Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Supernatural.

Note: Set in the episode "Phantom Traveler."

First Flight Jitters

In Which Harry "Demon"-strates the Correct Way to Perform an Exorcism

"Just try to relax," Sam said, patting his shoulder.

"Just try to shut up!" Dean shot back, roughly pulling his arm away. Sam rolled his eyes before sliding into his own seat.

Dean hunched into himself as he slowly walked to the back of the plane, hands reaching out to dig into the plush shoulders of the other seats. Grumbling to himself, his narrowed green eyes flitted back and forth, and he nearly tripped over his own feet because of the slight shaking in his legs.

21C.

A dark head of messy curls was resting against the window, black inky strands shielding the upper half of his face from view. The milky pale skin stood out starkly like stars and constellations against the midnight charcoal of his hair.

He was dressed in casual clothes: jeans and a knitted sweater with an embroidered 'H.' And if Dean would hazard a guess, the guy looked to be in his teens. He was practically dwarfed in the seat, the dark curls barely resting against the head pillow.

Dean stumbled forward and dropped into his seat, heaving a relieved sigh. He took a nervous glance out the window and immediately regretted it, imagining the miles and miles of air beneath his feet, nothing to stop his fall but the cold, hard ground. A shudder raced down his spine. Dean tore his hazel gaze from the window, violently chucking the disconcerting image from his mind, and froze as he met emerald eyes peering curiously at him from beneath a dark fringe.

"First time flying?" the stranger asked, an indulgent smile playing on his lips when he took in the tense form beside him as the plane started moving.

"Not yours, I take it," Dean said, quirking an eyebrow at the British accent, looking at the kid with renewed interest.

"Nope. I guess you could say I'm very fond of flying," he said with peculiar amusement in his eyes. Dean just looked back with disbelief plainly written on his face.

"It's not that bad."

"We're on a scrap of metal miles above the ground," Dean deadpanned.

"Well, not yet at least," 'H' hummed noncommittally, glancing pointedly out the window as the plane climbed in altitude. Dean kept his eyes glued to the boy's face, not daring to risk another glance at his death warrant.

A pause.

"Are you humming Metallica?" There was a tinge of disbelief to his voice.

Dean just looked back at him. "It calms me down," he said simply.

Another pause.

"Is it working?"

"Well, it won't now." Dean rolled his eyes, narrowing them when he caught sight of Sam a few rows ahead. Sam raised an eyebrow, gesturing with his head and scanning the plane with a meaningful look. Nodding, Dean unbuckled the seat belt and stood up.

"Restroom?"

"Huh?" Dean asked, startled. "Oh yeah, gotta take a leak."

He rubbed his thighs absently before beginning his search.

"Damn it!" Dean swore under his breath when John's book was knocked out of Sam's hands. "Sam, focus!" he grunted, pushing the struggling demon back down. Sam snapped to attention, reining in his rage at the demon's words. Drawing back, he pushed himself off his knees, burning fire running in his blood as the insidious black eyes mocked Jessica, fanning the flames of hate in Sam.

"I'll go get Dad's book."

"No rush or anything," Dean drawled, wrestling with the demon's flailing arms.

Sam stopped in his tracks as a leather-bound book was waved in front of him.

"You mean this book?" He followed the pale hand to a smirking face watching him with bright eyes. Sam stiffened, regarding the teenager with suspicion.

"What are you doing here, kid?" Dean asked with a grunt, dodging a punch.

"To lend a hand," he said with a sunny grin, maneuvering around Sam's towering form. He crouched down beside Dean, flipping through the pages with a considering look. "Because, no offense," he shot Sam an apologetic smile, "you were doing a commendable job at butchering the Latin language."

Sam only furrowed his eyebrows as he stepped closer to the trio on the floor, both of them looking at the newcomer with interest. The stranger made an "Aha!" noise as he stopped on a page, scanning the contents with quick eyes.

"An exorcism, right?" he asked rhetorically before chanting in Latin, words like a splash of holy water as the demon writhed on the floor, shrieking in pain. Dean struggled against the powerful contortions, and Sam rushed to help his brother pin the demon down.

He ended the chant, staring at the writhing body determinedly before it suddenly went lax as a sinister black cloud shot out of the pilot's open mouth. With a purposeful air, he smoothed down the wrinkles on his sweater as he stood up, tossing a smug grin at Sam and Dean.

"Now, that's how you exorcise a demon."