A/N: Happy New Year! And I'm REALLY sorry for the delay. I've had a hard time lately and I couldn't focus on the story. Sorry, don't kill me!
Day 1.
You wake up to the sound of someone knocking at the door.
You jump off the bed, grabbing the knife on your nightstand, and get in front of the door. You do so quickly and you're still half asleep, so you don't realise what you've done until you look down at your hands, and see yourself holding the knife. You just finish processing it, when you hear Sam's voice through the door.
"Gwen? You awake?"
Shaking your head, you put the knife down on the nighstand before throwing a jacket on, and opening the door. "Hi, Sam"
"Hey." He's carrying coffee and some pastries with him. "I went to buy some coffee — thought you might want some."
"Oh, thank you." You take one of the coffees he's carrying. "Just, out of curiosity, what time is it?"
"Uh, it's about five forty-five," he answers.
"Have we got a case or you were just up and about all night?" you ask. He doesn't answer. "The second one, then. Thank you for the coffee. I might as well get dressed now."
"Yeah, I'll go back to my room, see if Dean's already up."
You nod. "All right. See you later." You smile at him before closing the door. You look at the coffee in your hands, before bringing the cup to your lips and drinking the hot liquid.
You take a quick shower and get dressed, just as you've been doing the past few days, when there's a knock on the door, so you go and answer it. It's Dean.
"Pack your bags, we have a case."
"Who is it again? Jerry…?" you ask when Dean parks the car.
"Jerry Panowski," Sam answers.
"Okay, here's the story. You're new in the hunting business and we're your tutors, you got it?" Dean asks you, but doesn't wait for your answer and exits the car.
You roll your eyes. "Yes, I got it, thank you for asking." you reply sarcastically, even though Dean and Sam are already out of the car, and you exit it as well. You find this Jerry guy talking to Sam and Dean.
"Thanks for making the trip so quick. I ought to be doing you guys a favour, not the other way around. Dean and your dad really helped me out." They start walking away from you.
You sigh. "Sure. Don't wait for me or anything," you say, again, just to have a couple of heads turning in your direction, because you're not talking to anyone, really. You slam the car door shut, and jog to catch up with the rest of the group.
"Jerry, this is Gwen Price, she's new on the business and we're helping her out."
"Nice to meet you, I'm Jerry Panowski," the man says, and you nod at him. "Dean and their dad really helped me out," he tells you, repeating his earlier words.
"Yeah, I was told. It was a... poltergeist, right?" you ask, trying to remember what Dean had told you and Sam on the way there.
"Poltergeist? Man, I loved that movie," a man who's passing in front of you says.
Jerry turns to him, a bit irritated. "Hey, nobody's talking to you. Keep walking." And back to the Winchesters. "Damn right it was a poltergeist, practically tore our house apart. Tell you something, if it wasn't for you and your dad, I probably wouldn't be alive. Your dad said you were off at college. Is that right?" he asks Sam.
"Yeah, I was. I'm—taking some time off," Sam replies.
"Well, he was real proud of you. I could tell. He talked about you all the time," Jerry tells him.
"He did?"
"Yeah, you bet he did." Jerry replies.
You know it's hard for the Winchesters to admit that their dad loved them. They just see how much he loved the other. Sam always thought John hated him, especially when he went to college, when he was actually proud. Sure, he'd been mad at first, but he'd got over it. You know that, but Sam doesn't.
And Dean? He always did what his father told him to, constantly looking for his approval, but John never paid attention to him, not really. To Dean, John was always worried about Sam. Dean, take care of your brother. Dean, don't leave your brother alone. Dammit Dean, I told you not to leave your brother alone. It had always been one order after another, and Dean only got to see John caring for Sam. Not for him.
Jerry pulls you out of your thoughts.
"Oh, hey, you know I tried to get a hold of him, but I couldn't. How's he doing, anyway?" he asks Dean.
"He's, um, wrapped up in a job right now," Dean lies. Sam doesn't contradict him. You don't either. Why would you, anyway?
"Well, we're missing the old man, but we get Sam and extra help. More than an even trade, huh?"
Dean laughs, but Sam doesn't quite agree. "No, not by a long shot," he says. You agree with him. It's not more than an even trade. It's an even trade, and you don't count yourself. You're just.. There. At least that's what it feels like.
Okay, so yes, you've saved people. But, while that's the point of the job, it's not quite what you expected, and you're, in a way, a newbie. You don't really count. You do what you should do, as a newbie working with experts. Take care of the people while the others take care of the monster. And you almost died more than once. But that's the job, isn't it? Risking your life to save people?
Still, as days pass, you get more and more lost in your thoughts. Just in the way it happens now, and you almost miss the guys turning left.
"I got something I want you guys to hear," Jerry says, and he enters his office, and the three of you follow. You're the last one to enter, and you close the door behind you. "I listened to this. And, well, it sounded like it was up your alley," Jerry says, putting a CD in a drive. "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 explains.
And the CD starts. There's an awful lot of interference, but you dismiss it as part of the recording. It's usually that way, never a perfect recording of something. Always some interference, or at least that's how you categorise the sound. "Mayday! Mayday! Repeat! 2485—immediate instruction... May be experiencing some mechanical failure—" Then there's no one speaking, and there's a weird noise, followed by some sound you can't identify.
"Took off from here, crashed about two hundred miles south. Now, they're saying mechanical failure. Cabin depressurised 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 explains.
"You don't think it was, do you?" you ask.
"No, I don't," Jerry says.
"Jerry, we're gonna need passenger manifests, um, a list of survivors," Sam says.
"All right," he agrees.
"And, uh, any way we can take a look at the wreckage?" Dean asks.
"The other stuff is no problem. But the wreckage... Fellas, the NTSB has it locked down in an evidence warehouse. No way I've got that kind of clearance," he explains.
Dean frowns. "No problem."
You and Sam wait outside a Copy Jack, waiting for Dean, who's gone to make credentials for them. You're not sure he'll make one for you, but your money's on the negative answer. Why would he bother, anyway? They have to find their father, which, you remember, took an entire season, and then his father just… Died. Sacrificed himself for Dean, something he blamed himself for. Of course he did. He's Dean Winchester.
You snap out of your thoughts when Dean snaps his fingers in front of your face. You jump.
"Nice to know you didn't die," he says. "Catch." He throws an ID at you. You frown, but catch it anyway.
"Why?" tou ask.
"Well, if you don't catch it, it'll fall to the floor," Dean explains, and you roll your eyes.
"That's not what I meant." You look at the ID. Yup, it's definitely yours… Well, under a different name, but that's a picture of you, you know that for sure. "Why did you make me one of these?" you ask.
Dean shrugs. "You don't want it?"
"That's not what I mean either. Hunters need this kind of stuff. I'm not a hunter."
"Well, you're traveling with us so you might as well be a hunter in training. And they also need this kind of stuff," Dean replies.
"Homeland Security?" Sam asks. "That's pretty illegal, even for us."
"Yeah, well, it's something new. You know? People haven't seen it a thousand times," Dean says.
"Not yet anyway," you add, and get into the car, the boys doing so as well.
"All right, so, what do you got?" Dean asks.
Finally, you get to feel a bit more in your element. At least you've got skills when it comes to computers and this kind of thing. "Sam and I worked on the tape. There's definitely EVP on it." You nod at Sam, who plays the edited recording.
"Listen," Sam says.
"No survivors!" a weird, sort of raspy voice says.
"'No survivors'? What's that supposed to mean? There were seven survivors," Dean protests.
"Got me." Sam shakes his head.
You're lucky you remember what this means. And even if you didn't, you'd guess. "Isn't it obvious?" you ask. They turn to face you. "It says no survivors, which means, it intended not to leave any survivors. Now, what would you do if your plan didn't work?" you ask, but don't leave them time to answer. "You try again. Which means, this thing is probably going to try to kill the survivors."
"Okay, so, what are you thinking? A haunted flight?" Dean asks, both to you and his brother.
"There's a long history of spirits and death omens on planes and ships, like phantom travellers," Sam proposes. Dean nods, thoughtful. "Or remember flight 401?"
Dean's face lights up with understanding. "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." Oh. You'd forgotten about that.
"Wait — you mean that can actually happen?" Your eyes widen. Then you mentally slap yourself. "Never mind. Everything can happen."
"Well, I was thinking, maybe we got a similar deal," Sam continues.
"All right, so, survivors, which one do you want to talk to first?" Dean asks him.
"Third on the list: Max Jaffey," Sam answers.
"Why him?"
"Well, for one, he's from around here. And two, if anyone saw anything weird, he did."
"What makes you say that?" Dean asks.
"Well, while Gwen worked on the video, I spoke to his mother. And she told me where to find him," Sam replies. And you're soon on your way.
You wonder whether you should sit out that investigation or not when Dean asks you, "You coming?" and you make your decision. You get out of the car and follow the brothers into the building.
"I don't understand, I already spoke with Homeland Security," Max Jaffey says, walking between the two brothers, leaning on his cane, even though he's a young man, probably in his twenties. You're outside, in the garden of the place, and you're standing next to Sam, your notebook in your hand, ready to write down everything he said.
"Right," Dean says. "Some new information has come up, so if you could just answer a couple of questions."
"Just before the plane went down," Sam starts, "did you notice anything… Unusual?"
"Like what?"
"Strange lights, uh… Weird noises, maybe. Voices," Dean replies, which makes Max look at him strangely.
"No, nothing," Max answers, after a pause. You get to a table, and sit down.
"Mister Jaffey—" you start.
"Jaffey," he corrects.
"Jaffey," you continue, "you checked yourself in here, right?" He nods. "Why? If you don't mind me asking."
"I was a little stressed, I survived a plane crash," Max says.
"We know that, but if I'm stressed I'm not going to check myself into a hospital," you point out.
"And the plane crash terrified you? That's what you were afraid of?" Dean asks.
"I—I don't want to talk about this anymore," Max said.
"Does that mean you saw something out there?" you ask, and without waiting for an answer, you add, "We need to know what you saw, however improbable it might seem."
"No. No, I was delusional, seeing things."
"Oh, he was seeing things." Dean gives Sam an exasperated look. And Sam gives him a be-patient-with-him look.
"It's okay," Sam starts, and Dean looks away, bored by the whole process. You roll your eyes at him. "Then just tell us what you thought you saw."
"Please," you add.
Max sighs. "There was this… Man. And, uh, he had these eyes… These, uh, black eyes, and I saw him op—I thought I saw him…" He doesn't elaborate, a frown on his face, as if remembering the scene.
"What?" Dean asks.
"He opened the emergency exit," he finally says. "But that—that's impossible, right? I mean, I looked it up, there's something like, two tons of pressure on that door."
"This man, uh, did he seem to appear and disappear rapidly? It—it would look something like a mirage," Sam asks.
Max pauses. "What, are you nuts?" he asks Sam. "He was a passenger, he was sitting right in front of me," he answers. Sam and Dean exchange glances.
"What about his eyes? You said they were black, as in, completely black?" you ask him. He nods. It clicks in your mind. Demon. But of course, you already knew that. "Okay, thank you for your time, Jaffey," you say, standing up. Sam and Dean follow you, and you soon get back to the Impala, and are driving away to talk to the strange man's wife.
The Impala pulls up in front of a house. Sam's the first one to exit the car, followed by you and Dean.
"So here we are. George Phelps, seat 20C." Sam says.
"Man, I don't care how strong you are." Dean says. "Even yoked up on PCP or something, no way you can open up an emergency door during a flight."
"Yup." You nod, agreeing with him.
"Not if you're human." Sam also agrees. "But maybe this guy George was something else." He proposes. "Some creature, maybe, in human form."
"Does that look like a creature's lair to you?" Dean asks. Sam turns around, facing the ordinary-looking house.
"Well, there's only one way to find out, isn't it?" You ask, making a few steps toward the house. "Come along, Ponds."
Sam picks up a framed photograph of the man. "This is your late husband?" he asks.
"Yes, that was my George." The woman nods.
"And you say he was a… Dentist?" Dean asks. Obviously he doesn't believe that. The woman nods again.
"He was headed to a convention in Denver," she says. "Did you know that he was petrified to fly?" That catches Dean's interest. "For him to go like that…" Her voice breaks.
"How long were you married?" Sam asks.
"Thirteen years."
"In all that time, did you ever notice anything… Strange, about him?" he asks. "Anything out of the ordinary?" Mrs. Phelps looks between the three of you, finding the question very strange.
"Well…" she trails off, and Dean looks at her intently. "Uh, he had acid reflux, if that's what you mean," she answers, and it takes everything you've got not to start laughing at the brothers' faces.
Soon, you're out of the house, and walking back to the car.
"I mean, it goes without saying. It just doesn't make any sense," Sam says.
"Yeah, a middle-aged person with an ulcer is not exactly evil personified," Dean says.
"And what would you consider 'evil personified'?" you ask him, hoping he'll answer demons.
"Monsters," he says, to your disappointment.
"All of them?"
"Yup."
"Some more than others?"
"What do you mean?" Dean turns to face you. "If you know something, why don't you tell us?"
"You wouldn't believe me," you reply
"Okay." He turns back to his brother. "You know what we need to do is get inside that NTSB warehouse, check out the wreckage."
"Okay. But if we're gonna go that route, we'd better look the part," Sam says.
You go with them, waiting for them to buy their new suits, and then you wait in the car while they go impersonate Homeland Security officers. Then you go back to a diner, eat, and then go back to the motel to get a night's sleep.