A/N: Hello gals and whatever guys that read my story. Here's Phantom Traveler as I promised. Please review and tell me how it was. I'll update soon.

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.

Dean woke up sometime in the night because the bed was shaking now and then. He turned on his other side to find Lyra thrashing in her sleep. She was talking incoherently and he could see the sheen of sweat on her face. He moved closer to her and tried to wake her up.

"Dean, no. Please… don't leave me. Not you too," she mumbled, shaking her head vehemently and reaching out for something.

Dean grabbed her hands and shook her, "Hey. Wake up. It's just a dream. I'm not gonna leave you." He was actually surprised that she was dreaming about him leaving her. That was never gonna happen, he had promised her.

Lyra opened her eyes and looked at him with relief, "Oh Dean." She flung her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly, wanting to feel that he was really there.

"Hey, it's alright. I'm here," he soothed her, patting her back lightly.

"Y-you… d-died," she stammered. "Right in front of me… and I was alone. First mom-dad and then you. I couldn't," she didn't complete her sentence and started sobbing.

"It's okay. I'm not dead and you're not alone. I'm not going to leave you. Never," he said and let her cry on his shoulder. She stopped abruptly and pulled back, wiping her tears away.

"I'm sorry. I-I shouldn't have," she trailed off uncertainly, looking down.

He lifted her chin up with his fingers, to make her look him in the eyes, "You don't have to apologize." She nodded tearfully at him and Dean wrapped her in his arms once again. He lowered them on the bed and shifted around, so that her head was on his shoulder with his arm around her. She snuggled closer to him to bury her face in his neck and fell asleep moments later.

Dean stayed awake a little more to make sure she was fine and that's when he noticed that Sam's bed was empty. He scanned the room worriedly to find the TV was on mute but Sam was nowhere in sight. Just when he thought of going in search of him, Sam came out of the bathroom and took the seat in front of the TV not realizing that Dean was awake. Dean looked at his watch and it read 3 am. He decided to stay silent for now and went back to sleep.

What felt like only minutes later to Dean, the motel room door shut loudly, effectively waking him up. He tried to sit up but something kept him down: Lyra's weight. She was still asleep beside him with her arm around his torso.

"Morning, love birds," Sam said cheerfully, setting a bag on the table and smirking at the two of them.

Dean glared at him, "What time is it?"

"It's about 5:45," Sam replied.

"In the morning?" he asked and gently slid Lyra off of him to sit up. "Where does the day go?" he said rhetorically and rubbed his face. Lyra groaned beside him and opened her eyes with a frown, not wanting to wake up yet. Dean smiled at her, and then turned to Sam, "Did you get any sleep last night?"

"Yeah, I grabbed a couple hours," he shrugged.

"Liar," Dean remarked. "'Cause I was up at three, and you were watching the George Foreman infomercial."

"Hey, what can I say? It's riveting TV," he smirked. "And why were you up at three?"

"Uh…" Dean glanced at Lyra, who was now sitting up. "She had a nightmare." Sam nodded understandingly. "When was the last time you got a good night's sleep?" Dean turned to him again.

"I don't know. A little while, I guess," Sam said in an uncaring tone. "It's not a big deal."

"Yeah, it is," Dean said simply.

Sam rolled his eyes, "Look, I appreciate your concern—"

"Oh, I'm not concerned about you," Dean cut him off. "It's your job to keep my ass alive, and my job to keep her alive," he pointed at Lyra. "So I need you sharp." Sam didn't respond. "Seriously, are you still having nightmares about Jess?" Dean got straight to the point.

"Yeah," Sam admitted. "But it's not just her. It's everything. I just forgot, you know? This job—man, it gets to you."

"I totally agree," Lyra said, remembering her nightmare. Dean looked at her with concern and placed his hand on top of hers. She looked down at their hands, surprised by Dean's small gesture of comfort.

"Well, you can't let it. You can't bring it home like that," Dean said to Sam.

"So, what?" Sam asked incredulously. "All this—it never keeps you up at night?" Dean shook his head in answer. "Never? You're never afraid?" he asked again.

"No, not really," Dean shrugged. Sam narrowed his eyes and leaned over Lyra to reach under Dean's pillow. Lyra pressed herself even further back against the headboard, startled by his sudden proximity. He pulled out a knife from under the pillow and straightened back. She released her breath and looked over at Dean who was clearly not happy by Sam's actions. Sam noticed the short exchange of glances between them and realized his mistake.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," he apologized to her. "I didn't think first."

"It's okay," she smiled a little.

Dean took the knife from Sam's hand. "That's not fear; that's precaution."

"All right, whatever," Sam turned away. "I'm too tired to argue."

Just then Dean's cell phone and he picked it up, "Hello?"

"Dean, its Jerry Panowski. You and your dad helped me out a couple years back."

"Oh, right, yeah, up in Kittanning, Pennsylvania, the poltergeist thing," Dean said. "It's not back, is it?"

"No, no. Thank God, no. But it's something else, and, well, I think it could be a lot worse."

"What is it?" Dean furrowed his brows.

"Can we talk in person?"

"Yeah, sure. We'll be there soon," Dean replied and then hung up.

"What happened?" Lyra asked.

"We've got a case," Dean sighed, getting up out of the bed.

"Who was that?" she questioned again.

"A guy I and dad helped quite a while ago," he said. "There's some new problem now."

"Oh well," she muttered and stretched to get her body ready for another day.

They reached Pennsylvania and met with Jerry at some warehouse. "Hey, Dean! How you doin'?" the guy greeted him with a firm handshake. "You must be Sam, right?" he extended his hand to him.

"Yeah, that's right," Sam replied, shaking his hand as well.

"And who's this lovely young lady?" he asked with a smile.

"Lyra, my wife," Dean answered him. The girl in question turned her head to look at Dean with surprise on her face. For the first time, Dean didn't hesitate to tell that she was his wife. But who wouldn't be proud of having a beautiful girl as his wife? Plus if men knew that she was already taken, they would back off. And that's why Dean didn't mind telling Jerry that they were married. But if it would have been a woman, Dean wouldn't mind hiding that fact.

"Oh, hello, Mrs. Winchester," he said, placing a kiss on her hand. Lyra blushed at his display of chivalry and moved closer to Dean. His words got Dean thinking that yes, Lyra was actually a Winchester now. 'Mrs. Dean Winchester. Lyra Dean Winchester. Lyra Auden Winchester. Lyra Winchester,' he thought with a smile. He liked the ring they all had.

"Please come with me," Jerry gestured with his hand and they all started towards his office.

"Thanks for making the trip so quick," Jerry said. "I ought to be doing you guys a favor, not the other way round." He then turned to Sam, "Dean and your dad really helped me out."

"Yeah, he told me," Sam nodded. "It was a poltergeist?"

"'Poltergeist'?" a man exclaimed. "Man, I loved that movie!"

"Hey, nobody's talking' to you," Jerry yelled. "Damn right, it was a poltergeist; practically tore our house apart." He shook his head and looked at Dean, "I'll tell you something-if it wasn't for you and your dad, I probably wouldn't be alive." Dean just smiled modestly in return.

"Your dad said you were off at college. Is that right?" he asked Sam.

"Yeah, I was. I'm… taking some time off," Sam replied a little hesitantly.

"Well, he was real proud of you. I could tell," Jerry commented. "He talked about you all the time."

"He did?" Sam asked, wide-eyed. He looked at Dean for confirmation.

"Yeah, you bet he did," Jerry nodded. "Oh, hey, you know, I tried to get a hold of him, but I couldn't. How's he doing, anyway?"

"He's, um….he's wrapped up in a job right now," Dean told him uncomfortably.

"Well, we're missing the old man. We get Sam. Even trade, huh?" he asked.

"No, not by a long shot," Sam chuckled.

"And how can I forget the beautiful new addition," Jerry added with a friendly smile. "Dean is lucky, isn't he?"

"I don't know about him, but I surely am the luckiest girl to have him," Lyra said with a wide smile directed at Dean. He looked in her eyes to see that she wasn't mocking him. She believed what she said.

"I am indeed lucky," he stated, still staring in her captivating emerald green eyes. Sam cleared his throat to get their attention and motioned to Jerry who smiled at them and walked into his office.

"I've got something I want you guys to hear," he inserted a CD in a player, after they had sat down. "I listened to this. Well, it sounded like it was up your alley. Normally, I wouldn't have access to this. It's the cockpit voice recorder for United Britannia Flight 2485. It was one of ours." He pressed play and they heard only static at first but then there were incoherent words followed by screams. At last there was a hiss.

Jerry launched into details, "Took off from here; crashed about two hundred miles south. Now, they're saying mechanical failure. The cabin depressurized somehow. Nobody knows why. Over a hundred people on board—only seven got out alive. The pilot was one. His name is Chuck Lambert. He's a good friend of mine. Chuck is, uh….well, he's pretty broken up about it,-like it was his fault."

"You don't think it was?" Sam asked.

"No, I don't," he replied with a shake of his head.

"Jerry, we're gonna need passenger manifests, a list of survivors…" Sam listed off.

"Right, and any way we can take a look at the wreckage?" Dean added.

"The other stuff is no problem, but the wreckage-" Jerry paused. "The NTSB has it locked down in an evidence warehouse. No way have I got that kind of clearance."

"No problem," Dean smirked, already having a plan in his mind.

Dean took them to a copy center and while he dragged Lyra with him inside, Sam waited in the car.

"Dean, what are you going to do now?" Lyra asked sulkily.

"We need a look at the wreckage, so we need new IDs," Dean answered with a silly grin. Lyra huffed out a 'whatever' and waited for him to finish. While the cards were printing, Dean turned to her, "Luckiest girl in the world?"

Lyra didn't catch what he was talking about for a second but then her mind worked and she almost shot a smart answer back. What stopped her was Dean's curious look. He wasn't teasing her; he just wanted to know why she said that.

"It's true. I am lucky," she shrugged.

"How? I mean I'm not the kind of husband a girl would dream of," he said.

"Maybe, but you're the best choice out there for me. I'm serious," she added the last part when she saw his incredulous look. "Not many guys will believe me when I tell them about my curse. And those who'll do won't be as tough as you, let alone smart and hot."

"I'm hot?" he asked with a smirk.

"No one can deny that," she agreed to which Dean smiled widely and so she continued. "But don't let it go to your head or else it'll push your little brain out and you'll become brainless," she laughed at her own joke while Dean scowled.

"You've been in there forever," Sam exclaimed when they finally came out.

"You can't rush perfection," Dean held up the fake IDs, proud of his handiwork.

Sam took a look at them. "Homeland Security?" he scoffed. "That's pretty illegal, even for us."

"Yeah well, it's something new, you know? People haven't seen it a thousand times," Dean justified. "All right, so, what do you got?"

"Well, there's definitely EVP on the cockpit voice recorder," Sam replied, opening his laptop. "Listen." He played an audio clip and after a few moments a voice said 'No survivors.'

"'No survivors'?" Dean asked. "What's that supposed to mean? There were seven survivors."

"Got me," Sam nodded lightly.

"So, what are you thinking? A haunted flight?" Dean guessed.

"There's a long history of spirits and death omens on planes and ships, like phantom travelers," Sam said. "Or, remember Flight 401?"

"Right—the one that crashed, then the airline salvaged some of its parts, put it in other planes, then the spirit of the pilot and co-pilot haunted those flights," Dean explained for Lyra's sake.

"Maybe we've got a similar deal," Sam suggested.

"All right, so, survivors," Dean sighed, looking at the list. "Who do we talk to first?"

"Third on the list—Max Jaffrey," Sam told him.

"Why him?" Dean raised an eyebrow.

"Well, for one, he's from around here," Sam reasoned. "And two, if anyone saw anything weird, he did."

"What makes you say that?" Dean knitted his eyebrows.

"Well, I spoke to his mother, and she told me where to find him," Sam replied.

"Where?" Lyra asked from the backseat.

"Riverfront Psychiatric Hospital."

"He's nuts?" Lyra made a face. "I'm sitting this one out."

"Oh no, sweetheart. It might take longer than your 30 minutes deadline," Dean smirked.

"Even if it won't, you'll stretch it. Fine, I'll come." She crossed her arms across her chest in annoyance.

They went in search of Max Jaffrey once they reached the hospital and a nurse helped them out. He took them to the garden where Max was.

"I don't understand," Max said. "I already spoke with Homeland Security."

"Right. Some new information has come up," Dean lied convincingly. "So if you could just answer a couple questions?"

"Just before the plane went down, did you notice anything unusual?" Sam started his questioning.

"Like what?" Max asked.

"Strange lights, weird noises, maybe….voices?" Dean put forward.

"No, nothing," Max answered quickly.

"Hmm. Mr. Jaffrey, you checked yourself in here, right?" Dean asked and Max nodded in reply. "Can I ask why?"

"I was a little stressed," Max told them. "I survived a plane crash."

"And that's what terrified you? That's what you were afraid of?"

"I-I don't wanna talk about this anymore," Max said.

But Dean continued, "See, I think maybe you did see something up there. We need to know what."

"No," Max shook his head. "No, I was delusional—seeing things."

"He was seeing things," Dean shrugged.

"It's okay. Then just tell us what you thought you saw, please," Sam prodded.

"There was….this….man. And, uh, he had these….eyes—these, uh….black eyes. And I saw him—or I thought I saw him…" Max trailed off.

"What?" Dean pushed.

"He opened the emergency exit. But that's….that's impossible, right? I mean, I looked it up. There's something' like two tons of pressure on that door."

"This man—did he seem to appear and disappear rapidly?" Sam asked. "It wouldn't look something like a mirage?"

"What are you, nuts?" Max looked at him with an incredulous expression. "He was a passenger. He was sitting right in front of me." The three shared a look and headed out, thanking Max for his help.

"Here we are—George Phelps, seat 20C," Sam stated. They had found out the name of the passenger in front of Max and where he lived.

"Man, I don't care how strong you are," Dean spoke up. "Even yoked up on PCP or something', no way you can open up an emergency door during a flight."

"Not if you're human," Sam reminded. "But maybe this guy, George, was something' else—a creature maybe, in human form?"

Dean raised his eyebrows and pointed at the house, "That looks like a creature's lair to you?"

"Hey, you two go. I'll wait here," Lyra said, leaning back in the seat.

"Alright, you enjoy whatever alone time you can get. We'll be back soon," Dean told her and went after Sam. They returned few minutes later and Sam started speaking as they reached the Impala.

"I mean, it goes without saying," he said. "It just doesn't make any sense."

"Yeah, a middle-aged dentist with an ulcer is not exactly evil personified," Dean joked. "You know, what we need to do is get inside that NTSB warehouse, check out the wreckage."

"Okay," Sam agreed. "But if we're gonna go that route, we better look the part."

"What do ya mean?" Lyra asked with a frown.

"It means we gotta dress up," Dean replied simply.

"Ew. You mean I have to wear a skirt?" she pleaded him with her eyes to say no.

"Yeah, exactly that," he gave a lopsided grin.

They first went to women's formal wear shop and waited while Lyra got ready. Sam chose to wait in the impala but Dean had to go with her. He selected her attire, a navy blue pencil skirt with a white blouse, and pushed her in the dressing room. She came out all dressed up with heels on her feet, which she didn't like at all.

"You look good," Dean commented as they made their way outside.

"Why do I have to wear this? People won't believe that I'm Homeland Security. I can just sit in the car," she complained.

"It'll take quite some time inside. I can't leave you alone and Sam might need a hand there," Dean explained calmly.

"Alright," she said, defeated, and got in the car.

She joined the brothers in the men's shop and all eyes turned on her. She grabbed Dean's arm and he noticed how uncomfortable she was. He glared at each and every man in the room which made them turn their attention somewhere else. She gave him a grateful smile but didn't leave his arm. When the brothers both got fitted in a suit, they headed back to their car.

"Man, I look like one of the Blues Brothers," Dean scoffed.

"No, you don't," Sam smiled. "You look more like a seventh grader at his first dance." Lyra chuckled at the image in her head of Dean as a teenager.

"I hate this thing," Dean said.

"You're the one to say?" Lyra raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, you were right. But we gotta do it," Dean admitted.

"Hey, you want into that warehouse or not?" Sam asked.

They went to the warehouse and showed their fake IDs to get inside. The security guard looked at Lyra suspiciously but she smiled and said, "Looks can be deceiving." He narrowed his eyes but let them through.

They walked around the wreckage of the plane. "What is that?" Sam asked Dean, pointing at a device in his hand.

"It's an EMF meter," Dean explained. "Reads electromagnetic frequencies."

"Yeah, I know what an EMF is," Sam commented and walked over to a door and scraped some yellow powder off its handle putting it in a plastic bag.

"It's homemade," Dean boasted.

"Yeah, I can see that," Sam rolled his eyes. The EMF beeped wildly when Dean held it close to the bag Sam had in his hands.

"What is this stuff?" Dean asked him.

"I got it off the handle," he replied. "I got a feeling I know what it is, but we need to check it out first."

"It smells," Lyra scrunched up her nose in disgust.

They walked around a little more in the yard when suddenly the alarms went off and they made a run to get out. Dean climbed over a fence and waited at the top to help Lyra up. He stretched his hand down and pulled her up after him. He jumped down first and caught her when she jumped. The heels and skirt were a nuisance but she successfully got back in the car.

"Phew, close call," Lyra sighed and removed her heels off. "Now where to?"

"Jerry. To test the sample we've got," Dean answered and drove off.