One More Time

4.

"I was on the phone with Troy. He was driving home. He said he would call me right back, and he never did," Amy explains.

"He didn't say anything strange or out of the ordinary," Sam questions.

"No, nothing I can remember."

"Here's the deal, ladies-- the way Troy disappeared-- something's not right. So if you've heard anything," Dean says. They glance at each other. "What is it?"

"Well, it's just-- I mean, with all these guys going missing, people talk," her friend admits.

"What do they talk about," I ask.

"It's kind of this local legend. This one girl got murdered out on centennial like decades ago," she starts making Dean glance at Sam. "Well, supposedly, she's still out there. She hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up-- well, they disappear forever."

~ ~ ~

Dean types in "Female Murder Hitchhiking" into the article archive but nothing shows up. Instead, he types in "Female Murder Centennial Highway", but once again, nothing shows up. "Let me try," Sam offers, reaching for the mouse.

"I got it," Dean says, smacking his hand away. Sam rolls his eyes, pushing his roller chair out of the way. "Dude." Dean scoots back over to us. "You're such a control freak."

"So angry spirits are born out of violent death, right?"

"Yeah," I nod.

"Maybe it's not murder." Sam changes the search to "Female Suicide Centennial Highway." After he searches, one article pops up. "This was 1981. Constance Welch, 24 years old. Jumps off Sylvania Bridge, drowns in the river."

"Does it say why she did it," Dean asks.

"Yeah."

"What?"

"An hour before they found her, she calls 911. Her two little kids are in the bathtub. She leaves them alone for a minute, and when she comes back, they aren't breathing. Both die."

"Damn," I mutter.

""Our babies were gone and Constance just couldn't bear it", said Husband Joseph Welch," Sam reads.

"Hey, doesn't that bridge look familiar," I point out.

*that night*

"So this is where Constance took the swan dive," Dean says.

"So you think Dad would have been here," Sam questions.

"Well, he's chasing the same story, and we're chasing him," Dean points out.

"Okay, so now what?"

"Now we keep digging till we find him. It might take a while," Dean replies.

"Dean, I told you I've gotta get back by--"

"Monday. Right. The interview. Yeah, I forgot," Dean nods.

"Interview? What interview," I question.

"He didn't tell you? It's for law school. Yeah... and he's got a girlfriend, too. Really pretty," Dean nods.

I clench my jaw.

Of course he does. Why am I surprised?

"Dean--," Sam starts.

"You're really serious about this, aren't you? You think you're just gonna become some lawyer, marry your girl?"

"Maybe. Why not," Sam shrugs.

"Guys--," I try.

"Does Jessica know the truth about you? I mean, does she know about the things you've done?"

"No, and she's not ever going to know," Sam states.

"Well, that's healthy. You can pretend all you want, Sammy. But you're gonna have to face up to who you really are."

"Who is that?"

"One of us," Dean says, before he starts to walk toward the car.

"No, I'm not like you. This is not going to be my life," Sam stops him.

"Well, you have a responsibility."

"To Dad and his crusade? If it weren't for pictures, I wouldn't even know what Mom looks like. What difference would it make? Even if we do find that thing that killed her, Mom's gone, and she isn't coming back," Sam sighs. Dean suddenly grabs Sam, pushing him against the railing.

"Don't talk about her like that."

He releases Sam, and I sigh. From the corner of my eye, I see someone standing on the railing making my eyes widen.

"Guys," I say. They look over at me to see the girl standing on the railing. She allows herself to fall off the bridge, and I run toward it. "Where'd she go?"

"I don't know."

Suddenly, I hear Dean's car start, and we look over at it. "What the--"

"Who's driving your car," I question. Dean silently pulls out his keys, and my eyes widen. The car speeds forward, and I back up. "Guys... RUN." We turn the other way, running from the car speeding toward us. "Guys, jump over." Sam jumps over, then, I do, and finally, Dean does. Dean crashes into the water, but before I can, too, Sam grabs my hand. I look up at him, sighing.

Sam pulls me up, and I grab on to the bar, taking a deep breath. "You okay," Sam asks me.

"Yeah," I nod. I look down at the water to see Dean dragging himself out. "Dean, are you alright?"

"I'm super," he answers. I chuckle, looking at the man lying in the rocks, covered in mud. Sam climbs back on to the bridge, holding out his hand. I take it, and he lifts me up with ease, setting me down.

Once Dean makes it back on the bridge and checks the engine, Sam speaks. "Car all right?"

"Yeah, whatever she did to it, it seems all right now. That Constance chick-- what a bitch!"

"Well, she doesn't want us digging around, that's for sure," I sigh.

"So where's the trail go from here, genius," Sam asks. He throws his hands up in defeat. "You smell like a toilet," he adds.

"We should probably get a motel room so you can clean yourself up," I say.

"Good idea."