[1x04; Phantom Traveler]

Dean's cheek was pressed against his pillow, in that median of sleep where you're aware but you don't want to be. The squeak of the door decided that he wasn't going back to sleep; he reached under his pillow to grab the large and very sharp knife he hid under there, ready to kill whatever son of a bitch was sneaking into their room.

"Morning, sunshine!" he heard Sam's cheery voice.

Son of a bitch, he whined mentally, leaving the knife under the pillow.

He groaned and yawned. "What time is it?"

"Uh, it's about five forty-five."

"In the morning?" he grumbled.

"Yep."

Dean sighed and pushed himself up slightly so he could turn around to look at his brother. "Where does the day go?" he sighed. "Did you get any sleep last night?"

"Yeah, I grabbed a couple of hours," Sam lied.

"You liar," Dean accused as he sat all the way up so his legs hung in the aisle between the beds; Sam was just as good at lying as Julia, which wasn't very good at all. "because I was up at three and you were watching a George Foreman informercial."

"Hey," Sam raised his hands—which happened to be filled with coffee and doughnuts—defensively. "What can I say? It's riveting TV."

Dean narrowed his weary eyes at him. "When was the last time you got a good night's sleep?"

"I don't know," Sam shrugged. "a little while, I guess. It's not a big deal."

"Yeah, it is," Dean gave him a pointed look.

Not only was sleep good for your health and you needed it to survive, he needed Sam sharp during hunts. Since Julia was a newbie, he and Sam had to be more observant and ready to kick ass as ever before. Sam couldn't do that on two-hour naps alone.

Julia let out a soft moan in her sleep at their loud voices. Dean looked over at her as she rolled over in bed to face them, his morning wood growing all the more when he saw that her boobs were practically falling out of her tank top.

Jesus Christ.

Unfortunately, his amazing view was blocked as Sam sat on his side of the bed, giving Dean a disapproving look. Dean rolled his eyes at him and squirmed, trying not to think about Julia that way. It was proving more and more difficult the longer they spent time together. Julia was hot, plain and simple, and Dean was a man. Dean was a man who enjoyed the small shorts and tank tops she wore to bed and occasionally during training.

Sam lowered his voice, considerate of Julia's sleep since she so often stayed up with him after his nightmares. "Look, I appreciate your concern—"

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

Sam pressed his lips together and shrugged.

"Seriously, are you still having nightmares about Jess?"

"Yeah," Sam admitted; it actually felt good to talk about it with someone other than Julia. He loved her to death and she was his sister in everything but blood but sometimes a guy just needed his brother. "but it's not just her. It's everything. I just forgot, you know? This job, it gets to you."

Dean grabbed the coffee that Sam offered him. "You can't let it," he said, taking a small sip of the nirvana that was Dunkin Donuts coffee. "You can't bring it home like that."

Sam blinked at him. "So, what? All this it never keeps you up at night?" he asked in disbelief; Dean shook his head. "Never? You're never afraid?"

"No, not really?" Dean lied slightly. There were a couple of things that scared him slightly but those were few and far between. He couldn't afford to be afraid when he had so many people counting on him to keep them safe.

Sam scoffed and leaned forward, reaching under Dean's pillow to grab the knife he knew was hidden there.

"That's not fear," Dean took the knife back. "That is precaution."

"All right, whatever," Sam gave in, shaking his head. "I'm too tired to argue."

Dean's phone started ringing on the nightstand; he gave it a strange look and picked it up. No one really knew his number except for the Alexander-Petersen family, Bobby Singer, Sam, and a couple of old friends. He certainly didn't recognize the number on the caller ID.

He answered the call. "Hello?"

"Dean?" a slightly familiar voice replied. "It's, uh, it's Jerry Panowski. You, your dad, and Luke Alexander helped me out a couple years ago."

Dean wracked his mind for the name and lit up when he remembered the guy. "Oh, right, yea. Up in Kittanning, Pennsylvania, the poltergeist thing. It's not back, is it?"

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

Dean furrowed his eyebrows. "What is it?"

"Can we talk in person?"

What had gone so wrong that Jerry was afraid of talking over the phone?

"Yeah," he agreed easily. "We'll be there as soon as we can, Jerry."

"Thanks, Dean. See you then."

Dean hung up the call and looked to Sam. "Pack your things," he ordered. "and get Julia up and going."

The thing about Julia was she was usually the second person who got up in the morning. She'd wake up and lay in her bed for five minutes, silently staring up at the ceiling—Dean had no idea what she thought about but it was her ritual—and then she'd get ready for the day. On the off chance that Dean was awake before her, he dreaded waking her up because she wasn't grumpy like a normal human being would be when waking up—no, she was just a pocketful of sunshine.

It pissed Dean off, especially when he, himself, had just woken up. If he was miserable, everyone had to be miserable. That was the saying, right?

Dean grabbed some clothing as Sam gently nudged Julia awake and went into the bathroom to change. He took only five minutes to get dressed, brush his teeth, and calm down his bedhead, so Julia could get in there right away.

They were on the road to Pennsylvania a half hour later.

It was colder in Pennsylvania than it was in Wisconsin—which was very weird—so Julia was happy to be in skinny jeans and a sweater as she trailed behind Sam, Dean, and Jerry—the guy who called them about the case—through an airport hangar. She'd never been in one where mechanics worked on the actual planes, so it was kind of a cool experience, to say the least.

Jerry was a very kind man that Dean, John, and, her dad helped out a few years before. He had a nasty poltergeist that he needed killed and they were there to deliver. Julia hadn't even known that Dean ever hunted with her dad but it made sense that he knew about Dean's hunting capability. He wouldn't let Julia go off with him and Sam if he wasn't good enough to teach her and watch her back.

"Thanks for making the trip so quick," Jerry said gratefully as he led them through the hangar. "I ought to be doing you guys a favor, not the other way around, " he looked to Sam and Julia as he informed them, "Dean and your guys' dads really helped me out."

"Yeah, he told us," Sam said politely. "It was a poltergeist?"

"Poltergeist?" one of Jerry's workers asked as they passed him. "Man, I loved that movie."

"Hey, nobody's talking to you. Keep working," Jerry snapped at him before addressing Sam. "Damn right it was a poltergeist. It practically tore our house apart."

Julia made a sympathetic noise as she kept looking around at the work being done around them, letting him know that she was listening even if it didn't seem like she was.

"I'll tell you something," Jerry turned to Dean. "If it wasn't for you, your dad, and Luke, I probably wouldn't be alive."

Nudging Dean in the arm, Julia gave him an impressed face. Dean rolled his eyes at her before looking back at their surroundings. If she was interested in the work, she knew that Dean was like an excited kid on the inside. Airplane mechanics was something he would probably die to learn about.

The four of them turned down another aisle so they could keep making their way to Jerry's office.

"John and Luke said you two were off at college, is that right?" Jerry asked Sam and Julia.

"Yeah," Julia confirmed with a smile. "We're finishing up online."

"They were real proud of you guys," Jerry stated. "Sam, your dad talked about you all the time."

Sam gave him a surprised look. "He did?"

"Yeah, you bet he did," Jerry didn't understand how strange Sam found that; the last time he spoke to his dad, they had a big blowout and Sam went off to Stanford. "Oh, hey, you know I tried to get a hold of him but I couldn't. How's he doing, anyway?"

"He's wrapped up in a job right now," Dean lied to him.

"What about Luke?" Jerry turned his head to quickly look at Julia. "He didn't answer, either."

That didn't surprise Julia, since he wasn't answering her calls either. It hurt but it didn't surprise her. "Oh, Dad's on vacation but he's good," she scratched her cheek. "He's got a birthday coming up."

"Well, we're missing the old guys but we get Sam and Julia," Jerry walked backwards so he could send Sam and Julia a smile. "Even trade, huh?"

Julia laughed and shook her head; she was a newbie, after all. "I doubt that."

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

Jerry didn't reply to their self-deprecation as they finally entered his office. Sam and Dean sat in the chairs in front of his desk while Julia hovered behind them.

"I got something I want you guys to hear," Jerry opened one of his desk drawers and pulled out a CD, entering it into his desktop. "I listened to this and, 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. "Mayday, mayday," the pilot's voice was nervous. "may be experiencing some mechanical failure…"

The pilots voice filtered in and out and the plane descended rapidly toward the ground. There was a loud and raspy growl as the noise cut off, along with some indistinctive words that Julia couldn't make out. The whole thing sounded absolutely horrifying.

"Took off from here and crashed about two hundred miles south," Jerry informed them of the specifics. "Now, they're saying mechanical failure—cabin depressurized somehow and nobody knows why."

"Over a hundred people on board," he continued sadly. "Only seven got out. The pilot was one; his name is Chuck Lambert and he's a good friend of mine. Chuck is, uh," he paused, shaking his head. "well, he's pretty broken up about it…like it was his fault."

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

"No, I don't."

"Jerry, we're gonna need passenger manifests, and, um, a list of the survivors," Sam requested.

"Please," Julia added with a sweet smile.

"Right," Dean nodded. "And, uh, any way we can take a look at the wreckage?"

"The other stuff is no problem. But the wreckage…" Jerry clicked his tongue. "Guys, the NTSB has it locked down in an evidence warehouse. No way I've got that kind of clearance."

Dean frowned but shook his head to assure Jerry. "No problem."

Julia perked up excitedly as Dean exited the photo store he insisted on stopping at. He was making new fake badges for them all and she was finally gonna get one of her own. It was funny, most girls her age were getting fake IDs to drink while underage—and she did that, too, of course—but here she was, ready to pretend she was some kind of government agent.

Dean had also promised to get her a couple of FBI badges while he was in the store, which made her excitement grow. She felt like it was a rite of passage that she was checking off of her list.

"You've been in there forever," Sam complained to Dean as he walked over to where they waited with the Impala.

Dean held up three brand new badges; one for him, one for Sam, and one for her. "Can't rush perfection."

Julia squeaked and grabbed the one with her picture. The rush of excitement flatlined when she saw intern stamped right under the line that proclaimed them as Homeland Security.

"Why am I always an intern?" she whined.

"Get used to it, shortcake," Dean pulled a small stack of other badges out of his jacket and handed them to her; all of them stated that she was an intern. "Until you sprout a few inches and age like the rest of us, that's what you'll be."

"I'm done growing," she mumbled under her breath. She hadn't grown past five-two since she was a freshman in high school. She wasn't that short, though, the Winchester were just a rare breed of giant.

"Mm, too bad," Dean gave her a cheeky grin.

"What did you tell the workers, anyway?" she asked; they couldn't have just given away all willy-nilly, could they? She wouldn't know, Abby and her dad went to a profession to get their fakes done.

"I told them that we get really into roleplay," Dean smirked.

Julia pressed her lips together, gave him a flat look, and then shudder. "Gross. In your dreams, lover boy."

That didn't even explain Sam's badge.

"Oh, you can bet on it."

Sam rolled his eyes at the two of them and their bickering before studying the fake that Dean handed him. "Homeland Security?" he read. "That's pretty illegal, even for us."

"Yeah, well, it's something new, you know?" Dean shrugged and crossed over to the driver's side, sliding into his seat. "People haven't seen it a thousand times."

Once they were all settled, Dean asked him, "All right, so, what do you got?"

"Well, there's definitely EVP on the cockpit voice recorder," Sam informed him, having finished running the tape through a gold wave a half-hour before Dean came out of the store.

"Yeah?"

"Listen," Julia handed Sam his laptop and he grabbed it, pressing play.

"No survivors."

"No survivors?" Dean furrowed his eyebrows. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? There were seven survivors."

Sam shrugged. "Got me."

"So, it's what, a haunted flight?" Julia wondered.

"There's a long history of spirits and death omens on planes and ships, like phantom travelers," Sam explained; Julia hummed. "Remember Flight 401?"

Dean nodded. 'Right. The one that crashed; the airline salvaged some of its parts and put it in other planes. The spirit of the pilot and copilot haunted those flights."

"Right," Sam confirmed. "Maybe we got a similar deal."

"All right," Dean sighed. "So, survivors—which one do you want to talk to first?"

"Third on the list. Max Jaffey."

"Why him?"

"Well, for one, he's from around here, and two, if anyone saw anything weird, it would be him," Sam stated.

Julia raised her eyebrows. "What do you mean by that?"

"Well, I spoke to his mother while you were getting a drink," Sam told her. "and she told me where to find him. Riverfront Psychiatric Hospital."

"Hmm," Julia figured he must have seen something horrible if he checked himself into a psychiatric hospital voluntarily. "Poor guy."

The psychiatric hospital that Max Jaffey was in was a lot nicer than she thought it would be. It looked like some kind of expensive retirement home, really, more than a hospital where people go to get healthier mentally. Max Jaffey walked with a limp, used a cane to get around, and had a bad attitude but Julia figured that it was because he just survived a massive and mostly fatal plane crash.

"I don't understand," Max eyed the casual clothing they were in as the four of them walked into the outside area of the hospital. "I already spoke with Homeland Security."

"Right, well, some new information has come up," Dean excused. "So, if you would just answer a couple more questions…"

"Just before the plane went down, did you notice anything unusual?" Sam asked Max, jumping right in.

"Like what?"

"Strange lights, weird noises, maybe voices?" Dean listed.

"No," Max shook his head as they sat down at one of the empty tables.

Dean hummed skeptically. "Mr. Joffey—"

"Jaffey," Max corrected him sharply.

"Jaffey. You checked yourself in here, right?" Max nodded at Dean's question. "Can I ask why?"

"I was a little stressed," he said matter-of-factly. "I survived a plane crash."

"Uh-huh," Dean pursed his lips. "and that's what terrified you? That's what you were afraid of?"

"I-I don't want to talk about this anymore," Max stammered.

Dean didn't back off. "See, I think maybe you did see something up there. We need to know what."

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

Dean scoffed and looked over to Sam and Julia. "He was seeing things."

Julia glared at them and softened her gaze when she looked back at Max. "It's okay, Mr. Jaffey," she assured him gently; he softened considerably after Dean's bad-cop routine. "If you could tell us what you thought you saw, it would be helpful. Please."

Max exhaled heavily. "There was—there was this man and, uh, head these eyes…Uh, black eyes," he struggled to give her information; Julia could tell it was hard on him. "And I saw him—or I thought I saw him…"

"What?" Dean asked when he hesitated.

"He opened the emergency exit," Max confessed. "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 questioned. "It would look something like a mirage."

Max gave him a weird look. "What are you, nuts? He was a passenger. He was sitting right in front of me."

After a quick look at the passenger manifest, they tracked down the residence of the man who was sitting in front of Max Jaffey. The man's name was George Phelps and he worked as a dentist. They questioned his wife with Sam taking the sympathetic route—women responded much better to him than they did Julia—and all they got as answers was something about him having acid reflux and was afraid to fly.

There was nothing out of the ordinary about the guy, other than the super strength and the black eyes. Dean proposed that they should take a look at the wreckage of the plane—twenty minutes later, it was officially the worst idea he ever had.

He stepped out of the suit shop that Julia insisted that he and Sam go in, dressed in a black suit and white dress shirt—he was matching Sam exactly, right down to the black tie the sales' lady enthusiastically helped them pick out.

"Man, I look like one of the Blues Brothers," he complained, messing with the suit jacket.

"No, you don't," Sam assured him before smirking. "You look more like a seventh-grader at his first dance."

Dean gave him an offended look and then glanced down at his body.

Okay, maybe Sam was right.

"I hate this thing."

"Hey," Julia's voice came from behind them. "do you want to get to that wreckage or not?"

Dean rolled his eyes, not in the mood for a lecture, and turned to face her. His mouth went dry when he saw what she had picked out to wear to obtain the professional image that she wanted to project. She was wearing the hell out of a white blouse, a gray checkered-pattern pencil skirt, a matching blazer, and black heels.

She was straight out of every hot teacher fantasy he had ever had in his life.

The only thing that made him feel better about his obvious attraction to her was the fact that he was pretty sure she was checking him out, too. She certainly wasn't looking at Sam with those come-hither eyes.

I am fucking screwed.

"Max Jaffey was eyeing us up," she explained when she finished eyeing Dean. "Besides, you guys look absolutely gorgeous."

"Thanks, J," Sam snickered, looking over at Dean with a smirk. "You look amazing."

"Sam, you're so sweet," Julia beamed at him and began walking toward the Impala. "You boys coming?"

Dean groaned under his breath as he caught sight of the way the skirt cupped her ass. "Oh, yeah, I am."

"Dean!"

Thankfully, Julia didn't hear his slip-up.

They showed their badges to the guard at the evidence garage where the wreckage was stored and he waved them right through. He didn't even give them a second glance, so Dean had to admit that Julia was right about the monkey suits. They did give them a professional edge they hadn't had previously.

There was a lot of debris in the garage. It was spread out on an outline of the plane, each piece going where it would be if the plane was fully functional and intact. Dean pulled out his Walkman EMF meter from his pocket and put one of the headphones in his ear as they started walking around to examine the evidence.

"What is that?" Sam asked him.

"It's an EMF meter. It reads electromagnetic frequencies."

"Yeah, I know what an EMF meter is," Sam deadpanned. "but why does that one look like a busted-up Walkman?"

"Cause that's what I made it out of," Dean grinned proudly. "It's homemade."

"Yeah, I can see that."

"Shut up, Sam," Julia nudged him out of the way with a roll of her eyes before addressing Dean, "That's really smart, Dean."

"Yeah, it's smart, Sammy," Dean boasted over at his brother. "Thanks, Junior."

Julia gave him a smile and left them, walking around to get her own look at some of the wreckage. He and Sam continued on in the aisle they were already in, waving the EMF around to see if it picked up anything.

As Dean moved it past the warped emergency handle, it whirled angrily.

"Jules," he called for her; she made her way back over to him and Sam. "Check out the emergency door handle."

Julia wrinkled her nose at it as Dean scrubbed his finger over the yellow dust that had collected on it. "What is that?"

"Only one way to find out," Sam sighed. He took out his switchblade and a small baggy, scraping some of the substance into the bag so they could check it out later.

Dean frowned at the yellow powder on his hand, casually wiping it off on the back of Sam's suit jacket. He shot his brother an innocent look when he turned back to him and acted like he hadn't just put an unknown substance all over his clothing.

And then an alarm started blaring. The three of them leapt into action, quickly running out of the warehouse just in time to dodge the security team. They looked around the corner before to make sure the coast was clear before making a run to the tall fence that was just locked down.

"Get ready to climb, Jules!" Dean called as he took off his jacket, throwing up on top of the fence so they wouldn't rip their clothing or get hurt from the barbwire.

Julia only stopped for a second to kick off her heels—how the hell did she run in those?—and throw them over the fence. She jumped up the fence as Dean and Sam landed on the other side, climbing over with only little difficulty. Dean had to admit that he was impressed she could go toe to toe with them on the fast getaway.

"Thank God I liked climbing trees!" she breathed as they took off running again, making their way to where they hid the Impala.

"And the monkey suits do come in handy," Dean added as he started the car and accelerated.

The yellow substance Sam scraped off the mangled emergency handle? Sulfur.

Sulfur meant one thing to Julia—demons. She was new to the hunting thing but she grew up learning about demons and how to deal with them. They were an Alexander specialty, to say the least.

In her room back at Beth's house, there was a devil trap under the area rug. All of her rooms had one, wherever she lived from the moment she was born. She knew how to bless holy water, she knew the most basic exorcism from memory, and she knew how to identify them without moving a finger. She had never come face-to-face with a demon but she had trained to her whole life—hell, her college majors were kind of centered around fighting them.

It was some of the only things her father taught her and her siblings, no matter if they were going to be hunters or not. The Alexanders were too well known down in hell to go out unprotected against the nasty bastards.

So, that put her on main research detail for the first time since she started hunting. Usually she would be learning from Sam about what to look for and ways to break into prohibited databases but now he was learning from her.

It was kind of daunting but at least she had a couple of PDFs on her computer that they could go through first. If they couldn't find the information they needed there, they start searching the internet.

"Okay, whatcha got?" Dean asked from his spot on his bed. He had been reading through one of the PDFs that they had printed at the local library for him, while Julia and Sam used their laptops.

Julia's eyes darted to Sam, expecting him to give his brother a low-down but he just nodded at her.

"Okay…" she hesitated only for a second. "every religion in every world culture has the concept of demons and demonic possession. Christian, Native American, Hindu, and more."

"Yeah but none of them describe anything like this," Dean shook his head.

"That's not exactly true," Julia countered. "According to Japanese beliefs, certain demons are behind certain disasters, both natural and man-made. Earthquakes, diseases, tornadoes, hurricanes…you name it."

Dean gave her a curious look. "And this one causes plane crashes?" she shrugged. "All right, so, what? We have a demon that's evolved with the times and found a way to ratchet up the body count?"

"Yeah," Sam confirmed, backing Julia up. "Who knows how many planes it brought down before this one, you know?"

Dean made a strangled noise in the back of his throat and bowed his head, shaking it.

"What?" Sam asked him as Julia gave him a worried look.

"I don't know, guys," he scratched the back of his head. "this isn't our normal gig. I mean, demons? They don't want anything—just death and destruction for its own sake. This is big…I wish Dad was here."

"Yeah, me too," Sam agreed quietly.

Jerry called Dean soon after their conversation ended, informing them that his pilot friend, Chuck, had been killed in another plane crash. Sam and Dean went alone to investigate the wreckage and when they came back, they had more sulfur they needed Jerry to examine.

"All right, that's two plane crashes involving Chuck Lambert," Dean recalled. "This demon sounds like it was after him."

"With all due respect to Chuck, if that's the case, that would be good news," Sam sighed from his place at Jerry's desk. He had just finished comparing the record logs from both flights.

"What would be the bad news?" Julia wondered.

"Chuck's plane went down exactly forty minutes into the flight," Sam informed them. "And get this, so did Flight 2485."

Julia sighed in realization.

"Forty minutes?" Jerry caught her reaction. "What does that mean?"

"It's biblical numerology," she told him. "Like in Genesis when it rained for forty days and nights—Noah's Ark. The number means death."

"I went back and there have been six plane crashes over the last decade that all went down exactly forty minutes in."

"Any survivors?" Dean asked Sam.

"No," Sam shook his head. "Not until now, at least. Not until Flight 2485, for some reason."

"The cockpit voice recorder—the EVP said no survivors," Dean said thoughtfully. "It's going after the survivors. It's trying to finish job."

"Well, I guess we gotta lay it off," Julia commented dryly. No one laughed, not even Dean. "Yeah, okay, too soon. Sorry, sorry."

"Really?" Sam asked in his politest customer service voice, speaking to one of the Flight 2485 survivors. "Well, thank you for taking our survey. And, if you do plan to fly, please don't forget your friends at United Britannia Airlines. Thanks."

"I see that the job you took at the hotline center really worked out for you, huh?" Julia leaned forward in her seat to speak to Sam.

"Hotline?" Dean looked over at Sam. "Like a sex hotline?"

"It was a missing persons hotline," Sam said absentmindedly as he checked the list of survivors and crossed out the last two names. "All right, that takes care of Blaine Sanderson and Dennis Holloway. They're not flying anything soon."

"So, our only wild card is the flight attendant, Amanda Walker," Dean stated.

"Right," Sam confirmed. "Her sister, Karen, said her flight leaves Indianapolis at eight PM. It's her first night back on the job."

"That sounds like just our luck," Dean smirked.

"It's a five-hour drive to Indianapolis," Julia pointed out. "So, even with you at the wheel..."

"I'll manage," Dean declared. "Sam, why don't you call Amanda's cellphone again, see if we can't head her off the pass."

"I already left her three voice messages," Sam sighed. "She must have turned off her cellphone."

"We're not gonna make it."

Dean looked at Julia through the rearview mirror. "Since when are you Negative Nancy?"

"Since we're five hours away from Indianapolis and we can't teleport?"

"I bet you twenty bucks and three rounds of shots if we make it," Dean dared her, smiling mischievously over at Sam; Sam shook his head. "What? She has the money."

"She's also underage, Dean."

"Oh, come on, that's never stopped her before," Dean groaned. "Come on, shortcake. What do you say?"

Julia hummed thoughtfully. "What do I get when I win?"

"You don't have to give me twenty bucks and three rounds of shots?"

"No, no, no," she shook her head with a smirk. "If I win…you have to let me choose the music for one whole month—"

"Nope."

"—and let me drive Baby once."

"No fucking way!"

"What?" she mocked him. "You have the car."

Dean licked his lips and shook his head. "Fine," he agreed. "You're on, baby."

Julia shivered at the pet name and retorted, "No, I'll be driving Baby when we get there too late."

"Should you guys really be betting on this while lives are at stake?" Sam spoke up.

They didn't answer.

Julia owed Dean twenty bucks and three rounds of shots. In all honestly, she was relieved about the fact that they made it to an airport on time. Hopefully they'd have time to convince Amanda not to fly and save her and, in the process, the others on the flight.

With over a half-hour to spare, the three of them ran through the airport, trying to find a boarding schedule. Sam eventually found them, since he was a foot taller than everyone in the vicinity, and led Julia and Dean over to the monitors that it was showcased on.

"Right there," Sam pointed to the flight Amanda was expected to be on. "They're boarding in thirty minutes."

"Okay," Dean sighed. "we still have some cards to play. We need to find a phone."

Julia looked around and spotted the courtesy center. They raced over to it and allowed Dean to call to one of the building's operators.

"Hi, Gate thirteen," Dean requested into the phone. "I'm trying to contact an Amanda Walker. She's a flight attendant on Flight 424."

The operator transferred Dean over so Amanda could answer the phone. Dean had the jitters while he waited for her to pick up, his eyes darting around nervously.

"Miss Walker, hi," Dean's voice changed, taking on a polite and courteous tone. "This is Dr. James Hetfield from St. Francis Memorial Hospital. We have a Karen Walker here."

"Nothing serious," Dean told her when she reacted. "Just a minor car accident but she was injured, so—" he paused, blinking rapidly. "You what? Uh, well, there must be some mistake."

Julia and Sam exchanged curious looks, both of them wondering what the hell was going on.

"Guilty as charged," Dean sighed in response to whatever Amanda asked him. "He's really sorry…Yes, but really needs to see you tonight, so—Don't be like that. Come on, the guy's a mess. Really, it's pathetic…Oh, yeah…No, no, wait, Amanda! Amanda—"

He slammed the phone back on the receiver.

"What happened? Is she skipping the flight?" Julia asked hopefully.

"Would I react that way if she was skipping the flight?" Dean asked her sharply as he paced back-and-forth in front of her and Sam. "Fuck! So close!"

Julia wrinkled her nose, wishing that Amanda would have given in.

"All right, it's time for plan B," Sam declared. "We're getting on that plane."

Dean stopped in his tracks and turned to face Sam with wide eyes. "Woah, woah, now just hold on a second."

"Dean, that plane is leaving with over a hundred passengers on board," Sam reminded him. "and if we're right, the plane's gonna crash."

"I know."

"Okay, we're getting on the plane. We're gonna need to find the demon and exorcise it," Julia started planning immediately, pulling her debit card from her purse to hand it to Sam. "Sam you get the tickets, Dean and I will get whatever that will make it past security from the trunk and we'll meet back here in five."

Sam took the card and looked over at Dean, seeing the anxious look on his face. "You okay?"

"No, not really," Dean admitted. "I kind of have this problem with, uh…"

"Flying?" Julia guessed, wincing.

"It's never really been an issue until now!" Dean defended himself.

Sam gave him a flat look. "You're joking, right?"

"Does it look like I'm joking?" Dean retorted. "Why do you think I fucking drive everywhere, Sam?"

"Okay, so, Sam and I will go," Julia suggested, finding an alternative plan to their alternative plan. "We'll do this one by ourselves."

"What are you, fucking nuts?" apparently Dean had more of a potty mouth than usual because of his anxiety. "That plane is gonna fucking crash!"

"Dean, we can do it together or J and I can go by ourselves," Sam said quickly, trying to get through to his brother. "I'm not seeing a third option, here."

"Come on, really?" Dean groaned; Sam nodded and he sighed nervously. "Damn it."

Thirty minutes later, they had successfully boarded their flight. Dean had insisted on sitting in the aisle seat and, because Sam was too freaking big to sit in the middle, that's where Julia was stuck—even though she had specifically requested for the window seat.

The only things that they were able to carry to defend themselves against the demon was the EMF device, John's journal, Julia's journal, holy water, duct tape, and a rosary so Julia could bless more water if need be.

As the plane was toted onto the tarmac, Sam leaned over Julia to whisper to Dean. "Just try to relax."

Yeah, because when someone tells you to relax, it's easy to do it.

"Just try to shut the fuck up," Dean hissed back, keeping his eyes on the magazine the flight attendant provided him.

Julia and Sam shared a secret smile and, as the plane took off, Dean stiffened. His hands went straight to the armrests to grip them tightly and, instead, he found Julia's hand. She was surprised to see him hold onto it, anyway, so she assumed that he had to be really scared.

Who knew that Dean Winchester, a hunter who had proclaimed he wasn't afraid of anything, would be nervous to fly?

Julia wrapped her fingers around his hand and squeezed, hoping that it would comfort him a little bit. He closed his eyes in relief when the plane was up in the air but blinked rapidly when the wheels retracted and people started clapping.

Julia knew she shouldn't be amused but she couldn't help it. How many times had Dean made fun of her hating spiders and most insects? The answer was a lot.

When Dean started humming a song to make the time pass, Sam looked over at him curiously. "Are you humming Metallica?"

"It calms me down," he replied quietly.

Sam scoffed, amused. "Look, man, I get you're nervous, all right? But you need to stay focused."

"Okay."

"I mean, we got thirty-two minutes and counting to track this thing down—or whoever it's possessing, anyway—and preform a full-on exorcism."

"Yeah, on a crowded plane," Dean grunted. "That's gonna be easy."

"It'll be fine," Julia assured him, squeezing his hand that was still wrapping tightly around hers.

"One step at a time, all right?" Sam added his support. "Now, who is it possessing?"

Dean didn't answer, causing Julia to nudge him. "Dean."

"It's usually gonna be somebody with some sort of weakness. You know, a chink in the armor that the demon can worm though," Dean gulped and recited the information he memorized from Julia's PDF. "Somebody with an addiction or some sort of emotional distress."

"Well, this is Amanda's first flight after the crash. If I were her, I'd be pretty messed up," Sam stated.

Dean hummed and turned to the flight attendant who happened to be passing them. "Excuse me, are you Amanda?"

"No, I'm not."

"Oh, my mistake," Dean smiled nervously as she walked on. "All right, well, that's got to be Amanda back there, so I'll go talk to her, and, uh, I'll get a read on her mental state."

"What if she's already possessed?"

"There's ways to test that," Dean answered Sam, leaning forward to grab the bottle of holy water from the bag at his feet. "We brought holy water."

Julia grabbed it from him and gave it to Sam to hold onto. "You should probably go more subtle. She's not gonna answer anything if you fling water at her," she said. "If she's possessed, she'll flinch at the name of God."

"Oh," Dean nodded simply and stood up to walk to the back. "Nice."

"Dean!" she hissed, reaching out to grab his sleeve as he went to walk away.

"What?"

"Say it in Latin."

"I know."

He went to leave again but Julia stopped him again. "Dean, hey!"

"What?!"

"In Latin it's Christo," she informed him with a sheepish smile. "Cree-stow."

Dean gave her an annoyed look. "I know, I'm not a fucking idiot."

As soon as he was out of hearing range, Julia turned to Sam. "Should we knock him out or something? I brought a couple of sleeping pills just in case."

"Julia," Sam scolded her. "We can't knock him out. We're gonna need his help."

"I'm just saying, maybe it's better that he—"

"We'll need the backup," Sam said firmly. "Besides, he'd be so pissed at us."

"Fine," Julia sighed heavily. "We won't drug him, then."

Sam shook his head at her but she just sent him an innocent smile. Those never really worked on Sam, though. It was probably because he was the youngest child, himself, and used them from time-to-time to get out of things.

Dean came back within five minutes, heaving a sigh of relief when he sat back in his chair and buckled up once again.

"All right, well, she's got to be the most well-adjusted person on the planet," Dean reported.

"You said Christo?" Sam checked.

"Yeah."

"And?"

"There's no demon in her," Dean said matter-of-factly. "There's no demon getting in her."

"So, if it's on the plane, it can be anyone, anywhere."

The plane rocked a bit as they hit turbulence and Dean freaked out, tightly gripping Julia's arm.

"Come on, that can't be normal!"

"It's just a little turbulence," Julia said soothingly.

"Julia, this plane is going to fucking crash, okay? Quit treating me like I'm fucking four."

"Stop acting like you're four then," Julia hissed; she was just trying to help him. "You need to calm down."

"Well, I'm sorry I can't!"

"Yes, you can."

"I swear to God—"

"Listen to me right now," Julia snapped at him, grabbing him by the chin so he would look at her. "If you're panicked then you're wide open to demonic possession so you need to calm yourself down or I swear to all that's holy I will drug you."

Dean pressed his lips together and gulped uneasily. To placate her, because she was clearly very angry now and he had never really seen that feisty side of her, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Good boy," Julia cooed mockingly. "Now, I have an exorcism half-memorized—"

"Half-memorized?" Sam interrupted her skeptically.

"Relax, I have it in my journal," she sighed. "It's called the Rituale Romanum."

"What do we have to do?" Dean asked through his nerves.

"It's two parts," Julia informed them. "The first part expels the demon from the victim's body. It makes it manifest, which actually makes it stronger."

"Stronger?" Dean gave her a wide-eyed look; she nodded. "How?"

"It doesn't need to possess someone anymore so it can cause trouble all on its own."

"And why is that a good thing?"

"Because the second part sends the fucker back to Hell once and for all," she smirked. "That's why I only have it partially memorized. The one I grew up learning sends it back temporarily."

"Well, first we still need to find the bastard," Sam reminded them.

To remain inconspicuous, Julia stayed in her seat while Sam and Dean read the area with the EMF Walkman. Dean had their section of the plane, which was close to the front, while Sam did the back section. By the time there was only fifteen minutes left until the plane crashed, Sam and Dean had grouped together in the front section.

They stiffened when the copilot came out of the bathroom and they must have said Christo because Julia could see his black eyes from her seat a few rows back.

The boys hurried back to Julia and hurriedly told her to get up and walk toward the back. Julia gripped her journal to her chest and did as she was told, listening as Sam whispered the plan to her.

They were gonna ask the flight attendant, Amanda, to ask for the copilot and bring him to the back. Dean and Sam would tackle the guy, duct taping him and spraying him with holy water, and Julia would recite the exorcism.

"You really think this will work?" she whispered back to him.

"Well, we only have twelve minutes, so it's gonna have to."

Julia pushed back the curtain that separated the flight attendants' space and entered, Sam and Dean following her in. Amanda, a pretty blonde with a kind face, turned around in surprise, looking between the three of them.

"Hi," she greeted them kindly. "I hope the flight's not too bumpy for you."

"Actually, that's kind of what we needed to talk to you about," Dean sighed as Sam closed the curtain behind them for privacy.

"Um, okay, what can I do for you?"

"All right, this is gonna sound nuts but we just don't have the time for the whole the-truth-is-out-there speech right now," Dean stated firmly.

"Look, we know you were on Flight 2485," Sam told her.

Amanda's patient smile disappeared. "Who are you guys?"

"Now, we've spoken to some of the other survivors," Sam continued on like she hadn't spoken. "We know something brought down that plane and it wasn't a mechanical failure."

"We need your help because we need to stop it from happening again," Dean finished. "Here and now."

"I'm sorry," Amanda shook her head quickly. "I'm very busy. I have to go back—"

"Wait a second," Dean pleaded. "We're not gonna hurt you, okay, but listen o me. The pilot in 2485, Chuck Lambert? He's dead."

Amanda flinched in shock. "Wait, what? Chuck is dead?"

"He died in a plane crash," Dean told her. "Now, that's two plane crashes in two months. That doesn't strike you as strange?"

"I—"

"Look, there was something wrong with 2485. Now, maybe you sensed it, maybe you didn't," Sam tried to convince her. "but there's something wrong with this flight, too."

"Amanda, you have to believe us," Julia finally spoke up.

Amanda blinked. "On—on 2485, there was this man," she recalled. "He had these eyes…"

"Yes," Sam confirmed. "That's exactly what we're talking about."

"I don't understand. What are you asking me to do?"

"Okay, the copilot, we need you to bring him back here," Dean requested.

"Why?" she gave him a weird look. "What does he have to do with anything?"

"We don't have time to explain," Julia said hurriedly. "We just need to talk to him, okay?"

"How am I supposed to go in the cockpit and get the copilot—"

"Do whatever it takes," Sam cut her off. "Tell him there's something broken back here. Whatever will get him out of that cockpit."

"I could lose my job for—"

"Well, you're gonna lose a lot more if you don't help us out," Dean said firmly.

Amanda hesitated and inhaled deeply before agreeing. She left the area, shutting the curtain behind her, and went to get the copilot. Julia, Sam, and Dean hid where the demon couldn't see them and prepared to jump out at it.

"Okay," the copilot entered through the curtain. "what's the problem?"

Dean cut him off with a sharp punch to the face, knocking the guy down on the floor by the emergency handle. Sam sprayed holy water on the demon—causing it to smoke and hiss in pain, its eyes flashing black—while Dean cut off a piece of duct tape and firmly placed it over his mouth.

"What are you doing?" Amanda asked indignantly. "You said you were just gonna talk to him."

"We are gonna talk to him but we need you calm," Julia grabbed her arm and turned her away from the scene. "We need you outside the curtain."

"What—but, I don't—what's going—"

"Don't let anybody in, okay?" Julia ordered the panicking blonde. "Can you do that?"

Amanda glanced back at the copilot, who was burning so much from the holy water Sam was spraying him that his shirt had holes in it, and nodded. She left the area and firmly closed the curtains behind her.

"Hurry up, Jules," Dean grunted as he fought to keep the demon under control. "I don't know how much longer I can hold him."

Julia nodded and opened her journal up to the page with the exorcism. She started reading the first couples of lines, pronouncing the Latin just like she learned in her many classes. The demon managed to throw Dean off of him and, before Sam could hold him down, ripped off the tape covering his mouth and grabbed Sam's collar.

"I know what happened to your girlfriend!" the demon taunted her. "She must have died screaming! Even now, she's burning!"

Julia paused, completely in shock at what the guy said, and shook her head. She knew that demons lied all the time, especially to throw someone off of their game. Dean punched the demon back away from Sam and held it down again, an angry Sam joining him.

"Julia!"

Julia continued reading the first part of the exorcism until the copilot's mouth opened wide, thick black smoke expelling from him. The smoke left the area through the vent by the ceiling while the guy it was possessing passed out.

"Where'd it go?" Sam asked her.

"It's in the plane," Dean answered instead. "Hurry up and finish it."

Julia nodded but when she went to speak, the plane dipped drastically. The engines spluttered off and they fell straight down, causing everyone to scream. The journal fell out of Julia's hands as she held onto the door frame, her stomach dropping like she was on a roller coaster that had a hill a thousand feet high.

"Julia!" Sam shouted at her while Dean screamed like a banshee.

Julia squeezed her eyes shut, glad that she had memorized the last part. She recited it word-for-word, flowing perfectly as everyone on the plane screamed in fright. The further the plane fell, the dizzier she got, but she held up, finishing up the exorcism and sending the demon back to Hell.

The lightning that struck the plane when she finished the exorcism went away, the engines starting back up again. There was a collective sigh of relief as the pilot stabilized the flight, getting them back up at the proper flying level.

Julia exhaled heavily, deeply relieved that it was over. Her first demon was scary as hell but she did it. She actually did it.

She let go of the door frame and was immediately pulled into a hug by Sam. He gave her a happy kiss on the crown of her head before letting her go and turning to see if Dean was all right.

Dean was pale and looked like he was a second from passing out. His hair was stuck up all over the place by the gravity as they were falling and he looked ridiculous with the wide-eyed and pursed lip expression he was wearing.

"I'm never fucking flying again," he muttered as he stood up straight, his face slumping. He patted Julia on the shoulder. "Great job, shortcake."

"Thanks, D," Julia grinned at him. "Do you want that sleeping pill now?"

"Fuck, yes."

"Nobody knows what you guys did, but I do," Jerry said gratefully, smiling at Julia, Sam, and Dean as they stood outside of the parking lot. "A lot of people could have been killed."

Jerry reached out to shake Julia's hand and she returned it. He moved onto to Dean and then to Sam.

"Your dads are gonna be real proud," he told them.

"We'll see you around, Jerry," Sam let go of his hand.

The three of them went to get into the Impala but Dean paused and looked back at the older man. "You know, Jerry, I meant to ask you, how did you get my cellphone number, anyway? I've only had it for, like, six months."

"Your dad gave it to me," Jerry said simply, like it wasn't a huge bomb that he dropped.

"What?"

"When did you talk to him?" Dean asked quickly.

"I mean, I didn't exactly talk to him but I called his number," Jerry explained. "His voicemail message told me to give you a call. Thanks again, guys."

Jerry walked away and they got into the car. They were half an hour away from the airport when Sam sighed heavily. "This doesn't make any sense, man. I've called Dad's number, like, fifty times. It's been out of service."

Julia pulled her phone from her purse and dialed John's number, putting it on speakerphone so the brothers could hear the voicemail message.

"This is John Winchester," they heard John's voice. "I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son, Dean. 785,555,0179. He can help."

As the dial tone dinged, signaling the end of the message, the Impala had never been so silent.