A/N: Soooo sorry for the long delay. I have no excuses. Hopefully I can get these out faster before my next semester starts and I get swamped again. Be patient with me and enjoy.

Disclaimer: As always I own nothing. The idea of Bridget came from watching Dean/Brooke/Sam videos on youtube so I used her as the model for the character and can't take credit for her either. This follows the ep mostly except for a few added parts. Enjoy.

S3 EP59 (CH39) TIME IS ON MY SIDE

The demon screamed again as Dean splashed holy water across its face. Bridget watched placidly from the wall with no worries. They were in an old cabin in the middle of nowhere so no one would hear him scream. They had captured him because they needed answers. The clock was ticking and they were running out of time to save Dean.

"You ready to talk?" Bridget asked him when the screaming quieted.

"I don't know anything," he shrieked, tied down to the chair.

"Oh, you hear that Sammy," Dean smiled at his brother. "He doesn't know anything."

Sam chuckled. "Yeah, I heard."

"I'm telling you the truth."

Dean put a hand to his chest, "Oh, you are? My God, then I owe you an apology. Allow me to make it up to you," he forced more holy water down his throat. "Now tell me, who holds my contract?"

The demon laughed, eyes going black. "Your mother. Yeah, she, uh, showed it to me right before I bent her over."

"I want a name or else…" Dean trailed off.

"Or what? You're gonna squirt your holy water in both ends? Please. Brother, that's like a fleabite compared to what's coming to me if I tell you jack. Do what you want. The only thing I'm scared of is the demon holding your ticket."

Dean nodded at Sam and Bridget watched as her brother in law recited the exorcism. She pushed off from the wall, walking closer as the demon twitched in pain. "How does that feel? Feel good?"

"Go ahead. Send me back to hell... 'Cause when you get there, I'll be waiting for you...with a few pals who are dying for a nice little meet and greet with Dean Winchester."

Sam paused and looked to Bridget and Dean. "Should I?"

Bridget nodded, "Yeah. Send him someplace he can't hurt anyone else." And the demon just kept on screaming into the empty night until the black cloud left the body and was no more. Out of habit, Bridget checked for a pulse, but the host was dead to no surprise. People rarely survived being taken over by a demon. She looked over at the two. "He's dead."

Sam nodded, "You two want to bury the body and I'll see what I can find and I'll call Bobby."

"Whoa, why do we have to bury the body? Bridget's just as capable of doing the book work and calling Bobby," Dean pointed out.

Bridget frowned, "Why would I have to do all the book work and call?"

"Well, you're so good at it, honey, plus I'm the one dying, I should get a break?"

"Unless I'm breaking your arm, you could help."

"Which is why you two should do the digging as husband and wife," Sam added.

Dean held his fist out, "Play you for it."

Bridget groaned inwardly and started walking to the door to get the shovels out of the car. Dean never won rock, paper, scissors against his brother because he always picked scissors and Sam knew it as well as Bridget. She heard Dean curse behind her and Sam chuckle, "Have fun, bend with the knees." She sighed, knowing it would be no different.

An hour or so later they came back into the cabin, sweaty and dirt covered. Bridget felt as if she needed a two hour shower to ever feel clean again with dirt in places she didn't think possible.

"You two bury the body?" Sam asked hanging up his phone.

Bridget blew a loose strand of hair from her face that had fallen out of her pony tail. "Yeah, no help from you."

"I was doing important stuff."

"Yeah, well, next time I'll make the calls and you bury the body with your brother. I swear these demons wear these people out for kicks," she plopped down on the couch next to her husband. It still felt weird for her to even think it. This was one thing she never predicted. Marrying Dean Winchester. It still made her smile.

"So what was the phone call about?" Dean asked, guzzling down a beer from the cooler.

"Remember that thing in the paper yesterday?" Sam asked.

"Stripper suffocates dude with thighs?"

Bridget rolled her eyes, "I don't think it's that one, dear."

"The other thing," Sam told him.

"Ohhh right, the guy that walks into the E.R. and kneels over dead. His stomach's ripped out?

"His liver, actually. Anyways, I just found out something pretty damn interesting," Sam said.

"Well, don't keep us in suspense. Please reveal the big news you found out while I buried a body of a demon host," Bridget said plainly, hating when he stopped on the edge of something to say just to get a reaction.

He rolled his eyes at her, "The body was covered in fingerprints that didn't belong to the victim."

"Okay, great. My man Dave Caruso will be stoked to hear it," Dean smirked.

"I'm not done. The fingerprints match a guy that died in 1981."

Bridget nodded, "See, now that is interesting. Why can't you just get to the fun part? Dead guys fingerprints in dead man's body. We looking at zombies or something here?"

He shrugged, "Maybe."

Dean stood and threw his empty can in the trash, "Zombies do like the other white meat. Huh. Speaking of, what do you care about zombies?"

"What do you mean?"

Dean leaned over the back of the couch, "Well, you've been on soul-saving detail for months now. And we're three weeks out, and all of a sudden, you're interested in some hot zombie action?"

Sam got defensive, it was his mechanism when Dean was getting on to something. He'd ump straight into turning the very thing around on the other person, "Hey, man, you're the one who's been all gung ho to hunt. I just thought I'd be doing you a favor."

"Hey, no, no, no, no, no. I didn't say I didn't want to do it, okay. I mean obviously I want to hunt some zombies." Then Dean would agree with whatever Sam had said as it was turned back around on him just to avoid another blow up explosion on what was the inevitable truth – that they were out of options on Dean's contract and his time was nearly up and no one knew how to cope with what they were feeling.

"Okay, fine, whatever." Which seemed to be the only way to express what they all felt.

Questioning the coroner to get closer to the body seemed like the only step they should take, which meant posing as cops once more. Getting in was never the hard part. Flash a badge at the front desk while dressed in a suit and tie, or Bridget's case, a pant suit and blouse, and you always got passed the front desk that was too busy to follow any type of procedure. And with a dead man with a missing liver who keeled over in the lobby, procedure was thrown out the window because who would be trying to get a closer look for the hell of it? It wasn't exactly like they were trying to rob a bank or see the Crown Jewels, it was just another dead body…but it was what that body would tell them that was the jewel in itself and the vault they wanted into.

The coroner went on, "Yeah, the rest of the body was intact. The liver was the only organ missing."

Dean cleared his throat and they knew this wasn't going to be good, "Now, where the liver was ripped out, did you happen to notice any...ah...teeth marks?"

Bridget closed her eyes and even felt Sam stiffen next to her. They shouldn't let Dean speak sometimes. The coroner looked at him, mouth slightly a gap at Dean's weirdness. "Can I see your badges?"

"Yes, sure," Bridget unfolded her wallet and Sam and Dean did the same.

The coroner nodded, still looking at Dean, "Fine, you're cops and morons."

"Excuse me?" Dean said offended. "No, no, we're very smart."

Bridget stepped up then, pulling Dean back a bit, "The test isn't as hard as it used to be apparently, and what our partner here is trying to ask is, was the liver ripped out with force, taken out in pieces, or cut out? Just want to be sure everything in the report is accurate."

He rolled his eyes, obviously getting irritated with them. "The liver was not ripped out. It was removed. Surgically. By someone who knew their way around a scalpel. Didn't you read my report?"

Dean spoke up, "Of course we did. Oh, it was riveting. It was a real page-turner, just delightful."

"You done?" the coroner asked, glaring at Dean.

"I think so," Sam said before Dean could open his mouth and started leading his brother out the door.

"Then please go away," the coroner said.

"No problem," Bridget said, following them out the door to the hallway. Sam was grinning as they walked.

"What are you smiling about?" Dean asked him.

"Nothing. So, that kind of punches a hole in our zombie theory, huh, that scalpel thing?"

He chuckled, "Yeah, a zombie with skills. Like Dr. Quinn, medicine zombie."

"Maybe we're on the wrong track," Bridget suggested, lips pursued as she thought about it.

"What's going on in that pretty head, babe?"

"I don't think we're looking for zombies," she said. "I think we're looking for an organ thief."

Sam nodded, following her train of thought. "We shouldn't be looking for lunch corpses…we need to look for survivors."

"And we're in the right place to look," Dean said. "Sammy, see if you can smart talk the nurse for a few of the files on patients with missing organs in this place."

"Smart talk?" Sam repeated with a smile.

Dean rolled his eyes and gestured him to hurry, "You know what I mean, just go."

Sam walked off to the nurses station for the files while Dean and Bridget hung back waiting for him. Dean glanced over at Bridget, taking in her heels and pant suit and stopping on the ring on her left hand. The one he placed on there only a month ago. His mouth twitched into a smile at the thought of her being an official Winchester, but it sank as quick as it had come. He'd be leaving her alone just as Will had in only a few weeks. He'd be leaving her to the same heartache she had felt years before and he'd be leaving her alone again. As much as he hoped and wished that he could get out of his fatal contract, he knew it would be to no avail and the end was near. He wanted to be sure she'd be okay and taken care of, he needed to be sure.

"Bridge, you wanna find an empty janitor's closet, fool around a little? I haven't done it in a hospital before," he wiggled his eyebrows at her.

She batted his arm, "We're working…but I did steal some of those rubber gloves for later?"

He eyed her with a raised eyebrow, "You're not carrying a purse, where'd you hide them?"

She smiled at him in a way that made his heart beat faster, "You can frisk me later and find out."

"Sounds like a plan," he had to add it in whether she liked it or not, "And we need to talk."

Her voice dropped and he saw her eyes dim, "About what?"

"You know about what?"

Her shoulders hunched a little and she turned her body away from his, starting to shut down the same way Sammy did. "No, we don't need to."

"Yes, we do. You know we do. It's important, Bridge. I need to make sure-"

"You don't need to make sure of anything," she cut him off. "Because everything will be fine. Sam and I have got this, we'll figure it out."

"I don't want you to be alone," he through in before she could shut him out.

Bridget faltered and took a deep breath, "I won't be…I'll have you there."

"Bridge…"

"Dean, please…we'll figure this out."

"Figure what out?" Sam asked as he stepped back in from getting the files.

"This case," Bridget was quick to cover and the dimness in her eyes was nearly gone as she brushed a strand of hair casually from her face. "It's a killer. Did you find anything interesting?"

"As a matter of fact, I did," Sam nodded and handed her a file. She opened it looking it over.

"That is interesting…and it happened yesterday…"

"Well, let's go talk to him," Dean said. "He can't be much worse than the coroner was."

And oh, how Dean was wrong. The man in the hospital bed was anything but happy to see the police in his room again as he lay there pale and pissed. "I told the cops all of this yesterday. I don't want to talk about it anymore."

"It's just a couple questions, sir," Sam tried reassuring him.

He glared at Sam, dark spots under his eyes, "Hey, man. I just got my kidney stolen. I'm tired."

Dean held his hand up, "We'll be out of here quick. Don't you want to get the guy?"

"Will it get me my kidney back?" he shot back.

Dean sighed and Bridget cut in. "What is the last thing you remember?"

Bridget seemed to have a semi calming effect on him. Once she stood forward to ask he seemed to relax back into the bed a bit, probably because she was a female and seemed more nurturing than Sam or Dean. "Feeding my meter. I got jumped from behind...and then I wake up strapped to a table. And then the worst pain you could possibly imagine, only worse. And then I black out again. Thank God. And then I wake up screaming in some no-tell motel in a bathtub full of ice."

Dean tried again, asking a question, "Do you remember anything about the surgery – you know, what the guy looked like, any details about the room?"

And the attitude came back. It was definitely because Bridget was a girl, "Let me think about that. Yeah...one thing is coming back to me. You know what I remember? Getting my kidney cut out of my body!"

They had left patient zero at that. He wasn't going to be much more help in his angry state of mind and the hotel was the next place to stop to dig up more things on the computer and to change out of her pant suit that was driving her crazy and back into her denim skirt and boots since the weather was finally nice enough to shave her legs and show them off. Dean came back in the room with food, sitting at the table across from Sam, digging into a burger while she and her brother in law were quick at work on their laptops as usual.

"So, I got a theory," Sam said.

Bridget took a bite of the chili cheese fries next to her as she clicked on her computer, "Which would be?"

"Yeah, I talked to Mr. Giggle's doctor. Turns out his incisions were sewn up with silk."

"That's weird," Dean said with a mouth full.

"Well, nowadays it is, but silk used to be the suture of choice back in the early 19th century. It was really problematic. Patients would get massive infections. The death rate was insane."

"Good times," Dean nodded.

"Right, so doctors, they had to do whatever they could to keep infections from spreading. One way was maggots."

Dean made a face, "Dude, I'm eating!"

Bridget smiled and added on to what Sam was saying, "Funny, you say that because it actually kind of worked because maggots eat bad tissue, and they leave good tissue."

Sam nodded and pointed at her as Dean looked greener, "And get this. When they found our guy, his body cavity was stuffed full of maggots."

"I'm eating!" he put down his burger, pretty sure he was done with it now. "Alright, let me get this straight. So, people are getting ganked, right?"

"Yeah."

"A little antiques road show surgery, some organ theft. But why is this all sounding familiar?"

Sam nodded at him, "Because you heard it before. When you were a kid... from Dad. Doc Benton...real-life doctor, lived in New Hampshire, brilliant and obsessed with alchemy, especially how to live forever. So, in 1816, Doc abandons his practice and…"

"Right, yeah, nobody hears from him for like 20 years, and all of sudden, people start showing up dead."

"You guys had some twisted bed time stories," Bridget shook her head, finishing her fries as she listened.

"You have no idea," Sam told her. "And they wound up dead or – or missing an organ or the hand or some other kind of part."

"Cause whatever he was doing was actually working. He just kept on ticking. Parts would wear out, he'd replace them. But I thought Dad hunted him down and took his heart out," Dean asked.

"Yeah, I guess the Doc must have plugged in a new one."

"Since we might have a name we just need to figure out where he's doing this stuff?" Bridget questioned.

Sam gestured at his laptop screen, "According to this, Benton's picky about where he sets up his lab. He likes dense forest with access to a river or stream or some kind of freshwater."

"Why?" she frowned as Dean went back to his burger.

"Because that's where he likes to dump the bile and intestines and fecal matter," Sam smiled slyly as Dean once again dropped the burger and gagged. "Lost your appetite yet?"

Dean glanced at Sam then back at the burger then back at Sam. Bridget stared with a grin, waiting to see what would happen. Dean looked back at the burger and took a bite out of it, "Oh baby, I can't stay mad at you."

She tisked, "Food always wins with you."

"I know, between this and sex, I'm not sure which one would win."

"Food," Sam said at the same time Bridget said, "sex".

Dean nodded as Sam got up to search through his duffel bag, "See what I mean? No one can call it."

Bridget pursued her lips, "Which one could you not live without?"

Dean stopped chewing and his eyes widened, "Don't stress me out like that…I…I can't make those decisions."

"It's not that hard," she said.

"Really? That's like asking me to choose between Playboy and Busty Asian Beauties."

Her eyes narrowed, "Do you still look at those?"

His face flushed a bit and he stuffed his mouth with food, "No…"

Luckily Sam had come back to the bed Bridget sat on with a map he laid out for them. "So these are all the cabins. Most of them have been abandoned for years."

"So what he hell are we waiting for?"

Before either of them could speak, Dean's phone rang. It was Bobby. He clicked answer. "Bobby?"

"Hey. Think I finally got a lead on Bela," he said on the other end.

"I'm listening," he said with interest.

"Rufus Turner," Bobby said and Bridget and Sam could hear most of the other end from the volume being high on his phone.

"Who's that? Like a Cleveland steamer?" Dean asked.

"He's a hunter, or he used to be."

"And now…"

"Hermit mostly. Does a little selling on the side. Anyway. I put the word out on Bela months ago. He just called. Said a woman got in touch, wanted to buy some things."

Bridget glanced at Sam and mouthed the name she thought she heard, "Bela."

He nodded his head, both watching Dean.

"And he thinks it's Bela?" Dean asked, confirming Bridget's suspicions.

"British accent, went by the name Mina Chandler."

"She's used that before. Well, it's kinda of a sloppy move, isn't it? Getting in contact with one of your old friends."

"Friend? Haven't laid eyes on him in fifteen years. He's not the Christmas card type. I doubt she knows I know him. Canaan, Vermont."

"Thanks, Bobby. We're on our way."

Bridget's eyes widened. Who was "we"? They had something going on here and couldn't go chasing Bela around on what might be her.

Dean hung up and stood up. "Okay, let's go."

"What? Whoa, hang on a second," Bridget held her hands up.

"Come on, the clock's ticking," Dean was already shoving stuff in his duffel bag, his mind clearly made up.

"Bridget's right," Sam said. "I think we should stay here and finish the case."

Dean paused to look at them both and saw they were serious, "You both insane?"

"Dean, there's no way she still has the Colt! That was months ago. She probably sold it the second she got it," Bridget told him.

He shrugged, "Well, then I'll kill her. Win-win."

"Dean…" Sam started.

"We're going!" he barked.

"No!" Sam yelled back.

"Why the hell not?"

Sam pointed at the map, "Dean, this is what's going to save you."

This time Bridget frowned, she had no idea what Sam was talking about. She wanted to stay to save people from being dead organ donors, she wasn't sure what Sam meant. "What do you mean?"

"Immortality," Sam said and Bridget fought the urge to roll her eyes. "Look, Benton can't die. We find out how he did it, we can do it to you."

"What are you talking about?" Dean asked.
"You have to die before you go to hell, right? So, if you can never die, then..."

Dean held up his hand stopping him, "Wait, wait, wait. Wait a second. Did you know that this was Doc Benton from the jump?"

"No," Sam said.

"Really?" Bridget narrowed her eyes and tilted her head slightly.

Sam looked defeated. "Okay, I had hoped it was him."

"So, the whole zombie thing , it was a lie?" Dean asked.

Sam defended himself before Dean could lay into him. "I didn't wanna say anything until I was sure, Dean. All I'm trying to do is find an answer here."

Dean shook his head, "No. What you're trying to do is chase Slicy McHackey here. And to kill him? No. You wanna buy him a freaking beer. You wanna study him."

"I was just trying to help," he claimed.

He pointed at his brother, "You're not helping! You forget that if I welch on this deal, you die. Guess what, living forever is welching."

"Fine! Then whatever his magic pill is, I'll take it too," Sam yelled back.

Bridget butted in. "Wow! Who are you guys? Sid and Nancy? I want to do this to help people and stop this crazy ass Doc from slicing up more people because he's evil. Or did you two forget that that is what we do? We help people. Not for our own gain, but because it's the right thing to do and because we can. We don't dump off and leave them to die to this monster," she looked at Dean then turned to Sam. "And we don't do it to capture him and learn how to be just like him. We do it because it's what we do. So get your heads out of your asses and knock this off."

Dean shook his head, "Well I say it's worth checking out. Now are you guys coming or not?"

Bridget bit her lip, "No…I'm staying."

Sam nodded, "I'm staying too."

Dean grabbed his bag and moved to the door. Neither his brother or wife moved to go with him. He paused long enough to look at them, "Bridge…Sammy…be careful."

"You too," Bridget said quietly.

The door closed quietly and they could hear the Impala start and take off down the road. With a sigh Sam looked at Bridget scratching the back of his head, "Shall we get going on this…"

Bridget sat on the edge of the bed. "Maybe wait til daylight. Something about venturing into the woods to catch a guy who likes to slice up people just doesn't appeal to me at this late at night…plus we'll need a rental car."

Sam sat on the other bed and flicked on the TV. "Good idea…". Neither spoke to the other, the awkwardness was too much for small talk. She was well aware she was alone with her brother in law who, at one point, was her boyfriend until he needed a "break" and ended up sleeping with what turned out to be a werewolf chick. She had never really been alone with Sam after that point and though she had moved on from the hurt, the questions as to why it had all happened lingered in her mind. She loved Dean, but even now she was hurting that he left them behind to chase after a blind shot in the dark and didn't contemplate the innocents he was leaving to be slaughtered by a mad man. Her mix of emotions was becoming too much to bare.

"I need to ask you something," she said out loud, staring at her ring as she twisted it on her finger.

The TV volume lowered a bit. "Go ahead."

She pressed her lips tightly together, not sure if she should ask. She took a deep breath, "Do you think it was a mistake…me marrying Dean?"

There was a brief pause of silence which was all she needed to hear before Sam replied back. "No."

"You hesitated, Sam. You never hesitate unless you're thinking of a different answer," she pointed out to him, eyes shooting to him across on the other bed.

She watched him swallow hard before sighing and looking at her, running a hand over his face. "No, I don't think it was a mistake…I just think it was too soon. I think you both let your emotions get the best of you and got caught up in the moment with everything that is going on. Marrying him isn't going to save him, Bridge. It may give you both a piece of mind but it won't save him."

"I know that," she nodded but couldn't disagree with the hastiness in which they married.

"And Dean is…well Dean…he will always run off and do things he thinks is right and screw everyone else…obviously," he smirked and even she smiled but it faltered a bit as another thought crossed her mind.

"You don't think…" she paused.

Sam looked at her with concern as she chewed her lower lip. "Think what, Bridge?"

"That Dean will be…well Dean when it comes to other women…that he realizes he's married."

Sam nodded in understanding of her question. He wasn't sure how to answer that. Dean had never had a normal relationship in his life and wasn't sure if his brother even knew that marriage meant one woman forever. Bridget had enough hurt in her life from the Winchester family and Dean was the only one who hadn't screwed her over yet. He hoped, for her sake as well as their teams, that his brother realized that. "Honestly, I don't know," he said and added more as he saw her close her eyes to the answer. "But I think he's realizing what all this means still and I think he won't do anything to hurt you. I'm sorry I did. I can never apologize enough for that or explain it away because it's not justifiable. I screwed up, that was my fault and I lost out and have to live with that. Dean knows what he has and I don't think he'll throw it away because he knows he loves you…"

Bridget nodded her head with a small smile. "Thanks Sam…"

"You're welcome," he turned the television back up before he could say anymore on the matter that would make things even more awkward. They both sat there watching TV but neither focusing on what was on. Bridget's thoughts were too caught up in Dean and Sam was too caught up in hoping Dean didn't screw it up as he had.

They pulled the rental Honda over to the side of the dirt road. Bridget lifted her sunglasses to look. "Is this the place?"

Sam nodded, looking at his map. "Looks like." He sighed and opened the car door. "Shall we then."

Bridget slid a silver dagger into her boot and grabbed a gun from the duffel bag in the back. She put the extra ammo in the back pocket of her skirt and nodded. "Now I am."

"Ladies first," he gestured towards the forest.

She shook her head, "I'm good, you go. I got your back."

He rolled his eyes as they ventured into the forest towards the cabin.

A couple hours later, it was dark and Bridget was pissed as she zipped up her jacket that they didn't start earlier. The last thing she wanted was to be in these woods when it was this dark, but that was how horror movies went. It just had to be dark or it wouldn't work.

Sam put a hand out, stopping her. She looked at him and he pointed. She followed his finger to the cabin. They had finally reached it. She nodded and they moved forward. Sam lifted the window open and quietly climbed in helping Bridget in behind him. He scanned around with his flashlight and Bridget spotted something on the table. It was a journal. She skimmed through it and showed it to Sam. He nodded and she tucked it into her jacket. Sam pointed at the cellar door and she gave him wide eyes and slightly shook her head.

He rolled his eyes, "Is your necklace sensing anything bad?"

She touched it. It was still cool and not vibrating. "No."

"Then let's go," he whispered back and opened the door.

With a sigh of defeat, Bridget followed him down the stairs into the dark cellar. The first thing she noticed was the dead man on the operating table in front of them and, by the smell, he'd been dead for awhile. A rustling noise drew their attention to a raggedy curtain. Bridget held her gun up and Sam slowly moved the curtain aside to find a woman strapped to another table. Bridget stepped closer and noticed the maggots on her arms, she had skin peeled off them. Sam leaned in to check her pulse and both of them jumped as her eyes snapped open. Sam put a finger to her lips and covered her mouth with his other hand to keep her from screaming as Bridget undid the straps, handing him a rag for her arm.

"Shh! Shh! Shh! It's okay. We're here to help you. We're here to help you. We're gonna help you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Sam told her in a hushed voice and she seemed to relax when she realized they weren't going to hurt her.

"Sam, we gotta go before he gets back," Bridget told him. As if on cue they could hear a rustling up stairs. Bridget looked up then back at him. "And we have to go now!" Bridget moved to the window in the cellar and slid it open, climbing out and turning around to help the woman out then Sam. They were quick to start running. He'd notice his victim was gone in a few minutes and no one wanted to be near the cabin at that point. It had seemed to take longer to get there than to get to the car. Bridget helped Sam put the woman in the back seat and jumped into the driver's side.

"Let's go, Sam," she said, gun in hand, watching the woods as Sam started the car. Bridget looked back at the woman, who was crouched in the far corner of the car. "You're gonna be okay." She turned back to Sam and gasped seeing Benton standing right outside the driver's window. He reached in and grabbed at Sam. The woman screamed and Bridget took aim as he slammed Sam's head into the steering wheel. Once he was out of the way, she took her shot, hitting Benton in the chest as Sam hit the gas pedal, running over Benton before they sped off. She looked behind them to see Benton still lying on the ground. Once he was out of view did she look back at Sam and see the blood dripping down his face from where he connected with the steering wheel. "Shit, you're bleeding."

"I'm fine," he brushed her off. "Let's just get out of here before we worry about that."

They were back at the hotel in under an hour, after dropping the woman off at the hospital and making a hasty retreat before anyone could ask question. Bridget was able to patch up Sam's head. It wasn't stitches worthy, but he'd have a bruise and a nice headache to go with it.

"Ow," he winced as she added the last band aid stitch to it.

"Quit being a baby, you've had so much worse than this."

"You have your head slammed into a steering wheel next time," he muttered as she put her first aide kit away.

"You insisted on driving," she shrugged. Sam's phone rang and Bridget grabbed it. It was Dean.

"Hello," she answered.

"Bridget?"

"Were you expecting someone else," she snorted. Sam looked at her with a frown and she mouthed Dean's name. He nodded with a wince and signaled he'd talk to him in a moment as he fished around for the bottle of aspirin in his bag.

"Just Sammy."

"He's getting his aspirin for the giant headache he's bound to have any moment. Probably more so after any conversation you two have since I'm highly doubting Bela had the Colt."

"How'd you know?"

"Bela isn't the most reliable person and I don't she held onto that Colt any longer than she held on to her own virginity," she snipped. Sam snorted near the dresser, having found his pain killers and was looking at the journal they took.

"Well aren't you in a good mood."

"Just get your ass back here. We got a monster to kill and he's probably getting really pissed by now," she told him.

"You found him?"

"Yeah, here Sam will fill you in," she handed the phone to him. It didn't take long for the arguing to begin between the two and she went into the bathroom with a shake of her head. It was a deal from hell, that was for sure and it was only going to end with Dean in hell. Then where would she be…besides alone. She wasn't sure if she and Sam could survive without Dean. It would shatter Sam, she knew that much. He wouldn't be the same. She wasn't sure about herself, her mind wouldn't let her think about it. She had lost so much already, adding Dean to it…she wasn't sure at all. Bridget touched her necklace. It was feeling warm against her skin which was unusual. It only did that when something bad was around. Then it pulsed…it only did that when someone she cared for was in danger and she noticed then she didn't hear Sam on the phone anymore. She came out of the bathroom to see Sam crumbled on the ground with Benton standing over him and could briefly hear Dean yelling over the phone for his brother. Bridget only had time to yell, "Sam!" She charged at Benton. He grabbed her by the throat and she scratched at him to no avail. He pulled her closer and she wanted to gag at the stench of his breath as he sniffed her. He looked at her with his scarred face, almost disappointed as he shook his head slightly. "I have no use for you." She felt his grip get tighter, he was going to kill her. Something in her awoke, a familiar feeling she had before as it filled her with a vibrating heat and her necklace started to glow. "What…" Benton managed before she released the power she felt, causing him to cry out as it shoved him back and he released her.

She coughed, trying to get in more air, leaning against the dresser. Benton growled, face drawn in anger and back handed her hard enough that her head connected with the dresser and she fell to the ground in a daze, vaguely aware of Dean's voice and through the blur of her vision she saw Benton drag Sam out of the room as Dean shouted her name from Sam's phone. "Dean…" she muttered before blacking out completely.

Bridget was aware of the soft pounding in her head as she started to become aware again. She could still hear Dean and wondered how long he was on the phone for. Something tapped at her face, caressing her cheek. "Bridge, Bridge, sweet heart, wake up. That's it, open your eyes babe," she could hear Dean as she blinked her eyes open and was able to focus Dean into one person instead of two. "Bridge, you with me, babe?"

"Dean?" she said his name, not sure if he was here or if she had hit her head that hard.

"It's me, let's sit you up," he put his arms around her helping her up as she winced and rubbed the back of her head. "Where's Sammy?"

"Bastard took him," she hissed in pain as he helped her to her feet and held onto her in case he fell.

Dean touched her neck where the fingerprints were starting to bruise, he tilted her head to see an equally dark mark forming on her cheek. "Did this bastard do this to your face?" he asked with a stony expression.

"Yeah," she touched her cheek. "He surprised me."

"But he didn't take you? Only Sam."

"He said he had no use for me," she said and pulled away to grab weapons out of her bag. "I think he meant I had nothing he wanted to use, but Sam does."

"Like Jeepers Creepers?"

"Exactly."

"We better stop him from eating Sam's peepers. You know how to get there?"

"Yes," she nodded, grabbing her gun. "Let's go kill this jackass for good."

They used the same window to get into the house that she and Sam had used hours earlier. Dean started heading for the cellar but Bridget paused long enough to study the bottles on the table that Doc Benton had. She picked up one, reading the label and found it to be chloroform, the same stuff he must have used on his victims to subdue them. It would have to work.

"Bridge," she heard Dean whisper impatiently.

She signaled him to wait a moment. She grabbed the knife out of her boot and poured it over the blade, careful not to splash herself and put it in her pocket. Then nodded, gun in one hand knife in the other as they descended the stairs.

Doc Benton was monologuing with Sam strapped to the table in front of him. Dean wasted no time in shooting Benton in the back before she could warn him that didn't work much. She managed to hop the rail and move into the shadow just as Benton turned around to smile crookedly at Dean. He held his arms up to his sides. "Shoot all you want."

Dean did, three more times to no avail as Doc Benton strolled up to him, grabbing Dean by the throat and throwing him across the room into the wall. He started walking towards Dean and Bridget took the moment to jump out at him, plunging the knife into his chest. He stumbled back staring at the knife then grinning at her as she helped Dean up. He laughed, "A knife? What part of immortality do you not understand? Pity about the heart, though. It was a brand-new one."

"Good, it should be pumping nice and strong," she pulled out the bottle chloroform. "And it'll send this stuff straight through your body. Picked up this little bottle upstairs…so I say it night time."

His smile faded and he collapsed. Bridget kicked him for good measure. "Bruise my neck and face, you ass." She helped Dean untie Sam and then to put Doc Benton up on the table and strap him in tightly. It wouldn't take long for it to wear off.

"You hurt?" Dean asked Sam.

He shook his head, "No, just have one bitch of a headache." He looked at Bridge. "What happened to your face?"

She gestured at Benton. "He did after he knocked you out with chloroform."

"That explains my headache being worse," he mumbled. "How'd you get away?"

She shrugged, "The unexplandable…as usual…it just…happened."

"My head hurts too much to even try figuring that out," Sam sighed.

"Whatever it was, it worked," Dean said and they noticed Benton begin to stir on the table. Dean leaned over him with a grin, "Oh, hiya, Doc. Wakey, wakey, eggs and bac-y."

"Please," Doc Benton pleaded, scared now that he was the one on the table.

"Please what? You've been killing poor bastards for over 150 years and now you got a request? After kidnapping my brother? After trying to kill my wife? Shut up," Dean snapped.

Benton stared at him with pleading eyes, "No, you don't understand. I can help you. I know what you need."

Sam seemed interested in that. Dean didn't seen to notice as he looked at Bridget. "We might have to cut him up into little bits. You know, this immortality thing is a bitch."

"Can we start with his eyes…or at least one so he can still see what were doing?" Bridget asked.

"I can read the formula for you. You know...immortality...Forever young, never die," he bargained.

"Dean…" Sam said staring at his brother, eyes wide in hope.

"Sam…" Dean said with a bored tone.

"Talk to me over here for a minute," Sam gestured them to follow just a few feet away.

"What?" Dean asked.

"I mean, we're talking hell in three weeks. Or needing a new pancreas in like half a century," Sam gave him the options of what Doc Benton was bargaining.

"Sam, you can't actually pick those up at a Target," Bridget pointed out. "So you're talking about killing people…how would that make us different from him?" she gestured at the table.

Sam rolled his eyes, looking back at his brother. "It's not perfect, but it buys us more time to think of something better. We just need time, Dean. I mean, please, just...just think about it."

"No," Dean shook his head.

"Dean, don't you want to live?"

"What he is isn't living. Look, this is simple."

"Simple?" Sam repeated.

Dean moved back over to Doc Benton. "To me it is, okay. Black or white; human, not human. See, what the Doc is, is a freakin' monster. I can't do it. I would rather go to hell."

"You don't understand!" Benton shouted. "I can help you!"

Dean doused a rag in chloroform and laid it over the Doc's face, staring at Sam. "Now, I'm gonna take care of him. You can either help me or not. It's up to you."

Reluctantly Sam nodded.

Bridget set her drawing pad next to her and leaned forward from the backseat after Dean hung up with Bela. "And how is that bitch doing?"

"Not great seeing as how her time is almost up on her deal. She's panicking."

Bridget pursued her lips, "Is it wrong of me to say good?"

"No."

"Then good, I hope she rots there."

"Aren't you being a little harsh?" Sam asked her.

"Aren't you forgetting she shot you?" she reminded him.

"Point taken."

"She's finally in a situation she can't charm herself out of or steal her way through and it scares her…as it should."

There was a silence in the car as they all thought of the inevitable. That soon those hounds would be coming after Dean and there was nothing they could do to stop it. In a month, she would be a widow and Sam would be God knows where, trying to do God knows what to get Dean back. She wasn't sure she could handle dark Sam. She wasn't even sure she could handle herself. It would all come crashing down in three weeks. Bridget let out a deep breath. "I still say we should have dismembered Doc Benton."

"That would have been messy," Dean told her.

"I was totally in the mood to dismember somebody. Not bury someone in a fridge ten feet under ground."

"It was the easiest way and he suffers," Sam pointed out.

"He'd suffer even more with his head in another box."

"Well, this way we save time on dismembering people and can go relax somewhere else," Sam sighed, feeling suddenly exhausted.

"I'm not tired. I want to dismember someone," she pouted.

"You can disrobe me at the hotel if it makes you feel better," Dean wiggled his eyebrows at her.

Sam groaned at the thought and Bridget pondered it. "I guess that could work."

"You can be in charge this time, do what you will."

She grinned, "Oh I got plenty of things in mind."

Sam groaned again, draping his arm over his eyes and sinking into his seat. "Can you bury me in fridge before you do this, please?"

They continued on with the sexual innuendos across the state line and Bridget smiled, knowing this would be one of the final times they ever got to share laughs. She glanced at the drawing pad next to her. A grandfather clock striking midnight…ticking to Dean's death. She closed it, sliding it away from her. It was going to happen, she knew it. But it wasn't going to happen now and the time they had now was all that mattered.