They ran a few errands after leaving Jerry's office before Dean insisted they stop at the nearest copy and print center, a Copy Jack. Not exactly a nationwide name but it'd do the job. He'd refused to share the idea he'd come up with, likely in retaliation for Skye playing the entire Ghostbusters soundtrack as soon as they'd gotten back in the car after walking out of the hangar. Stubborn asses, the both of them.
While Dean went inside, Sam and Skye stayed in the car, Sam pulling out his laptop to try and clean up the audio they'd gotten from Jerry. Sliding over to sit sideways in the driver's seat, Skye made room for Sam to set his computer in the seat between them. Loading the CD containing the cockpit audio into the disc drive, he turned it so Skye could see the screen, "Here's something we haven't taught you yet."
"Lean in here and we'll see if we can pull up whatever EVP is on here." Clicking a few keys, he pulled up the GoldWave program, "Here, you start with this…"
Spending the next hour trying to show her how to do what should have taken twenty minutes ended up being a lesson in frustration, which wasn't quite the lesson he'd been going for.
"Skye...I don't get it." Leaning back against his seat, Sam pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath before looking at the girl, "You can field strip a gun after watching someone do it once. You remember everything anyone has ever said to you. You memorize entire passages of books that I'd swear you barely skimmed and spent two days learning how to get into law school because you watched 'Legally Blonde' and got 'curious'. I'm pretty sure you'd qualify for Mensa, so how...how do you not get this?"
Crossing her arms over her chest, she leaned back against the driver's side door and for just a moment, Sam was afraid she might shut down. She didn't tend to handle it well when someone got upset with her, for reasons that were obvious if you knew anything about the girl's abusive background. Her cunt of a mother had trained her to expect a kick or a fist at the slightest sign of displeasure. He was pleasantly surprised when instead of shrinking into herself, she smiled at him.
"That might be the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me, Sam. Thank you." Raising a hand in a helpless gesture, she laughed softly, "I don't know, I'm sorry. I just-I don't do technology well. I have trouble with the fuckin' TV remote. Seriously, it took me six hours to figure out how to add Ben to my contact list in my stupid phone and two days to change my ringtone. Computers are evil and I hate them."
Not exaggerating.
"Okay, you know what, fair enough. We all have our weaknesses and you certainly have enough strengths to make up for them." Spinning the laptop back around to face him, he clicked a few keys before starting to chuckle, raising his eyes to look back up at her, "Did it really take you two days to change your ringtone?"
"Yes. Yes, it did. I hate my phone and have thought about smashing it to bits more times than I can count," she answered, an embarrassed smile hovering around the general vicinity of her lips. Taking the aforementioned phone out of the pocket of her jacket, a bright pink Motorola Razr flip phone with a tiny glittery Tinkerbell sticker on it...because Dean thought he was funny...She snapped a candid shot of Sam with the low-pixel camera, "... but I do like the camera."
She also happened to like the fact that Dean had gotten it for her and...the Tinkerbell sticker on the back was kind of cute.
"Alright, Strawberry Shortcake." Laughing again, he turned the screen back toward Skye when he'd finished, "Let's see what's on here, shall we."
There was a burst of static, followed by a hiss and then a high pitched and, quite frankly, creepy as fuck voice that could be heard screeching the words 'No survivors'.
"Yup, that's normal. Not creepy at all." Tugging on the end of her braid, Skye leaned a little further away from the computer, as if it might be possessed simply from playing the disc, "Excuse me while I get my rosary out of my bag and say a few Hail Mary's."
"You have a rosary?"
"Of course I have a rosary, I'm Catholic. Hell, you have a rosary." Hell, where she was probably going when all was said and done. Catholics, no fun without guilt feelings. Or so says Alanis Morissette.
"Well yeah." Of course he had a rosary. Even Dean had a rosary, "For holy water and related job duties. You're Catholic? You don't really seem, umm, religious. No offense."
"None taken, I'm non-practicing. Mostly." Flashing him a smile, she fidgeted with the phone she still held in her hands before remembering it was there and stuffing it back in her pocket, "Grandma's Catholic, I kinda didn't have a choice about it but it can be kinda comforting sometimes, you know?"
"Yeah, I get it. Dean's not exactly the 'God' type so it doesn't come up much but I stick my head in a church now and then. I figure if there's so much evil around, there's got to be good too, right?" He also prayed on the daily but didn't really feel the need to mention that at the moment, "How is your Grandmother?"
"Same. We see too much otherworldly shit for me to doubt there's something out there, but yeah, not gonna bring it up with your brother. Pretty sure he'd laugh at me and I...would prefer he didn't." Leaning her head sideways against the back of the seat, she sighed deeply, managing a tired smile, "She's not good, but as well as can be expected, I guess. Doctor says she's got a few months left...if she's lucky."
"I'm sorry, Skye." Reaching over his laptop, he gave her hand a quick squeeze, "I know it's got to be rough. If there's anything I can do, you let me know. I have two good shoulders and I've been told I'm excellent to cry on."
"Thanks, Sam." Smiling a little more cheerfully at the sweet man, she squeezed his hand before he took it back, not maintaining the contact long enough to make her too uncomfortable, "I'll keep that in mind. Not much of a crier though. I'm more of a 'stuff it in a box and pretend it's not happenin'' type. The Dean Winchester school of coping."
Hell, she was already more open and honest with Sam than she'd been with just about anyone else in her entire life.
"Speaking of Dean and your weird desire to make a good impression-" Giving her a cheeky grin, he was cut off before he could say much else.
"-and on that note, I'm going to go down the street to get a cup of coffee." Opening the driver's side door, she stepped out and leaned back in long enough to ask, "Want anything?"
"For you to go out for drinks with my brother." Not what she meant, smartass. Laughing, he rolled his window down after she slammed the door, sticking his head out as she walked around the front of the car to the sidewalk, "Dinner? Movie? Breakfast?...I'll sleep in the car!"
Sammy, what a wingman. Well, he tried anyway. Flipping him off as she walked away, heading toward the coffee shop halfway down the block, she wondered why he was so determined to get her and Dean together. The man was a bear-sized nuisance. Hands in her pockets, she smiled, humming 'Bad Romance' as she moved to the beat only she could hear.
Finally emerging from the Copy Jack, Dean found Sam leaning up against the passenger side door, having gotten out to stretch his absurdly long legs.
"Dude, you took forever." Straightening, Sam took his hands out of his pockets, curious to see what his brother had been up to in the two years he'd been in the shop.
"You can't rush perfection." Holding out a hand, he fanned out three official looking government IDs, quite satisfied with his work, "Where's Tink?"
"She went to college, graduated sum cum laude. Last I heard, she was married with three kids...She went to get a cup of coffee because you took forever and she got tired of waiting," And because Sam maybe opened his big mouth about Dean, but that didn't really need to be said. Taking the ID with his picture on it, Sam gave it a long look, "Homeland Security? That's pretty illegal, even for us."
"Yeah well, it's something new. People haven't seen it a thousand times." Walking around the car to the driver's door, he couldn't resist adding, "Besides, it's no fun if there's no risk."
Dean's idea of fun was maybe a little skewed. Climbing into the driver's seat, he closed the door behind him, turning to look at his brother as he took his wallet out of his pocket.
"Alright, so what do you got?" Tucking his shiny new highly illegal ID away, he stuck his wallet back in his pocket, taking a second to look at Skye's while he had it out. It wasn't bad if he did say so himself, though the picture didn't do her justice. Sure, she was pretty enough in pictures, okay maybe more than pretty in his opinion, but she had a quality in person that a camera just couldn't catch. Smiling ruefully, he tucked her ID in the inside pocket of his jacket, thinking he was starting to sound like a shitty chick flick...even if it was just in his own head. Pulling said head out of his ass, he gave his attention to Sam and Sam's laptop.
"Well." Flipping his laptop open, he brought the program back up and pulled up the recording, "There's definitely EVP on the cockpit audio. Skye's got a good ear."
"Yeah?" Looking over at his brother, Dean reflexively glanced in the backseat, "Should we wait for Tink?"
"Nah, she's already heard it."
Propping the computer on his knee, he turned the screen to face Dean. Not quite sure why as it was the audio they were after, but it seemed like the thing to do. Static. Hiss. Freaky-ass 'No survivors'. It wasn't less creepy the second time. The back passenger door opened, Skye sliding in, carefully balancing three cups of coffee and a bag of who knew what kinds of baked goods. Handing each of the boys a cup of coffee before dropping the bag into the spot between them, perching herself on the edge of the backseat, her own coffee in hand.
"They had those sesame muffins you like, Sam, so I got you a couple." Wrapping her hands around her coffee cup, she leaned forward, chin on the top of the seat as she peered into the front, "And I might have gotten a couple of apple pie muffins that I thought Dean might like to try."
"This...this is why you're in the Cool Kids Club, Tink." Having perked up at the words 'apple pie', Dean reached for the bag, coffee in his left hand as he dug through the contents with his right. Yeah. That was why. Didn't have anything at all to do with the fact that he desperately wanted to do very bad things with her...I don't know what you've done to me but I know this much is true, I wanna do bad things with you... Okay, no more TruBlood for him. Peeling the paper off, he took a bite and if the look on his face was anything to go by, it must have been pretty good. The boy did like his food. Mouth full, he gestured to Sam to play the recording again.
Static. Hiss. Freaky-ass voice. Nope, not less creepy the third time either.
"Sounds like that one electric monster from Scooby-Doo." Dean spoke, voice muffled by half a mouthful of muffin, "No survivors?"
"It really does, now that you mention it, only like a thousand times creepier." Tapping Dean on the shoulder, she gave him a disgusted look, "Now chew and swallow before you choke and die."
"Sorry, Mom." Swallowing, he licked his lips, "What's that supposed to mean, no survivors? There were seven survivors."
"Got me." Shrugging, Sam admitted he didn't have the faintest.
In retrospect, perhaps they could have been able to figure it out just a little sooner.
"Same...and if I was your Mom, Winchester, I'd have busted your ass by now."
"You hear that, Sam, she's threatening to spank me." Smirking, he turned in his seat and laid his arm across the back, absently swirling the coffee in his left hand, "Promises, promises, Tinkerbell. Maybe you should put your money where your mouth is."
"Maybe I should glue yours shut." She threatened with a smile before finishing off her coffee, "Then maybe Sam and I would get some peace and quiet."
"Oh you know you want me." Reaching into the backseat, he poked her nose, pulling his hand away as she snapped at his finger, "Sam, back me up here."
"Don't drag me into this." Shutting his laptop, Sam shoved it into his bag, trying not to smile. Turning to sit sideways in his own seat, he lifted a hand and waved it around at the two of them, "This thing going on between you two is nothing I want to get involved in. Ever. It sickens me."
Okay, then why did he keep sticking his nose in? Riddle me that.
"As if, Winchester." Resting her chin on Dean's arm, she wrinkled her nose and stuck her tongue out at him, "Weren't we supposed to be figurin' out a job and savin' lives or some mildly important shit like that?"
"Alright." Throwing the wadded up muffin wrapper at her, he cleared his throat, pulling at the collar of his shirt as the car grew warmer and the scent of her honeysuckle soap or whatever grew stronger, "Right. So what do you guys think? Haunted flight?"
"Phantom travelers?" Just last week she'd read a book Sam assigned her dealing with phantom travelers. Yes, she had assigned reading. Like she was back in High School. But then, she'd never had classes quite like these. Swatting the little paper ball away, she leaned her head sideways on Dean's arm and glared at him with mock-ferocity, "Watch it, boy. I know where you live."
"There's a long history of spirits and death omens on plans and ships. Remember flight 401." Pulling out a sesame muffin Skye had gotten for him, Sam removed the wrapper and folded it neatly before dropping it back in the bag, "And of course you know where he lives. You live three inches away from him."
"I do not." Taking a second to think about it, she still couldn't recall anything about a flight 401, "Flight 401?"
"You don't?" Looking at her, Sam pointedly looked at Dean's arm under her, "Really?"
"Stuff it, Stretch."
"The airline salvaged parts from the wreck of flight 401 and put them in other planes." Giving his brother a long 'shut the fuck up' look, Dean took the time to explain, "The spirits of the pilot and co-pilot started haunting those flights."
"Really?" Giving a sniff of disbelief, she smiled slightly at the smell of leather tickling her nose. It was quite a nice smell of which she was becoming particularly fond. Okay, so maybe she did live three inches away from the man a lot of the time. So what? Didn't mean anything except it was a small car. Woo denial! "You'd think dead people would have better things to do with their time."
"You'd think." Reluctantly Dean moved his arm, forcing Skye to relinquish her headrest. Turning back around in his seat, he dug his keys out of his pocket and finished off his coffee, "So. Survivors. Which one you guys want to talk to first?"
"Third one down." Handing Dean the passenger manifest, Sam tapped the page next to the name, "Max Jaffey."
"Why him?" Taking a quick look at the list, he handed it back and started the car, pulling out into traffic.
"Well for one, he's from around here." Leaning back in his seat, Sam propped his arm on the window, "If anyone saw something weird, he did."
"What makes you say that?"
"Because I talked to his Mom." Stretching, Skye leaned back in her own seat and smiled, "She told me where we can find him."