Third Person POV

Scarlett and Dean were sleeping on the beds in the motel room. Scarlett slept on her bed and Dean was slept on the other bed on his stomach. As the door opened, Dean opened his eyes and reached under the his pillow to grab his knife. As he turned to look, he saw Sam, carrying coffee and pastries.

"Morning, sunshine," Sam comment in a low tone, aware of their little sister sleeping on her bed. "What time is it?" Dean asked in a low tone. "Uh, it's about five forty-five," Sam replied in a low tone. "In the morning?" Dean groaned. "Yep," Sam said in a low tone.

"Where does the day go?" Dean asked himself as he sat up. He looked at Sam. "Did you get any sleep last night?" He asked. "Yeah, I grabbed a couple hours," Sam said. "Liar. 'Cause I was up at 3, and you were watching a George Foreman infomercial," Dean said. "Hey, what can I say? It's riveting TV," Sam said.

"When was the last time you got a good night's sleep?" Dean asked. "I don't know, a little while, I guess. It's not a big deal," Sam said. "Yeah, it is," Dean said. Sam let out a sigh, "Look -"

He was cut off by Scarlett groaning as she woke up. "Morning," Sam told her. Scarlett groaned. "Early. Sleep," She said and covered herself with a blanket over her head. Sam and Dean chuckled. Sam turned back to Dean. "Look, I appreciate your concern -"

"Oh, I'm not concerned about you," Dean cut him off. "It's your job to keep Scar's and my ass alive, so we need you sharp."

Sam shrugged before Scarlett pulled off the blanket from her head and looked at him. "Do you still having nightmares about Jess?" She asked. Sam sighed and sat on her bed, and handed a coffee to Dean and a Choco to Scarlett as he spoke, "Yeah. But it's not just her. It's everything. I just forgot, you know? This job. It gets to you."

Scarlett took a sip of the Choco. "You can't let it. You can't bring it home like that," Dean said and then took a sip from his coffee. "So, what? All this it . . . never keeps you up at night?" Sam asked Dean.

Dean shook his head and Scarlett rolled her eyes. "Never? You're never afraid?" Sam asked. "No, not really," Dean said. "Yeah right," Scarlett mumbled. Dean shot her a look, "Really," He said. Scarlett shook her head while Sam gave a little chuckle. He reached under Dean's pillow to pull out a large hunting knife and hold it up as evidence.

Dean took the knife back. "That's not fear. That is precaution," He said and Scarlett rolled her eyes again. "All right, whatever. I'm too tired to argue," Sam said as Scarlett put her Choco on the table between her and Dean. Dean's phone ring and he answered it, "Hello?"

"Dean, it's, uh, it's Jerry Panowski. You and your dad helped me out a couple years back," The man, Jerry said on the other line. "Oh, right, yeah. Up in Kittanning, Pennsylvania, the poltergeist thing. It's not back, is it?" Dean asked.

"No. No. Thank god, no. But it's something else, and . . . uh, I think it could be a lot worse," Jerry said. "What is it?" Dean asked. "Can we talk in person?" Jerry asked. Dean looked at Scarlett and Sam before he replied, "Sure."

... ...

Scarlett POV
After Dean told me and Sam about his call from a guy name Jerry, me and my brothers drove to the hangar were Jerry asked to meet.

"Thanks for making the trip so quick," Jerry said as me, Sam and Dean walked behind him. "I ought to be doing you guys a favor, not the other way around." Then looked at me and Sam. "Dean and your Dad really helped me out."

"Yeah, he told us. It was a poltergeist?" Sam asked. "Poltergeist? Man, I loved that movie," A man said. "Hey, nobody's talking to you. Keep walking," Jerry said to the man. I smirked. "Damn right it was a poltergeist, practically tore our house apart. Tell you something," Jerry said and turned to Dean, "If it wasn't for you and your Dad, I probably wouldn't be alive."

I saw Dean smirking at me and Sam and I rolled my eyes. Dad told me about that case, but I was too young to help, so he and Dean told me to stay in the Hotel that we were staying. "Your dad said you were off at college. Is that right?" Jerry asked Sam. "Yeah, I was. I'm - taking some time off," Sam said. "Well, he was real proud of you. I could tell. He talked about you all the time," Jerry said. "He did?" Sam asked, surprised.

"Yeah, you bet he did. Oh, hey, you know I tried to get a hold of him, but I couldn't. How's he doing, anyway?" Jerry asked. My brothers and I looked at each other for a second and then I spoke, "He's, um, in a job right now."

"Well, we're missing the old man, but we get Scarlett and Sam. Even trade, huh?" Jerry said to us. The four of us laughed a little. "No, not by a long shot," I said. "I got something I want you guys to hear," Jerry said as he opened the door to his office.

We all sat down and Jerry pulled out a tape. "I listened to this. And, well, it sounded like it was up your alley," Jerry explained as he put a CD and started it. "Normally I wouldn't have access to this. It's the cockpit voice recorder for United Britannia flight 2485. It was one of ours."

It's started, "Mayday! Mayday! Repeat! This is United Britania 2485 - immediate instruction help! United Britanis 2485, I copy your message - May be experiencing some mechanical failure . . ." There was a loud whooshing sound. I exchanged looks with my brothers and the CD ended.

"Took off from here, crashed about two hundred miles south. Now, they're saying mechanical failure. Cabin depressurized somehow. Nobody knows why. Over a hundred people on board. Only seven got out alive. 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," Jerry said. "You don't think it was?" I asked. "No, I don't," He said as he shook his head.

"Jerry, we're gonna need passenger manifests, um, a list of survivors," Sam said. "Right, and any way we can take a look at the wreckage?" Dean asked. "The other stuff is no problem. But the wreckage . . . guys, the NTSB has it locked down in an evidence warehouse. No way I've got that kind of clearance," Jerry said. "No problem," Dean said.

... ...

Sam and I were waiting by the car outside the Copy Jack. Then as I see Dean walking out, a woman enters. "Hey," She said. "Hi," Dean said with a smile and walked over to me and Sam. "You've been in there forever," I said. Dean hold up two IDs for him and Sam.

"You can't rush perfection," He said. Sam took one of the IDs, "Homeland Security?" He asked with a frown and gave it to me to look. "That's pretty illegal, even for us."

"Yeah, well, it's something new. You know? People haven't seen it a thousand times," Dean said as he walked around the car.

We climbed into the car. "All right, so, what do you two got?" Dean asked. "There's definitely EVP on the cockpit voice recorder," I said. "Listen," Sam said and he played the tape, which has been edited to pull out a scratchy voice;

". . . No survivors! . . ."

Dean frowned, ""No survivors"? What's that supposed to mean? There were seven survivors," He said. "Got us," Sam said. "So, what are you thinking? A haunted flight?" Dean asked. "There's a long history of spirits and death omens on planes and ships, like phantom travelers," Sam said.

"Or remember flight 401?" I asked. "Right. The one that crashed, the airline salvaged some of its parts, put it in other planes, then the spirit of the pilot and copilot haunted those flights," Dean said.

"Right," Sam said. "Yep," Dean said. "Maybe we got a similar deal," I said. "All right, so, survivors, which one do you want to talk to first?" Dean asked. "Third on the list: Max Jaffey," I said.

"Why him?" Dean asked. "Well, for one, he's from around here. And two, if anyone saw anything weird, he did," Sam said. "What makes you say that?" Dean asked. "Well, I spoke to his mother, and she told me where to find him," Sam said before we pulled off.

Dean parked the car in front of the gate to a building with a sign out front reading. Dean looked at me, "Stay here," He said. "What? Why?" I asked. "Because I said so," He said. "Dean," Sam started. Dean looked at him and sighed as he looked back at me. "Fine, come on." I smirked and we climbed out.

Max was walking with a cane between Sam and Dean. "I don't understand. I already spoke with Homeland Security," Max said. I walked beside to Dean. "Right. Some new information has come up. So if you could just answer a couple questions . . ." Dean said. "Just before the plane went down, did you notice anything . . . unusual?" Sam asked. "Like what?" Max asked.

"Strange lights, weird noises, maybe. Voices," I said. Max was a bit hesitant, "No, nothing," He said. Dean and I exchanged glances. "Mmm, Mr. Joffey -" Dean started as he, me, Sam and Max sat on the chairs in front of a table. "Jaffey," Max corrected him. "Jaffey. You checked yourself in here, right?" Dean asked. Max nodded. "Can I ask why?" Dean asked.

"I was a little stressed. I survived a plane crash," Max said. "Uh huh. And that's what terrified you? That's what you were afraid of?" Dean asked. "I . . . I don't want to talk about this anymore," Max said, but Dean ignored him, "See, I think maybe you did see something up there. We need to know what."

"No. No, I was . . . delusional. Seeing things," Max insisted. "Oh," Dean said and turned to Sam and me. "He was seeing things," He repeated. Sam glared at him before turning to Max. "It's okay. Then just tell us what you thought you saw, please," He said. Max though about whether to tell or not. "There was . . . this - man. And, uh, he had these . . . eyes - these, uh . . . black eyes. And I saw him - or I thought I saw him . . ."

"What?" I asked. "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," Max said. "This man, uh, did he seem to appear and disappear rapidly? It would look something like a mirage?" Sam asked. "What are you, nuts?" Max asked in disbelief. "He was a passenger. He was sitting right in front of me."