Hey guys! *waves enthusiastically* I'm putting a warning on this! Here's the warning. IT'S SO FREAKING FUNNY! I almost peed myself writing this haha. As always a big thanks to the wonderful sweetkiwi604! R&R!
Disclaimer! I only own Kat!
Dean parked the Impala in front of the gate to a building with a sign out front reading 'RIVERFRONT PSYCHIATRIC HOSPITAL'. Even the sign was making me nervous. I really didn't see why they couldn't go talk to this guy without me. I could have been sitting in the Impala listening to music, or hell even doing research, but no. Dean had mumbled something about me being fine and I got the sympathetic look from Sam as we went to find the guy we were looking for.
We were walking with Max; he was using a cane so we had to walk a little slower than I would have liked. Personally, I wanted to walk as fast as I could to the exit and put this hellhole in the rearview mirror.
"I don't understand. I already spoke with Homeland Security," Max said eyeing us all but left his eyes on me for a few extra seconds until Dean cleared his throat.
"Right. Some new information has come up. So if you could just answer a couple questions. . ." he started pulling Max's attention from me. Now, not only was this place making me uncomfortable but now he was making me uncomfortable.
"Just before the plane went down, did you notice anything. . . unusual?" I asked trying to move things along but all it did was put the attention back on me.
"Like what?" he questioned looking confused or scared I couldn't really tell, all I knew was his eyes had become glued to me again.
"Strange lights, weird noises, maybe, voices," Dean answered.
"Anything that screamed 'this isn't normal'?" I said, leaning my head to the side so that my hair fell in front of my eyes.
"No, nothing." Either he was fucking lying or he was fucking blind. . . one or the other.
"Mr. Joffey—" way to go and eff up his name Dean, the guy already wants us gone.
"Jaffey." He corrected him. Oh! Dean, you just got served! Ok, totally worth coming in to see that.
"Jaffey. You checked yourself in here, right?" Dean questioned and Max nodded, "Can I ask why?" Oh, I think we know why, this guy is a complete lunatic and needs a rubber room.
"I was a little stressed. I survived a plane crash." No shit buddy.
"Uh huh. And that's what terrified you? That's what you were afraid of?" I asked him, pressing hard for answers that I wasn't even sure he had anymore.
"I. . . I don't want to talk about this anymore." Trust me dude, no one wanted out of here more than me so just chill out and help us out. . . SO I CAN GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!
"See, I think maybe you did see something up there. We need to know what," Sam said speaking up for the first time. Max's eyes shifted from one of us to another. So he does know something! I so called it!
"No. No, I was. . . delusional. Seeing things." if I had a dollar for every time I heard that I'd be set for life.
"He was seeing things," Dean told us looking at Sam and me. No shit Sherlock. Clearly Dean thinks we don't have ears.
"It's okay. Then just tell us what you thought you saw, please," I said sweetly.
"There was. . . this—man. And, uh, he had these. . . eyes—these, uh…black eyes. And I saw him—or I thought I saw him. . ."
"Saw him what?" I pressed impatiently. Just spit it out so I can leave! PLEASE!
"He opened the emergency exit," he finally answered, "But that's. . . that's impossible, right? I mean, I looked it up. There's something like two tons of pressure on that door."
"Yeah," Dean nodded. The guy wasn't wrong, it was impossible. But I guess in the supernatural realm of things nothing's really impossible, now is it? No, no it's not.
"This man, uh, did he seem to appear and disappear rapidly? It would look something like a mirage?" Sam asked.
"What are you, nuts?" Sam tilted his head and I was totally confused but Max explained, "He was a passenger. He was sitting right in front of me."
We went to George Phelps house to talk with his wife and we were standing at the door, talking about what it could have been that could do this while we waited for her to open the door. I was totally happy to be out of crazy town but I wasn't so thrilled on being in a dead guy's house, it was creepy.
"Even yoked up on PCP or something, no way you can open up an emergency door during a flight," Dean stated as we waited.
"Not if you're human. But maybe this guy George was something else. Some kind of creature, maybe, in human form," I thought out loud, "Oh! Like the Hunk or Superman or something like that." I got looks from both of my brothers that said 'how stupid are you?' I'm not stupid, they're stupid.
"Does that look like a creature's lair to you?" Dean asked, me nodding towards the perfectly ordinary house.
"No but it could be the Hulks or Superman's," I smiled at them to show them that I was going to play up this super hero thing until it ran dry.
Ms. Phelps answered the door and gladly showed us to the sitting room, Dean and Sam sat on the sofa as she took an arm chair across from them and I sat in a matching one a few feet from her.
"This is your late husband?" Sam asked pointing to a framed photo that was sitting on the coffee table between us.
"Yes, that was my George," she answered and you could hear the pain in her voice as she said the word was. I hated talking to people about their dead loved ones. It's like just digging the knife in deeper.
"And you said he was a dentist, right?" I asked trying to be as nice as I possibly could. This lady had just lost her other half, I didn't want to upset her in anyway, or make her cry. I really hate it when people cry.
"Mm-hm. He was headed to a convention in Denver. Do you know that he was petrified to fly? For him to go like that. . ." Him and me both sister.
"How long were you married?" Sam asked gently. He was, no doubt, defiantly the more compassionate one out of the three of us.
"Thirteen years." I did the math, I was five when they got together.
"In all that time, did you ever notice anything…strange about him, anything out of the ordinary?" Dean asked as nice as he could.
"Well. . . uh, he had acid reflux, if that's what you mean." I looked over to the guys and we all exchanged a look, that's not what we meant, I thought, not even close. Guess this guy wasn't Clark Kent after all.
"I mean it goes without saying. It just doesn't make any sense," Sam sighed as we walked down the front steps in front of the house and made our way to the car.
"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 stated.
"Okay. But if we're gonna go that route, we'd better look the part," Sam said and I inwardly groaned knowing what that meant.
I was waiting by the Impala for the boys to come out of the suit store that they were in, I had just finished a few minutes before and was already dressed in a skirt suit that was completely uncomfortable but needless to say, I looked hot. I was putting my hair in a sloppy ponytail when the boys finally came out of the store and I could already hear Dean complaining about the monkey suit.
"Man, I look like one of the Blues Brothers," Dean all but whined as they walked to the car.
"No, you don't. You look more like. . . a seventh-grader at his first dance," Sam teased. I laughed because it was true but my laughter caused me to get glared at by Dean, who then stared down at his own uncomfortable clothing.
"I hate this thing," he complained as if he was a seventh-grader.
"Stop your whining, you're not the one in a shitty skirt," I paused to turn side ways, "Although. . . it does make my ass look good."
"Maybe you should return it then," Dean suggested with a super serious expression on his face.
"Hey. You want into that warehouse or not?" I asked straightening myself out.
We all got in the Impala, Dean put the car into gear and we were off.
We entered the warehouse and showed our badges to the Security Guard, who nodded and let us in. We walked among the plane wreckage; Dean pulled out a device and put ear buds in his ears.
"What is that?" Sam asked.
"It's an EMF meter. Reads electromagnetic frequencies," Dean replied, as if Sam had forgotten what an EMF meter was.
"Yeah, I know what an EMF meter is, but why does that one look like a busted-up walkman?"
"'Cause that's what I made it out of. It's homemade." Dean just grinned, proud of his work.
"Yeah, I can see that," Sam smirked.
Dean's grin disappeared and he ran the EMF meter over a piece of the wreckage until he found some with yellow dust on it.
"Check out the emergency door handle," Dean pointed. Sam and I both walked over to where he was so that we could both get a better look at what he was motioning to. Dean scratched at the yellow dust and got some on his hand.
"What is this stuff?" he asked, taking a closer look before basically shoving it in my face.
"One way to find out," Sam said pulling out a plastic bag and scrapping some of the yellow dust into it. Way to come prepared, Sam! Maybe you should try out for C.S.I.
"Um, guys we've got company," I mentioned as I heard the pounding of running footsteps getting closer. We ran out of the building using the back exit and started for the Impala, I stopped when Dean threw his jacket over the fence and then jumped it with Sam right behind him, but I hesitated. My skirt was too tight to make that jump so I pulled out the knife I had in my pocket and cut a slit up the side so that I would have leg room.
"Good thing I decided to wear underwear today," I mumbled to myself before I jumped the fence and saw Dean and Sam looking at my now ripped skirt.
"Well, these monkey suits do come in handy," Dean said, as we made our way back to the Impala, tossing me his jacket.
I looked at him for a minute confused on why he couldn't hold his own damn jacket when he simply stated, "Tie it around your waist."
We were in Jerry's office and he was looking at the yellow dust under a microscope.
"Huh. This stuff is covered in sulfur," he said after taking a closer look.
"You're sure?" Sam asked skeptical.
"Take a look for yourself," he offered but was interrupted by banging sounds coming from outside the office.
"You effin' piece of crap. . ." a voice said.
"If you three will excuse me, I have an idiot to fire." When Jerry left Dean went over and looked into the microscope.
"Hey. Einstein. Yeah, you. What the heck you doing? Put the wrench down—" We could hear Jerry yelling at the employee. Thin walls.
"Hmm. You know, there's not too many things that leave behind a sulfuric residue," Dean stated looking up.
"Demonic possession?" Sam and I asked at the same time. I hated when we did that. Half the time it was like Dean and I were the same person the other half it feels like Sam and I were the same and I hated it! Can't I be my own person with my own thoughts without one of my brothers reading my freaking mind?! Apparently, not.
"It would explain how a mortal man would have the strength to open up an emergency hatch," Dean said to us. Again, duh Sherlock.
"If the guy was possessed, it's possible," Sam nodded.
"This goes way beyond floating over a bed or barfing pea soup," I stated not wanting to believe it, "I mean it's one thing to possess a person, but to use them to take down an entire airplane?"
"You ever heard of something like this before?" Sam asked.
"Never," Dean answered and I shook my head.
We were in full research mode at the motel, with images and articles taped to the walls and strewn across the beds while Sam looked at something on the computer. Dean was flipping through dad's journal on one bed, and I was sitting on the other bed reading an article. Sam was the first one to break the silence that we had been sitting in for at least the last hour.
"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."
"Yeah, but none of them describe anything like this," I told him looking up from my pile of news paper cuttings.
"Well, that's not exactly true. You see according to Japanese beliefs, certain demons are behind certain disasters, both natural and man-made. One causes earthquakes, another causes disease."
"And this one causes plane crashes?" Dean questioned as he got up from the bed he was sitting on.
"All right, so, what? We have a demon that's evolved with the times and found a way to ratchet up the body count?" I asked turning to Sam.
"Yeah. You know, who knows how many planes it's brought down before this one," Sam replied but Dean snorted and turned away from us, "What?"
"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. And I wish Dad was here."
"Yeah. Me too," Sam said sadly. But I didn't say anything because I knew that I would probably end up crying and like I said earlier, I hate crying. Luckily, Dean's phone started ringing, saving us from the topic of dad.
"Hello?. . . Oh, hey, Jerry. . . wha—Jerry, I'm sorry. What happened?" Sam and I exchanged a look before looking back at Dean. "Where'd this happen?. . . I'll try to ignore the irony in that…nothing. Jerry, hang in there, all right? We'll catch up with you soon."
"Another crash?" I asked as Dean hung up and got ready to leave.
"Yeah. Let's go."
"Where?" Sam asked closing his laptop.
"Nazareth." Now I got the irony.
Back in Jerry's office he was looking through the microscope again.
"Sulfur?" Dean asked and Jerry nodded, "Well, that's great. All right, that's two plane crashes involving Chuck Lambert. This demon sounds like it was after him."
"With all due respect to Chuck, if that's the case, that would be the good news," I started.
"What's the bad news?" Dean questioned leaning back on the desk behind Jerry.
"Chuck's plane went down exactly forty minutes into flight. And get this, so did flight 2485," I finished earning an approving look from both brothers. Yup, that's right, this girl actually did research.
"Forty minutes? What does that mean?" Jerry asked.
"It's biblical numerology. You know Noah's ark, it rained for forty days. The number means death," I explained, "I went back, and there have been six plane crashes over the last decade that all went down exactly forty minutes in."
"Any survivors?" Dean asked although he probably already had a good guess what the answer was going to be.
"No. Or not until now, at least, not until flight 2485, for some reason. On the cockpit voice recorder, remember what the EVP said?" I said before Sam could.
"'No survivors.'" Dean replied before you could see the little light go off, "It's going after all the survivors. It's trying to finish the job."
Dean was driving and Sam was on the phone talking to yet another survivor of the plane crash.
"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 said sounding like a recording before he hung up, "All right. That takes care of Blaine Sanderson and Dennis Holloway. They're not flying anytime soon."
"So our only wildcard is the flight attendant Amanda Walker," I said crossing yet another two names off the list.
"Right," Sam said, "Her sister Karen said her flight leaves Indianapolis at eight P.M. It's her first night back on the job."
"That sounds like just our luck," Dean commented.
"Dean, this is a five-hour drive, man, even with you behind the wheel," Sam stated but Dean looked at him as if he was insulting his driving abilities.
"Call Amanda's cell phone again, see if we can't head her off at the pass," Dean said.
"Sam's already left her three voice messages. She must have turned her cell phone off," I said from my place in the back seat.
"God, we're never gonna make it," Sam said.
"We'll make it." Dean said as he stepped on the gas, wanting to prove Sam wrong.
We ran into the airport as fast as we could and looked at the board for departing flights.
"Right there. They're boarding in thirty minutes," I said pointing to the board with her flight on it.
"Okay. We still have some cards to play. We need to find a phone," Dean said walking over to one of the courtesy phones and picking it up, "Hi. Gate thirteen. . . I'm trying to contact an Amanda Walker. She's a flight attendant."
'Amanda Walker, Amanda Walker, you have a phone call. White courtesy phone, gate thirteen.'
"Come on. . . Miss Walker. Hi, this is Dr. James Hetfield from St. Francis Memorial Hospital. We have a Karen Walker here. . . Nothing serious, just a minor car accident, but she was injured, so—" Dean paused, "You what?. . . Uh, well. . . there must be some mistake. . . Guilty as charged. . . He's really sorry. . . Yes, but. . . he really needs to see you tonight, so. . . Don't be like that. Come on. The guy's a mess. Really. It's pathetic. . . Oh, yeah. . . No, no. Wait, Amanda. Amanda!" Dean hung up the phone. "Damn it! So close."
"All right, it's time for plan B. We're getting on that plane," Sam taking control of the situation but Dean and I got wide eyed and froze in our spots.
"Whoa, whoa, now just hold on a second," I said stopping him.
"Guys, that plane is leaving with over a hundred passengers on board, and if we're right, that plane is gonna crash," Sam said as if we hadn't been pay attention this whole time.
"We know," Dean replied giving me a look.
"Okay. So we're getting on the plane, we need to find that demon and exorcise it. I'll get the tickets. You get whatever you can out of the trunk. Whatever that will make it through the security. Meet me back here in five minutes." Sam continued and I gave Dean a look pleading with him to not make me do this, we were just standing in the airport and I was already starting to freak out. Sam then noticed that neither of us had moved, "Are you guys okay?"
"No, not really," I answered with a shaky voice.
"What? What's wrong?" Sam asked looking between us.
"Well, we kind of have this problem with, uh…" Dean started and I could tell he was freaking out just as much as I was, if not more.
"Flying?" Sam asked incredulously. Now would be a good time for my anxiety medication…or the whole fucking bottle, yeah, something like that.
"It's never really been an issue for us until now," I said starting to pace.
"You're joking, right?" he questioned looking at us in disbelief.
"Do we look like we're joking?" Dean stated, angry that he was explaining himself to his younger brother, "Why do you think we drive everywhere, Sam?"
"Wait," Sam said turning to me, "Since when have you been afraid of flying?"
"Uh, there's a reason I'm on anxiety medication…which I'm out of by the way," I said.
"All right. Uh, I'll go." Sam offered.
"What?" Dean and I asked in union.
"I'll do this one on my own."
"What are you, nuts? You said it yourself, the plane's gonna crash," I practically yelled. No way in hell were Dean and I letting this idiot on a haunted plane by himself.
"Guys, we can do it together, or I can do this one by myself. I'm not seeing a third option, here."
"Come on! Really? Man. . ."
Sam sat in the window seat and I took the middle seat with Dean on the aisle seat.
"Just try to relax," Sam said to us.
"Just try to shut up," Dean said as I grabbed for his hand and half expected him to pull away but he held on tight. Dean and I jumped at every little bump and noise while Sam smirked about it. Note to self: if we survive this, find every clown possible to follow Sam around, see how much he likes it.
Dean started humming trying to calm himself down, once I figured out what song it was I started humming along with him. It was actually working a little.
"Are you guys humming Metallica?" Sam asked.
"Calms her down," Dean answered through gritted teeth, not wanting to admit that he was also trying to calm himself down.
"Look, guys, I get you guys are nervous, all right? But you guys have got to stay focused."
"Okay," Dean nodded while I continued to hum.
"I mean, we got thirty-two minutes and counting to track this thing down, or whoever it's possessing anyway, and perform a full-on exorcism," Sam continued as if pointing out that the plane we were currently in was going to crash was supposed to help me calm down, all it was doing was making me more nervous.
"Yeah, on a crowded plane. That's gonna be easy," Dean said gripping my hand.
"Just take it one step at a time, all right? Now, who is it possessing?" Sam asked.
"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 answered.
"Well, this is Amanda's first flight after the crash. If I were her, I'd be pretty messed up, although if I were her I wouldn't have gotten on the plane to begin with," I said after I had finished humming the song and was trying to think of another one.
"Mm-hm," Dean nodded. He turned and grabbed a flight attendant who was nearby, "Excuse me. Are you Amanda?"
"No, I'm not," she said to Dean and smiled at me before continuing on her way.
"Oh, my mistake." Dean turned around and saw another flight attendant in the back of the plane. "All right, well, that's got to be Amanda back there, so I'll go talk to her, and, uh, I'll get a read on her mental state."
"What if she's already possessed?" Sam asked and I had started humming a new song this time it was Carry On My Wayward Son by Kansas.
"There's ways to test that," Dean said pulling out a bottle, "I brought holy water."
"No," I said pausing my song and letting go of Dean's hand as I grabbed the bottle and handed it to Sam. When the bottle was out of my hand Dean gladly took it back.
"I think we can go more subtle. If she's possessed, she'll flinch at the name of God," Sam mentioned.
"Oh. Nice," Dean said. He let go of my hand and I immediately grabbed onto Sam's, he started to protest but I just glared at him almost daring him to make me let go.
"Hey," Sam called out grabbing Dean's attention before he could leave.
"What?"
"Say it in Latin."
"I know," Dean went to leave again.
"Hey!" I said stopping him this time.
"What?!"
"Uh, in Latin, it's 'Cristo'." I said, earning a look from him.
"Kat, I know! I'm not an idiot!" he said, turning away from us and making his way to the back where Amanda was. The humming was really helping to calm my nerves but I knew it wouldn't last that long.
"You doing okay?" Sam asked and I realized he had never seen me panic before, at least not like this, it was always Dean.
"Yes," I rushed out quickly returning to my song.
"Really? Because you're white knuckling the arm rests."
I hadn't even noticed that I had a death grip on both of the arm rests, not that I really cared. I mean, hello I was trying to keep my shit together here! We hit a small patch of turbulence and I squealed, grabbing for Sam I felt him grab my hand and put a protective arm around my shoulders.
"It's okay, stay calm," he whispered to me. Calm was something I could not achieve at that moment. I mean, I WAS ON A FUCKING PLANE AND HE WANTED ME TO BE CALM! Yeah, not gonna happen. I could feel my heart beating in my ears and knew a panic attack was about to make an unwanted appearance.
A minute later Dean came back and sat back down, "All right, well, she's got to be the most well-adjusted person on the planet," he said taking my hand back. I was back to humming and I was now holding both my brothers' hands and my leg was bouncing so bad I was making the whole row jiggle.
"You said 'Cristo'?" Sam asked, ignoring the shaking seat.
"Yeah," Dean answered, placing his hand on my leg to make me stop. I shot him a like that said 'I will fucking chop off your hand if you suggest that again'. He quickly removed his hand and turned back to Sam when he heard him say,
"And?"
"There's no demon in her. There's no demon getting in her."
"So, if it's on the plane, it can be anyone. Anywhere."
The plane shook and I squealed and gripped my brothers hands tighter, willing the panic attack to stay at bay.
"Come on! That can't be normal!" Dean grumbled and I was on the verge of having a major panic attack.
"Hey, hey, it's just a little turbulence," Sam said to our reactions of hitting the air pocket.
"Sam, this plane is going to crash, okay? So quit treating us like we're fucking four," I spat out angrily.
"You need to calm down," Sam said in a firm voice looking from Dean to me.
"Well, I'm sorry I can't and she hasn't had her meds in two days so there's no calming her down," he paused and thought for a second, "Unless you want her to hyperventilate or take your head off."
"Yes, you can. And, we can keep her from losing it," Sam said as he rubbed small circles on the back of my hand. Really Sam? Not helping.
"Dude, stow the touchy-feely, self-help yoga crap, it's not helping," Dean said as if he was reading my mind.
"Listen, if you're panicked, you're wide open to demonic possession, so you need to calm yourself down. Right now. Both of you."
I was trying to calm down and tried matching my breathing to Sam's. It was working, sorta.
"Good. Now, I found an exorcism in here that I think is gonna work. The Rituale Romanum."
"What do we have to do?" I asked trying to keep my voice steady as I rolled my head over to look at Sam.
"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." You have got to be fucking kidding me! I was in no position to be dealing with this shit at the moment.
"More powerful?" Dean questioned.
"Yeah."
"How?" I asked, putting the heels of my feet on the seat so my knees were at my chest, trying and failing to curl into a ball while holding both my brothers' hands.
"Well, it doesn't need to possess someone anymore. It can just wreak havoc on its own," Sam answered. Fucking fantastic!
"Oh. And why is that a good thing?" Dean asked.
"Well, because the second part sends the bastard back to hell once and for all."
"First things first, we got to find it," I said.
Dean got up and started walking up the aisle with his EMF meter; Sam got up and climbed over me to go the other direction. At first I didn't want to move but as a few seconds passed I realized sitting here alone was even more terrifying then walking around so I got up and made my way over to Dean who jumped as Sam and I appeared behind him.
"Ah! Don't do that," Dean scolded whipping around to face us.
"Anything?" Sam asked.
"No, nothing. How much time we got?"
"Fifteen minutes. Maybe you missed somebody," I said as I looked around.
"Maybe the thing's just not on the plane," Dean offered. Like hell it wasn't.
"You believe that?" Sam asked.
"Well, I will if you will," Dean said.
"Well, I don't," I said, earning a glare from Dean and a soft look from Sam.
Dean looked down as the EMF meter spiked. The co-pilot was exiting the bathroom and headed towards the cockpit.
"What? What is it?" Sam asked.
"Cristo," Dean whispered just loud enough for the co-pilot to hear.
The co-pilot slowly turned to face us with black eyes. He turned away and went back into the cockpit. I looked over to my brothers, I was officially breaking down.
We headed to the back of the plane to where Amanda was. Sam pushing me in front of him, the panic attack had started and I was currently hyperventilating.
"She's not gonna believe this," I said between gasps of air.
"Twelve minutes, dude," Sam said to Dean.
"Oh, hi. Flight's not too bumpy for you, I hope," Amanda smiled when she saw Dean.
"Actually, that's kind of what we need to talk to you about," Dean said as Sam closed the curtain, "I hope you don't mind, my sister is having a panic attack," he said guiding me to the floor and putting my head between my knees, "just breathe," he whispered.
"Um, okay. What can I do for you? Does she need some water?"
"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 stepping away from me.
"All right, look, we know you were on flight 2485," Sam said, I was still panicking a little too much to talk but I could see Amanda's smile disappear.
"Who are you guys?" she asked nervously.
"Now, we've spoken to some of the other survivors. We know something brought down that plane and it wasn't a mechanical failure," Sam continued not answering her question.
"We need your help because we need to stop it from happening again. Here. Now," I said, the boys looked at me, surprised that I was even following along.
"I'm sorry, I—I'm very busy. I have to go back—" she said as she tried to push past Dean but he stopped her.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait a second. I'm not gonna hurt you, okay? But listen to me, uh. . . The pilot in 2485, Chuck Lambert. He's dead."
"Wait. What? What, Chuck is dead?" she asked looking a little freaked.
"He died in a plane crash. Now, that's two plane crashes in two months. That doesn't strike you as strange?" he stated more than asked.
"I—" she stuttered.
"Look," Sam said, "there was something wrong with 2485. Now maybe you sensed it, maybe you didn't. But there's something wrong with this flight, too."
"Amanda, you have to believe us," Dean added, giving her a hard stare.
"On. . . on 2485, there was this man. He. . . had these eyes," she said trying to remember.
"Yes. That's exactly what we're talking about," Sam said eagerly.
"I don't understand, what are you asking me to do?" Amanda asked getting flustered.
"Okay. The copilot, we need you to bring him back here," Dean instructed.
"Why? What does he have to do with anything?" She questioned him like he was nuts.
"Don't have time to explain. We just need to talk to him. Okay?" Dean said, reassurance in his voice.
"How am I supposed to go in the cockpit and get the copilot—" she started but was cut off by Sam.
"Do whatever it takes. Tell him there's something broken back here, whatever will get him out of that cockpit."
"Do you know that I could lose my job if you—"
"Okay," Dean said, "well you're gonna lose a lot more if you don't help us out."
Amanda still hesitated but finally agreed, "Okay." FAN FUCKING TASTIC! Ladies and gentleman we have ourselves a demon fetcher!
Amanda was gone for a couple minutes and I started to worry that she couldn't get him back here.
"Hey, Kat! Calm down!" Dean yelled shaking my shoulders, I hadn't even noticed that I started hyperventilating again, "watch me," he instructed, "match my breathing."
I did what he told me to do, I don't know how he was keeping his shit together better than I was but that wasn't important at the moment. When my breathing was finally under control Amanda came back as if on cue with the co-pilot trailing behind her.
"Yeah, what's the problem?" he asked.
Dean punched him in the face, knocking him down. He pinned him down and put a strip of duct tape over his mouth. Where the hell did he get duct tape? I thought to myself as I watched.
"Wait. What are you doing? You said you were just gonna talk to him," she asked panicking at the attack that had just happened.
"We are gonna talk to him," Dean replied as he splashed holy water on the demon's skin causing it to sizzle.
"Oh, my god. What's wrong with him?" Amanda asked starting to freak out. Hey lady, get it together because there's only enough room for one of us to freak out and I've got that covered.
"Look," Sam said, "We need you calm. We need you outside the curtain."
"Well, I don't underst—I don't know—" she stumbled over her words watching the co-pilot.
"Don't let anybody in, okay? Can you do that? Can you do that? Amanda?"
"Okay. Okay." Amanda left.
"Hurry up, Sam. I don't know how much longer I can hold him," Dean grunted and I didn't know what to do so I just stood there.
"Regna terrae, cantate Deo, psallite Domino—" Sam started reading.
The demon broke free knocking both of my brothers down and shoving me so that I hit my head, HARD, on the wall. Dean managed to get up and subdue him again. Sam started reading again but the demon knocked Dean off and this time pulled off the duct tape before he grabbed Sam by the collar.
"I know what happened to your girlfriend! She died screaming! Even now, she's burning!"
I don't know what happened; one minute I'm glued to the wall then the next I'm knocking down the demon and was suddenly on top of him. Dean recovered and Sam sat on the ground, stunned.
"Sam!" I yelled trying to break him out of whatever trance he was in. He recovered and began reading again. He put the book down and helped me pin down the demon, who kicked the book up the aisle.
"I got him." Sam said. The demon squirmed and fought under our hold and finally the demon exited the body in a swirl of black smoke.
"Where'd it go?" I asked.
"It's in the plane," Dean said, "Hurry up. We got to finish it."
We all got up and started to make our way out of the small room when the plane suddenly dipped and heaved violently. Sam struggled to retrieve the book as Dean splayed himself against the exit door, screaming. I fell into the aisle and grabbed onto the closest seat I could, squeezing my eyes shut until I felt something hit me.
The journal had slid towards me and I grabbed it, I was able to find the page that the exorcism was on, found the part where Sam had left off and finished it. Thankfully, the plane finally leveled out as soon as the last words left me mouth. Various people were asking if everyone was okay. Dean and Sam came over to me and helped me to my feet.
"So I guess you got over your fear," Sam said, right after he said that we hit turbulence. I squealed and grabbed onto Dean's arm with a death grip.
"I'll take that as a 'no'."
Police were getting reports from everyone on the plane and paramedics were there helping out the few people that had gotten hurt. When we looked back at Amanda; she mouthed a 'Thank you' to me and my brothers.
"Let's get out of here," Dean said. We started walking towards the exit when I noticed something about the look on Sam's face.
"You okay?" I asked, Sam stopped and turned to look at me.
"Guys, it knew about Jessica."
"Sam, these things, they, they read minds. They lie. All right? That's all it was," Dean said trying to ease some of the pain that was clear on Sam's face.
"Yeah," Sam nodded not believing him for a minute and giving him a hard stare.
"Come on," Dean said, finally breaking away from Sam's lock he had on him with his eyes.
"Nobody knows what you guys did, but I do. A lot of people could have been killed," Jerry said shaking each of our hands, "Your dad's gonna be real proud."
"We'll see you around, Jerry," Sam said as we started for our doors to the Impala.
"You know, Jerry," Dean said stopping him before he got too far away.
"Yeah?" Jerry asked taking a few steps back over to us.
"I meant to ask you, how did you get my cell phone number, anyway? I've only had it for like six months," Dean questioned curiously.
"Your dad gave it to me." HOLD THE SHIT! What did he just say?
"What?" Sam and I said in unison. Get out of my head Sam!
"When did you talk to him?" Dean asked, curiosity getting the better of all three of us.
"I mean, I didn't exactly talk to him, but I called his number. His voice message said to give you a call. Thanks again, guys." He said before turning and walking away leaving the three of us dumbfounded.
"This doesn't make any sense, guys. I've called dad's number like fifty times. It's been out of service," I admitted to them as Dean dialed dad's number. He put it on speaker so that Sam and I could hear it too.
'This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son, Dean. 785-555-0179. He can help.'
My eyes teared up at the sound of my dad's voice and when I looked over I saw that Sam had teared up too. I got up and got into the Impala slamming the door a little harder then necessary and for once Dean didn't bitch about me being rough with his baby. Our dad was fucking missing and he was sending us jobs. Ladies and gentleman Father Of The Year goes to John Winchester! NOT.
The next chapter will probably be coming within the next couple of days so keep a look out for it!
XOXOX