Dean is asleep on his stomach, while Olive is sprawled on her back and snoring as loud as a garbage truck. As the door opens, Dean awakens and slips a hand under his pillow for his knife. As he turns to look, he sees Sam, carrying coffee and donuts.
"Morning, sunshine." He glances at Olive. "You know, with her snoring, I'm surprised you didn't wake up sooner."
"What time is it?" Dean asks, his voice thick with sleep.
"Uh, about five forty-five."
"In the morning?"
"Yep." Sam places Dean's coffee on his bedside table.
"Where does the day go?" Dean sits up, completely ignoring the coffee for the time being. "Did you get any sleep last night?"
"Yeah, I grabbed a couple hours..
"Liar. 'Cause I was up at three, and you were sitting on the couch, watching a George Foreman infomercial."
"Hey, what can I say? It's riveting TV."
"When was the last time you got a good night's sleep?"
"I don't know, a little while, I guess. It's not a big deal."
"Yeah, it is." Sam and Dean jump at the voice, obviously not aware that the snoring had stopped and Olive was listening to their conversation. Olive grimaces at the rasp of her voice and clears her throat. "It's a very big deal, dipshit." She sits up and glares at Sam and Dean through, tired, hooded eyes, pulling down her black camisole where it hitched up on her stomach.
"Look, I appreciate your concern-"
"Oh, I'm not concerned about you. It's your job to help keep my ass alive, so I need you sharp." Dean says, unapologetically. Sam shrugs.
"Seriously, are you still having nightmares about Jess?" Olive asks, concern evident in her eyes. Sam crosses the room, sits at the edge of the bed Olive had been sprawled on, and hands her a coffee.
"Yeah. But it's not just her. It's everything. I just forgot, you know? This job, it gets to you." Sam confesses.
"You can't let it. You can't bring it home like that." Dean shrugs.
"So, what? All this it...never keeps either of you up at night?" Dean and Olive both shake their heads. "Never? You're never afraid?"
"No, not really." Dean says. Olive just shrugs. Sam reaches under Dean's pillow to pull out a large hunting knife, placing it down on the bed space beside him. Then he reaches towards Olive's pillows, pulls the butterfly knife out from underneath the pillow and picks up the other knife, holding them both up as evidence.
Olive glares at him, then snatches the knife from his hand, holding it tightly in her hand. Dean takes the knife back. "That's not fear. That's precaution." Dean argues and Olive nods.
"All right, whatever. I'm too tired to argue."
Dean's phone rings and he answers it. "Hello?"
"Dean, it's, uh, it's Jerry Panowski. You, your sister, and your dad helped me out a couple years back."
"Oh, right, yeah. Up in Kittanning, Pennsylvania, the poltergeist thing. It's not back, is it?" Olive looks at Dean, mouthing 'Jerry? Poltergeist guy?' when he looks her way. He gives a curt nod before concentrating back on the phone.
"No. No. Thank god, no. But it's something else, and...uh, I think it could be a lot worse."
"What is it?"
"Can we talk in person?"
Dean eyes Sam, who stares back at him, his eyes narrowed in an unspoken question. Olive looks at Dean, who doesn't return the look, and hops of her bed, starting to gather her clothes and put them in her duffle, though she purposely leaves out a plaid blue and green button down shirt, old jeans, a bra, underwear, and some socks to change into when she gets out of the shower.
"Thanks for making the trip so quick. I ought to be doing you guys a favor, not the other way around. Dean, Olive, and your dad really helped me out." Jerry looks up at Sam.
"Yeah, I've been told. It was a poltergeist?"
"Poltergeist? Man, I loved that movie." A random worker said as he passed them.
"Hey, nobody's talking to you. Keep walking." The man walks off and Jerry lowers his voice. "Damn right it was a poltergeist, practically tore our house apart. Tell you something, if it wasn't for you guys and your dad, I probably wouldn't be alive. Your dad said you were off at college. Is that right?"
"Yeah, I was. I'm, uh, I'm taking some time off." Sam stutters out.
"Well, he was real proud of you. I could tell. He talked about you all the time."
"He did?"
"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?"
"He's, um, wrapped up in a job right now."
"Well, we're missing the old man, but we get Sam. Even trade, huh?" Dean and Olive laugh.
"No, not by a long shot." Sam mutters.
"I got something I want you guys to hear." They walk into his office. "I listened to this. And, well, it sounded like it was up your alley." Jerry puts a CD in a drive. "Normally I wouldn't have access to this. It's the cockpit voice recorder for United Britannia flight 2485. It was one of ours."
"Mayday! Mayday! Repeat! This is United Britania 2485-immediate instruction help! United Britanis 2485, I copy your message-May be experiencing some mechanical failure..." There is a loud whooshing sound.
"Took off from here, crashed about two hundred miles south. Now, they're saying mechanical failure. Cabin depressurized somehow. Nobody knows why. Over a hundred people on board. Only seven got out alive. Pilot was one. His name is Chuck Lambert. He's a good friend of mine. Chuck is, uh...well, he's pretty broken up about it. Like it was his fault."
"You don't think it was?"
"No, I don't." Jerry says confidently.
"Okay, we're gonna need passenger manifests, um, a list of survivors..." Olive trails off, thinking if they need anything else. "Yeah, passenger manifests and a list of survivors." Olive nods, feeling as if she forgot something.
"All right."
"Oh! Uh, any way we can take a look at the wreckage?" Olive remembers.
"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."
Dean frowns. "No problem."
Sam and Olive are waiting by the car outside a Copy Jack. As Dean exits, Sam stands up straight. "You've been in there forever."
Dean holds up three IDs. "You can't rush perfection."
Olive grabs an ID from him, gaping. "Holy fuck, man. Homeland Security?" Sam takes one of the IDs. "That's pretty fuckin' illegal, even for us."
"Yeah, well, it's something new. You know? People haven't seen it a thousand times." They get in the car. "All right, so, what do you got?"
"Well, there's definitely EVP on the cockpit voice recorder." Sam shifts in his seat to look at both of his siblings.
"Yeah?"
"Listen."
He plays the tape. "No survivors..." A scratchy voice whispers.
""No survivors"? What's that supposed to mean? There were, like, seven survivors." Olive asks, looking over the list of survivors again.
"Beats me."
"So, what do you guys think? Haunted flight?"
"There's a long history of spirits and death omens on planes and ships, like phantom travelers." Sam offers.
"Mm-hmm." Dean nods.
"Oh, remember flight 401?" Olive suggests.
"Right. The one that crashed, the airline salvaged some of its parts, put it in other planes, then the spirit of the pilot and copilot haunted those flights." Sam sighs.
"Right."
"Yep."
"Maybe we got a similar deal?" Sam rubs his chin.
"All right, so, survivors, which one do you want to talk to first?"
"Third on the list: Max Jaffey." Olive says immediately.
"Why him?"
"Well, for one, he's from around here. And two, if anyone saw anything weird, he did."
"What makes you say that?"
"Well, I talked to his mom. And she told me where to find him."
Max is walking with a cane between Sam and Dean, while Olive stands beside Dean.
"I don't understand. I already spoke with Homeland Security."
"Right. Some new information has come up. So if you could just answer a couple questions..." Dean trails off.
"Just before the plane went down, did you notice anything...unusual?" Olive asks slowly.
"Like what?"
"Strange lights, weird noises, maybe. Voices, even."
"No, nothing."
"Mr. Joffey-" Dean starts.
"Jaffey." Olive whispers in his ear, giving his ribs a shove with her elbow while Max wasn't looking at them.
"Jaffey." Dean glares at Olive, who smiles innocently. "You checked yourself in here, correct?" Max nods. "Can I ask why?"
"I was a little stressed. I survived a plane crash." Max deadpans.
"Uh huh. And that's what terrified you? That's what you were afraid of?"
"I...I don't want to talk about this anymore."
"See, I think maybe you did see something up there. We need to know what."
"No. No, I was...delusional. Seeing things."
"Look man, it's okay. You say you were seeing things? Then just tell us what you thought you saw, please." Sam compromises.
"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?" Olive pushes.
"He opened the emergency exit. But that's...that's impossible, right? I mean, I looked it up. There's something like two tons of pressure on that door."
"Yeah."
"This man, uh, did he seem to appear and disappear rapidly? It would look something like a mirage?" All three siblings look at Max, silently questioning him.
"What are you, nuts?" Sam tilts his head. "He was a passenger. He was sitting right in front of me."
"So here we are. George Phelps, seat 20C." Sam looks up at the house through his window.
"Man, I don't care how strong you are," Sam, Dean, and Olive get out of the car. "I mean, even doped up on PCP or some shit, no way can you open up an emergency door during a flight."
"Not if you're human. But maybe this guy George was something else. Some kind of creature, maybe, in human form." Sam suggests.
"Does that look like a creature's lair to you?" Dean asks, looking over Sam's shoulder.
Sam turns to look at the big, grey house surrounded by flowers and shrubs.
They walk up the walkway and stop at the front door to knock. Mrs. Phelps, an average-sized woman with brown hair and blue eyes comes to the door, looking scared.
"Hello, are you Mrs. Phelps?" The woman nods. "Alright, well I am officer Hayley Quinn of Homeland Security," Olive pulls out her badge and shows Mrs. Phelps. "And these are my partners, Robert Wayne," Olive gestures to Sam, who pulls out his badge. "And Charles Bruce." She gestures to Dean, who already had his badge out and is showing her. "We're here to ask you a few questions about a Mr. George Phelps, your late husband. May we come in?" Mrs. Phelps takes a deep breath and let's them in, leading them down the hall to the living room, seeing as it contained a couch, two chairs, and a small loveseat.
Dean and Sam sit across from Mrs. Phelps in the chairs while Olive sits on the loveseat. Sam looks at a small frames photograph. "This is your late husband?"
"Yes, that was my George."
"And he was a...dentist, correct?"
"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..." She trails off.
"How long were you married?"
"Thirteen years."
"In all that time, did you ever notice anything...strange about him, anything out of the ordinary?"
"Well...uh, he had acid reflux, if that's what you mean." The siblings look at each other.
Sam, Dean, and Olive come down the stairs out front. "I mean it goes without saying. It just doesn't make any sense." Sam looks at Dean and Olive, as if they could give him the answer.
"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 suggests.
"Okay. But if we're gonna go that route, we'd better look the part."
Dean and Sam exit a store, wearing crisp black suits with white shirts. Sam adjusts his collar as Olive walks out of the store, slightly stumbling in the heels. She huffs angrily and smooths down the dress.
"Man, I look like one of the Blues Brothers." Dean complains. They start towards the car.
"No, you don't. You look more like a...seventh-grader at his first dance."
Dean looks down at himself. "I hate this thing."
"You're not alone. What kind of damn store doesn't carry suits for women. Fuckin' people, man." Olive growls. "And, I'm practically dying in these fuckin' heels. I'm already getting blisters."
"Hey. You guys want into that warehouse or not?" Sam asks, getting in the car. Olive gets in the back, pulling the heels off and rubbing her feet.
Dean starts the Impala and they drive to the warehouse.
They enter the warehouse and show their badges to the security guard, who nods and lets them in. As they walk among plane wreckage; Dean pulls out a device and puts earbuds in his ears.
"What is that?" Sam looks at Dean, eyebrows raised.
"It's an EMF meter. Reads electromagnetic frequencies." Dean deadpans.
"Yeah, I know what an EMF meter is, but why does that one look like a busted-up walkman?" Sam gestures towards the EMF meter.
"'Cause that's what I made it out of. It's homemade." Dean grins.
"Yeah, I can see that." Sam mumbles. Dean's grin disappears. Olive snorts.
Dean runs the EMF meter over a piece of the wreckage with yellow dust on it and gets an audible spike. "Check out the emergency door handle." He scratches at the yellow dust and gets some on his hand. "What is this stuff?" He wipes it on the back of Sam's jacket.
"One way to find out." Sam scrapes some of the yellow dust off into a bag.
Two agents in black suits approach the security desk and show their badges.
"Homeland Security? What, one team of you guys isn't enough?" The security guard gives them a confused look.
"What are you talking about?" The agent on the left asks
"Three of your buddies went inside not five minutes ago."
The second agent looks at the first.
The agents and several security guards bust in, guns drawn, and search. Sam, Dean, and Olive hear them coming and rush outside, through the back. The security guards and agents see nothing.
The siblings peer around a corner and walk out casually. An alarm blares, and they run to the gated exit. Pulling off his suit jacket, Dean throws it over the barbed wire at the top of the fence, and then climbs over. Olive kicks off her shoes and throws them over the side before climbing over the fence herself. Sam hops over and Dean grabs the jacket. Olive grabs up her shoes.
"Well, these monkey suits do come in handy." Dean mutters. He runs off. Sam and Olive follow.
Jerry looks at the yellow stuff through a microscope. "Huh. This stuff is covered in sulfur."
"You're sure?" Sam asks, leaning forward in this seat.
"Take a look for yourself."
Banging sounds from outside the office. "You effin' piece of crap..." A man shouts.
"If you fellows will excuse me, I have an idiot to fire." Jerry stands up and leaves. Dean goes over and looks into the microscope. "Hey. Einstein. Yeah, you. What the heck you doing? Put the wrench down-" Jerry shouts from outside the office.
"Hmm. You know, there's not too many things that leave behind a sulfuric residue." Dean says, looking up at his siblings.
"Demonic possession?" Olive asks, eyebrows raised.
"It would explain how a mortal man would have the strength to open up an emergency hatch."
"If the guy was possessed, it's possible." Sam nods.
"This goes way beyond floating over a bed or barfing pea soup. I mean, it's one thing to possess a person, but to use them to take down an entire airplane?" Olive leans off the wall. "That's fucking crazy. You ever hear of something like this before? Because I sure as hell haven't." She looks pointedly at Dean.
"Nope, never."
Dean, Sam and Olive are in full research mode, with images and articles taped to the walls and strewn across the beds, and Sam is looking at something on the computer. Dean is reading something on one bed while Olive is reading something on the other, jiggling her leg. They had been sitting here for an hour and a half already, and she was getting restless.
"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 breaks the silence.
"Yeah, but none of them describe anything like this." Olive gestures around herself vaguely.
"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 gets up. "All right, so, what? We have a demon that's evolved with the times and found a way to ratchet up the body count?"
"Yeah. You know, who knows how many planes it's brought down before this one?" Sam asks. Dean snorts, turning away.
"What?" Sam and Olive ask simultaneously.
"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." Sam says, while Olive says, "Me too."
Dean's phone rings and he answers it. "Hello?"
"Dean, it's Jerry."
"Oh, hey, Jerry." Olive and Sam look at him, paying attention to the conversation.
"My pilot friend...Chuck Lambert is dead."
"Wha-Jerry, I'm sorry. What happened?"
"He and his buddy went up in a small twin about an hour ago. The plane went down."
"Where'd this happen?"
"About sixty miles west of here, near Nazareth."
"I'll try to ignore the irony in that."
"I'm sorry, what?"
"Nothing. Jerry, hang in there, all right? We'll catch up with you soon." Dean hangs up.
"Another crash?" Olive and Sam ask simultaneously, shooting glares at eachother for a second before turning their attention back to their older brother. As kids, the siblings had always done that to annoy their father, but now that they were older, it proceeded to annoy the living shit out of each of them.
Dean rolls his eyes. "Yeah. Let's go."
"Where?" Sam stands up while Olive pulls on her jacket and zips it up.
"Nazareth."
Jerry is looking through a microscope again.
"Sulfur?" Dean asks. Jerry nods. "Well, that's great. All right, that's two plane crashes involving Chuck Lambert. This demon sounds like it was after him."
"If that's the case, that would be the good news." Sam mumbles, barely loud enough for Dean and Olive to hear him. "With all due to Chuck, of course." he adds afterwords.
"What's the bad news?" Olive asks slowly.
"Chuck's plane went down exactly forty minutes into flight. And get this, so did flight 2485."
"Forty minutes? What does that mean?" Jerry butts in, a crease settling in his eyebrow.
"It's biblical numerology. You know Noah's ark, it rained for forty days. The number means death, pretty much." Olive sighs the last part.
"I went back, and there have been six plane crashes over the last decade that all went down exactly forty minutes in." Sam not only emphasises 'exactly', but pinches his forefinger and thumb together.
"Any survivors?" Dean prods.
"No. Or not until now, at least, not until flight 2485, for some reason."
"No survivors." Olive mutters, a thoughtful look on her face.
"What?" her brothers ask simultaneously.
She sits for a minute, before shooting up and snapping her fingers. "No survivors! On the cockpit voice recorder, remember what the EVP guy said?! Dudes, it's going after all the survivors! It's trying to finish the goddamn job!" She shouts, eyes wide.
Dean is driving, Sam is on the phone with Dennis Holloway, and Olive is on the phone with Blaine Sanderson.
"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 hangs up. "All right. That takes care of Dennis Holloway."
"Okay, thanks for your time, and remember...you get a free flight if you fly with us one more time. Okay, buh-bye." Olive hangs up and growls, muttering 'goddamn people' under hear breath before planting a smile on her face and looking between her brothers. "Well, Blaine surely ain't flying anytime soon."
"So our only wildcard is the flight attendant Amanda Walker." Dean sighs."So, where is she?"
"Right. Her sister Karen said her flight leaves Indianapolis at eight pm. It's her first night back on the job." Sam says, pulling out a map.
"That sounds like just our luck." Dean grins.
"Dude, this is a five-hour drive, even with your reckless ass behind the wheel."
"Call Amanda's cellphone again, see if we can't head her off at the pass."
"I already left her three voice messages. She must have turned her cellphone off." Sam turns his phone over in his hand.
"God, we're never gonna be able to make the fucking flight in time. Fuck." Olive growls, putting her head in her hands.
"We'll make it. Calm down." Dean dodges her worry with practiced ease.
Dean, Sam and Olive rush into the airport and check the Departure board.
"Right there. They're boarding in thirty minutes." Sam points to the flight.
"Okay. We still have some cards to play. We need to find a phone." Dean picks up a courtesy phone.
"Airport Services."
"Hi. Gate thirteen."
"Who are you calling, sir?"
"I'm trying to contact an Amanda Walker. She's a flight attendant on flight, um..." he looks to his siblings, who whisper '4-2-4' repeatedly. "flight 4-2-4." A few minutes later, a woman answers
"This is Amanda Walker."
"Miss Walker. Hi, this is Dr. James Hetfield from St. Francis Memorial Hospital. We have a Karen Walker here."
"Karen?"
"Nothing serious, just a minor car accident, but she was injured, so-"
"Wa-wait, that's impossible. I just got off the phone with her."
Dean pauses. "You what?"
"Five minutes ago. She's at her house, cramming for a final. Who is this?"
"Uh, well...there must be some mistake."
"And how would you even know I was here?" Sam and Olive crowd closer to Dean to try to hear what's going on. "Is this one of Vince's friends?"
"Guilty as charged."
"Wow. This is unbelievable."
"He's really sorry."
"Well, you tell him to mind his own business and stay out of my life, okay?"
"Yes, but...he really needs to see you tonight, so-"
"No, I'm sorry. It's too late."
"Don't be like that. Come on. The guy's a mess. Really. It's pathetic."
"Really?"
"Oh, yeah."
"Look, I've got to go. Um...tell him to call me when I land." Then, the line goes dead.
"No, no. Wait, Amanda. Amanda! Damn it! So close."
"Thank you for flying United Britannia Airlines." A woman says over the intercom.
"All right, it's time for plan B. We're getting on that plane."
"Whoa, whoa, now just hold on a second." Dean is wide-eyed.
"Dean, that plane is leaving with over a hundred passengers on board, and if we're right, that plane is gonna crash." Sam reminds him.
"I know."
"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." Dean just looks at him anxiously.
"Are you okay? You're looking a little pale there, big bro." Olive asks, looking him and down.
"No, not really."
"What? What's wrong?"
"Well, I kind of have this problem with, uh..." Dean gestures around himself vaguely.
"Flying?" Sam asks.
"It's never really been an issue until now."
"You're joking, right?"
"Do I look like I'm joking? Why do you think I drive everywhere?"
"All right. Uh, we'll go." Olive suggests, looking from the big clock on the wall to her brothers.
"What?"
"We'll do this one on our own." She tries to sound confident but, she'd never really done any hunts this big without somebody older than her. It was always dad, Dean, or, hell, Bobby. She was kinda scared.
"What are you, nuts? You said it yourself, the plane's gonna crash."
"Dean, we can do all it together, or Olive and I can do this one by ourselves. I'm not seeing a third option, here." Sam reasons.
"Come on! Really? Man..."
Dean in the aisle seat, is anxiously reading the safety card, Sam is next to him, while Olive is behind them, fighting her own kind of breakdown. There were so many people on this damn thing, making it seem a lot smaller than it actually was. Okitey dokitey, Olive, breathe. You're gonna be fine. This plane is perfectly safe, you have nothing to worry about
"Just try to relax." Sam says to both of them, but Olive ignores him in favor of counting how many of her hairs she could grab with in one hand.
"Just try to shut up." Dean grounds out.
The plane takes off, with Dean jumping at every rumble and sound. Sam smirks.
Olive is staring at Dean's seat, still a little spooked. Dean is leaning back, humming to himself. Sam looks over. "You're humming Metallica?"
"Calms me down."
He looks back at Olive, and sighs.
"Look, I get that you guys are nervous, all right? But you gotta stay focused."
"Okay." Dean says, while Olive mutters, "No shit, Dick Tracy."
"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."
"Yeah, on a crowded plane. That's gonna be real easy." Olive snaps.
He sighs again. "Okay, just take it one step at a time, all right? Now, who is it possessing?"
"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."
"Well, this is Amanda's first flight after the crash. If I were her, I'd be pretty messed up." Sam offers, looking between Dean and Olive.
"Mm-hm." Olive turns to a flight attendant. "Excuse me. Are you Amanda?"
"No."
"Oh, my mistake."
"Mm-hm."
Olive looks to the back of the plane to the other flight attendant. "All right, well, that's got to be Amanda back there, so I'll go talk to her, and, uh, get a read on her mental state."
"What if she's already possessed?"
"There's ways to test that." She shrugs and goes into her bag to retrieve a shaped bottle of holy water. "I brought holy water."
"No." Sam and Dean say simultaneously.
Sam snatches the bottle and tucks it inside his hoodie. "I think we can go more subtle. If she's possessed, she'll flinch at the name of God."
"Oh. Cool." Olive stands and turns to go.
"Hey." Sam calls suddenly.
"What?"
"Say it in Latin."
"As I said before, 'No shit, Dick Tracy.' I know, Sam." She leaves again.
"Okay...Wait, hey!"
"Oh my-what, Sam?!" She snaps.
"Uh, in Latin, it's 'Christo'."
"Dude, I know! I'm not a fuckin' idiot!"
Olive makes her way to the back of the plane, keeping her eyes on Amanda because holy fuck this plane is fucking packed. When she gets to Amanda, she purposefully keeps the curtain open. I'd end up flipping shit if I were in that small of a space after my near breakdown before. Hell...no.
Amanda is fussing with the drink cart and napkins.
"Hi." Olive says cheerily.
"Hi. Can I help you with something?"
"Nah, man. I'm just, uh, not very fond of small spaces. It makes it feel a lot roomier when I walk around a little bit."
"Oh, it happens to the best of us."
"Of course, you being a stewardess, I guess this is like, everyday to you. Probably makes this whole flying thing a lot easier."
Amanda laughs. "You'd be surprised."
"Really? You're a nervous flier?"
"Yeah, maybe, little bit."
"How is it that, being a stewardess, you're scared to fly?"
"Kind of a long story."
"Right. Sorry for asking, dude."
"It's okay."
"You ever consider other employment?"
"No. Look, everybody's scared of something. I just, uh...I'm not gonna let it hold me back."
"Hmmm."
"So..." Amanda says awkwardly.
"Christo." Olive mutters.
"I'm sorry. Did you say something?"
Olive hesitates. "Christo?"
"I-I didn't, I didn't..." Amanda trails off, staring at Olive as if she were crazy.
"Yeah, nothing. Never mind. Um, have a...pleasant evening?" Olive quickly returns to her seat.
"All right, well, she's got to be the most well-adjusted person on the damn planet." Olive plops down in the her seat.
"You said 'Christo'?"
"Yeah."
"And?" Dean turns to look at her.
"There's no demon in her. There's no demon getting in her."
"So, if it's on the plane, it can be anyone. Anywh-" The plane shakes and Dean stops. "Come on! That can't be normal!"
"Hey, hey, it's just a little turbulence." Sam soothes.
"Sam, this plane is going to crash, okay? So quit treating me like I'm friggin' four."
"You need to calm down."
"Well, I'm sorry I can't."
"Yes, you can."
"Dude, stow the touchy-feely, self-help yoga crap, it's not helping."
"Listen, Dean, you're panicked, I get it. You're freakin' out. Hell, I am, too. I'm trapped in a giant metal bird, with a bunch of random ass people. It's a li'l creepy. But, if you're freakin' out, you're wide open to demonic possession, so you need to calm yourself down. Right now." Olive sternly reminds him. "So, why don't we each take a few deep breathes, and figure this the fuck out, so we can get the fuck off'a this damn thing, capishe?"
Dean nods and they each take a long, slow breath.
"You guys good now?" Sam asks, looking them each over. They both nod, slightly uncertain. "Good enough. Now, I found an exorcism in here that I think is gonna work. The Rituale Romanum."
"What do we have to do?" Dean sits up straighter.
"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."
"More powerful?" Dean cocks an eyebrow.
"Yeah."
"How?"
"Well, it doesn't need to possess someone anymore. It can just wreak havoc on its own."
"Oh."
"And why is that a good thing?" Olive asks.
"Well, because the second part sends the bastard back to hell once and for all."
"First things first, we got to find it."
Dean walks slowly up the aisle with his EMF meter, getting odd looks but no readings. Sam suddenly claps him on the shoulder, and he jumps.
"Ah! Don't do that."
"Anything?" Sam and Olive ask.
"No, nothing. How much time we got?"
"Fifteen." Olive says after checking her watch.
"Maybe we missed somebody." Sam suggests, looking around.
"Maybe the thing's just not on the plane."
"You really willin' to believe that, though?" Olive tilts her head, a hand on her hip.
"Well, I will if you two will." Dean looks down as the EMF meter spikes. The co-pilot exits the bathroom and heads towards the cockpit.
"What?" Olive asks, while Sam asks, "What is it?"
"Christo." Dean whispers.
The co-pilot turns slowly to face them. His eyes are black. He goes into the cockpit. Dean looks at Sam and Olive. "Oh, shit."
Sam, Olive, and Dean head to the back of the plane towards Amanda.
"She's not gonna believe this." Sam shakes his head.
"Twelve minutes, dude." Olive mumbles.
"Oh, hi. Flight's not too bumpy for you, I hope." Amanda says, looking at Olive.
"Actually, that's kind of what we need to talk to you about." She says, stepping inside, beside Dean, as Sam closes the curtain.
"Um, okay. What can I do for you?"
"This is gonna sound borderline psychopathic, but we just don't have time for the whole "the truth is out there" speech right now."
"All right, look, we know you were on flight 2485." Dean jumps right in, no hesitation.
Amanda's smile disappears. "Who are you?"
"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 continues.
"We need your help because we need to stop it from happening again. Here. Now." Olive finishes.
"I'm sorry, I-I'm very busy. I have to go back-"
She tries to brush past Olive, who stops her.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait a second. We ain't gonna hurt you, okay? But listen to me, uh...The pilot on 2485, Chuck Lambert. He's dead." Olive rambles.
"Wait. What? What, Chuck is dead?" She stops, looking between the three siblings.
"He died in a plane crash. Now, that's two plane crashes in two months. That doesn't strike you as strange?" Dean asks.
"I-"
"Look, 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." Olive pleads.
"On...on 2485, there was this man. He...had these eyes."
"Yes. That's exactly what we're talking about." Sam nods, like his head's on a damn spring.
"I don't understand, what are you asking me to do?"
"Okay. The copilot, we need you to bring him back here."
"Why? What does he have to do with anything?"
"Don't have time to explain. We just need to talk to him. Okay?" Olive looks her in the eyes.
"How am I supposed to go in the cockpit and get the copilot-"
"Do whatever it takes. Tell him there's something broken back here, whatever will get him out of that cockpit." Olive urges.
"Do you know that I could lose my job if you-"
"You're gonna lose a lot more if you don't help us out."
Amanda hesitates. "Okay." Amanda leaves and goes to the cockpit. She knocks on the door and says something inaudible to the copilot, who follows her back. Sam pulls out the holy water, handing it to Olive. Dean pulls out John's journal and hands it to Sam, who opens it.
"Yeah, what's the problem?" The co-pilot pulls the curtain back. Dean punches him in the face, knocking him down. He pins him down and puts duct tape over his mouth.
"Wait. What are you doing? You said you were just gonna talk to him." Amanda demands.
"We are gonna talk to him."
Olive splashes holy water on his skin, which sizzles, while helping Dean pin him down.
"Oh, my god. What's wrong with him?" Amanda panics.
"Look. We need you calm. We need you outside the curtain." Sam says calmly.
"Well, I don't underst-I don't know-"
"Don't let anybody in, okay? Can you do that? Can you do that? Amanda?"
"Okay. Okay." Amanda leaves.
"Hurry up, Sam. I don't know how much longer we can hold him." Olive grunts, tightening her grip on his arms.
"Regna terrae, cantate Deo, psallite Domino-"
The demon breaks free briefly and hits the three of them until Dean and Olive manage to subdue him again. Sam picks up where he left off. The demon throws Dean and Olive off again and pulls the tape off his mouth. He grabs Sam by the collar. "I know what happened to your girlfriend! She must have died screaming! Even now, she's burning!"
Dean recovers and hits the demon as Sam sits there, stunned. Olive recovers and jumps to help Dean.
"Sammy!" Dean and Olive shout.
Sam recovers and begins reading again. He reaches for a container of holy oil, dropping the book. The thrashing demon kicks it under the curtain and down the aisle. The demon exits the co-pilot's body and disappears into a vent.
"Where'd it go?" Sam frantically looks around for the book.
"It's in the plane. Hurry up. We got to finish it."
The plane suddenly dips and heaves violently. Sam struggles to retrieve the book as Dean splays himself against the exit door, screaming. Olive trips over her foot when she goes to run to Sam's aid, and falls into the cart, that wheels into the wall. The force was enough to wind her. She falls to the floor, gasping and waiting for the inevitable.
Sam manages to grab the book and shouts the rest of the exorcism. A bright electrical charge runs through the entire plane, which then levels out.
Various people ask if everyone's okay. Amanda sighs in relief. Dean comes out from behind the curtain, followed by a heavy breathing Olive with an arm around her ribs. Sam stands up.
Amanda is being questioned by another agent. "Anything else?"
"No, that's all." She sees Sam, Olive, and Dean standing across the way and mouths 'Thank you'. They nod.
"Let's get out of here."
Dean, Sam, and Olive head for the exit. "You okay?" Dean asks when he doesn't hear anything from either of them, directing it at Sam. Olive was both in pain, having bruised her ribs, and exhausted, so he understood her silence, but Sam...well, he seemed different. Secluded. Sam stops and turns, causing Dean and Olive to stop.
"It...it knew about Jessica."
"Sam, these things, they, they read minds. They lie. All right? That's all it was."
"Yeah."
"Come on, guys. Let's get the hell outta here." Olive says, a small smile gracing her face.
"Nobody knows what you guys did, but I do. A lot of people could have been killed." Jerry shakes their hands. "Your dad's gonna be real proud."
"We'll see you around, Jerry." Sam says.
"Bye, dude. Be careful." Olive offers, turning to leave.
Dean begins to head off. "You know, Jerry," Dean starts.
"Yeah."
"I meant to ask you, how did you get my cellphone number, anyway? I've only had it for like six months." Dean turns back to him.
"Your dad gave it to me."
"What?" Olive and Sam look at him with big eyes.
"When did you talk to him?"
"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." Jerry leaves.
"This doesn't make any sense, man. I've called Dad's number like a thousand times. It's been out of service for the better part of the last half-a-year."
Dean dials John's number. As the voice message begins, he turns it so Sam and Olive can hear too. "This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my kids. 785-555-0179. They can help."
Sam fumes and gets in the car. Dean and Olive follow. They drive off.