Hey guys, its me. I know its been awhile, but I got caught up in life. Sorry. Anyways, here's chapter 4! :D Finally. Chapters are going to be updated much more frequently now, and hopefully before the end of September, I'd reach the 12th chapter so fingers crossed. Other than that little notification, go on ahead and read the chapter. Don't forget to review because I really, really would like very much to hear what you have to say. :D
Beta: So I finally got a Beta, and its no other than...Winchestergirl1994! She has been a great help and her ideas are awesome :D All editing credit goes to her! :D
Disclaimer: It's simple. What you recognize is not mine. What you don't recognize is mine. Cool?
Enjoy! :)
Lexi POV:
I opened my eyes at the sound of something; I wasn't completely focused since all I wanted to do was go back to sleep. My eyes drifted over towards the windows of the motel room we were in; the sun was high and its rays were streaming into the room. I squinted against the sunlight and guessed that it was probably very early in the morning. I heard the noise again—it sounded like a lock unlocking.
After my eyes adjusted to the light, I looked over at Dean sleeping in the bed next to the one I was lying in. The blanket was wrapped around his legs, wrinkled from him kicking at it all night and he was wearing a shirt and his boxers.
Dean, as usual was sleeping on the bed closest to the door. Maybe he wasn't conscious of it, but I knew that Dean lived to protect me and Sam.
I heard the same noise once again and automatically reached for the gun under the mattress of my bed; Dean shifted as well and his eyes opened faintly. Dean didn't seem to notice that I was awake and I saw his hand slide ever-so-slightly under the pillow to take hold of the knife he kept under there.
The door kept making sounds as if someone was trying to unlock it and we waited in silence. The door opened with a creak, before it was slammed shut. Both Dean and I jumped, turning around to see…Sam coming into the room.
Come to think of it, I didn't even notice that Sam wasn't in the room until now. I relaxed releasing the death grip I had on my gun, Dean doing the same with his knife. He tilted his head to the side, turning over only to meet Sam's gigantic figure looming over him.
"Mornin' sunshine!" Sam said brightly with a grin, holding three cups of steaming hot coffee and a box in his hands.
"What time is it?" Dean asked sleepily.
"It's about 5:45." Sam said, sounding very happy again for some reason.
I stifled a groan at the unfairness of it all; I happened to like my sleep, unlike gigantic freaks that didn't need to doze. Maybe if I pretended to sleep, then they wouldn't wake me up…
"In the morning?" Dean yawned.
I muffled another groan at Dean's stupid question.
"Yep," Sam replied.
"Where does the day go?" Dean questioned, expecting no answer this time. He stretched, then swung his legs off the bed and sat on the edge.
I closed my eyes all the way, shifting a little to show that I was asleep and not totally faking it, when suddenly a pillow came down right across my face.
"If I have to wake up at 5:45 in the freakin' morning, then so will you, Lex." Dean said, pulling the pillow off me so I couldn't throw it back at him.
I sat up in bed with a glare directed at my brother the size of Mexico. "Good morning to you, too." I glowered, ready to shout at him, but he turned back to Sam just as I opened my mouth.
"Did you get any sleep last night?" Dean asked him.
"Yeah, I grabbed a couple hours."
When I heard Sam's answer, I paused my escalating tantrum to listen to him—I knew he didn't sleep last night because he never came into bed.
"Liar." Dean argued, "Cause I was up at three and you were watchin' the George Foreman infomercial."
"Hey, what can I say? It's riveting TV."
Dean sighed. "Lexi, tell him something," he said to me.
"Hey man, as long as I get the bed all to myself, I'm totally okay with you not sleeping. I hear that the best movies are on at night," I laughed, grinning at Sam and completely oblivious to Dean's glare.
When no one laughed though, I got back to glaring at Dean. I slowly let out a breath because honestly, I didn't know what to tell him. It wasn't really something that he was able to control. "When was the last time you got a good night's sleep?" I interrogated Sam.
"I don't know…a little while, I guess. It's not a big deal,"
God, Sam didn't even know when the last time he slept was? I got serious—it was bad.
"Yeah, it is," I threw back at Sam. "Listen to me, Sam, I know the idea of sleep sounds unappealing when you know that all you're going to see is stuff that you want to forget about, but you have to try." It was obvious Sam still dreamt of Jessica and what happened to her; I didn't blame him for not wanting to sleep. "There's ways you can knock yourself out enough to sleep without having nightmares."
"Look, I appreciate your concern—" Sam started but Dean interrupted him.
"Oh, we're not concerned about you. It's your job to keep my ass alive so that I can keep Lexi's alive and she keep yours…hence, I need you sharp," Dean retorted, but I knew he was concerned about Sam.
Sam nodded.
"Seriously, are you still havin' nightmares about Jess?" Dean asked him, a little softer this time.
"Yeah," Sam mumbled as he walked around Dean's bed and sat down next to me. He handed Dean and I a cup of coffee before putting the box on the bedside table; the contents turning out to be donuts. Dean took off the lid on his cup, threw it on the bedside table, and sipped his coffee while listening to Sam. "But it's not just her. It's everything. I just forgot, you know? This job—man, it gets to you."
I sighed sadly; I really wanted to help him, I just didn't know how. With the kind of imagination we Winchesters had, it was hard to get a lucid, hushed mind even for a few hours.
I put my coffee down next to the donuts and gave Sam a hug from the back. I knew it wouldn't solve his problems but it was a reminder that I was always there for him. Sam rubbed my arm that was around his neck, just as Dean started to speak again. "Well, you can't let it. You can't bring it home like that."
"So, what? All this—it never keeps you up at night?" Sam asked skeptically, his eyebrows raised. Dean shook his head, a perfect innocent look on his face. "Never? You're never afraid?" Sam questioned him again, just to make sure of Dean's reply.
"No, not really," Dean confirmed, trying to show us that he was a tough guy.
Sam looked at Dean, then just to prove his point, reached under Dean's pillow and pulled out Dean's hunting knife; it looked exactly like the one you saw in Scream.
Sam just held it up next to his face without saying a word, he didn't need to; Dean was caught with no way of escape. For a moment, Dean looked embarrassed but then he quickly dismissed the expression from his face and grabbed the knife out of Sam's hand. "That's not fear. That is precaution," Dean just continued arguing while he put the knife back.
I stifled a chuckle. They both turned to me and I wiped the smirk off my face.
"Hey, don't look at me like that. I'm not afraid of what we do. Unlike you two, I'm strong enough to handle the job." I stated proudly; I wasn't scared of them finding out about my gun—no one knew where I put it.
But right at the same time, Sam and Dean reached over to the exact place where my gun was hidden. Dean grabbed it first though, and pulled it from under the mattress.
Psh…Whatever.
"I happen to really like my gun, okay? So…so…just…stop staring," I said finally. I looked to Sam. "That's precaution." I echoed Dean from earlier and Sam just grunted. I snatched my gun back and hid it under my pillow; my secret was out so it didn't matter where I put it.
"All right, whatever. I'm too tired to argue." Sam gave in.
I picked up my coffee again after the conversation died…and also when I knew that the coffee wouldn't burn my tongue once I drank it. I sipped slowly at the warm drink and sighed happily- it was just the right kind of warm. It slid down my throat, warming its path. I savored each sip; it was really good this time. Maybe we should let Sam be in charge of breakfast in the morning from now on...
I snapped out of my coffee-heaven when I heard Dean's phone ring.
He stared at us in confusion as we listened to the phone ring. Not many people knew his number, and unless it was dad or a fellow-hunter-friend, no one called.
Hope flared inside of me like a candle's endless flame, bringing light to everything around it, and I saw the same light in Dean's eyes—the same hope that it was dad calling.
Dean reached across to the bedside table where his phone was lighting up in time with its insistent ringing. He flipped it open and put it to his ear as Sam and I waited, our breath held.
"Hello?" Dean said. We heard a voice speak up on the other end of the line, and the light in Dean's eyes died like someone blew out that endless flame.
I went back to my coffee-inspired-heaven, sipping at it ever so slowly as I leaned against Sam.
"Good?" Sam asked me when he noticed how in love I was with the coffee. I smiled at him gratefully and he laughed.
I could hear a guy talking to Dean, but he shrugged to us meaning he didn't know who was calling him. I watched him curiously. It was another moment before recognition crossed Dean's face and he replied to whomever he was speaking to.
"Oh, right, yeah, up in Kittanning, Pennsylvania. The poltergeist thing…it's not back, is it?" Dean asked him.
Sam looked at me in question as I tried to think of Kittanning. A poltergeist? I kept racking my brain when I suddenly remembered.
Jerry Panowski. A poltergeist had been taking residence at his house. Dean, Dad, and I had taken care of it a couple of years back.
I turned to Sam to explain. "His name is Jerry Panowski. It was a hunt down in Kittanning and we met him there. The poltergeist was haunting him and his family." Sam nodded at me in understanding. I noticed him chewing on something, but there was no donut in his hand or anything else that he could be chewing. "Dude, you have gum?" I accused suspiciously.
"Yeah," Sam just answered. I waited for him to offer, but he didn't.
"Can I have?" I asked him impatiently. He looked at me like he just noticed I was there for the first time, but then he grinned and handed me a pack. "The whole thing?" I asked him again, surprised.
"I got one for you," Sam said.
I smiled at him; Sam was sweet as always. I turned back to Dean though when I noticed his voice get serious.
"What is it?" Dean asked through the phone. Another moment of silence, then Dean nodded his head, "We'll be there as soon as we can," and snapped his phone shut. "Pack your bags. We're leaving," he said, getting up and walking to the bathroom.
Sam and I looked at each other, shrugging, before we both silently went to retrieve our bags to get ready.
We arrived in Pennsylvania later that day to meet up with Jerry, he'd wanted to talk to us in person about whatever he'd called about; he thought it was something serious, yet he refused to tell us anything about it.
We met up in a giant warehouse where—I assumed—people constructed airplanes. There were engines everywhere so big that I'm pretty sure if I stood in front of them while they were on full speed, I could fly. An errant thought ran through my mind—what would it feel like to fly?
Before I became too delirious with my flying thoughts, Dean and I spotted Jerry coming towards us. He was just as I remembered; round face, brown eyes. He was a little shorter than Dean, probably my height—and yes, I'm tall. It's in the Winchester genes. He wore a shirt and tie and slacks.
I figured that this was probably where he worked. When we reached him, he had a smile on his face but his eyes were worried.
"Dean, Lexi, it's good to see you again." Jerry greeted, shaking Dean's hand, then mine. He turned to Sam and I realized that they had never officially met.
"Jerry, this is our brother, Sam." I introduced him and Jerry nodded like he suspected it was him. He shook Sam's hand as well, before motioning for us to start walking.
"Thanks for makin' the trip so quick. I ought to be doing you guys a favor, not the other way around," Jerry apologized while he headed down to what seemed like an office. I was still looking around, fascinated with what an airplane's engine looked like from the inside. Jerry then turned to Sam. "Dean, Lexi, and your dad really helped me out," Jerry told him.
"Yeah, they told me. It was a poltergeist?" Sam asked him, just as a man, who I guessed was an employee here, overheard him.
"'Poltergeist'? Man, I loved that movie!" The random guy exclaimed as he passed by. It was hilarious because he was completely off subject.
"Hey, nobody's talkin' to you. Keep walking!" Jerry told him, scowling. He turned back to Sam, our forward momentum never stopping. "Damn right, it was a poltergeist—practically tore our house apart." Then he turned to me and Dean "I'll tell you somethin'—if it wasn't for you two and your dad, I probably wouldn't be alive." Once again, he started talking to Sam. "Your dad said you were off at college. Is that right?" Jerry asked him.
"Yeah, I was. I'm…taking some time off."
"Well, he was real proud of you. I could tell. He talked about you all the time," Jerry said to him with a smile. Both Dean and I looked over at Sam.
"He did?" Sam asked, shocked.
"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 us all this time. I looked to Dean, leaving him to answer Jerry.
"He's, um….he's wrapped up in a job right now."
"Well, we're missin' the old man, but we get Sam. Even trade, huh?" Jerry said with a smile.
He had no idea.
We all laughed more out of politeness than humor really; still very edgy on everything dad related.
"No, not by a long shot," Sam said finally.
As we neared the end of the long hallway, we turned left, then stopped by a door. "I've got somethin' I want you guys to hear." Jerry got serious as he opened his office door.
There was a desk in the middle of the room, it wasn't big, but it had all kinds of piles of paper on it. Jerry brought three chairs in front of the desk. He walked around the desk and sat down.
We sat down on the chairs and waited patiently for Jerry to finally tell us or show us what had him worried.
He placed a CD into his computer then pressed a couple of times on the computer screen, before speaking up. "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."
Then he played the CD.
At first, there was lots of static and indistinct talking as the pilot kept speaking. I think the plane was landing, even though half of the vocabulary that was used I didn't fully understand. The static kept getting louder and I listened more closely.
Moments later, a blaringly loud hiss started to cover the sound of everything else and a really scary sounding growl or snarl rang through the tape. The hiss was back for a second, and then just like that, it ended.
Sam, Dean, and I exchanged confused looks. It sounded like something was trying to talk, but the frequency didn't quite get it.
"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. 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." Jerry explained.
This was definitely weird.
"You don't think it was?" Sam questioned, his business-tone fully in place.
"No, I don't." Jerry shook his head.
"Jerry, we're gonna need passenger manifests, a list of survivors—," Sam continued, counting them off on his fingers.
"Yeah, and any way we can take a look at the wreckage?" Dean asked Jerry.
I looked at Dean then back at Jerry. It would help a lot if we did.
"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 told us. I knew the NTSB stood for National Transportation Safety Board; their job was to investigate any transportation accidents. They were pretty big and their authority was firm.
Dean just smiled and shook his head. "No problem," he said. And with the expression on his face, I knew Dean was absolutely up to no good.
Jerry got up to get the things we asked him for. I looked over at Sam and Dean but they were both quiet. It was a weird case, but we specialized in weird. Jerry was back really fast, this time holding a couple of papers in his hand. He handed them all to Sam and went back around his desk to sit in his chair.
"That's what you wanted. Anything else?" Jerry asked, directing the question to all of us this time.
"No, thank you," Sam said, standing up, Dean and I followed suit. We all smiled at him and began our exit. But before I went out the door, I turned back around to face Jerry.
"Hey Jerry, you mind if I borrowed that CD?" I asked him.
"Yeah, sure," he said. Jerry ejected it out of the CD player and handed it to me after putting it in a cover.
"Thanks," I smiled at him again before heading to where Sam and Dean were waiting for me. Once I reached them, we started walking back to where the Impala was parked. "I think we need to do research before anything," I told them.
Sam nodded but Dean shook his head. "There's one thing I need to do before that," Dean smirked. I looked at him in confusion. "We need new ID cards." He said.
"We already have a ton, Dean," I rolled my eyes at him.
"Not the ones we need," Dean disagreed.
I was going to tell him that we didn't need to create IDs and that we should focus on research, but decided against it. Once Dean's mind was settled on something, it was impossible to convince him otherwise. It was best to let it go, that way you'd save a lot of time…and probably a headache.
I shrugged and continued walking to the car. When I reached it, I unlocked the door and got in, Dean and Sam doing the same. Pretty soon we were back on the road, heading into town.
Dean kept driving until he found the place he was looking for. He parked the Impala and was about to get out, but turned back to us first. "Sam, do you have a picture of yourself? The one I have of you won't work—too young." Dean stated. Sam hesitated for a moment but then reached back and pulled out his wallet. He took out a picture of himself out and handed it to Dean, who nodded happily. "Wait here, okay?" Dean said as he got out of the car. We just nodded to him and watched him disappear inside a small shop called Copy Jack.
There were posters hanging on the glass from the outside of the shop. I watched a few people walk by the store, before I got bored of it and turned to the seat next to me to get out my laptop. Researching was better than staring at the people passing by.
"Here, Sam." I said, handing him the CD. "Try and see if there's any EVP on that," I muttered to him. "I'll look up the survivors," I continued, holding my hand out as he passed the papers to me. I glanced up at him and noticed that there was a tiny smile on his face. "What?"
"Nothing, it's just that you've grown up so much since the last time I saw you," Sam said. I smiled wide at him. He looked at me and grinned back, before his eyes slid to the laptop I had, raising his eyebrows. "That yours?" He asked me.
"Yeah, I bought it completely on my own," I told him proudly. His eyebrows rose a little higher in question. "I hustled enough money that I could afford it," I finished; my grin just widened.
"Poor people..." He said sadly though I could see humor and pride in his eyes.
"Hey, it's not my fault that guys are way too cocky to refuse a bet. I won that money fair and square," I said to him, defiantly still smiling. Sam just shook his head at me and we started working in silence.
I started researching each name that I saw on the list. The first one was a girl named Diana Jack. She lived in West Hills, a town next to the one we were in. I jotted down her telephone number and her address next to her name.
Next on the list was another girl; her name was Amanda Walker. She was one of the flight attendants on flight 2485. I jotted down her contact information as well.
Third one on the list was a guy named Max Jaffey. I searched his name and besides the usual results, there was one site that was different from all the rest. When I clicked on it, a picture of a guy about my age came up. He was in an ambulance and he looked terrified. I figured calling him first was going to lead us somewhere; he certainly looked like he saw something.
I wrote down his address and phone number, before dialing his phone number on my cell. I got out of the Impala, the air refreshing outside. I took a few deep breaths, then I hit the call button. A few rings sounded and then someone picked up.
"Hello?" A woman answered.
"Hi," I said lamely.
"Can I help you?" She asked after she waited a moment for me to talk, before realizing that I wasn't going to.
"Yes, can I talk to Max Jaffey, please?" I asked her politely; she didn't sound young.
"I'm afraid he's not here. I'm his mother. Would you like to leave a message?" Max's mom said. I didn't want to leave a message though—I wanted Max.
"No, that's okay. Do you maybe know where I can find him?" I asked one last time in the hopes that somehow, someone nice would make this easy on me.
"He's…Max is in Riverfront Psychiatric Hospital," she said to me and I could detect the underlying tone of sadness in her voice.
I sputtered, shocked.
There was a bit of shuffling around on the other side of the line and then Max's mom, who I still didn't know the name of, started talking really fast. "My poor baby suffered an accident big enough to rattle his mind. He was just here two mornings ago. We had a fight but I didn't mean it, I swear. Now he won't even come home," the woman sobbed through the phone.
This was getting awkward.
I pushed through my own uncomfortable-ness and responded. "What do you mean?"
"Max…he-he went into the hospital by his own will. He doesn't even want to tell me why," she sobbed more.
My shock increased more, but I decided it was time to end this really uncomfortable phone call. "Well, as you said, it was a big accident. But I'm sure your son is just fine and before you know it, he'll be at your doorstep."
"I hope you are right. You seem like a very nice young lady. Who did you say you were?" She asked me.
The problem was…I never told her who I was. "I'm…one of Max's friends," I lied.
"Oh, are you Kate?" She kept asking.
"Y-yeah, I am, it was nice talking to you Mrs. Jaffey but I have to go," I told her quickly before she could ask me another question.
"Yes, you too, bye," and the line disconnected.
"Bye," I said to the air with a grunt.
So Max seemed to be scared of something that he probably saw. I mean, no one checked themselves into a psychiatric hospital on their own terms, unless of course you thought you were crazy from something that you saw or heard or…you get the point.
I turned back to the car to see Sam leaning against the passenger door on the sidewalk. I walked around the car and stood against the Impala next to him. I held my phone to indicate that I had information. Before he could ask what I found out, I spoke. "Where's Dean?" I asked him. Dean was taking forever.
"He's still inside," Sam sighed.
Just as he said that, Dean walked out of the shop. Finally! A girl walked by him and she mumbled a 'hi', as Dean held the door for her and checked her out after she passed him. I rolled my eyes at him.
"You've been in there forever." Sam stated in a whiny voice.
Dean held up three fake ID cards. "You can't rush perfection," he smirked. A grin exploded on my face when I read what these cards identified us as.
"Homeland Security? That's pretty illegal, even for us," Sam, always the caution one, said.
I quickly snatched mine from Dean's hands before Sam could convince him that we couldn't use them. I looked at it; my name was Kaleen Martz. I looked over at Dean and saw him smirking at me. I got it then. It was a made up name but both names were from an all-girl band that was supposed to be the chick version of Metallica. Their band was called Misstallica. I would have liked a better name than this but I didn't mind, they had a few cool songs.
"Yeah, well, it's somethin' new, you know? People haven't seen it a thousand times." Dean told him as he walked around the car. After we all got in, Dean turned to us, "All right, so, what do you guys have?" Dean asked us.
Up until now, I completely had forgotten about the CD, and I looked to Sam, curious to see what he found out.
"Well, there's definitely EVP on the cockpit voice recorder," Sam started, and he looked to me for emphasis.
So I'd been right.
"Yeah?" Dean asked him.
"Listen." Sam said. He played the audio on his laptop. We could still hear the pilot talking but it was much slower and the frequency was lower. A distinct hiss started to get louder but instead of the growl we were all waiting for, a voice that sounded oddly like an old woman's voice—the one you saw in really scary movies with wired hair and falling teeth—said, "No survivors."
Once the CD finished playing, the three of us looked at each other. Something was off. What did it mean 'no survivors'? There were seven survivors.
"'No survivors'? What's that supposed to mean? There were seven survivors," Dean echoed my thoughts, frowning.
"Got me," Sam shook his head.
"So, what are you thinking? A haunted flight?" Dean asked us.
But it didn't seem likely though. I mean, why would a spirit haunt a flight? It's not like they died on it. "There's a long history of spirits and death omens on planes and ships, like phantom travelers," I told them, recalling from one of the many books I have read throughout my life.
"Mm-hmm," Dean hummed. He didn't sound convinced.
"Or, remember Flight 401?" I gave him an example, thinking back of an accident that involved a plane crash; its pilots haunted that plane later.
"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 recalled.
"Right."
"Yup," Dean said.
I looked outside the window from the backseat. Cars were passing by, some slow, others fast—all kinds of cars. Then I looked at the people walking along the streets and watched them. It fascinated me sometimes, how people lived their lives each day not knowing what lurked in the dark.
Sam's voice pulled me out of my reverie. "Maybe we've got a similar deal."
I looked over at them. It seemed that that conclusion was the one that they seemed willing to go with. I don't think it was a spirit however, but I decided to keep my thoughts to myself. Research would clear things up.
Dean reached back and grabbed a paper that was lying on the seat next to me. I realized it was the survivors list. "All right, so, survivors—which one do you wanna talk to first?" Dean asked me.
I pointed to the third name on the list. "Third on the list—Max Jaffey," I stated; if there was a person that saw something, it was definitely him.
"Why him?"
"Well, for one, he's from around here. And two, if anyone saw anything weird, he did," I told them.
"What makes you say that?" Sam asked me this time.
"Well, I spoke to his mother," I said thinking back of the awkward phone call that I had with Mrs. Jaffey, "and she told me where to find him."
Dean parked the Impala in front of the sign that said 'Riverfront Psychiatric Hospital'. We got out and I shuddered as I thought of this place. I hated psychiatric hospitals. These places were only made in the first place to house insane people and try to 'cure' them. Thing was, you couldn't cure crazy people!
I didn't know why I disliked these places…I mean they were for a good cause. But maybe it was because some hospitals like these did horrible things to their patients.
Dean and Sam walked ahead of me to the gate where a security guard was standing alert. I slowly trailed after them, really not wanting to go inside. I reached them just in time to catch the lie we were going with.
"We're with homeland security, we're here to speak to Max Jaffey," Dean spoke with a calm, monotone voice; it was the voice he used when he didn't want people to detect the emotions inside him. I didn't have to look at him to see the perfect poker face I knew I would find on his face. We showed the guard our badges; he took one look at them, and then opened the gates for us.
We walked inside the hospital to a little garden in the front of the building. The guy that was walking with us pointed to another guy I assumed was Max Jaffey, who was limping across the garden. Sam, Dean, and I all walked to him.
"Excuse me, are you Max Jaffey?" Sam asked him.
"Yes, why?" He looked at us slowly, as if making sure we weren't crazy.
"We're with homeland security," Dean said this time while showing his badge, Sam and I showing them as well. He looked at them for a second, then he started walking; I noticed he was holding a crutch to support him. Dean and Sam each walked on one side of him and I walked next to Dean. "We need you to answer a few questions about the crash." He continued.
"I don't understand. I already spoke with Homeland Security," Max frowned.
"Right. Some new information has come up. So if you could just answer a couple questions…" Dean trailed off, looking at Sam. He picked up the hint and started questioning Max.
"Just before the plane went down, did you notice anything unusual?" Sam asked Max this time.
"Like what?" Max looked down at the ground.
"Strange lights, weird noises, maybe…voices?" Dean explained.
Max looked at Dean for a second like he wanted to tell him something, but was scared to. By that time, we reached a table that was set out in the middle of a tiny garden, and Max busied himself with sitting down. We all followed him and sat down. "No, nothing."
"Hmm. Mr. Joffey—"
"Jaffey." Max interrupted.
"Jaffey. You checked yourself in here, right?" Dean leaned across the table towards Max as he watched him nod. "Can I ask why?" Dean asked as he looked around with a frown.
"I was a little stressed. I survived a plane crash," Max responded with a humorless smile like it was obvious why he checked himself here. I sighed, this was getting us nowhere.
"Uh-huh. And that's what terrified you? That's what you were afraid of?" Dean raised his eyebrows and I knew that he didn't believe a word Max said.
"I-I don't wanna talk about this anymore." Max said defiantly.
"See, I think maybe you did see somethin' up there," Dean said this time with confidence. Sam and I looked at Dean. He glanced at us briefly, and then continued. "We need to know what."
"No. No, I was delusional—seeing things." Max denied. I concentrated then.
Dean looked over at Sam and me with a sarcastic look. "Oh, he was seeing things," Dean mocked; I could see Sam scold Dean with his eyes at the way he was starting to get impatient. I decided to step in since this was starting to become pointless.
I turned to Max and softly tried to get him to talk. "It's okay. Then just tell us what you thought you saw, please." I looked over at Dean and I heard him sigh, before turning towards Max again.
It was quiet for a few seconds and then finally, Max started to talk…to me, I might add. "There was...this…man. And, uh, he had these…eyes." Dean glanced at Sam for a moment then stared at Max again. "These, uh…black eyes. And I saw him—or I thought I saw him…" Max stuttered as he looked off at something that he could only see. He kept using his hands to describe something but none of us understood it.
"What?" Dean tried, patiently this time.
"He opened the emergency exit. But that's…that's impossible, right? I mean, I looked it up. There's somethin' like two tons of pressure on that door," Max looked at us like he was waiting for us to start laughing and call it a good joke, but I could feel the air around us become tense.
"Yeah…" Dean frowned as he thought of what it could possibly be.
"This man—did he seem to appear and disappear rapidly? It would look something like a mirage?" Sam spoke up before any of us could; he was using his I'm-terribly-sorry-this-happened-and-I-wish-I-could-help voice.
"What are you, nuts?" Max accused, seriously. Sam looked taken aback and he stared at Max in confusion. "He was a passenger. He was sitting right in front of me." Max laughed looking at us like we were crazy.
Oh, the irony of it all.
Dean, Sam, and I glanced at each other thinking of really one thing: Who was sitting in front of Max?
We were in a diner and Dean, as usual, was stuffing his face while I watched and thought about how much my brother ate like a pig. I mean don't get me wrong, I'd die for Dean but c'mon…this wasn't the way normal humans ate.
I was pulled out of my thoughts as Jerry came back to the phone.
"Hey Lexi, you still on?" Jerry asked me through the phone.
"Yeah Jerry, did you find who was sitting in front of Max?"
"Yes I did, a guy named George Phelps, seat 20C," Jerry informed me, giving him his address too. "He was a dentist, worked two shifts and was going to Denver. But Lexi… "
"Yeah?"
"He's dead, so how's he gonna help anything?"
"That's where we come in, Jerry. Thanks for your help, I'll call you later." I hung up after I heard his laugh and mumbled 'bye'.
"So the guy that Max was talking about…his name's George Phelps and he lives—or used to live—on S. Jefferson St." I told my brothers. They both nodded as they finished their dinners. "He was a dentist; pretty normal really."
"Okay, we'll go check it out once we finish," Dean said as he watched a waitress walk by. I rolled my eyes and turned to look at the other people scattered around the diner.
Everyone was busy with their lives; there was a guy in the corner that was eating so fast, I was afraid he would choke on the macaroni he was stuffing down his throat. He was a wearing a black suit and had a briefcase laid next to him on the booth. The table in front of him sat a couple; ever since they came in, they kept murmuring in hushed voices and glancing at each other whenever the other wasn't looking. I rolled my eyes at them; this was the definition of normal that Sam, Dean, and I didn't want.
On the other side of the red diner, there were three tables. One of them was occupied by us, the one behind us was empty, and the third one had this really big, fat guy who had a gross looking beard and wore a leather vest. He was your typical biker that screamed 'danger' to most people, but to me, he just screamed…ew.
I turned my attention back to Dean and Sam when I realized they were officially done with their meals. I stood quickly, wanting to get out of here so Dean wouldn't whine again about my lack of appetite.
"Ready?" Dean asked us.
Both Sam and I nodded in answer to Dean. He nodded at us once before turning around and walking to the door, Sam following him.
I glowered at their backs when I realized that they left me behind to pay for the check; that's what I got for being their sister. I took out some bills from my front pocket and threw a couple of tens across the table. I quickly glanced around at the people sitting in the diner before I started walking in the direction that my brothers went. I trailed behind Sam and when he saw that I caught up to them, he glanced back at me with a smirk. I rolled my eyes at him, but smiled. We hopped into the car, and then soon enough, we were heading to George's house.
Once we reached the house, Dean slowly came to a stop in front it and we all just stared at it. It had a nice looking fence with a small garden behind it. Then there was the house itself, which looked pretty good too…too good to be a killer's house. "Here we are—George Phelps, seat 20C," I narrated like it wasn't obvious.
"Hmm. Man, I don't care how strong you are," Dean said as we got out of the car, "even yoked up on PCP or somethin', no way you can open up an emergency door during a flight." Dean put his hands on the roof of the car as he stared at the house. I nodded in agreement and stared at the mailbox that said Phelps.
"Not if you're human. But maybe this guy, George, was somethin' else—a creature maybe, in human form?" Sam tried an explanation as he stared at me and Dean.
"That look like a creature's lair to you?" Dean gestured to the house.
"Nope," I said, popping the 'p'. I walked ahead of Sam and Dean towards the front door. "C'mon," I said to them as I reached the door. I rang the doorbell and waited patiently as I felt Sam and Dean reach and wait beside me.
A woman with brown hair and brown eyes opened the door. "Can I help you?" She said.
"Yes, I'm Kaleen Martz," I paused as I realized how bad my name sounded, but showed her my badge, "We're with homeland security. We came to ask you a few questions about your…deceased husband," I cleared my throat.
She glanced at us for a minute, before letting us in. We stepped inside and I stared at the interior of their house; it was plain and looked as normal as any other house.
Mrs. Phelps led us to a couch and chairs in the living room. Dean and Sam sat on the two chairs and I sat down on the couch next to her in front of them. Sam picked a picture up from the table and looked at it. He passed it to Dean and me to see then put it back. "This is your late husband?" Sam asked her.
I looked over at her, "Yes, that was my George." She answered sadly.
"And you said he was a…dentist?" Dean asked her. I knew she never told us what he worked as, but Dean just made it sound like that.
"Mm-hmm. He was headed to a convention in Denver," she nodded. Dean glanced at Sam; I bet he was feeling very uncomfortable. I stifled a smirk. "Do you know that he was petrified to fly? For him to go like that…" She trailed off, tearing up. I softly patted her shoulder.
"How long were you married?" Sam asked her softly, leaning forward in his chair.
Mrs. Phelps smiled, "Thirteen years." She answered him.
"In all that time, did you ever notice anything…strange about him—anything out of the ordinary?" Sam continued, getting serious, but still with that insanely calm voice.
She paused and I almost thought things were about to get interesting…until she answered. "Well…uh, he had acid reflux, if that's what you mean."
Dean, Sam, and I all exchanged a glance. I knew that this guy wasn't who we thought he was; he was normal as it gets. I looked back at Mrs. Phelps and thanked her. "Thanks for your time, Mrs. Phelps."
We all stood up and left through the front door, heading back to the car. I walked next to Sam and Dean, wondering what they were thinking.
"I mean, it goes without saying. It just doesn't make any sense," Sam said.
"Yeah, a middle-aged dentist with an ulcer is not exactly evil personified. You know, what we need to do is get inside that NTSB warehouse, check out the wreckage," Dean stopped as he turned to look at us with a sly grin that I knew screamed trouble; but with the way things were looking right now, the wreckage was our only hope.
"Okay. But if we're gonna go that route, we better look the part," Sam grinned too. I laughed at their five-year-old-enthusiasm.
We all got into the car and Dean started driving to the nearest shop that had what we needed.
We exited a shop called Mort's For Style. We looked pretty convincing if you asked me; Dean and Sam had on black suits with black ties that made them look older than they really were; I had on a long pencil skirt that came down to my knees, a dress shirt, and a black blazer to complete the look. We even had on proper shoes, which meant I had to wear heels.
And let me tell you…heels were not only designed to make girls' legs look longer, but also to put said girls' in misery.
All of us were carrying a black plastic bag that held our other clothes. Dean kept sighing and muttering under his breath as I laughed at him. "Man, I look like one of the Blues Brothers," Dean whined.
Sam and I paused to look at him. "No, you don't. You look more like a seventh grader at his first dance," I teased him.
"I hate this thing," Dean bitched again.
"Hey, you want into that warehouse or not?" Sam asked him matter-of-factly. Dean just grunted at him as we got into the car and drove away.
Soon, we reached the NTSB and Dean parked behind the warehouse, a little away so no one would see the car. After we got out and grabbed everything we needed from the trunk, we walked to the front of the warehouse.
We entered and were greeted by security everywhere. There were two sitting down and we walked towards them. Wordlessly, Sam, Dean, and I showed them our badges with absolutely no emotion on our faces. They kept looking at the badges then our faces but they finally nodded and let us in. I saw a really tiny smile on Dean's face and I knew he was proud of himself that the ID's actually worked.
I heard a buzzing sound and the metal door that led through to the wreckage opened. Another security guard held it open for us and we went through, only to meet the sight of the demolished plane. Or at least what was left of it.
Once we heard the door slam shut behind us, we all seemed to snap out of it and focus. Pieces of the plane were laid out over the entire place and suddenly, the whole case seemed much more real.
I looked at Sam and Dean; they were both walking around the plane, inspecting it. I started walking around too. The plane was way too big to be able to check it all out in a short amount of time. I saw Dean pull out his EMF meter and put the headphones in his ear.
"What is that?" Sam asked him like he knew what it was but decided to make sure he was seeing right.
"It's an EMF meter—reads electromagnetic frequencies," Dean told him.
"Yeah, I know what an EMF meter is, but why does that one look like a busted-up Walkman?" Sam said.
Dean smiled proudly. "'Cause that's what I made it out of. It's homemade," he informed him.
"Yeah, I can see that," Dean frowned; obviously hurt and I grimaced at Sam's insensitivity.
They continued to look around before they reached a piece of wreckage that caused the EMF meter to beep rapidly. I could hear it because I was standing next to them. What caused the EMF meter to beep like that was one of the emergency exit doors. I wouldn't be surprised if it was the same door that Max was talking about.
"Check out the emergency door handle," Dean pulled our attention to the burned handle. We stood next to him staring at it. There was a substance on it; Dean ran his fingers on the white gist and when it didn't come off, he scraped some of it off with his fingernails. "What is this stuff?" Dean asked.
We all huddled around it and I leaned a bit closer so I could smell it. When I sniffed it, something pulled at my memory but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Where was my good memory when I needed it?
"One way to find out," Sam said as he pulled out a tiny clear bag and I caught on. I pulled out my pocket knife from where it was hidden in my jacket and scraped some of it off, slowly sliding it into the bag Sam held open. Dean looked at the substance on his fingers, shrugged, and wiped it on Sam's back. I rolled my eyes.
As Sam was packing the bag, I walked around and was back to the door we came in. I heard a racket then some shouting and running footsteps. "Shit guys, we're busted!" I got their attention and their eyes widened.
We all looked around the warehouse until we found another door and started running towards it. Dean pushed it open and we went outside just in time to see the other door across the room open. I closed it softly and ran after Sam and Dean. I was a bit slower since I was wearing heels, but I managed to keep up. I slowed down when Dean motioned with his hands to stay where we were.
A few seconds passed as we listened for anyone. When we heard nothing, Dean leaned around the corner to check for anything and both Sam and I leaned in to see. We started walking again when the coast was clear and then Dean spotted the Impala.
I jumped a bit when I heard a really loud alarm blaring. We were really busted now. Sam, Dean, and I all started running again quickly to the car but that's when I noticed a problem—in order for us to reach the car we had to jump over a fence. In other cases, this wouldn't have been any problem, but you see, I had on the tightest skirt imaginable and heels…did I mention how high they were?
I shook my head thinking that maybe Dean and Sam would realize this problem and a magic door would appear but I saw Dean take off his jacket and throw it over the fence. Dean hopped up the fence and jumped around then landed on the other side of the fence. Sam also did the same and then Dean pulled his jacket off the fence. "Huh. These monkey suits do come in handy." Dean said.
I was still on the wrong side of the fence and I didn't know what to do.
When Dean saw me, he shouted at me. "LEXI! Jump!"
"I can't Dean! I'm wearing a skirt!" I screamed back.
"Shit Lexi, just jump!" Sam said this time. They both walked back to the fence and I grimaced as I heard the security not far behind me. "Just jump!" Sam said again when I didn't move.
"The skirt!" I said again.
"JUMP!" They both shouted at the same time.
An idea suddenly came to me. I scowled as I realized what I had to do. Quickly, I took off my high heels and threw them over the fence. Then I braced myself and ripped the skirt on one side up to my mid-thigh, doing the same on the other and suddenly, I could freely move my legs. I hurriedly climbed up the fence, threw one leg over then the other as I went to the other side.
I saw Sam open his arms for me and I let go of the fence only to fall in his arms. He set me down, and then I went to retrieve the shoes that I threw earlier. We all ran to the car and I was ahead since now I was running barefoot and freely.
Oh yeah, skirts can kiss my ass goodbye. I was never going to wear them again.
In order for us to find out what the substance that we had collected was, we went to Jerry. He was the only person that had the right equipment to figure out what was in that bag. We parked in front of the warehouse and Dean turned off the car. Both he and Sam got out of the car and I followed. They paused when they noticed me.
"Uhh, Lex, you can't go in like that," Sam said as he pointed to my skirt.
"Well, where do you want me to change—around the corner or behind that pole?" I asked sarcastically.
"That's not what I meant. You can wear pants or something that you have in the car," Sam said again before Dean could.
I nodded since I really didn't want to go in like that either. Who knows how many men with big egos and testosterone were in there?
I went back to the car after Dean threw me the keys. I opened the trunk first and found three black bags, I took the one that belonged to me and then went to the backseat. I looked over at Dean and Sam; they were still watching me.
"Turn around," I told them. They shifted, then turned around and waited. They looked awkward just standing there, but then I saw them start talking and I quickly pulled out my clothes. I got out of the skirt and put my skinny jeans on. Then I took the jacket off and the girl dress shirt that I had on, replacing them with my black tank top, a normal shirt, and my jacket. It was really cold. After I was done, I put on my socks and my boots.
I sighed in relief as I tied the final shoelace and stuffed the other clothes back into the bag. This is what a Winchester looked like…comfortable.
I got out of the car, put the black bag back into the trunk and locked it. I walked over to where Sam and Dean were still standing and smirked as I saw Dean adjust his tie to make it looser.
"Much better," Sam said as he threw an arm over my shoulder and together, the three of us entered to find Jerry.
We took the same route that Jerry had led us down when we first came to see him. I couldn't believe it was just this morning; it seemed like ages ago. We reached his office and Dean knocked. We heard Jerry yell through the door to come in and we entered his office making sure to close the door behind us.
Jerry held his hand out for the bag and Sam handed it to him silently, as we watched him retrieve everything he needed from around the room. If you're wondering how he knew, it was because we had called him on our way here so he could prepare everything he needed.
Jerry looked through a microscope that was set on his desk as he tried to figure out what was that substance that was in the tiny bag. Sam, Dean, and I were all waiting for him on the other side of his desk. It was comical really, how we were all staring at his head like it held the all answers to every question asked.
"Huh," Jerry looked up and I held my breath as he told us what it was, "this stuff is covered in sulfur."
And that's when it clicked as I remembered that the substance I smelled earlier did smell like sulfur. I widened my eyes at him. This only meant one thing. "You're sure?" I asked him. I heard pounding outside of Jerry's office; someone was messing up something, I was sure, as I heard shouting. But I was too busy to focus on the noise.
"Take a look for yourself," Jerry motioned with his hand to the microscope on his desk. There was more yelling again outside in the hallway. "If you three will excuse me, I have an idiot to fire," Jerry said as he left the room. I turned around his desk and then leaned in to see through the microscope.
I saw what I expected to see; yellow sort of bubbles were displayed; it was what sulfur looked like under a microscope. I sighed as I let Dean and Sam have a chance at the microscope.
"Hmm. You know, there's not too many things that leave behind a sulfuric residue," Dean said as he looked up from the microscope.
"Demonic possession?" I stated the obvious.
"It would explain how a mortal man would have the strength to open up an emergency hatch," Dean said putting together all the information we had; it all fit.
Sam sat down on the chair in front of the desk and I sat on the desk. "If the guy was possessed, it's possible," he sighed.
"Yeah, but this goes way beyond floatin' over a bed or barfin' pea soup. I mean, it's one thing to possess a person, but to use 'em to take down an entire airplane?" Dean asked incredulously.
"You ever heard of somethin' like this before?" Sam asked us.
"Never," Dean and I answered at the same time.
I glanced at him and I saw him smile. "Normally I wouldn't suggest this but," I said, "we need to research. I mean, demons aren't your typical salt and burn." I told them.
They both nodded. "Let's go," Dean said.
Dean unlocked the door to our motel room as Sam and I carried all the books that we were able to put our hands on from the library. In case you didn't know, people studied demons. There was a subject called demonology specifically on them. Yeah, humans are weird and ignorant. Sadly I was one, too.
Sam headed straight for the bathroom and shut the door behind him. I threw all the books I was carrying on the bed and put my duffle down. I took off my jacket and threw it across the bed. I took off my boots and laid them aside. I straightened up and already found Dean changing out of his suit and into his normal clothes; he then sat down on the bed closest to the door and pulled one of the books towards him to start researching.
My gaze fell on Sam when he stepped outside of the bathroom in a shirt and jeans. He pulled on his sleeves, opened his computer and instantly began typing.
And here I was the one that thought they would've wanted to rest a little. I sighed as I looked at the books on the other bed and took a couple. I lay down on the floor on my stomach and opened the first book on demons.
Here we go.
The first section was an introduction to demons. I skipped it. Dad had already beaten the book to it. He gave me enough information on demons to start a TV show on them; too bad all the important information, like the types of demons that existed, had to be what dad forgot to mention.
There were four sections after that; their religion, occultism, literature, and folklore.
I flipped the book open to folklore; urban legends were my best guess right now. Just as I began reading, I saw Dean get up with small clippings in his hand and a couple of papers. He stood in front of the wall facing the beds as he started hanging them up. When he finished, he stood back and stared at his handiwork. I heard him sigh and walk back to the bed and I knew that meant that the clues that were hung up didn't provide an explanation.
I went back to reading the book opened before me, or more like scanned it. There wasn't anything useful; I skipped a couple of pages when the title 'Demonic Possession' was introduced to me. I sat up and started reading. Descriptions of a possessed human included drastic changes in vocal intonation and facial structure, the sudden appearance of injuries (scratches, bite marks) or lesions, and superhuman strength. Well, at least now we were getting somewhere. I kept on reading when I was interrupted by Sam who was typing on his computer. Yeah, researching on the computer might've been a good idea too.
"So, every religion in every world culture has the concept of demons and demonic possession, right? I mean Christian, Native American, Hindu—you name it," Sam said as Dean and I looked up at him. We nodded.
"Yeah, but none of 'em describe anything like this," Dean stated.
"Well, that's not exactly true. See, according to Japanese beliefs, certain demons are behind certain disasters, both natural and man-made. One causes earthquakes, another causes disease," Sam said. I stood up and sat on the bed that was unoccupied by Dean.
"And this one causes plane crashes?" Dean asked sarcastically, Sam just shrugged and Dean stood up, walking around. "All right, so what? We've got a demon that's evolved with the times and found a way to ratchet up the body count?" Dean asked us.
"Yeah. You know, who knows how many planes it's brought down before this one," Sam said.
Dean turned away from us and scratched his head. "What?" I asked before he could.
"I don't know. Man, 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. You know, I wish Dad was here," Dean said.
"Yeah, me too," Sam said as he stared at Dean. I looked down and didn't say anything. I really did wish he was here too.
Dean's phone rang suddenly and both Sam and I looked over at him. Dean pulled out his phone, flipped it open, and put it to his ear.
"Hello?" There was a short pause and then Dean answered again. "Oh, hey, Jerry."
Since we couldn't hear Jerry's side of the conversation, we were taken aback too when Dean's facial expression changed from frustrated to stunned.
"Wha—Jerry, I'm sorry. What happened?" Dean asked.
I frowned; the only reason Dean would be apologizing to Jerry and for Jerry to call him in the first place was because probably there was another plane crash.
We waited a few more seconds then Dean spoke. "Where'd this happen?" Another short pause, "I'll try to ignore the irony in that."
I frowned even more. What now?
"Nothin'. Jerry, hang in there, all right? We'll catch up with you soon," Dean said and then hung up.
"Another crash?" Sam asked.
"Yeah. Let's go," Dean said as he grabbed his jacket.
"Where?" I asked this time.
Dean looked at me then at Sam. "Nazareth."
I glanced at Sam and I saw him smile without humor, like he was expecting it. Nazareth was a place in the Arab world, supposedly where Jesus was born, hence the irony.
I took my jacket off the bed and slipped on my boots, then walked towards the door after Dean. Sam closed the door behind us before we all got into the Impala and Dean drove off to Nazareth.
I leaned in from the backseat to the front seat in between Sam and Dean. "We have to stop this demon," I spoke up.
"How?" Dean asked me. I shrugged.
"I don't know, an exorcism, maybe?" They were both quiet thinking it over, and then Sam nodded.
"Yeah, it's our best shot of killing it," Sam figured. Dean nodded his head in agreement.
I leaned back in my seat and stared out the window. We passed a sign that said 'Nazareth 3' and Dean continued down the road. Soon, we stopped at the sight of the crash. It was big. The plane still had smoke coming out of it and I was afraid it would explode in our faces or something. But I saw officials already around it, starting their processes of packaging the crashed plane and handing it to the NTSB. But by the sight of the crashed plane, they were going to need a big bag.
Dean, Sam, and I stepped out of the car and walked towards the plane. A couple of police officers stopped us saying it was not permitted for us to come any closer but they shut up when we showed them our badges.
We kept on walking and Dean pulled out his EMF meter, and subtly started running it across the plane.
"By the way, I like your EMF meter," I told Dean. He looked at me and then grinned big. I couldn't help it but let out a chuckle too. After that he went back to his EMF meter and soon enough, it started beeping. "Sam, c'mere," I called him over.
This time, it was the handle that the pilots steered with; it was covered with the same looking substance—sulfur. But to make sure, Sam and I took a sample before we left to head back to Jerry.
Dean was standing next to Jerry checking out the substance that we gave him. Meanwhile, Sam and I were sitting down next to each other on Jerry's computer; we had access to files of previous plane crashes. He and I were researching the patterns that were starting to occur between the two crashes. We got results and suddenly things were starting to make much more sense.
Dean pulled our attention to him when he spoke up to Jerry. "Sulfur?" Dean asked him. Jerry nodded as Dean sighed and turned around to stare at us. "Well, that's great. All right, so, that's two plane crashes involving Chuck Lambert. This demon sounds like it was after him," Dean said.
I shook my head but Sam began talking before I could. "With all due respect to Chuck, um…if that's the case, that would be the good news," Sam stated.
Dean frowned, "What's the bad news?"
"Chuck's plane went down exactly forty minutes into flight. And get this—so did Flight 2485." I informed him.
"Forty minutes? What does that mean?" Jerry asked us.
"It's biblical numerology. On Noah's Ark, it rained for forty days. The number means death," I explained to him before Dean could. He nodded in understanding.
"I went back, and there have been six plane crashes over the last decade that all went down exactly forty minutes in," Sam continued.
The crease between Dean's eyebrows got deeper in confusion. "Any survivors?"
I shook my head as Sam answered, "No. Or not until now, at least—not until Flight 2485, for some reason. And the cockpit voice recorder, remember what the EVP said?" Sam reminded him.
"No survivors," Dean remembered, Sam and I nodding. He turned his head and licked his lips. He only did that when he was frustrated. "It's goin' after all the survivors. It's tryin' to finish the job," Dean said.
My eyes widened in realization and I could hear several intakes of breath.
Sam was calling all the survivors of Flight 2485, making sure none of them traveled before we could kill the demon. Once we figured out that the demon was trying to kill all the survivors, we did all that we could think of to save them. Dean was driving the Impala while Sam was talking on his phone and I was leaning in between them from the backseat.
"Really? 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," Sam hung up. It still surprised me that Sam could act so well. "All right, that takes care of Blaine Sanderson and Dennis Holloway. They're not flyin' anytime soon," Sam told us about two of the survivors.
I breathed in the cold air that was coming from Sam's window. It was refreshing.
"So, our only wildcard is the flight attendant, Amanda Walker," Dean said snapping me out of haze.
"Right. Her sister, Karen, said her flight leaves Indianapolis at 8 PM. It's her first night back on the job," Sam informed Dean.
I sighed in sadness. It would be impossible to save her. Indianapolis was about three hundred miles from here.
"That sounds like just our luck," Dean frowned.
"Dean, this is a five-hour drive, man. Even with you behind the wheel," Sam said, referring to Dean's insane way of driving but he just nodded.
"Why don't you call Amanda's cell phone again—see if we can't head her off at the pass," Dean suggested.
"I've already left her three voice messages. She must have turned her cell phone off. God, we're never gonna make it," Sam said frustratingly.
"Oh, we'll make it," Dean grinned.
I widened my eyes as Dean stepped on the gas and we sped down the road. I sat back in my seat and put on my seatbelt, you know…just in case.
Dean, Sam, and I ran into the airport, looking for Amanda. Hopefully, the plane hadn't already taken off. We rushed towards the flight schedules on the screens that were hung up in the middle of the airport. There were many flights but we looked for the one that Amanda was supposed to be on.
"Right there. They're boarding in thirty minutes," Sam pointed to the fifth flight on the screen. The flight number was 424 and it was boarding at gate 13.
"Okay. We still have some cards to play. We need to find a phone," Dean said as he ran, looking for a phone. Sam and I followed him as he spotted one that was hanging on a wall. Dean picked up the phone but there were no buttons; it was one of those phones that automatically directed you to the operator.
"Hi. Gate 13—I'm trying to contact an Amanda Walker. She's a flight attendant on Flight, um…" Dean trailed off as he tried to remember the number.
"424," I whispered to him.
"Flight 424," Dean repeated to the operator.
Dean faced the wall and I stood behind him while Sam stood behind me.
"Come on…" Dean muttered while waiting for Amanda to pick up the phone. Suddenly Dean stood up and I guessed that she finally made it to the phone. "Miss Walker. Hi, this is Dr. James Headfield from St. Francis Memorial Hospital," Sam and I frowned not knowing where this was going as we stared back at Dean. "We have a Karen Walker here." Dean paused and turned away from us. "Nothing serious—just a minor car accident. But she was injured, so," he paused again while Sam and I turned around him to look at his face as he listened.
Dean looked up and then down then said awkwardly, "You what?" Another pause. "Uh, well…there must be some mistake," Dean tried and then I figured out that he was caught. The lie he said probably didn't work and now he was fishing for anything to say.
"Guilty as charged," Dean chuckled in the phone and I looked at Sam in more confusion as Dean turned away from us. "He's really sorry," Dean said as Sam and I turned around him again. "Yes, but he really needs to see you tonight, so—" Dean didn't finish as he listened. I glowered at Dean's head; next time, I was going to talk.
"Don't be like that. Come on, the guy's a mess, really…it's pathetic," Dean mumbled. Actually, this was pathetic; obviously, this wasn't going to work out anymore.
"Oh yeah," Dean said after a short pause. "No, no, wait, Amanda," Dean raised his voice through the phone and I knew she hung up. I sighed. "Amanda?" Dean tried one more time and then he hung up the phone. "Damn it! So close." He said in frustration and I cursed silently.
I started pacing back and forth; this wasn't about saving Amanda's life only, it was about saving all those people that were boarding the plane right this second. I looked up at Sam and Dean. "All right, it's time for Plan B. We're getting on that plane." I told them. Sam nodded at me like he was thinking the same thing but the emotions that passed Dean's face were comical.
"Now, just hold on a second," Dean raised his hand.
"Dean, that plane is leaving with over a hundred passengers on board, and if we're right, that plane is gonna crash," I whispered the last part to him.
"I know!" Dean raised his eyebrows.
"Well okay, we're getting on the plane, we need to find that demon, and exorcise it. Look, I'll get the tickets. You and Lex just go and get whatever you can out of the trunk, whatever will make it through security. Meet me back here in five minutes," Sam spoke but Dean didn't move. "Are you okay?" Sam asked Dean.
Dean shrugged then he shook his head. "No, not really," he said hesitantly. Sam and I stared at him in confusion.
"Why? What's wrong?" I asked him as I walked a little closer.
"Well, I kind of have this problem with, uh…" he trailed off and motioned with his hand. Dean looked around not wanting to look at us then let out a huff of breath as turned back.
"Flying?" Sam asked disbelievingly.
"It's never really been an issue until now," Dean whisper-shouted.
"You're joking, right?" Sam said again. I chuckled but then I felt guilty; Dean did really look freaked out.
"Do I look like I'm joking?! Why do you think I drive everywhere, Sam?" Dean shouted in a low voice, panicking.
"All right. Uh, we'll go," Sam said and this time, I looked at him.
"What?!" Dean looked skeptically at him.
"We'll do this one on our own," Sam insisted but now, I wasn't so sure. It wasn't that we couldn't do it but it just didn't feel right without Dean.
"What are you, nuts? You said it yourself, the plane's gonna crash!" Dean said furiously.
"Look, Dean, the three of us can do it together, or we can do this one by ourselves. I'm not seeing a third option here," Sam motioned to him and me.
"Come on! Really?" Dean asked rhetorically and I sighed in relief. He was coming. "Man…" Dean whined and I laughed, more out of relief than at Dean.
"Sam, go buy us tickets and we'll go back to the car, get some stuff and meet us back here in five," I didn't wait for an answer from him, we were already late as it is. I grabbed Dean's hand and we ran towards the gates to the airport and outside to the car.
We reached it and Dean quickly opened the trunk, grabbing the green duffel bag we kept for weapons. Then Dean lifted the inside floorboard and the arsenal appeared. Dean started putting his shotgun in the bag but I stopped him. "Security, remember?"
He scowled, "Then what are we supposed to take?"
I looked back to the trunk and saw bottles. I picked one up and held it to Dean, "Holy water," I said.
He took the bottle from my hand and threw it in the bag. He grabbed two more and put them in. I took tape too and handed it to Dean as I did with salt powder. I took Dad's journal and put that inside my jacket, we couldn't afford to lose it.
Dean closed the duffel and threw it on his shoulder. I remembered then that I was carrying my gun and took it out of my belt and put it in the trunk. Dean did the same with his pocket knife and his gun. He then shut the trunk and made sure it was locked before we headed back to the airport.
We reached the same spot that Sam was supposed to meet us at and then waited for him. Two minutes later of Dean pacing back and forth, we saw Sam coming to us. He was holding three tickets up in his hand and he had a grin on his face. "Got 'em," he said.
Together, we went to gate 13 and already people were getting on the plane. I looked over at Dean and he was clenching and unclenching his jaw in nervousness so tightly, I was afraid he was going to break it. Slowly, we walked towards the security.
I kept a neutral face as I passed through the scanner and thankfully, nothing beeped. Dean was next and he had to take off his watch but that was it. After that, Sam passed and nothing beeped. I sighed gratefully as we safely passed.
Soon, we were heading towards the plane in a tube. Another guy stopped us to look at our boarding passes and then we got inside the plane. A stewardess took a look again at our boarding passes and then pointed us in the direction of our seats. Sam and I headed first when Dean didn't move. I looked behind me and saw Dean walking glumly. I shook my head at him then turned back around to look for our seats.
We walked in a line down the aisle, chairs lining up each side. There were four chairs on each side and then Sam suddenly stopped and I bumped into him. I stared at him in confusion until I realized that he was looking at seats on his right and I guessed those were ours.
Sam got in first and sat down, and then I got in and sat next to him as Dean followed and sat next to me on the seat facing the aisle. He put the duffle down next to our feet and sat back.
I was stuck in the middle between them…lucky me.
Dean, on my right, kept fidgeting and it was annoying. At first, he sat up straight but then he slid down a little. Five minutes later, after he got bored of watching people pass by, he sat upright again. And so on, the process went.
When the pilot announced that we would be taking off in five minutes, I felt Dean tense beside me. His breathing was more labored and his fists were clenched by his side. He put on the seatbelt and clasped it closed. He then took the pamphlet—it showed all the ways of escape in case something went wrong in the plane—from the seat in front of him and looked at it.
Soon enough, we could hear the plane's engines and the plane started moving and Dean got more nervous. He put the pamphlet back in place and sat back.
I looked at him and smirked; Dean was too busy to notice though. "Just try to relax," I told him as I felt the plane start speeding to take off.
"Just try to shut up," Dean retorted and I laughed as Sam laughed too. As the plane took off, Dean tightened his seatbelt and leaned his head against the back of the seat. He began to panic as we left the ground. I looked over at Sam and he was staring at Dean, making sure he wasn't going to hyperventilate or something.
I leaned a little against Dean so that our shoulders were touching; I hoped that it would calm him a little, knowing that I was there next to him.
It was few more minutes until we felt the plane steady and upright itself and I knew that now was the time to begin searching for the demon. I turned to Dean to start speaking to him but I paused when I heard him humming. I leaned a little closer to him and listened. It turned out to be one of Metallica's songs, Escape.
I smirked. "Are you humming Metallica?" I asked him.
"It calms me down," he snapped and continued humming. I shook my head: fighting demons…no problem. But when it came to planes, it was the end of the world.
"Look, man, I get you're nervous, all right? But you've got to stay focused," Sam leaned over me to speak to Dean. I was squished between the two.
"Okay."
"I mean, we've got thirty-two minutes and counting to track this thing down, or whoever it's possessing, anyway, and perform a full-on exorcism," Sam whispered over my head. It was getting harder to breathe.
"Yeah, on a crowded plane, that's gonna be easy," Dean said sarcastically.
"Just take it one step at a time, all right? Now, who is it possessing?" I finally said as I managed to make Sam sit back in his seat. The three of us started shifting and looking around trying to find anyone suspicious.
So far, everyone looked suspicious.
"Well, it's usually gonna be somebody with some sort of weakness, you know, a chink in the armor that the demon can worm through—somebody with an addiction or some sort of emotional distress," Dean tried to narrow it down.
"Well, this is Amanda's first flight after the crash. If I were her, I'd be pretty messed up," I said to them.
"Mm-hmm," Dean agreed. A flight attendant came by and Dean looked up at her. "Excuse me. Are you Amanda?" Dean asked her.
She smiled but shook her head. "No, I'm not."
"Oh, my mistake," Dean apologized.
She hummed and nodded then turned away to talk to other passengers. Dean turned back to us after he looked back. "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," Dean said but I frowned inwardly; I wasn't so sure of Dean's mental state now.
"What if she's already possessed?" Sam questioned.
Dean thought for a moment before he answered him. "There's ways to test that," he reached into the duffel next to my feet and pulled out a bottle of water. "I brought holy water." Dean held it for Sam to see. I snatched it from him and shook my head.
"No, I think we can go more subtle. If she's possessed, she'll flinch at the name of God," I informed him.
"Oh. Nice." Dean grinned at me. He stood and started heading to the back of plane before Sam called him back.
"Hey." Sam whisper-shouted.
"What?" Dean stepped back to look at him.
"Say it in Latin," Sam commanded.
"I know," Dean said as he walked back.
"Hey!" Sam called once more.
"What?!"
"In Latin, it's 'Cristo'," Sam informed him.
"Dude, I know, I'm not an idiot!" Dean whispered heatedly at Sam before walking away. I stifled a chuckle and saw Sam smirk at me.
I watched Dean walk back to Amanda just as the plane shook. Dean held onto the chairs next to him and when the plane settled down, he slammed his hand against the seat. After that he continued to Amanda as I turned back to Sam and got out Dad's journal.
"Hey, Sam, I remember reading an exorcism in Dad's journal once. I never really tried to translate it since there was no occasion but I think it's the only way we have to take this demon down," I told him as I handed him the journal to the page of the exorcism. Sam took it from me and started reading.
A small amount of time passed before Sam looked at me and nodded. His eyes were troubled however and I frowned. "What's wrong?"
Sam looked back at the scribbled handwriting that belonged to the oldest Winchester and scanned it quickly one more time, like he was making sure of something then finally looked back at me. "It's good and bad," Sam paused and when I didn't say anything, he continued, "A part of it exorcises the demon from the body it's possessing."
"But it doesn't exorcise it back to hell," I stated more than asked.
"The second part does, but when it leaves the body it's in, it manifests and becomes stronger," Sam said.
"And it can destroy on its own," I finished for him. I remember now why I never really focused on the exorcism; it was because I thought that this exorcism was dangerous. I always said to myself that I would try to find a better one when we needed to. Too bad when I needed to, I forgot.
After a silence that seemed to stretch on forever, Dean came back and sat in his seat as he quickly redid his seatbelt. Sam and I turned to him wondering whether we found the demon or not; like I said earlier, one step at a time.
"All right, well, she's got to be the most well-adjusted person on the planet," Dean muttered.
"You said 'Cristo'?" I asked him.
"Yeah," Dean nodded.
"And?" Sam asked him.
"There's no demon in her. There's no demon getting in her," Dean emphasized.
"So, if it's on the plane, it can be anyone…anywhere." Sam said.
Hooray.
The plane began to rumble and shake. Dean clutched the seat with fear. "Come on! That can't be normal!" Dean shouted.
"Hey, hey, it's just a little turbulence," I tried to soothe him softly.
"Lexi, this plane is going to crash, okay? So quit treatin' me like I'm friggin' four!" Dean told me furiously.
"You need to calm down." I placated, completely ignoring what he said.
"Well, I'm sorry, I can't!" Dean retorted.
"Yes, you can." Sam said this time just as softly.
Dean stared at him incredulously. "Dude, stow the touchy-feely, self-help yoga crap, it's not helping!" Dean whispered back at him just as furiously as before.
Sam suddenly leaned over me and spoke really fast and really serious. "Listen, if you're panicked, you're wide open to demonic possession, so you need to calm yourself down right now." Sam spoke to Dean sternly.
Dean and I were pretty shocked but it seemed to calm Dean down. He slowly let out a breath and looked away awkwardly. This seemed to satisfy Sam as he leaned back.
"Good."
Dean did it a couple more times before Sam started again but much more calmly. He flipped open the journal that was still in his hand. "Now, Lexi found an exorcism in here that I think is gonna work—the ritual Romano," Sam told Dean.
"What do we have to do?" Dean asked him.
Sam let out a huff of breath, "It's two parts. The first part expels the demon from the victim's body. It makes it manifest, which actually makes it more powerful," Sam told him.
"More powerful?"
"Yeah."
"How?"
"Well, it doesn't need to possess someone anymore. It can just wreak havoc on its own." Sam said.
Dean raised his eyebrows at us. "Oh, and why is that a good thing?" He asked sardonically.
Sam looked back at the journal, "Well, because the second part sends the bastard back to hell, once and for all."
"First thing's first—we've got to find it," Dean stated once again looking around the plane like somehow the demon would magically appear.
"Use your EMF and walk down the plane back and forth, see if you get something," I told Dean.
He nodded and pulled it out from inside his jacket, put the headphones in his ear, and stood to start searching. Sam and I watched him as he went to the back of the plane and started to walk to the front. He kept moving the EMF across the people subtly. But even then, he still got a few looks.
I think by the time we got off this plane, people would think we were complete psychos. Dean passed us and kept walking forward. It wasn't until Dean got to the forth seat in front of us that Sam got up and went after him. I quickly followed him to where Dean was standing. Sam slammed his hand across Dean's back and Dean about jumped a foot into the air.
"Oh! Don't do that!" Dean whispered to Sam, angrily.
Sam ignored him. "Anything?"
"No, nothin'. How much time we got?" Dean asked Sam.
Sam looked at his watch. "Fifteen minutes. Maybe we missed somebody."
"Maybe the thing's just not on the plane," Dean suggested. My eyes widened with hope but it was false hope.
"You believe that?" Sam asked him.
"Well, I will if you will." Dean said. Sam shook his head and they both turned to look at me.
Just as I was about to speak, I paused and watched as the EMF meter in Dean's hand began to beep frantically. We looked to where the meter was pointing, and the co-pilot of the plane came out of the restroom and smiled at us when he noticed our stares. Dean was staring at the co-pilot intently but Sam didn't realize what we were so focused at.
"What? What is it?" Sam asked us, not catching on.
But Dean mumbled one word that caused what we hoped and dreaded at the same time. "Cristo."
The co-pilot turned around with the blackest and darkest eyes I have ever seen and the three of us stood absolutely still. Although no one gasped, I could feel Dean and Sam's shock just like I could feel mine. As I stared at the co-pilot, I suddenly got dizzy. Not the world-is-spinning kind of dizzy but like I couldn't focus on anything because wherever my eyes landed, it became hazy, like looking through a dirty window or a broken mirror. The co-pilot turned back around and went inside the cockpit, shutting the door behind him.
I walked back to our seats slowly and sat down. Bit by bit, the dizziness was going away, and I could see much more clearly. Sam and Dean were standing next to me whispering quietly. I looked around and noticed that almost all of the people in the back of the plane were looking at us.
Sam started walking to the back of the plane and Dean motioned for me to go first after following. "She's not gonna believe this," Sam shook his head.
"Twelve minutes, dude," Dean called back to him.
We entered the curtained area where Amanda was standing. I frowned; I think I might have missed the part where Dean told Sam what we were going to do.
"Oh, hi. Flight's not too bumpy for you, I hope," a flight attendant, whom I guessed to be Amanda, said.
We all stood in front of her, "Actually, that's kind of what we need to talk to you about," Dean said.
Sam closed the curtain behind us and I watched Amanda's face get wary as she looked the three of us over.
"Um, okay. What can I do for you?" She asked nicely.
"All right, this is gonna sound nuts, but we just don't have time for the whole 'the truth is out there' speech right now—" Dean said before Sam interrupted.
"All right, look, we know you were on Flight 2485," Sam blurted out.
Amanda lost the smile that was on her face and she stood straight, "Who are you guys?"
"We've spoken to some of the other survivors. We know something brought down that plane, and it wasn't mechanical failure," Sam continued.
"And we need your help because we need to stop it from happening again, here, now," Dean finished for Sam.
"I-I'm sorry, I'm very busy." Amanda stuttered as she tried to leave from around us. Subtly Dean and I shifted closer to block her path.
Dean put a hand on her shoulder and softly pushed her back. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa; wait a second. I'm not gonna hurt you, okay?" Dean held his hands up, "but listen to me—the pilot from 2485, Chuck Lambert—he's dead."
"Wait, what? Chuck is dead?" Amanda asked, shocked. By now, I had caught up to what Sam and Dean were trying to do.
"He died in a plane crash. Now, that's two plane crashes in two months. That doesn't strike you as strange?" Dean asked her.
"Look, there was something wrong with 2485. Now, maybe you sensed it, and maybe you didn't, but there's something wrong with this flight, too," I spoke up for the first time and Amanda looked startled for a second like she forgot I was there.
"Amanda, you have to believe us." Dean begged her.
She paused for a moment and we all watched her expectantly. Then slowly she started speaking again. "On…on 2485, there was this man. He…had these eyes."
"Yes, that's exactly what we're talking about," Sam encouraged her.
"But I don't understand. What are you asking me to do?"
"Get the co-pilot. We need you to bring him back here," Dean told her.
"Why? What does he have to do with anything?" She asked scared again.
"Don't have time to explain. We just need to talk to him, okay?" Dean said.
"But how am I supposed to go into the cockpit and get the co-pilot—"
"Whatever it takes. Do whatever it takes. Tell him there's something broken back here. Whatever will get him out of that cockpit," I interrupted her knowing that we really didn't have much time left.
"Do you know that I could lose my job if—"
"You're gonna lose a lot more than that if you don't help us out," Dean interrupted her this time.
There was silence but then thankfully she agreed. "Okay." She finally said and Dean and I moved aside to let her pass. I looked at Sam and Dean. Suddenly, I was terrified; not for myself but for my brothers.
Sam, Dean, and I all peeked from behind the curtain and we watched as she walked down to the cockpit and knocked on it. The co-pilot came out, and after a few moments of talking, he and Amanda began walking towards the back of the plane.
I stepped back from the curtain as I watched Dean and Sam take out the holy water and their father's journal in preparation. I grimaced as my hand subconsciously went to where my gun was supposed to be and found it empty. I stood back and braced myself for facing the demon.
Did I mention that this was my first time?
As soon as the co-pilot entered the area, Dean punched him hard enough that he slammed into the wall, then Dean grabbed him and threw him down on the floor. He covered the co-pilot's mouth with a piece of duct tape.
"What are you doing? You said you were just gonna talk to him!" Amanda exclaimed and I pulled her back where she wouldn't get hurt.
"We are gonna talk to him," Dean grunted from where he sitting on top of the co-pilot. I walked a little closer to where Sam and Dean were huddled around the demon and watched as Dean held his hands together and Sam spray him with holy water.
Once the water touched him, he—or should I say it—began shouting into the duct tape as his skin started to sizzle and burn. The co-pilot thrashed wildly as holes began to appear into his shirt. Dean also started to pour holy water on him and Amanda and I watched as the holes become bigger in his skin and white stuff began to ooze out. I scrunched my nose up in disgust.
"Oh my God, what's wrong with him?" Amanda said while she watched. I looked over at her and realized that one wrong move from the demon and she could be in danger.
I pulled her back again and directed her to the curtain. "We need you calm. We need you outside the curtain. Don't let anybody in, okay? Can you do that?" I asked her softly while I stared into her fear stricken eyes. When I got no response from her I started to worry, "Amanda?"
Saying her name seemed to snap her out of her fear. Panicking she did as I asked. "Okay. Okay." She got out and stood outside the curtain as I reclosed it. Taking a deep breath, I turned back around to where the demon was and joined in on the action.
"Hurry up Sam. I don't know how much longer I can hold him," Dean said and I hurried to hold down the demon with him.
Sam then started speaking in Latin. Although Sam and I spoke fluent Latin, I was too focused on the demon to listen to what Sam was saying. I caught bits and pieces of the exorcism and understood them to know that Sam was saying the right one. But Sam wasn't even one-sentence done when the demon was able to release Dean's hold on his hands and knock the holy water Sam was holding in the corner. He then pushed Dean off of him and he slammed against the wall.
I punched the demon straight across his face. He looked over at me and slapped me across the face hard enough that I tasted blood. Ow. All this in about the few seconds it took for the demon to free himself. He then turned to Sam as he pushed him into the wall but Sam didn't stop reading still. I got back up and straddled him just to have the demon throw me off the same way he threw Dean. I hit the wall and my head slammed against it.
Okay, now it was personal.
I watched as the demon grabbed Sam from his shirt and I got ready to jump up at the demon if he so much as pushed him. But what happened next made all of us freeze with our breath hitching. It was the demon's words that had us all gaping like a fish.
"I know what happened to your girlfriend," Dean and I sat up as we listened. Sam looked stunned and shocked and frozen all mixed into one expression that was stuck on his face. "She must have died screaming!" The demon said in the deepest, most disgusting voice ever. It sounded like fifteen men talking at the same time. "Even now, she's burning!" He shouted in his face.
Dean was the first one to react; he quickly got back onto the demon and punched it. I was the second, crawling over to where the demon was still on the ground and helping Dean hold him down. Sam was still frozen.
"Sam!" Dean shouted at him so that he would snap out of it. It took a few more seconds of painfully holding the demon down when Sam finally resumed his Latin dialogue.
When Sam said the last of the exorcism he laid the journal aside. "I got him!" Sam said as he helped us hold down the demon and together we watched the demon struggle against our hold. The demon kicked the journal and it flew out of the area we were in. I turned back to the demon as suddenly, the co-pilot arched his back screaming as black smoke flew out of his mouth and into the air vent of the plane.
Shit!
The co-pilot lay on the floor motionless. "Where'd it go?" Sam asked.
"It's in the plane. Hurry up, we've got to finish it," Dean told him as we all got up to go fetch the journal. As soon as Sam moved the curtain aside, the plane began to fall.
And then chaos erupted.
The whole plane was literally jostling around. I clutched a handle that was in front of me as the plane tilted sideways and continued falling.
Do you know that feeling where your stomach drops when you're falling really fast? Well, if you asked me what I was feeling right now, it would be the feeling of dropping your stomach twenty feet below you.
I saw Sam grab the curtain and Dean get slammed into the wall again shouting. When I looked back to Sam, he was gone. I got down and crawled over to where Dean was.
Once he saw me, he knelt down and pulled me to him. Together, we held each other and waited for Sam to save the day. I could hear screaming and shouting from outside and by this time, the lights were out so it was dark. Only flashes of lightening that lasted for a millisecond allowed us to see inside of the plane, showing us that there wasn't much to see.
The plane kept shaking and what surprised me is that I wasn't scared; Dean on the other hand was still shouting. I prayed to whoever was listening to make Sam hurry the fuck up.
Finally, after what seemed like forever, the plane slowly stopped shaking and falling and we were flying in a steady position once more. Peoples' screams and shouts died out and the lights turned back on. Dean and I looked wide-eyed at each other wondering if we survived or not.
Slowly, Dean and I stood back up and went to the curtain that was now open. We looked outwards onto the plane and we could hear and see people in relief and hugging each other.
It made me happy to know that now they had a great story to tell. Sam was still lying on the floor but then he stood up and looked back at us, breathing heavily.
We shared a knowing look turning back at the people who were smiling and laughing, none of them the wiser.
We stood in the airport watching all the people on board come out of the plane and into the sea of police officers and other officials wanting to know what went down on that airplane. If you're wondering how we got back here, it was because the pilot made a U-turn and we flew back.
The distance to where we were supposed to go—which by the way I still didn't know—was far enough that the pilot couldn't risk traveling to considering he thought it was a mess in the wires. Which one, I had no use of knowing. But he thought that whatever the problem was, it could have occurred again so he flew back and here we are.
Thankfully, the co-pilot was fine, only minor bruises from where Dean and I punched him. I looked at Amanda who was talking to an FBI agent, giving her statement. She looked over at us and mouthed 'thank you' before we nodded back at her. Once we made sure everyone was fine, Dean spoke, "Let's get out of here." We started walking and I looked at Sam who was oddly silent.
"You okay?" I asked him as we paced but he just stepped in front of us and stopped.
"Guys…it knew about Jessica," he said and when I looked at him, fear and confusion were swimming into his eyes.
"Sam, these things—they read minds. They lie, all right? That's all it was," Dean told Sam.
Unconvinced, Sam mumbled, "Yeah."
"Come on," Dean said again and he started walking. Sam however was still standing there and I didn't know what to say to him that would put his mind at ease. I too was curious about what the demon said.
So I just hugged Sam tight, providing the only comfort I could think of right then. Sam wrapped his arms around me, hugging me back. He then released me and we followed Dean out to the parking lot.
We reached the Impala and I had never been happier to see the car. I quickly got in the backseat, thinking of the trip we still had to drive back to Jerry. I laid down in the backseat and closed my eyes.
Almost immediately I felt the engine's rumble and soon we were back on the road. Knowing my brothers were next to me and safe, along with the smooth sound of the engine, helped lull me into a deep sleep where there were no dreams of plane crashes.
"Lex, wake up. We're here," Sam gently shook me awake. I rubbed my eyes and sat up wondering where exactly we were. "We're at the warehouse." Sam answered before I could ask him. I smiled nodding back at him.
I got out of the car and already saw Jerry heading towards us. I walked to where Dean was standing and Sam reached us the same time Jerry did. We all stood there, me leaning against the hood of the car next to Dean awkwardly before Jerry spoke.
"Nobody knows what you guys did, but I do. A lot of people could have been killed," he nodded at us before he shook hands with each one, "Your dad's gonna be real proud." I grinned at that; he probably would have been.
"We'll see you around, Jerry." Sam said before we all moved around to get back in the car.
Just as I was about to get in, Dean called out to the Jerry from the driver's side of the car. "You know, Jerry?"
He turned around walking back, "Yeah?"
"I meant to ask you—how did you get my cell phone number, anyway? I've only had it for, like, six months," Dean asked him.
"Your dad gave it to me," Jerry told us and I looked sharply at him as did my brothers.
"What?" Sam said.
"When did you talk to him?" I asked him, suddenly alert. I thought he had said that he couldn't reach dad.
"Well, I didn't exactly talk to him, but I called his number, and his voice message said to give you a call," he looked at Dean as he said the last part. His voice message? Dean and Sam nodded at him before he started walking again. "Thank you again, guys." Jerry said as he turned for the final time walking away.
Dean and Sam looked at each other before looking at me. I shook my head not knowing what to think. We got into the Impala and Dean drove back onto the highway. The silence inside the car was tense, each one thinking of what the hell Jerry was talking about.
I felt the car pull to a stop and we looked at Dean in question, but he didn't say anything as he got out of the car and stood against the trunk. Sam and I followed him in confusion, until we saw him pulling out his phone.
I sat on the trunk of the car, crisscrossing my legs and leaned closer to Dean as Sam moved closer to us. I watched as a plane flew over our heads and thought about everything that happened since we woke up this morning…or should I say yesterday's morning?
I still couldn't believe that we solved this case in one day. I think we broke the record.
Sam's voice pulled me out of my thoughts as he spoke. "This doesn't make any sense, man. I've called Dad's number, like, fifty times. It's been out of service," Sam said as Dean dialed dad's number. I silently agreed with Sam; we had left dad tons of messages. Never once had we listened to the voice message that Jerry mentioned.
Silently, Dean held his phone in the middle of us and listened in silence to dad's voice mail. His familiar deep voice came on saying: "This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son Dean at 866-907-3235. He can help."
That was it. Dean flipped his phone shut and we just sat there. I saw Dean look over at Sam but, near tears, he just wordlessly got into the car. I felt something wet hit my cheeks and I realized that I was crying. Dean looked at me and I looked back at him, lost.
He squeezed my hand but just like Sam, he also got into the car. I slowly jumped down and walked around to get into the car. After Dean got back on the road I leaned my head against the window watching the road go by, coming to the awareness of the fact that dad wasn't missing.
Dad planned this all from the beginning. Leaving his journal behind for us so that if we ever needed his advice, we would look inside it; leaving that voice message which clearly showed that he knew he was not going to answer any phone calls; and many more clues that showed dad was gone by his own will.
I wiped away my tears, choosing not to cry over someone who left me…left us. It was that moment then that I knew we were in this together, just the three of us. And maybe that's why dad left us, knowing that we had each other to protect, care, and love. The three Winchesters who would die for each other.
I smiled hearing Load Rage by Nichion Sounds Library blast through the speakers and knowing I was one of the luckiest girls on earth to have two brothers like Dean and Sam.