"Oh me so horny," the computer seemed to taunt with the woman's voice over the speaker.
Stewie scratched the back of his head, "Ok maybe."
"A word to the wise? Platinum membership? Worth every penny," Dean advised.
Bridget shook her head, "Right…we're here to trace a number."
Sam handed Stewie the paper and he looked at it curiously. "Where did you get this?"
"Off a caller ID."
"That's not possible," he shook his head.
"It hasn't been used in a few years, we know," Dean told him.
"A few years?" he snorted. "It's prehistoric. Trust me, nobody is using this number anymore."
"Humor us, could you run it anyway," Bridget asked.
He gave her a dead pan look and replied snarky, "Sure. Why don't I just rearrange my whole life first."
Dean smiled at him coolly and leaned over his desk to get closer to his face, "Listen, uh, Stewie. You got like six kinds of employee code violations down here, not to mention the sickening porn that is clogging up your hard drive. Now when my partner says run the number, I suggest you run the number!"
Stewie glanced at his computer where the busted Asian babe waited to be clicked on then glanced back at them all grinning back at him. He sighed, "Okay, whatever, jeez!"
He clicked a few buttons in a database and a list popped up. "Holy crap!"
"What is it?" Sam asked.
"I can't tell you where the number comes from, but I can tell you where it's been going."
"What do you mean?"
Stewie clicked print on his screen and handed the papers to Sam. "Ten different numbers in the past few weeks, all got calls from the same number."
Stewie glanced at the three of them, nervously bouncing his leg, "So, are we done here? Cause I was...sort of...busy?" he gesture at his computer.
"Eww," Bridget shook her head, glad to be leaving the room. Dean smirked at him and gave him a thumbs up as they left, now having to investigate who these numbers belonged to.
They parked the rental car a couple houses down the street from the house they were targeting. No need to use the Impala, besides, no one would believe they were from a telephone company or FBI agents for that matter in the Impala. Once again, Bridget wasn't surprised to see they were parked in a nice suburban area filled with lush green laws and lovely two story houses…much like the neighborhood she had grown up in and that Dean had lived in…why demons/monsters flocked to these areas, she never fully understood. She had to guess it was because they had more to lose, that or people in worse off neighborhoods knew how to deal with shit hitting the fan and weren't afraid of anything.
"Alright, Sam. You're up," Bridget nudged his shoulder from the backseat.
He sighed, checking the list again to make sure it was the right house. "Least I'm not impersonating federal agents today.
"That's the way to think of it, now go check. See who's getting the calls," Dean said. Sam nodded and headed towards the house. "Think this will work?"
"Well, FBI was getting old. Phone service makes more sense to question the quality of their service," Bridget told him.
"This is boring," he sighed. "Wanna fool around? It's a rental, we can tear it up," he wiggled his eyebrows at her.
She snorted, "He'll be back in five minutes."
"And your point being?"
"We can't get anything done in five minutes," she shook her head.
"You can't, but I can," he corrected her.
She rolled her eyes, "If I can't then apparently you can't."
He scoffed. "I'm going to challenge that later, you know."
"Sure thing, now let's wait for Sam to see what's going on so we can get this done first before we challenge other things," she said looking towards Sam's direction.
Sam reached the front door of the listed residents and rang the door bell, quickly adjusting his uniform as a middle aged man answered the door, his seven year old son next to him.
"Yeah?" the man said after looking Sam up and down curiously.
"Hello sir, I am with the phone company," he said.
"We didn't call the phone company," the man said dryly.
"Oh no sir, we're doing a routine check. We've had a lot of complaints from the neighborhood lately."
"Complaints?" the man asked curiously.
"Yes sir. Dropped calls, static, maybe even strange voices on the other end of the line?" Sam asked and noticed the teenager daughter passing behind him, her eyes widening as he listed the disturbances, but the father seemed to have no reaction to it.
"No, we haven't had any of that," he shook his head.
"Nothing?" Sam tried one more time.
"Nope."
"Okay, great. Just thought we'd check," Sam nodded, feeling slightly defeated and already trying to come up with a new plan.
"No problem, come on, Simon," the Dad said and closed the door.
Sam started walking to the car, as he got to the door the teenage girl from the house ran up to him. "There's no way you work for the phone company."
Sam stared at her startled, "Yes, I do."
"Since when does the phone company wear cheap unmarked uniforms and drive rental cars?" she folded her arms over her chest.
Sam leaned against the car, "Yeah, well. Maybe we're both keeping secrets."
She bit her lip nervously, "Why did you ask my Dad if he's hearing strange voices on the phone?"
"Why? Did you hear something?" Sam asked and Bridget stepped out of the car, looking at Sam. "Do we got something or not?"
"I was just asking…" Sam paused not having gotten her name.
"Lanie."
"Lanie," he continued. "About that…she seemed startled at the house when I was asking her Dad."
Dean popped up from the driver's side, looking at the girl. "Well, did you or not, sweetheart, we don't have all day?"
"Who are you people?" she asked. "Because it's not the phone company."
Sam focused on her. "Lanie, did you hear something strange or not? It's very important."
"No," she said fast.
"My mistake, we thought you did," Bridget said.
"Well, I didn't, okay?"
Sam smiled at her, "Okay, sorry to bother you." He nodded over at Dean who started getting back in the car, noticing Lanie shifting her weight from foot to foot and chewing on her lower lip.
Sam looked over at her one last time as he opened the passenger side door, "Because you know...if you did...then I would have told you that I've been right where you're standing right now. Hearing things, even seeing things that can't be explained, we all have. Maybe we would have been able to help out a little bit. Anyway," he shrugged.
She stepped closer, "Hey wait. Maybe...maybe I've been talking on the phone...with my Mom."
"Well that's not strange," he said.
Bridget pieced it together, "Unless her Mom is dead…which, I'm guessing she is."
Lanie nodded, "Three years ago."
"How often does she call you?"
"A few times. It started a week ago. I thought I was like, crazy or something."
Sam nodded, "Well I can tell you one thing for sure, and you're going to have to go with me on this, okay? You're not crazy."
They listened to what she said before heading back to the hotel after researching all the numbers the calls were placed to, they definitely had a number of people being called by the dead.
"So stiffs have been calling people all over town?" Dean said, leaning back against the couch in the hotel room.
"Looks like," Bridget nodded, looking over the list one more time.
"You got no drawings on this though?" Dean asked her.
She shook her head, "Nope, plenty of other things yet to come our way, but no dead phone call clues."
He shook his head running a hand over his face, "I had to talk to an 84 year old grandmother who's having phone sex with her husband, who died in Korea!"
Sam scrunched his face, "You win in the gross department."
Dean nodded, "It redefined my understanding of the word 'Necrophilia'."
"So, what the hell is going on here?" Bridget asked.
"Beats me, but we'd better find out soon. This place is turning into spook central," Dean said and stretched. "I think I need a beer. You guys want anything?"
Bridget shook her head and Sam shrugged, "No beer, but I could use a Pepsi."
He nodded and stood up, going towards the door as his phone rang. "That's either Bobby or Jo…" he opened his phone. "Hello?"
Static answered him at first and he frowned knowing sometimes Jo's phone would cut out depending on where they were. "Jo, that you?"
"Dean…" The voice said and he felt a cold chill run down his spine. His hand fell from the doorknob as he froze. "Dean, is that you?"
"Dad…" he replied and that caught Bridget and Sam's attention. "Dad?"
The call cut out, beeping on the other end as it was lost. Dean stared at his phone in shock.
"Dean…was that…Dad?" Sam asked from his spot at the table.
"I don't know…maybe," he said and started to pace nervously.
"What did he sound like?"
"Oprah!" he growled and ran a hand through his hair. "What do you think? It sounded just like Dad."
"What did he say, Dean?" Bridget asked.
"Just my name then the call cut out."
"Why would he even call?"
"If that's even him," Sam added.
"I don't know, man. Why are ghosts calling anybody in this town? But I mean, other people are hearing from their loved ones, why can't we? It's at least a possibility, right?"
"Yeah…I guess," Sam shrugged, perplexed by it all.
Dean paused mid stride, turning to look at the two people closest to him that he had left, minus Bobby. "Okay, so what if...what if it really is Dad? What happens if he calls back?"
"What do you mean?" Sam asked.
"What do I say?"
"Hello," Bridget offered.
He stared at her. "Hello? That's all you got."
"Dean, they're dead. These people are dead. There has to be something else behind this because people are winding up dead."
He shook his head, "I'm going for that beer now."
"Get me one too," Bridget added.
"Make it three," Sam said.
"What? No soda?" Dean asked.
"Things just got weirder, make it a beer," Sam said. Dean nodded and left the room leaving the two of them there. At least it was no longer awkward for Bridget, having moved past her issues with Sam, especially after she was dating Dean for the last few months.
"Should we order pizza or something?" Sam suggested, looking at his laptop.
"Let's wait for Dean. Who knows what the King of Food is in the mood for today," she said. She heard her phone ring on the table near Sam and put down her drawing pad, moving over to it. Bridget glanced at her phone, thinking it'd be Dean and froze at the caller ID. It was the ghost number. She tapped Sam's shoulder and pointed at her phone. "It's the number…what do I do?"
"I…uh…here give it to me," he said, unable to think of anything. She handed him the phone and he pressed answer, putting it to his ear. "Hello?" nothing but static answered. "Hello?" still receiving nothing, he handed the phone to her. "It's just static."
Bridget took it, staring at the screen before slowly putting it to her ear, sitting on the edge of the bed, afraid of who would be on the other end. "Hello?" she asked quietly.
"Bridge…are you there?" the voice from the other end said and she gasped, her heart jumping to her throat, glad she was sitting down or else she would have fallen down.
Sam looked at her wildly, hearing her gasp and seeing the tears in her eyes. "Who is it?"
"Are you there?" the voice repeated from the dead, the same voice she hadn't heard since the night he told her to run when the ceiling above him collapsed in the fire.
"Bridget," Sam touched her arm, "Who is it?"
"Derek?" she answered him and spoke into the phone as Sam's eyes widened.
"So good to hear you," he said through the statics.
She shook her head, closing her eyes. "I-I got to go." She hung up as he told her to wait and tossed the phone onto the bed, covering her face with her hands to stop them from shaking. It was Derek's voice. Clear as day before she hung up on him. One of the few people she ever wanted to see or speak to again had been on the other end. She let out a sob and felt Sam's arm go around her shoulders, pulling her towards him as he sat next to her. She leaned her head against his shoulder, unable to control the shaking or crying now.
"Its okay, Bridge…it's not him. It sounds like your brother, but it's not him."
Dean walked in then and frowned seeing Bridget distraught and the look of sadness on his own brother's face as he tried comforting her. "What happened?" he asked taking two strides towards Bridget, kneeling in front of her and taking her hands as Sam rubbed her back.
Sam answered for her, "She got a call…"
"Shit…who was it?"
"Derek," she sputtered before Sam could answer and sniffled, wiping the tears from her eyes with one of her hands and tried to regain her composure. "It was Derek…"
"Are you sure?" Dean asked.
"I know my brother's voice," she nodded and stood up. "We need to find out what's going on here…before my phone rings again. There has to be a reason."
"We have been and there is no reason this town should be getting anything supernatural going on it," Sam reluctantly sighed.
Dean snorted, "Well, you know, you think a Stanford education and a high school hook up rate of zero point zero would produce better results than that."
"Hilarious," Sam snorted at him, sitting back in front of his laptop.
"We're just not looking in the right place," he added.
"And what are the right places, Dean?"
Dean dropped a pamphlet onto the coffee table. "Motel pamphlet rack."
Bridget picked it up and read. She smirked a bit and shook her head slowly, licking the inside of her cheek as she read the inside. "I don't believe it," she turned it over Sam and looked at Dean. "Milan, Ohio…birth place of Thomas Edison."
Sam shrugged, "So what?"
"Read the inside…it'll make sense," Dean said.
Sam opened it and started to read. His eyes widened and he shot a look to the two of them. "I don't believe it."
"Looks like we're going to the museum," Bridget said and grabbed her jack and purse. She paused at her phone before stuffing it in her purse, hoping it wouldn't ring.
The museum was only fifteen minutes from the hotel and luckily for them, a tour had just started that they jumped into with the rest of the tourist. The guide, a young female, seemed to take her job way too seriously as an expert on everything Edison as if it meant something, which in this small town it probably did.
"And we're walking. And, here we have one of the museum's most unique and treasured possessions. Thomas Edison's "spirit phone"," she even quoted with her fingers. "Did you know that Mr. Edison, as well as being one of America's most beloved inventors, was also a devout "occultist"? Ooh!"
Bridget tried not to roll her eyes and Dean leaned over to her, "What's with all the quotey fingers…"
"I don't know, but between that and the perkiness, I can't take much more."
The guide kept talking, "He spent years working on this, his final invention, which he was convinced could be used to "communicate" with the "dead"," more finger quotes. "Pretty spooky, huh?"
"This tour is spookier than dead phone calls," Dean admitted and even Sam stifled a laugh.
"And we're walking. We are walking. We're walking. And we're not touching that. And we're walking. And stop," the guide started moving the group to the next room and the moment they were out of visual range, Sam scanned the phone with an EMF detector.
"Anything?" Bridget asked.
He shook his head, "Nothing."
"So what do you think?" Dean questioned.
"Honestly?" he said, lips in a tight line. "It kinda looks like an old pile of junk to me."
Dean gestured to the back of it, "It's not even plugged in."
"Maybe it didn't work like that," Bridget said.
"Okay. So maybe it's like a radio tower, broadcasting the dead all over town."
"Could be," Sam agreed.
"You know, this caller I.D. is 100 years old, right? Right around the time this thing was built."
Bridget nodded, "Yeah, but why would it all of a sudden start working now?"
"I don't know. But as long as the dead are calling the freshers around here it's the best reason we've got."
"Maybe," Sam agreed to that.
"Then maybe it really was Dad calling," Dean said.
Bridget bit her lip to keep from saying anything. She didn't believe the dead were calling the living, didn't believe it could be real. It may have sounded like Derek on the other end of the phone, but it couldn't be. She just didn't want to shatter Dean's hope.
Dean sat up late in the hotel room, watching reruns of Married with Children on the TV. Bridget was sound asleep next to him and Sam had passed out twenty minutes before on the other bed. He nudged Bridget a little, hoping to wake her up in hopes to maybe take things to the Impala but she just fidgeted and buried her face deeper in the pillow, throwing one of her legs over his. He sighed and focused his attention back on the television.
His phone started to buzz next to him and he glanced at it, heart pounding at the ID on the screen. It was his Dad. He grabbed the phone and quickly slid his leg out from under Bridget's before heading to the bathroom and closing the door.
He pushed talk on his phone, holding it to his ear. "Dad?"
"Dean…" his father spoke. It was definitely his voice.
"Is it really you?" he felt his heart jump to his throat.
"It's me."
"How can I be sure?"
"You can't," he said honestly, "Dean, how could you do it?"
"What?"
"Sell your soul."
Dean sat on the closed toilet. Of course his father would know about that. "I was looking after Sam like you told me to."
"I never wanted this. Never. You're my boy, I love you. I can't watch you to go to hell, Dean."
"I'm sorry…I don't know how to stop it."
"'Cause if you break the deal Sam dies, right?"
Dean frowned, "What?"
"Well, I know a way out for both of you," John went on, ignoring Dean's question.
"How?"
"The demon who holds your contract. He's here. Now."
Outside the hotel door, Bridget lay in bed. She glanced over at Sam who was sound asleep, she hadn't been. She had woken up after feeling Dean move out of the bed and head to the bathroom with his phone in hand. Normally that wouldn't be unusual. She knew him to play his zombie killing games while sitting in there for at least an hour, but hearing him answer his phone, she knew it was his dad…or what he thought was his Dad. She rolled over, trying to go back to sleep when her own phone buzzed. She lifted her head slightly to see it was a text message. She reached for it and saw the name SHA33 and a message. "Bridget? It's me. Please answer. I miss you." She shook her head and swallowed the lump in her throat, blocking the number in her listings before turning her phone on silent. It wasn't Derek. Her brother was dead, whatever this was, wasn't him, no matter how much she wished it was.
The next afternoon, Dean was typing furiously on the keyboard of the laptop. Bridget watched him over the paper of her drawing pad, wanting to ask him what he was up to but not wanting to pry. Sam had left a couple hours before after getting a phone call from Lanie. He had asked them to go but since Dean declined she decided to stick with him having a feeling it was related to the phone call last night.
Luckily Sam walked in at that point and Dean looked up from what he'd been doing. "What's up?"
"That girl, Lanie, her Mom's ghost spooked her out pretty bad last night," Sam told them, taking a seat across from Dean.
"That sucks," he said and went back to the laptop.
"Yeah it does. What are you doing?" Sam asked with a frown.
"I think Dad's right. I think the demon is here. Check it out," he turned the computer around for them to see and went over to his duffel bag.
Bridget looked at it curiously, "What is this? Weather reports?"
"Omens. Demonic omens. Electrical storms everywhere we've been for the past two weeks," he nodded.
Sam raised his eyebrows, "Uhh...I don't remember any lightning storms."
"Well, I don't remember you studying meteorology as a kid either. But I'm telling you, that bastard's been tailing me...wearing some poor dude's meat."
"And it's following you because…" Bridget trailed off, setting her drawing pad aside.
"I guess I'm big game, you know. My ass is too sweet to let outta sight."
Sam nodded, "Uh-huh, sure."
He turned the computer back around, "Don't get too excited, Sammy. Might pull something."
Sam sighed. "Dean, look, I wanna believe this man, I really do..."
"Then believe it! If we get this sucker, it's Miller Time."
"But that's another thing," Bridget said. "John just riddles off an exorcism that'll kill it. Not just send it to Hell, but kill it?"
Dean nodded, expecting one of them to question that exorcism. "I've checked it out. This is heavy duty Dark Ages. Fifteenth century."
Sam sighed quietly. "Yeah, we've checked on it too, Dean. And so did Bobby."
"And?" Dean waited.
Bridget motioned for Sam to continue. "Look. It definitely is an exorcism, okay, there's just no evidence it can kill a demon."
"No evidence it can't," he shrugged, seeming to have a response to everything.
"Come on man..." Sam shook his head and even Bridget sighed audibly. This was why she wasn't answering her phone when her "brother" called. She didn't want to get sucked into whatever it was doing because it would be too convincing just like John was to Dean.
"Hey, as far as I'm aware the only one of us who has actually been to hell is Dad. And maybe he picked up a couple of tricks down there, like which exorcisms work."
"Maybe it does," Bridget said. "I hope it does but we have to be sure."
He looked at them sternly. "And why aren't we sure?"
Sam explained, his impatience getting the best of him. "'Cause I don't know what's going on around here Dean! I mean, some guy blows his brains out, a little girl is scared out of her wits and Bridget is getting calls from her brother and you're getting info from Dad in how to kill a demon. It's too much."
Dean shook his head, "Wow, a couple of civvies are freaked out by some ghosts. News flash Sam, people are supposed to be freaked out by ghosts!"
"What about me then?" Bridget folded her arms over her chest. "I'm getting calls from Derek, Dean, and I'm freaked out because it can't be Derek."
"Why not?"
"Because he's dead, Dean! They're all dead and if it were them then people wouldn't be dying," she took a deep breath to calm down. "Did John tell you where the demon was?"
"I'm waiting for the call!" he yelled.
Bridget bit her lip to keep from yelling back. Sam sighed and reached for the car keys to the rental. "I told Lanie I'd stop by."
Dean rolled his eyes, "Oh, good yeah. No you go hang out with jail bait. Just, uh, watch out for Chris Hansen. Meanwhile I'll be here getting ready to, you know, save my life. You're unbelievable, you know that? I mean for months we've been trying to break this demon deal. Now Dad's about to give us the freaking address and you can't accept it? The man is dead and you're still butting heads with the guy!"
"That isn't what this is about," Sam shook his head.
Dean shouted, "So what is it?"
Bridget spoke standing up to grab her jacket, "The fact is we've got no hard proof here, Dean."
"You're getting calls from Derek, Bridge. What more do you want?"
"Anything can mimic the dead, Dean. Anything, and I know it's not Derek…this isn't how he'd contact me."
"Well not all of us have a glowing necklace to talk to people we lost," he shot back.
She stood there staring at him blankly. With a shake of her head she headed for the door. "I'm going with Sam. You need to cool off."
"Bridge, wait," Dean let out a deep breath as she was gone, already out of sight and waiting for Sam.
His younger brother just looked at him, "Please. Just please don't go anywhere until I get back. Okay, Dean? Please." Dean never replied and shook his head, leaving Dean with his thoughts as he met Bridget at the car.
It was nearing evening time when they got to Lanie's. He father wasn't home yet so they had time to talk in her bedroom. After hearing her recount of last night and seeing how visibly this affected her, Bridget knew there was much more to this than just phone calls from the dead.
"Have you told your father about any of this?" Sam asked her.
She made a "yeah right" noise and shook her head, "And bother him at work? No. He wouldn't believe me anyway, he'd just chuck me into therapy."
Bridget knew that wasn't far fetched in thought. How often did someone get a call from a dead relative. "So what did your mother say?"
Lanie paled a bit, her energy diminishing as she sat there, sinking into the bed and pulling her legs up closer to her, "She wanted to see me. So at first I thought I was supposed to go to the cemetery."
"Did you?"
"Yeah," she nodded. "But nothing happened. But then she started asking me to do other things."
"What sort of things?" Sam asked.
She wrapped her arms around her legs, "Bad things…"
"Lanie, please tell us what happened."
She took a deep breath, pulling her leg closer as if to make herself smaller. "Mom told me to go to Dad's medicine cabinet."
"And?" Bridget asked, though she had a feeling where this was going.
Tears filled her eyes, "She wanted me to take his sleeping pills, take all his sleeping pills."
"She wanted you to kill yourself," Sam said, confirming what he and Bridget had already suspected.
She nodded and looked up at them, seeming much younger suddenly, "Why would she want me to do that?"
"I don't know," Sam shook his head, sadly. He at least knew he was right. Something wasn't right about all of this.
"I mean, just so I could come to her," Lanie sniffled.
Bridget's head shot up at the same time Sam's did. "What did you say?"
Lanie rubbed at her face, "She wanted me to come to her."
"Did she say that exactly?" Bridget asked, her heart beating faster at a break in this case and an indication as to what they were actually dealing with.
"How did she say it?" Sam asked.
"Come to me," Lanie repeated. "Like a million times…"
Sam looked at Bridget and they were both thinking the same thing. She pulled out her cell phone as Sam looked back at Lanie. "Lanie, that's not your mother."
"Then who is it?"
"We need to go get your brother and go downstairs," he told her. "Listen to me. Don't answer the phone. Don't use the computer. Don't do anything unless I say to, all right?"
Lanie stood up and they walked out of her room. She paused in front of her younger brother's room, but he wasn't there. "Simon…where is he?"
Bridget felt a gust of wind and her necklace pulse against her. She knew that was her brother telling her something. "Sam," she tugged on his sleeve and pointed at the front door she could see from where she stood on the staircase. He turned and saw what she did. The door was wide open.
"Oh shit," he mumbled and ran out the door.
"Simon!" Lanie screamed and went to follow but Bridget grabbed the teenager and pulled her closer. "Sam's got him, Lanie. You need to stay here because it wants you too."
"But my brother!"
Bridget dragged her to the couch by her upper arms and sat her down, kneeling in front of her. "If you go out there, it can take you, too. But you gotta trust me, Sam will get Simon."
"How do you know that?"
Bridget smiled slightly at her. "Because I trust him with my life, too."
"You do?"
"Yes, him and his brother, every day of my life, I trust them and they haven't let me down yet."
"You guys do this stuff for a living?"
"Yes, we do. We chase away and get rid of the monsters."
"Why?"
"Because someone has to do it."
"Why did you choose it?" she asked, sniffling again and glancing at the front door.
She touched her necklace and the ring on the end of it, remembering briefly the night everything changed. "It chose me."
"And how did you meet them?" Referring to the brother's.
"They chose me, too," she smiled again.
Sam came in then, carrying a scared, otherwise, unharmed Simon. Lanie cried in relief, getting up from the couch to hug her brother. Sam touched her shoulder, getting the girl to focus on him for a minute. "Do me a favor, stay inside. Don't answer the phone, don't go on your computer. Don't do anything until we call saying its okay. Got it?"
She nodded, "Are you and Bridget going to stop the monsters?"
He paused and looked at Bridget who gave him a slight nod. He looked back at the two kids. "Yeah, we are."
"Then go get them…"she smiled a bit, sitting back on the couch with her brother.
Sam turned to Bridget, "Let's go get them then…"
She followed him outside, closing the door and grabbing her cell phone from her pocket, hoping she wasn't too late because knowing Dean, he hadn't stayed put at the hotel. Bridget hit speed dial, hoping he would pick up. She knew he had his phone near him, he'd be waiting for his dad. "Hello?" his voice came on the other end.
"Oh thank God you answered, babe. It's not your Dad calling or Derek or any of these people's loved ones."
"Then what is it?"
"It's a Crocotta," she said and looked at Sam. He nodded, conforming he thought it was the same thing.
She could almost hear him frown on the other end, "Is that a sandwich?"
"No, hun, it's a scavenger of sorts. It mimics loved ones and tells then 'come to me' and lores them to their death to swallow their souls."
He nodded, "A crocotta, right, damn that makes sense."
"I'm sorry, babe. I know…I wanted it to be Derek, too…"
"Hey, don't these things live in filth?"
"Yeah, they do…why?"
"Bridget…Stewie is at the phone company…"
"Stewie…what's he doing there?"
"I'm betting he's feeding…you and Sam get down here quick, babe. Move that cute ass of yours quick."
"On our way," she hit end call and looked at Sam.
"Stewie?" he repeated. "Really?"
"Always the slime ball you least expect…" she shook her head and got in the car.
Bridget and Sam peeked through the window, seeing Stewie inside at his console. Luckily, his pants were buttoned and she didn't have to see more than she hoped for. "Well, he's here…but where's Dean?" She asked Sam.
He shrugged, pocketing his phone, "He's not answering."
"That's weird…" she said and pondered it for a moment. Why wouldn't Dean be here? It wasn't like him and the more she thought about it, the more it didn't feel right. A loud banging noise drew her attention from her thoughts and she looked through the window watching as Stewie reacted to it too and left the room he was in. She followed Sam around the back, down the alley to the edge of the building, peeking around the corner. Stewie came out of the building, heading towards his beat up car, glancing around in the dark as he did so.
Sam was quick to move without even warning her and she huffed in his hastiness. He rushed Stewie, throwing him into the car, holding the spike to his neck before she could even get near. "I know what you are."
"What the hell?" Stewie grunted.
"I know what you are," he repeated as Bridget got closer.
She could see the genuine fear in Stewie's eyes as he whimpered. "Wait, mister."
She frowned, this wasn't right. Something wasn't right. Demons and creatures could lie, but usually not create such an honest look of fear.
"I know how to kill you," Sam said.
"Sam…I don't think he's it…" Bridget shook her head with a frown.
"Please. Okay, wait, wait. If we're overcharging you for the call waiting or something I...I can fix that. I am your friend!"
Sam frowned to and Bridget felt the ring on her necklace vibrate. A moment later she felt a sharp pain in her head as her vision darkened and felt herself fall, vaguely aware of Sam falling a second later. Then she wasn't aware of anything
Bridget blinked her eyes a few times and winced at the massive headache she was feeling. The persistent nudging next to her had woken her up and she painfully turned her head to the side, seeing Sam next to her. "Oww…" she mumbled.
"You okay?" he whispered back.
She didn't have time to answer as she focused on Clark, the manger from the phone company, walking towards a crying pleading Stewie with a knife in hand.
"Don't do it!" She yelled.
Clark swiveled around and smiled at the two of them. "You guys are awake."
Stewie was crying in the chair across from them, "You're not a killer Clark, no! There's a good man inside of you, I know it."
"What do you two think? Am I a good man?"
"Just let him go," Sam pleaded. "He's got nothing to do with this."
He smiled, "I would. I really would. If only I'd had more than a salad for lunch. You see, I'm starving." He plunged the knife he was holding into Stewie's chest and Bridget flinched as Sam screamed, "NO!"
Clark moved in front of Stewie, opening his mouth and revealing sharp razor point teeth. He unhinged his jaw, making it snake like wide and moved to the man's face, sucking the energy out of him in a ball of light. Sam looked away as Bridget watched, disgusted. Clark put his jaw back in place, his mouth becoming normal as he spun on his heel to face them with a grin as if expecting cheers for a magic trick.
Bridget shook her head, "That was you on the phone. Not Dean."
He shrugged as if it were nothing, "Some calls I make, some calls I take, but you have to admit, I had you fooled for a while. All that Edison phone crap." He laughed and moved over the phone exchange cabinet and put his hands on it, smiling in enjoyment.
"What are you doing?" Sam asked him.
"I'm killing your brother. Or maybe I'm killing another guy. We'll just have to see how it goes."
He removed his hands a moment later and strolled back over to Stewie's body, removing the knife from his chest.
Bridget shook her head, "You know, mimicking Dean's one thing. But my brother and John. That's a hell of a trick right there."
"Well, once I made you three as hunters, it was easy. I found Dean's number, then your number, then John's numbers and even your brother's old number. Then emails, voicemails, everything. You see, people think that stuff just gets erased, but it doesn't. You'd be surprised how much of yourself is just floating out there, waiting to be plucked. Though you were way harder to fool, Bridget."
"I'm not a sucker for suckers," she shrugged.
"Dean's not going to fall for this. He's not going to kill that guy," Sam told him.
"Then that guy is going to kill him," Clark said.
Clark came closer and Bridget struggled more to get out of her bindings as he stood over the two of them, she had most of her hand out, just needed another minute to get the other, "Technology. Makes life so much easier. Used to be I'd hide in the woods for days, weeks, whispering to people, trying to draw them out into the night. But they had community, they all looked out for each other, I'd be lucky to eat one or two souls a year. Now when I'm hungry, I simply make a phone call," he sneered. "You're all so connected. But you've never been so alone."
He unhinged his jaw and leaned in closer to her. Bridget's eyes widened and she turned her face away. Sam leapt from his chair and tackled Clark, having already managed to get out of his bindings, Bridget took the moment to wiggle her arm out of the one holding her right wrist. She yanked and felt her wrist move freely then slid across the floor for the knife Clark had dropped. Clark managed to get it first and his fist slammed into the side of her face sending her back. He tried leaping at her while she was down, but Sam yanked him back by his neck and Clark struggled with the younger Winchester. Bridget sat up, slightly dazed from her second blow to the head. She stood up and wobbled, watching as Sam got knocked back by Clark who stood up with the knife in hand, determined to kill Sam. Bridget felt that stirring in her again as she had a few times before, something in her, flowing through her and she looked past Clark at the corkboard behind him and the spikes that were on it. Her necklace felt warm but whatever was stirring inside her felt warmer.
"No!" she yelled and put her hand out, feeling the power that was in her shoot through her. An invisible force hit Clark and he sailed into the wall six feet behind him, a spike going through his neck, killing him.
Bridget let out a deep breath, dropping her hand and feeling the warmth and power calm down, like a switch being turned off. Sam turned over and looked at her, "What was that?"
"Me, saving your ass," she moved to him and gave him her hand, helping him up.
"But what is it?" he asked, rubbing his head. "I've seen you do it before."
She shrugged, "I don't know. But it doesn't feel evil and its not demonic, so we will worry about it another day…let's find Dean and get out of here."
"Where do you think he is?" Sam asked as they got in the car.
She felt her necklace pulse slightly and knew, "He'll be back at the hotel."
"You sure."
"I'm always sure even though I never know why."
The two walked through the front door of the room, relieved to see Dean sitting on the bed with an ice pack to his face and a cut above his eyebrow. He snickered at them, "I see they improved your faces."
Bridget sat next to him on the bed, taking his ice pack and putting it on the back of her head where it hurt the most. She winced, "Look who's talking."
"That was mine," he pouted trying to get it back, but she moved and kissed him. "Mine now. Sharing is caring and I got hit with a bat."
Dean eyed Sam and his bloody lip. "You let her get hit with a bat."
Sam sat on the bed across from him with a wince of his own. "Hey, I at least didn't let her get eaten by a crocotta."
"Sounds like a damn Pokemon," he said, getting another ice bag from the freezer and tossing one to his brother before sitting next to Bridget again. She was laying down and he put his arm on her shoulder and lifted her up against her will, "You got a head injury, no sleeping."
She groaned, "I'll show you head injury…"
"I got another idea of something we can do to keep you awake," he told her, patting her thigh.
Sam scrunched his face, "Ewww."
"I was thinking food first," Dean huffed then thought about it.
Bridget saw it cross his face, "Don't even think of sex right now."
He licked the inside of his lip, "Maybe later. But there's a burger joint next door."
She groaned again, "I really don't feel like sitting in a diner full of people."
"I was thinking Sammy goes to get the food," Dean tossed him a twenty from his wallet.
Sam grabbed it and gave him a look. "Why always me?"
"Because you got her hit with a baseball bat."
"I got hit too!"
"I saved your ass last minute from being a closed casket," Bridget reminded him.
Sam sighed and put his ice pack on the night stand, with a sigh he stood up. "Fine. But you both better have your clothes on when I get back. I don't want a repeat on the gnomes case."
Dean smiled fondly at the memory. "I'll do my best, but no guarantees."
"Jerk," he chuckled,
"Bitch," Dean said back as Sam closed the door on his way out. He glanced at Bridget, "So…a crocotta, huh?"
"Yup," she sighed.
"That explains the flies."
"Yeah it would," she removed the ice pack from her head. "Hey…I'm sorry it wasn't your Dad."
"I'm sorry I was such an ass."
"It's okay," she patted his leg.
"No, you were right."
"Forget about it."
"I can't. I wanted to believe so badly that there was a way outta this. I mean I'm staring down the barrel at this thing. You know, Hell. For real, forever, and I just..." he shook his head and looked away.
"What's wrong, babe?" Bridget asked.
"The truth is I'm scared, Bridge," Dean admitted to her, tears in his eyes.
"I am too," she told him, keeping her hand in his. "I'm trying everything I can to breach this damn contract…"
"I just…I wanted it so badly to be my dad…he always had the answers…"
"I wanted it to be Derek too…but it wasn't them. It was a really cruel monster and it's taken care of now," she touched his face with her other hand.
"I don't want to be alone…"
"You won't…you aren't. I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere, Dean. I swore I'd stay by your side and nothing will change that. I will fight for you until there's nothing left. Okay? I love you. I just found you and I won't lose you. They'll have one serious battle on their hands because I'll bring them hell if they take you."
"Bridge…"
"No, Dean. I'm not gonna lose you like I lost Will. I won't. Not now, not ever. Not when I'm finally happy because…" she paused finding it hard to express her emotions. "You make me happy…you always made me happy from the moment I met you and you make me happy now. Without you, I'm empty. I don't wanna feel that way ever again and my only regret was not realizing this sooner and thinking those feelings would go away, because they just get stronger every day. I love you more every day."
Dean was speechless for a moment and kissed her softly. "I'm scared to leave you…I had no reason when I made the deal. I just wanted Sam back for me and you…but then turns out you love me and I find out too late. Though I can't say I wouldn't have done it anyway. But now…now that I have you I don't wanna lose you, Bridge. Ever. I need to break this deal to stay with you because we haven't had enough time…which brings me to this…" he slid off the bed to land in front of her. "Marry me."
"What?" she breathed a whisper.
"Marry me, Bridget, please. I know I don't have a lotta time but the time I do have I want it to be with you and make it forever even if forever is two months away. I wouldn't ask you if I wasn't serious, you know that and it won't be the big expensive wedding you had planned with Will or the big diamond to go with it," he said and toyed with the plain band ring in his hand that was identical to the one he always wore. "But I can promise you one thing and that's that I never loved anyone as much as you. If I could give you those fancies things, I would. I'd suck it up and do it for you. And if this goes well, then I will marry you the right way when it's over but for-."
Bridget shut him up with a kiss, going up on her knees to wrap her arms around him, kissing him with a smile. She parted away from him. He seemed stunned. "That a yes?"
"I was going to say yes the moment you asked me until you rambled on, yes, I'll marry you," she said with a nod.
He grinned ear to ear and stood up, pulling her up with him. He kissed her more hungrily than before and, for a minute, they thought the honeymoon would start early. Sam entered the room though, pausing in the doorway. "Uhh…least you still have your clothes on this time? You want me to give you an hour or something?"
Dean broke the kiss and grabbed Bridget's hand. "Nope, come on. Get your stuff and get in the car. We're going to City Hall."
"What? Why?" Sam asked following them out after grabbing their bags.
"Because we're getting married," Dean answered.
"What? Now?"
"Do you know of a better time?"
"Well, no, it's just so sudden and it's kinda late. They don't open for another two hours."
"Well, I'm Mr. Spontaneous and time isn't on my side," he shrugged and got into the car. Bridget sat in the middle between the two, her stuff thrown in the back.
"Where we going?"
"Well…I think we can get to Vegas in good time. Easiest place to get married."
"Really?" Sam asked with a smile and shake of his head.
"Any other ideas?"
"Nope Vegas it is."
Less than a day later they were in Vegas, Nevada. For once Dean didn't care for the gambling, the all you could eat buffets, or the fliers for show girls. His eyes were only on the one girl in front of him in the blue and white summer dress with her dark hair down and pinned back with blue flowers as she grinned at him. His brother by his side in a suit much like his but they weren't pretending to be FBI agents. At least not today.
"Do you, Bridget, take Dean to be you're lawfully wedded husband, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in help, for better or worse, 'til death do you part?" the man asked. He had been a little bummed about not getting Elvis to marry them, but Bridget had given him that look he'd grown used to and knew not to press it any further. If she couldn't have her dream wedding, he gave her this.
Bridget smiled at him, "No," she finished before anyone could react. "I take him for much, much longer."
The pastor smiled in relief and looked at Dean, "And do you, Dean, take Bridget to be your lawfully wedded wife, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, for better or worse, 'til death do you part…and for much, much longer?" he added on with a wink at Bridget.
Dean nodded, "I do."
"Then by the power invested in me I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride." And he did. He kissed her and held onto her and Bridget never wanted the moment to end and the thought of it ending in a couple months was the furthest thing from her mind. At least for today.