Disclaimer: Wish they were, aren't. I would however give Dean a very very good home. Sam too.

A/N: My thanks to the lovely and talented Merisha for agreeing so kindly to beta my first fic. All remaining errors, and all original errors of course, are mine. As well, my thanks to Silver Ruffian, Scotia, and to all those who reviewed, alerted and favorite-ed the story. You just blew me away.

A/N 2: For those of you who alerted the story and didn't review, I hope you'll take the time to let me know your thoughts now that the story is complete.

OOOOOOOOOO

The next morning, Dean had to practically drag himself out to the car at 7 AM. He'd slept like a log, but he still felt like he could crawl back into bed and sleep another twenty four hours. Maybe forty-eight. Even after a shower, he had to rub his eyes to focus, and yawned as they drove back toward Kaw Lake. Crossing the bridge, they followed Sam's GPS uphill to a long switch back entrance drive. The house itself, when they reached it, was a beached trailer up on cinder blocks, surrounded by junked cars and hubcaps. It reminded them both a little of Bobby's place.

The 'farmer', whose license plates identified him as an Edward Dyson, watched them impassively from his front door as they got out of the Impala. Without even trying, Dean got a perfect unison door slam, but was too pissed to care. Sam had told him about their second run in with the guy, which only made him want to kill him even more than he had before. In the car, Sam had insisted he wait to throttle the guy until after they found out if he had any information, damn it.

Dyson offered them coffee, which was surprisingly good, and they all three sat down at a picnic table overlooking a steep downward slope. They had a clear view of the road they had just traveled and the bridge below them, and a view of Kaw Lake in the distance. He was more than willing to talk, and confirmed a lot of what Dean had researched earlier. The area in general and the site of the bridge in particular, had a long and bloody history. Dyson knew of at least one battle taking place on the site during the forced relocation of the Cherokee, as well as a duel and subsequent murders during the land grab years. With a rare openness, Dyson voiced his opinion that the misery and pain surrounding the bridge had surely attracted the serial killer to it rather than the killer finding it by chance.

Sam continued to ask questions when Dean got up and walked the property. Dyson rarely took the bridge, in fact none of them out that way did, since there were much better ways to reach Kaw City and the interstate. The state had even scheduled the bridge for demolition in the next couple of years. Dean could hear most of what they said, but swung back to hear Dyson admit that he'd seen them on the bridge and, knowing what he did, had come down to check on them. He had an idea something bad had happened the other morning. Dean returned to stand by the table, impatient to leave. He barely thanked Dyson for the coffee, and made a pointed comment about returning to their boat and motoring off the property. Dyson made his annoying high pitched laugh again, and dragged them both to stand by the side of one of his outbuildings. With a grin, he said, "Don't peek!", and entered the building through the front, away from them.

OOOOO

Sam nudged him with his shoulder, and said "What now?", just as the throaty rumble of a V8 engine purred into life and Edward drove a mint Ermine White '67 Impala two door through the yard and around the front to park it next to theirs, Dean racing along beside it. While Dean was head first under the hood, pointing at flanges or something else technical, Sam pulled Edward to one side for a brief conversation. Dean re-emerged in time to see them exchanging phone numbers. He practically dragged Edward back to the cars, popping the hood of his car for a closer comparison.

After forty five minutes of serious car talk, which drove Sam to wander the edges of the property, and two more cups of coffee, Sam made their apologies and dragged his reluctant brother to their car. For a few minutes, Dean animatedly talked, asking Sam if he liked the lines of the two door version better than theirs, but wound down and started to yawn again. When he drove them onto the shoulder of the road, Sam banished him to the passenger side, and took the wheel. Dean fell asleep almost immediately, his lax hands shifting minutely with the movement of the car.

Once Sam got to 77, he settled in to brood. He was developing a plan and needed time to hold it up to the light and inspect it. He considered and rejected several options, then making his decision, called their Dad's friend Jefferson for a recommendation. He got into Wichita in time for lunch, and found himself at the diner of a few days before. It must be the fruit salad. He nudged Dean awake and convinced him to come inside. After a short flurry and some pushing amongst the wait staff, they were seated at the same booth at the back, and Judy appeared, somewhat out of breath, to pour them coffee.

Sam ordered the California plate again and looked across the table. Dean stretched, stifling a yawn, and looked up through his lashes at Judy. "Sorry, still sleepy I guess. I'll have the Rueben, extra sauerkraut. And pie." He rubbed his face, and smiled lazily. "And extra fruit salad for the Sasquatch there. Lots of maraschino cherries."

Judy stood slack jawed until Sam cleared his throat. When she finally forced her eyes over to him, he said dulcetly, "May I have my water now?"

Back in the car, Sam put the free pie and coffees on the seat between them. Dean put on sunglasses, pushed the sweater between his head and the window, and was asleep before Sam got out of the city, taking 135 north to Salina. Dean cracked an eye when he pulled in for gas, but snored through Sam's trip into an army surplus store and his exit through the back, loaded down with bags and boxes which he set extremely carefully in the back seat. Sam called Edward and told him to expect them around 6 PM. Dean woke long enough to wonder why they were coming into Wichita from the north, and watched with bleary eyed interest later as Sam liberated some City Works Department sawhorses from a construction site and threw them in the trunk. Sam didn't really think anything was wrong with Dean, at least nothing left over from the spirit. He was probably just making up for lost sleep. Sam drove them back to the bridge, crossed it one more time, and parked on the far side. He tried unsuccessfully to rouse his brother.

"Come on, Dean. I'm serious. Wake up. You are going to love this."

"G'way. I'll love it jus' as much tomorrow."

"You've been asleep all day. If you won't get up, you have to promise not to hold this against me.."

"Anything Sam, just leave me alone."

Sam grabbed the sawhorses, turned on their blinking yellow lights, and set them up to block the road about a quarter mile from either end of the bridge. He returned to the car, checked the time, and after unpacking the boxes and bags onto the Impala's trunk, settled down to read the user's manual.

OOOOO

When Dean woke next, he was alone in the car. He straightened up and stretched, surprised to find himself back at Ed's house. He got out and went in search of his brother, and found Sam and Ed sitting in lawn chairs a couple of yards from the picnic table, watching the sun set. Sam gestured first toward an empty chair with a beer bottle and then waved the bottle behind him. "Grab one from the cooler". Dean found the beer on the picnic table and dropped into the chair. "Decided to join the land of the living, sleeping beauty?"

"Oh, bite me." He nodded and clicked bottles with Edward. "To what do we owe the honor of a return visit?"

"Boy, it wasn't me. This little shindig is one hundred percent your brother's doing." He took a pull on the bottle. "Well, except for the beer and hot dogs. That was my idea."

Dean looked expectantly at Sam. "What shindig?"

Instead of answering, Sam stepped to the edge of the hill and used binoculars to scan the road below them. Dean got up and carried his beer over to stand next to him. "What's with the blinking lights?"

"I had to make sure the road was clear."

"Why do you need to clear the road?"

Sam put the binoculars down and walked a few steps to pick up something next to his chair. With a huge grin, flashing dimples, Sam ceremoniously handed Dean a small box with a plunger on the top. Dean inspected it and felt his eyes getting wider.

"This looks like one of those detonators they use when they blow up buildings." He looked at Sam. "Is it?"

Sam nodded. "It most certainly is. Wireless."

"I press this down and something blows up?" Almost breathless with excitement, he swung his left arm toward the bridge and almost sent his beer bottle down the hill. "The bridge will blow up?" Another nod. "Sam, is it going to work?" He stared at the detonator with reverence.

"The detonator or spirit removal? Both should work just fine. The tulpa gave me the idea. If we can burn down the Murdoch house, we can certainly blow up a bridge. The spirits may still be there but no one will be around for them to hurt."

Edward joined them. "The bridge was going to be demolished anyway. The State won't rebuild it and they were planning to close the road. It'll give me more privacy – I'm all for that."

Dean looked at Sam again. "You got to play with C4 didn't you?" He shook his head. "Is that why you were trying to wake me up?"

"I'm not sure play is quite the right word, but yeah. I'll make sure you get to do it next time."

Dean drew in a deep breath, and regretfully handed the detonator to Sam. "You set it up, you should be the one who sets it off."

Sam smiled and put it back in his hand. "Think of it as a late birthday present." He checked the road again. "We need to do this before I can't see the road."

"I've always wanted to do this." Dean lifted the plunger, and started a count down at ten. Ed and Sam joined him for "three, two, one", and Dean pressed the plunger firmly down.

They felt the shock wave travel under their feet, the blast momentarily deafening them, and watched as in silence a cloud of dust and debris flew up, blocking the sunset, and parts of the bridge seemed to hang in the air, slowly spinning end over end. Sound came back as air filled the vacuum with a roar, and they heard and saw pieces of the bridge start coming back down to the ground, pattering up the hill. Dean had time to shout "Holy shit! How much did you use?" and then it was on them. They yelled and ran, Dean to lie on top of the Impala, while Sam sensibly fought Ed for the limited space under the picnic table.

When it was finally over, all they could see of each other were eyes and teeth, the rest of them covered in soot and dust. Dean ran back to the edge and jumped straight up, shooting his arms in the air, screaming. "That was one of the most awesome things I've seen in my life! It was fucking phenomenal."

When Dean had slowed down enough to breathe, they all three inspected the result, pointing out the larger pieces of the bridge now liberally scattered below them. Ed walked toward the house, and brought back a garden hose to rinse all of them down with impossibly cold water. He said, "I'll have a fire in a minute. Who's for hot dogs and s'mores?"

Laughing uncontrollably, both of them nodded. Sam said, "How's the car?"

"Fine – I caught most of everything on my back, I think." He tried to look over his shoulder, "Nothing really big made it that far. You?" Sam stepped behind him, and ran his hands down his back.

"I'm fine." He stepped back around as Dean turned toward him, an expression of horror on his face. The change was so sudden that Sam shouted, "Shit! What? What happened? Did I hurt something on your back?"

"No … it's just … damn it Sam … now what am I going to get you for your birthday?"

OOOOO

A/N: Thanks again to everyone who read the story. My new story, Canaveral, will begin to post in a few weeks.