Disclaimer: Believe me, I know this was a long, long, long time coming. I never gave up on it. I've been in grad school for two years and just found time now that my core classes are done. I'll admit, the finale inspired me to write and I write this in three hours. So for those of you that haven't given up on Sam, Dean, or Bridget, here is the start of season 4…I have a long way to go with this series. I'll try to update weekly now that I'm on break. I hope you enjoy.

SEASON 4

S4 EP61

Bridget dreamt of the eyes again that night. The same set of eyes that had been in her dreams since she was a child. They were an offset of brown with a mixture of green, not completely one color either way but a combination of both. She never saw a face, just the eyes. To say they haunted her dreams put them in a negative view when she never felt any adverse or malicious intent from the set of eyes, but an odd sort of comfort. Bridget noticed a pattern; she'd dream about the eyes after a stressful event in her life or sometimes just after a bad day. As if her subconscious knew this and brought forth the eyes into her dream, but her life wasn't that simple, and she knew they were no coincidence. The pattern was too strong. They always showed up as if to tell her it would be alright and give her comfort. She could vaguely remember a whispered voice with them but never enough to recognize it. However, this dream ended like the ones she'd been having more recently. With the whispers. So many of them at once she couldn't make out the words, but they were urgent, not comforting like the eyes and they usually ended with the flapping of bird wings. Then she'd wake up and wonder about it as she did now.

She had finished drawing the eyes for what must have been the hundredth time since she was a child until now. She had tons of sketchpads from over the years that had at least one set of these eyes in it and always received a new one from the mysterious M on her birthday. She had moved on to drawing a feather, not sure exactly why but guessing it had to be from the bird wings. Bridget sighed and looked through the book, curled up on Bobby's couch. It's where she had been staying for the last four months since she didn't know where else to go. Bobby was her only family, and he hadn't minded a bit. He probably liked the company since it was just her and him. She hadn't seen Sam since they had buried Dean. After a large fight, he had taken off in the Impala which she gladly let him have. She didn't need a reminder of Dean and the car meant more to Sam. He needed it more since he seemed to be hurting more. She had enough hurt without it.

In the distance she heard Bobby's phone ringing a couple of times, yet he wasn't coming to answer it. She rolled her eyes, swearing he didn't hear well anymore.

"Bobby, your phone's ringin'," she called out.

"I got it, I got it," she heard him moving around with a gruff hello. She frowned when she noticed his tone turn dark, "This ain't funny. Call again, I'll kill ya" and he hung up angrily.

She twisted around to look at him. "Everything okay?"

He nodded his head and cleared his throat, "Yeah, just a prank caller. Damn kids."

She knew he was lying but just nodded her head and stood up. "Well, you're a cranky old man. I'm surprised they don't egg your house on Halloween."

"They tried that once…they're too scared to do it again," he said with a smile.

She smiled back with a shake of her head and headed to the guest room she was currently living in. She put her drawing pad on the desk and looked at the photos she had stuck in the mirror. Her brother, Derek, smiled back at her in one and she stood next to him in it. Will was in another photo with a shy smile at her. John and Bobby were in another and the last was Sam, Dean, and herself taken last year. It was a selfie and they were laughing at something stupid. She couldn't remember what but it didn't matter. She would give anything to have those days back again.

Her necklace became warm on her skin and she touched it with a frown, wondering if it was real. She hadn't felt that in months. Bridget's cell started to ring just then and cautiously she hit the talk button. "Hello?"

Dean's voice came from the other side. "Bridget? God, it's so good to hear you."

The blood drained from her face and her voice came out a cold whisper. "Who the hell is this?"

"It's me. Dean."

"This isn't funny," she said seriously, her legs shaking slightly. "Don't call me back."

She hung up and noticed Bobby leaning in the doorway. "Same person…"

She nodded. "If you mean you had someone calling saying they were Dean, then yeah…same. But…it sounded like Dean."

"They can do that, remember? You got calls from Derek before."

He was referring to the demon caller seven months back, the one that had sounded like her brother. The crocotta did sound like Derek but something had been off in those calls...this one sounded like Dean. They must have been getting better…but her necklace had reacted right before the call…or had it?

The next day, she was sitting in her room, bent over a sketch book once more and grossly absorbed in a drawing of a handprint. She vaguely heard someone knocking on the front door and heard Bobby get up to answer that. It's the scuffle she hears that causes her to get up in a hurry, her drawing forgotten. "Bobby," Bridget called out as she came into the living room after hearing the commotion. "What the hell is going on in…" Her breath caught in her throat as she saw Dean standing there with a cut to his arm, a hand going to her mouth as a slew of emotions rushed through her at once. It couldn't be him. He died, she'd been there and saw it happen. It had haunted her every day since. She was at the funeral they had held, numb and emotionless just as she had been since that day, the last of what she had ripped away from him with his death. The final straw to her undoing of sorts. The reason she didn't care, the reason she hunted and killed everything without a thought of emotion, but here he was.

"Bridget," Dean said her name and she felt her heartbeat for what felt like the first time in four months. "Long time no see…"

She stepped forward warily. "Dean…is…is it you?"

"We're you expecting Batman," he said with a smirk. The personality sure sounded like him.

Her eyes moved to Bobby and he nodded, "Silver doesn't affect him, neither does Holy Water…it's him."

Cautiously she took a couple steps forward, wondering if this was a cruel joke, a dream she'd wake up from like so many times before. She reached a hand out and he watched her with warm eyes, touching his shoulder first. He was solid, flesh. She touched the blood on his arm, it was a sticky red and still balmy on her fingertips. Her hand slowly moved up to his neck – his skin was warm, he had a pulse, he was human, her necklace wasn't warning her of any danger with him. Her fingers trailed up to his cheek and tears flooded her eyes despite her attempt to hold them back. "Dean…" she nearly choked on his name as her emotions swamped back to her. "It's you…" and she knew it was. Her heart never lied. It wasn't a dream. It wasn't a trick from the Trickster, he was real. He was here. He was real.

He smiled softly, touching her cheek. "It's me, Bridge…I'm here, I don't know how or why, but I'm here."

Her arms went around him, and she cried into his shirt for the first time in months. "I didn't know you missed me that much."

"How could I not miss you? Oh God, you have no idea how much I missed you," she pulled back to look him in the eyes. "I'm so sorry…I tried everything I could think of to get you back, I tried…I killed so many demons, tried so many ways, nothing worked. You were gone…I thought I lost you forever."

He caressed her cheek, wiping at her tears. "I'm here…"

The next thing that happened was something Bridget had missed for so long. Dean's lips found hers and she felt content though it felt different than the electricity she was used to when he kissed her.

He pulled back looking at her, "This mean we're still together?"

She smiled at him through her tears. "Of course, dumbass."

He kissed her again, more passionately this time she was too entranced with him being back to wonder about the feeling that was slightly off. Bobby cleared his throat, "Sorry to break up your moment, but – uh- we need to figure out exactly why you're back here Dean. This doesn't make a lick of sense."

"What do you remember?" Bridget asked, sitting near him on the couch.

"Not much. I remember I was a Hellhound's chew toy, and then... lights out. Then I come to six feet under, that was it," he shrugged then eyed Bobby and Bridget. "I tried calling Sam. His numbers not working…he's not…"

Bobby shook his head, "No, he's alive as far as we know."

"What do you mean?"

It was Dean's turn to frown. "We haven't talked to him for a couple months," Bobby shrugged.

"What?!" Dean exclaimed. "You let him go off on his own."

"He was dead set on it after the blow up he and Bridget had."

Dean turned his gaze to Bridget. "You two argued. Over what?"

"Creative differences," she said sarcastically with an eye roll. "He was dead set on bringing you home and I was out of ideas. There were no visions, no dreams except for bird feathers and whispers I couldn't understand. I had nothing and there was too much tension between us, so he left."

"Dammit…he must have done something. The burial site looks like a bomb went off…and this," he rolled up his sleeve to show the brand of the hand on his arm.

"What in the hell?" Bobby stood up to get a better look at his arm.

"It was like a demon yanked me out, or rode me out," Dean said.

Bridget could only stare at the handprint in dismay as the two continued to talk, discussing whether or not Sam had made a deal to get him out. She was too taken aback by the mark. The feathers, the whispers, the eyes, the handprint, now Dean was sitting here. All of this was connected somehow, and she wasn't sure how but the answers were right there she just needed to piece them together to see the picture.

"Bridget!" Bobby snapped his fingers in front of her face and she blinked coming out her thoughts.

"Sorry, you were saying about Sam," she rubbed at her eyes.

Bobby shook his head and Dean was looking at her wide eyed in surprise, "No," Bobby sighed. "I was asking you to stop moving the furniture again…"

Bridget looked around the living room and found the chair Bobby had been in was across the room, the coffee table was up by the window and his books were scattered around the room. "Oh shit! I'm sorry, Bobby. I was lost in thought and not controlling it again."

She noticed Dean's face, "Yeah…I'm a bit stronger than you last remember."

"A bit?" he said in shock. "You just tossed Bobby's 100 pound coffee table without even looking at it."

"Not the first time she's done it," Bobby sighed with a shake of his head. "She can move the cars too if she tries. Now what was on your mind that caused this and can you please put it back. My back ain't what it used to be."

"Sorry," she apologized again and looked at the table. It moved from its upright position by the window and floated above the floor back to its original spot, Dean continued to watch in a mixture of fascination and horror. She moved his chair back and with a thought of how it looked before she managed to move the books back to where they belonged. "The mark on Dean's arm. I've seen it before."

"Where?" Dean asked, still trying to drag his attention away from the fact Bridget had just moved everything without flinching. That was a lot different from the last time he saw her. She was barely able to move an object, now she could toss a room.

"I drew it…I don't know for sure, but I don't think Sam made a deal…I think something bigger is going on…but we need to find Sam," she said with a sigh. He was the last person she wanted to see because of the fight they had right before he left. She was hoping the feelings were gone but Sam was…well, Sam. He had a way of getting under her skin.

"Now we just need a way to find him," Dean said. "I can put a trace out for his phone with the cellphone company and then we can GPS his location…" he trailed off noticing Bobby clear his throat and look at Bridget, "What?"

"There is another way," Bobby gestured at her.

"She a blood hound now too?" he asked with a snort.

Bridget sat there chewing her lower lip, "No, jerk…but I've had time with these abilities of mine and I learned a few tricks besides tossing heavy objects around which you may want to keep in mind," she said with a glare.

He swallowed hard, hearing the threat in her words. "Noted. So what can you do?"

"I can meditate and find him," she said. "Or at least see the location he's at. I can't do it for many people but it's how I've been able to keep tabs on Sam even though I'm not near him. I can do it for Jo and her Mom too, and Bobby."

He blinked at that and nodded, still trying to take all this is, "Well…that seems easier…let's give it a try."

Bridget nodded and sat cross legged on the couch, "Just be quiet and don't bother me."

"Got it, sensei," Dean nodded. She stared at him and he just nodded and made a zipped mouth motion with his hand. She closed her eyes and let her shoulders relax as her mind cleared. The sounds of the air conditioner became deafening as she focused on it and she continued to focus on the nothing in her mind until she had one thought, Sam. The sound of the AC disappeared as if it was no longer on and new sounds took over. She could hear a highway and it came into view with a billboard that read Pontiac. The colors mixed and she was standing outside a hotel called the Astoria and the numbers 207 flashed in front of her. She pulled back from the scenery and could hear the AC again and could feel the couch under her.

Bridget opened her eyes and blinked a few times, "He's in Pontiac."

Bobby raised his eyebrows at Dean, "Right where you were planted."

Dean nodded, wishing he was surprised, "Right where I popped up, hell of a coincidence."

"He's at a hotel. The Astoria. Room 207," she said, getting off the couch and straighting out her tank top.

"That's pretty specific."

"I get what I need," she shrugged. "I'm going with you guys. We'll take Bobby's truck."

Dean paused, "Where's my Impala?"

Bobby and Bridget shared a look and Bobby spoke, "Sam has it."

Dean sputtered, "He-he…what? He has my baby?"

"You weren't here," Bridget reminded him as she zipped her boots on and grabbed her bag, stuffing a sketch book into it. "Now let's go grab Sam. I can't wait for this reunion."

Dean followed her out the door with a hand on her back, "Do you mean him and I or you and him?"

"A bit of both," she sighed and found that unsettling feeling was back and she couldn't place why it was there though she knew one thing was for sure, part of it was how this was going to go down.

Dean walked up to room 207. The very room Bridget had seen and it was confirmed Sam was there. His Impala was sitting in the parking lot. He wasn't sure if this was freaking him out or fascinating him yet. He was too eager to see his brother to figure it out. He knocked on the door and a dark haired woman answered it wearing not much at all. She eyed the three of them, "So where is it?"

It took Dean a moment to stop staring at the nearly naked woman in front of him to process words, "Where…where's what?"

"The pizza, aren't you the pizza delivery guy," she said.

"I think we got the wrong room," he said, looking over at Bridget.

She shook her head as her eyes widened, gesturing back. "No, we didn't…hey Sam…"

Dean looked back to see Sam standing there behind the girl, a look of stunned surprise across his face and Dean could read every emotion that was passing through him.

"Before you say anything, yes it's him," Bridget filled in, holding up her hand to stop him from asking.

Bobby continued, "And no, we don't know how."

"Heya Sammy," Dean said quietly with a slight smile at his stunned brother.

"Don't even bother reaching for the knife, Sam," Bridget said with a bored look and Dean glanced at her then back at Sam who, in fact, was reaching for something at his belt. "It's really him."

"And we're wondering what you did," Bobby wondered aloud. "I'll let you al catch up, I'll be waitin' by the truck when you're all ready to talk about this," he gestured at Dean before turning around and heading to the beat up pickup.

"Why do you think I had something to do with it?" Sam asked.

"This is so something you would do," Bridget rolled her eyes.

"Really? Because it seems more up your alley," he glared at her.

"Both of you knock it off," Dean interjected, putting his arm out to stop Bridget from moving closer though he felt it might be redundant given she could toss Sammy if she felt like it.

"Are you three, like, a ménage thing?" the girl asked biting at her thumb nail at the intensity of the conversation, her eyes flickering between the three of them. They had all but forgotten she was in the room given the tension of their reunion.

Bridget glared. Why was it everyone thought they were a threesome? Sure, she had slept with both the brothers, but not at the same time. It had been months apart.

"No," Sam said. "He's my brother and this is his…girlfriend."

"I could work with that," she teased with a sparkle in her eye.

Sam saw the flash of anger in Bridget's eyes and cleared his throat as the table next to him shook suddenly from her anger. "Uhh- you should probably go."

"Oh," she nodded and gestured at the door with a nod and grabbed her bag. She had slipped pants on at some point of their conversation Bridget noticed. "I should go."

Bridget gave her a cold smile, "Good idea."

The girl left the room but not before looking Dean up and down with a smile, making Bridget want to pull her back in. It wasn't the girls fault she was angry, it was the current situation. Usually being in the same room with Sam and Dean was a normal every day occurrence, but given the last few months this was a different feeling and the tension was palpable.

"So how'd you do it?" Dean asked Sammy.

"Kind of personal, don't you think," he smirked.

Dean rolled his eyes, "Not the girl. How did you bring me back? Did it cost you your soul?"

"Why do you think I did it?" he snorted and gestured his hand at where Bridget stood leaning against the wall. "Why not ask Bridget? She's gotten stronger or haven't you noticed?"

She pushed off the wall with her foot. "Oh, because I've honed my skills you think I did it? Sorry to break it to you but necromancy is a little out of my scope of expertise."

He smiled coldly at her, "That's right…all you can do is toss stuff around…"

"I'm about to show you what I can do," she growled and Dean moved off the bed and grabbed her around the waist.

"Let's calm down before we do something we'll regret," he told her, tightening his hold.

She kept her eyes on Sam, "Who says I'll regret it?"

"Let's figure why I'm back before you two tear each other's throats out. Seriously, what happened between you two. We were all friends. What is this?" he asked looking at them both.

Bridget relaxed in his grip and looked away, "It was just hard without you there…all those negative emotions just…grew…when you were there, I didn't think about how…how I was hurt…with you gone it just kept resurfacing and we just kept getting angrier and angrier because we couldn't figure it out…and then I got really mad when Sam tried opening he Devil's Gate."

Dean's eyes widened and he let her go to step closer to Sam. "You did what?!"

"I tried," he nodded as Dean got in his face. "No demon would take a deal…you rotted in hell and I couldn't stop it," there were tears in his eyes. "I'm sorry it wasn't me…I'm sorry."

Dean pulled him in for a hug. "It's okay. I'm glad it wasn't you…but I'm back." Sam hugged him back, tightening his hold and burying his face in his brother's shoulder. He was real. He was back somehow, but the question was who did it. He peeked over Dean's shoulder at Bridget who stood there misty eyed, the anger having completely faded away. With a sigh he held an arm out and gestured at her. Bridget didn't hesitate stepping into it and enveloping her arms around both of them. For the first time in months, she relaxed, falling into their grip and feeling at home.

A throat cleared at the door and they pulled apart to see Bobby standing in the doorway, leaning on the frame. "This reunion is touching and all, but if Sam didn't pull him out and Bridget didn't then we still have a sticky question."

Dean nodded, "What did?"

Bobby and Dean had moved to sit on the couch. There was still the big question circulating around the room. Bridget was sitting on the corner of the bed, not daring to touch anymore of it than was necessary. Who knows what Sam had done on it with the bimbo. The pit it made in her stomach was confusing her. She hadn't been dating Sam for a long time but the thought of him with other women still bothered her despite the fact she was dating his brother. He had cheated on her which was a part of the reason they had blown up on each other after Dean died. He had been the peace keeper, without him it all rose to the surface. There were unresolved issues between them, that much was certain. Sam came back into the room, handing out beers he picked up from the market next door and sitting on the other end of the bed near her.

"So what were you doing around here if you weren't digging me out of my grave?"

Sam cleared his throat, "Well once I figured out I couldn't save you I started hunting down Lilith for payback."

Bridget swung her head towards him, "What? Without me? You know I'm the one that gets to kill her. Not you."

"We weren't exactly talking and you don't get claim to her."

"Like hell I don't," she all but yelled. "She's crossed me more than she's crossed you. I get to kill the bitch."

"Look, I'm sorry, I was pretty messed up," he admitted.

Dean moved towards a lamp and plucked up a pink flowered bra, giving Sam a look. "Yeah, I really feel your pain."

"What brought you here?" Bridget said, ignoring the bra.

"The demons I was tracking basically changed their course and headed here yesterday…"

"The same day I busted out," Dean noted, sitting back on the couch.

"You think its related?" Bobby asked.

"Well I don't know," he shrugged. "Some bad ass demon breaks me out and now this."

"How you feelin' anyway?" Bobby asked with a curious look.

Dean shrugged, "I'm a little hungry."

Bobby rolled his eyes as Bridget snorted. "No, I mean, do you feel like yourself? Anything strange, or different?"

"Or demonic?" Dean filled in. "How many times do I have to tell you it's me?"

"Yeah. Well, listen. No demon's letting you loose out of the goodness of their hearts. They've gotta have something nasty planned."

"Well, I feel fine," he shrugged taking a drink from his beer.

"I know a psychic. A few hours from here. Something this big, maybe she's heard the other side talking," Bobby suggested.

Sam looked at Bridget, "What about you? Have you gotten anything?"

Bridget peeled at the label on her beer and wondered if she should mention the feathers or whispers when none of it was understandable yet. "Just random things I can't make sense of just yet. The psychic could help."

"Well that's a plan I guess," Sam sighed.

Bridget cleared her throat, glancing at Sam. "Listen…umm…I'm sorry for, you know," she made a punching gesture. "It was just a hard time…for all of us."

"Whoa, you hit him?" Dean asked shocked, staring at her.

"Yeah," Sam nodded. "I'm sorry for hitting you too."

"Whoa! You hit her!" He asked more upset, eyebrows raised at Sam as he held up a hand.

"It's okay, Dean. It was built up tension. It was either that or rough sex, we went for the one that wouldn't result in me feeling guilty later," Bridget rolled her eyes. "We were at each other's throats for a couple weeks…grief makes you crazy. It's a good thing we were apart now that I think about it."

"I'll agree," Bobby snorted. "I was gonna have to knock both their heads together if the yellin' didn't stop."

"But we're all back now," Bridget sighed and stood up, dropping her empty bottle in the trash. "And we need to bury the hatchet and find out why Dean is no longer buried."

Bobby stood and headed out the door, "I'll lead the way if you three wanna follow." Bridget appreciated that he already knew she'd want to ride with the brothers. She was going to miss living with him once this got back to their idea of normal.

She turned to walk out with him, giving them a moment alone and waited by the Impala after grabbing her bag from Bobby's truck. She only hoped Sam took care of the car or else Dean was going to send his own brother to hell. A couple minutes later the two were headed towards her and the car. Sam tossed Dean the keys and Bridget watched his face light up as he approached his car and lovingly rubbed his hand across the hood. "Hey sweetheart, did you miss me?"

"You're excited to ride your car and you haven't ridden me," Bridget mumbled with a roll of her eyes.

"Oh God," Sam groaned, getting into the passenger seat as Bridget slid into the back just like old times.

"Oh, that will come later," he grinned.

"Good because it's been four really long months."

"I really don't wanna hear this," Sam covered his face with his hand.

"I didn't want to be propositioned by your one night stand, but it's been one of those days," Bridget reminded him.

Dean's eyebrows perked up, "I still can't believe you turned that down."

Bridget glared and gestured back and forth between him and Sam, "You do know she wanted both of you in that scenario too."

Dean's smile fell, "Good call," he started the car and then noticed the iPod plugged into the stereo. He held it up and looked at Sam. Bridget sat back with a grin. This would be good. "What the hell is that?"

"That's an iPod jack," Sam told him.

"You were supposed to take care of her, not douche her up," he seethed.

"I thought it was my car."

Dean turned the volume on the stereo up to hear Jason Mann playing over it. He glared at Sam as he ripped the jack out. "Really?" he tossed it back to Bridget. "Get rid of it, babe."

"No problem," she said and tossed it in her purse as they merged onto the interstate, following Bobby. It was going to be a bit of a drive, Bridget pulled out her sketch book to see if anything would stand out to her now from what she had drawn. The only thing she could still focus on was the feathers and the eyes. The two weren't entirely connected, she was sure. Somehow she knew the feathers were connected to Dean and the eyes were for her and her alone. She had seen those all her life.

Dean started speaking in the front seat, grabbing her attention away a bit as she still flipped through her book. "There's still one thing that's bothering me."

"What's that?" Sam asked.

"The night I bit it, or got bit," he chuckled to himself and Bridget and Sam couldn't help but roll their eyes as he continued. "How did you two make it out? I thought Lilith was going to kill you."

"She tried," Sam said. "She couldn't."

"What do you mean she couldn't?"

Sam became silent and glanced at Bridget in the backseat. Dean followed his gaze in the mirror and saw Bridget bite her lower lip and fidget. "One of you care to share."

"She fired this burning light at us…and it didn't touch us," Sam filled in.

"How?"

"It deflected and disappeared," Bridget said twirling her pencil between her fingers. "She fired it and I moved in front of Sam and it just…dissipated. It freaked out pretty bad and she booked it. It was like I was immune to her demon power."

"Ok…could have been your necklace" Dean nodded. It was a lot to take in. It could have been Bridget's necklace for all he knew. It wouldn't be the first time it protected her from danger. Her brother had hand crafted the diamond infused chain for her birthday and after his death it seemed to not only warn her of danger but protect her from it. The moonstone ring that hung off it seemed to produce the same type of effect from her fiancé, Will. He had been killed by Lilith saving Bridget so it would make sense that it saved her. But there was also the question of her gifts and how they'd been strengthening all her life, even more so now. He needed to think of something else. "What about Ruby?"

He could hear the growl from Bridget in the back as Sam answered. Bridget liked Ruby as much as Dean did, which wasn't a lot. "She's dead. For now."

"Good…you haven't been playing with that stuff have you?" Dean asked.

"No, I haven't," he sighed. "You asked me not to, remember?"

"Good, let's keep it that way," he said.

Bridget opened to a blank page in her book and found her pencil flying across it. She hadn't felt this inspired in a few days and wasn't sure what she was drawing as her hand moved across the page and her mind wandered. It was an aerial view. A concreate floor and pentagon with different symbols etched into each section. A demon seal. She'd drawn these out numerous times. In the center was a bed and a shadow of a figure across it. She turned the page and kept going, this time she was drawing a set of eyes, but not the eyes she was used to drawing. These didn't feel familiar or comforting and as she continued it was anything but comforting. They were were burning fire and blood trickled down the empty sockets in a faceless error. She couldn't get a face, only the horrifying eyes. She turned to another page and kept going, not sure when the urgency to draw would end but hoping it gave her something to go off of.

By morning, they pulled up in front of a white house with double oak doors and a trimmed lawn. It looked so normal that Bridget wondered if they had the wrong house as she tucked her sketch book back into her bag. There were at least a dozen new drawings she'd have to ponder over later. She straightened her top out and stretched, cracking her back as the three followed Bobby up the steps. Bobby knocked and the door swung open with a woman exclaiming "Bobby!" excitedly

y. Even Bridget had to admit, this psychic wasn't what she expected. She was young and quite pretty. Her smile was pear white as she grinned at Bobby and hugged him. She pulled back and swept hurt wavy chestnut hair over her shoulder as she eyed the three of them.

"So these are the three?" she said with a smile.

"Yup, Sam, Dean, Bridget. This is Pamela Barnes, best damn psychic in the state."

"Hi," they all managed and Bridget did note the way she trailed her eyes over the two brother's. Her eyes switched to her and the look didn't change though one perfectly trimmed eyebrow moved up. "You are definitely something spectacular," she said, folding her arms cross her chest which caused her already perky chest to become more so in the low cut tank top she wore.

Bridget switched from one foot to the other. "Umm…thank you…I guess."

Pamela reached a handout towards Bridget's chest and plucked at her necklace, entranced by it. "Interesting," she said leaning in close to Bridget's chest. She stood still, letting her. Her eyes flickered up to Bridget's and for a moment a vision of fire and screaming flew through her mind before disappearing. "This is special…and so are you…"

"Again…thank you," she nodded as the psychic let go of her chain and moved back a couple steps. She didn't need to look to know that Dean and Sam had been watching intently. She could feel their eyes on her. "Come on in," she gestured with a finger and lead the way.

Bridget looked at the brothers and her suspicion was confirmed. They were all but drooling. "Close your mouths and get inside," she hissed.

Sam cleared his throat and walked in ahead of her. Dean let out a breath and cocked his eyebrow at her, "That was kind of hot."

"Shut up and don't even think about it."

"Well now I'm gonna," he snorted following her inside the house.

Bobby was already speaking to Pamela as they walked into the den area, "Have you heard anything?"

"I Ouija'd my way through the spirits, but no one seems to know who broke your boy out."

"So what's next?"

"A séance. See if I can see who did the deed," she suggested and led the way to another darker room. There was a round table in the middle of it that Pamela spread a dark tablecloth across. She moved over to a cabinet and bent over, giving everyone an intimate glance at her butt and lower back tattoo where a name was etched across it with the word forever.

"Who's Jesse?" Dean asked, reading it.

She chuckled, standing upright with some candles in her hand. "Well, it wasn't forever."

"His loss," Dean said, and Bridget stared at him, licking her inner cheek. That empty feeling was back in her stomach. This was definitely Dean. In fact it reminded her a lot of old Dean.

Pamela walked past him with a smirk. "Might be your gain."

"Relationship," Bridget coughed into her hand.

"You're invited too, Bridge," she winked at her as she walked away. "I never said Jesse was a guy."

Dean looked at her with big hopeful eyes and Bridget shook her head at him with a look of distain. "Don't even think about it."

"Well, now I'm gonna."

She rolled her eyes, "God, even hell doesn't change you."

"You expected it to," Sam snorted. "She'd eat you alive, Dean."

Pamela walked by again to dim the lights, "You're invited too."

"No you are NOT," Dean said sternly to him.

Bridget smacked his arm, "You're not invited either!"

"Fine," he huffed. "But you were…can at least watch."

"Unbelievable," she shook her head as she walked over to the table and took a seat while Pamela lit the candles.

"It's different, isn't it," she spoke quietly and for a moment Bridget thought she was hearing thigs until she looked up and saw Pamela looking at her.

"What?"

"It's different…you aren't wrong," she repeated. "I'm sorry…"

Before Bridget could question her, Pamela called the others over to sit. Dean took the chair on her left and Sam took the one on her right.

"Right," Pamela nodded, sitting on Dean's other side much to Bridget's disdain. "Take each other's hands."

Bridget hesitated for a moment when Sam held his hand out to her. With a deep breath she took it and waited to see how this would go.

Pamela continued. "And I need to touch something out Mystery Monster touched," she said and her hand slid under the table.

Dean jumped. "Whoa, he didn't touch me there."

She grinned, "My mistake." And Bridget ground her teeth together. Her right hand was squeezed tighter and her gaze flickered over to Sam. He was watching her but nit with a warning with sympathy. He knew how uncomfortable this was making her and his gaze seemed to quell her anger. She gave him a slight nod but noticed he didn't stop rubbing his thumb across her hand.

Dean removed his jacket, showing the handprint on his arm and Bridget saw Sam frown. He looked at her and Bobby. She could only nod with a sigh and gave him a shrug as Pamela put her hand on the mark and everyone closed their eyes. "I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me before this circle." She continued to repeat it and Bridget suddenly could hear flapping, like wings. Images of feathers danced in her mind and she could hear a television turn on and things rattling in the room as Pamela kept chanting. She heard the psychic say "Castiel" and peaked her eyes open. The flames were becoming larger.

"Castiel?" Dean repeated.

"Its name," Pamela confirmed as the table started to shake.

Sam's hand tightened on hers and she backed up in her chair a bit. She could hear whispering and looked around. The television was static, and the only person speaking was Pamela as she continued to command Castiel to show himself. The whispering grew louder and Bridget winced at the volume, it was as if they were right by her ear. The table shook harder and the voices grew louder. She could barely hear Pamela yelling for it to show himself. Just before she was about to give up and cover her ears the flames grew, shooting upward and Pamela screamed. Bridget gasped and her hand withdrew from Dean's to cover her mouth. Pamela's eyes were on fire, blood leaking from the corners down her face in torrents as she collapsed.

"Call 911!" Bobby yelled and Bridget pulled out her phone, dialing the number as she stood and walked towards the far end of the room. She gave the address and hung up, tucking her phone into her pocket. She was turning around to let them know the ambulance would be there soon when something caught her eye. She crouched down and picked a white feather up off the floor near the table behind where she had sat. Feathers and whispers, the drawing of eyes on fire all coming together. And now they had a name. Castiel.

A couple hours later, they sat at a table in a diner minus Bobby who had gone to the hospital with Pamela. Bridget was sure he was feeling guilty about the events that had transpired. She was tapping her nails on her sketch book when she felt her foot get nudged, "Huh?" she looked up at Sam who sat across from her.

"You okay? You looked miles away?"

"Oh, yeah," she nodded, putting her hand flat on the sketch book to stop herself from drumming her nails. "Has Bobby said anything?"

"He said Pamela is stable, she's in the ICU," he informed her.

"And blind, because of us," Dean shook his head.

"It was her decision to go that far," Bridget rubbed his arm. "But we did get a name."

"Maybe we should conjure him," Dean suggested.

"Are you crazy?" Sam told him. "After what he did to Pamela for looking at him?"

"You got a better idea?" Dean asked.

"I do. I followed demons into this town," he told Dean.

Bridget felt a draft go over her and her hand tightened on her book. Her necklace starting heating on her neck. With a slight movement, she angled her head to look around the diner. The people in it had stopped moving and were looking at them. "Shit," she whispered and knew why her necklace was acting up. Their eyes were all black. She tapped Dean's arm trying to get his attention.

"What is it?" he turned to her just as the waitress pulled up a chair and plopped down at the end of their booth. Her eyes were black.

"We found Sam's demons," she pointed and Dean looked at the waitress. She smiled with black eyes before shifting them back.

"Dean…aren't you a lucky duck."

"That's me," he said with a nod, leaning back a bit.

"So you just get to stroll out of the pit, huh? What makes you so special?"

Dean shrugged, "I like to think it's my perky nipples. It wasn't my doing. I don't know who pulled me out."

"I should drag you back myself," she threatened and stood up. Bridget moved her hand and Dean put his hand over hers, shaking his head.

"No you won't," he told the demon.

"I won't?" she chuckled.

"No. Because if you were you would have done it already. Fact is, you don't know who cut me loose. And you're just as spooked as we are. And you're looking for answers. Well, maybe it was some turbo-charged spirit. Or, uh, Godzilla. Or some big bad boss demon. I'm guessing at your pay grade that they don't tell you squat. Because whoever it was, they want me out. And they're a lot stronger than you. So go ahead. Send me back. But don't come crawling to me when they show up on your front doorstep with some Vaseline and a fire hose.

"I'm going to reach down your throat and rip out your lungs," she hissed, getting closer to him, her faces inches away.

Dean smirked and threw a right hook at her, connecting with her jaw. She staggered and he stood, hitting her again. She still did nothing but glare and look around nervously. Dean had been right. Whatever did this had even the demons scared. If they were scared it meant they didn't know what was going on either. Dean took out cash from his wallet and tossed it at her. "That's for the pie," he looked back at her and Sam. "Let's go."

Once outside they crossed the street quickly and Bridget let out the breath she had been holding, "Holy shit, that was close."

"Are we just going to leave them?" Sam asked.

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "There were more of them than us and we have one knife and Bridget."

"Suddenly I'm a weapon?" she asked with a frown.

"With your badass X-Men superpowers, yeah, you are a sexy weapon," he told her, snaking an arm around her waist.

"I'm just saying, I've been killing a lot more demons than that lately," Sam pointed out.

"Not anymore," Dean told him. "The smarter brother is back in town."

"Dean, they're dangerous."

"No, they're scared," he said as they reached the car. "They're scared of whatever had the juice to pull me out and we got to figure it out."

Sam shook his head but got in the car as they headed to the hotel.

Bridget enjoyed the hot shower water streaming down her back. She had to all but smack Dean with a newspaper so she could shower alone. She wasn't ready for company despite her earlier intentions. She needed to be alone with her thoughts. She was beginning to realize she was the only one that had heard the whispers back in the séance room. They were the same whispers she had been hearing in her dreams, but they didn't set her necklace off. The demons in the diner had…but nothing happened in the séance room. If it wasn't a demon that melted Pamela's eyes then what was it? She shut the water off and dried off, changing into a fresh pair of jeans and tank top. She left the bathroom, toweling off her hair and saw Dean snoring on the couch but no sign of Sam.

With a frown she glanced out the window and saw the Impala was gone. "What are you up to, Sam?" she whispered to herself and reached for her phone on the dresser. As she grabbed it the television started flipping through channels and she could hear the whispering again just like in the séance room. She glanced back at Dean, but he was still asleep. The channels continued to flip, faster and faster. She back up to the couch and patted Dean's shoulder, her eyes never leaving the TV as it stopped on static and the volume began to climb.

"Huh? What?" Dean mumbled sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

"Dean," she said unable to stop the fear in her voice.

Dean reached for the shotgun, moving to stand next to Bridget as the radio turned on the same static sound matching the TV as a low pitched whine begins to emit from it. "What the hell?" Dean mumbled and put his arm around Bridget, pulling her close as the volume increased. She covered her ears, burying her face in his shoulder as the sound became overbearing. The glass ceiling above the bed shattered from the sound. Bridget let out a startled scream as Dean dropped the gun and pulled her closer and dropping to the ground, shielding her from it with his body and covering one of his ears. Bridget heard a voice through it all, or at least thought she did. It was similar to her dreams, but she wasn't able to make out the words.

The door burst open as more glass cam down and Bobby stood there in shock as the sounds suddenly ceased.

"Dean! Bridget!" he entered the room and crouched near them in two strides. "Are you two okay?"

Dean moved back from Bridget who was shaken but uninjured. He nodded. "Yeah…"

"What the hell just happened?"

Dean shook his head. "No idea…we got to find Sam." He helped Bridget to her feet but kept her tucked close to him. "Do you know where he went?"

She shook her head, "I had just gotten out of the shower. He was gone. I was about to call when…" she gestured at the now turned off television.

"I'll drive," Bobby suggested as they headed out to the car.

Bridget pulled out her phone as they started driving, her hands shaking slightly from what had just transpired and scrolled to Sam's name, clicking on it. He answered on the third ring. "Hey."

"Where are you? I got out of the shower and you were gone."

"Couldn't sleep. Thought I'd go get a burger," he said nonchalantly. "What are you up to?"

She knew he was lying. She could spot a bullshitter a mile away and Sam was definitely trying to lie to her. "Well, Bobby's back so the three of us are going to go get a beer." Dean frowned at her and was about to speak when she held up a finger to him.

"All right, well, uh, spill some for me."

"Will do. Catch you later," Bridget said and hung up.

"Why the hell didn't you tell him?" Bobby asked her.

"I didn't think it was a good idea…" she trailed off, not wanting to tell them she knew he was lying.

"Good, he would have tried to stop us," Dean added.

Bridget eyed him, "Stop us from what?"

"Summoning it…"

"No. You can't be serious," Bridget shook her head.

"As a heart attack," he told her.

"We don't even know what it is," Bobby told him with a shake of his head.

"We've got the big magic knife," Dean said pulling out the demon slayer. He pointed to the back of Bobby's truck. "You got an arsenal. And we got Bridget."

"First of all, quit adding me as weapon," she said. "And second, this is a bad idea."

"What other choice do we have?"

"You could choose life," Bobby snorted.

"Bobby, whatever this is. It wants me. It's after me."

"We should have Sam on this," he sighed.

"Nah, he's better off without us," Dean shook his head. Bridget wanted to agree, but she knew Sam was up to something. She closed her eyes as Dean and Bobby continued talking and focused on thoughts of Sam. The sounds in the truck grew dimmer and colors swiped past her. She stopped in front of a diner. The same one they were at earlier, looking through the window she could make out bodies on the floor. The same ones that had been demon infested earlier and standing in the diner was Sam and another person she couldn't see clearly. He had lied. He had gone back to kill the demons and risked his life. She wanted to know who he was talking to, but before she could slide closer, she felt someone shake her physical shoulder and pulled away. She blinked her eyes open and stretched to pull off that she was napping. "I must have dozed…where are we?" she looked out the windshield and saw an old warehouse. "You really know where to take a girl."

Dean smirked and handed her a can of spray paint. "I'll make up for it later. Come on, we got a monster to summon."

"Lucky me," she muttered, following them inside to the abandoned building.

Bridget finished spraying a symbol on the wall and turned around to see Bobby finish similar ones on the floor. He stood up, rubbing his back and looking around. After an hour the entire building was covered in the symbols, "I still think this is a bad idea."

"I second that," Bridget said, tossing her spray can.

"Yeah, I heard you both the first twelve times," Dean said as he set up the table and gestured at the weapons. "I think we're set to kill whatever it is. What do you say we ring the dinner bell?"

Bobby shook his head but started mixing things into a bowl and chanting in Latin. He finished and Bridget looked around. Nothing was moving or making noise. "Now what?"

"We wait," Bobby said and hopped up to sit on the table. Bridget shrugged and pulled out her phone to wait it out. After thirty minutes of playing Candy Crush on her phone, Bridget sighed and put her phone in her pocket, "You sure that was the right ritual?"

Bobby gave her a pointed look and she held her hands up, "Alright, sorry I suggested otherwise." As if on cue, the roof began to shake and all three looked up, picking up their weapons. Bridget backed up to the other end of the warehouse, shot gun pointed.

"Wishful thinking, but maybe it's just the wind," Dean fearfully chuckled.

"Thought you wanted it to show up," Bridget rolled her eyes.

"I'm beginning to regret that decision," he shrugged.

The doors to the warehouse blew open and a figure in a beige trench coat walked inside. The lightbulbs began bursting above the figure as it approached, darkening the room. All three fired at the figure of Castiel but it did nothing to slow him down. "This was a great idea," Bridget muttered and focused on a slab of concrete. It shook and she jerked her head in his direction. The slab flew towards the man but deflected off him before connecting. Her mouth dropped in shock. This was definitely not good.

Dean pulled out the demon knife from its sheath as Castiel stopped in front of them. He appeared to be middle aged with a five o'clock shadow and striking blue eyes. "Who are you?"

"I'm the one who gripped you tight and pulled you from perdition," he said calmly.

"Thanks for that," Dean said and didn't hesitate. He plunged the knife into Castiel's chest. Castiel looked down at it, almost bored and pulled it out, letting it drop to the floor with a clang. Now Bridget wasn't sure if she was more terrified or impressed. Bobby sprung at him next and Castiel simply put a hand out, touching Bobby's forehead and causing him to drop.

Bridget gasped and moved to Bobby, but Castiel grabbed her arm and pulled her back. "He's uninjured. The three of us need to talk. Alone."

"Who are you?" she asked in a whisper.

"Castiel," he repeated and let go of her arm.

"We go that much," Dean said, standing up after checking on Bobby. He was alive, just unconscious.

"You aren't a demon," Bridget said certainly.

"How do you know," Dean asked her.

Her eyes never left Castiel as she touched her necklace. "My necklace doesn't react to him. It only reacts to danger. He's not dangerous to us."

"Then what are you?"

"An Angel of the Lord," Castiel said matter of factly.

For the seventh time that day, Bridget felt her mouth drop open. An Angel…as in on of God's angels…as in the bible which would mean it was real. Dean shook his head, "Get the hell out of here. There's no such thing."

Bridget swallowed hard. "I don't know…it explains a lot…the feathers I've been seeing…they weren't bird feathers…if Hell exist then that would mean the other side would too…"

"Bridget understands and that is your problem, Dean. You have no faith," Castiel said. Lightening began to flash in the warehouse and behind Castiel they could see the shadow of large feathery wings stretching behind him. The lightening stopped and the shadow disappeared.

"Some Angel. You burned that woman's eyes out," Dean spat.

"I warned her not to spy on my true form. It can be…overwhelming to humans. So can my real voice, but you both already know that."

Bridget's eyes widened, "The hotel…the whispers…"

"Whispers?" Dean looked at her questioningly as Castiel nodded.

"I-I've been having these dreams of feathers and hearing whispers for months. I didn't know what they were. I couldn't make out what it was saying. Then I heard it again in the séance room right before Pamela's accident. It was so loud…and then the hotel. I heard whispers at first until the screeching started," she explained and her eyes moved back to Castiel. "That was you?"

He nodded, "I knew you could hear me…you're special."

"I'm what?"

"Special," he repeated.

"Yeah, I got that, but how?"

"All in time," he said.

"So what visage are you in right now if it's not your true form? You picked tax accountant?" Dean asked gesturing at the suit and trench coat.

"This?" Castiel gestured at his body. "This is a vessel."

"You're possessing a person?" Dean asked in disbelief.

"He's a devout man. He prayed for this," he nodded.

Bridget shook her head in disbelief and ran her fingers through her hair, "Can we get to what you want? Why have you been whispering to me for months? Why did you pull Dean out of Hell?"

"Because good things do happen."

Dean snorted, folding his arms over his chest, "Not in my experience. Or Bridget's."

"You don't think you deserved to be saved?" Castiel asked, cocking his head to the side.

"Why'd you do it?" Dean skipped over the question.

Castiel glanced between the two of them. "Because God commanded it. Because we have work for both of you."

Once again, Bridget's mouth fell open and she looked over at Dean who had a similar expression. This couldn't get any deeper for them, but Bridget had a sinking feeling it was going to get worse before it got better.

Footnote: Hopefully I get a new chapter out this time next week. Thank you for reading and again, sorry for the long wait.