Where Were You? 2
November 2005
Sam had been edgy about this hunt from the moment Dean had told him what had happened after he hung up with Jerry Panowski. He really did not want to work a hunt that involved a plane crash. But he still had not told Dean about what happened four years ago, so he didn't have a choice if he didn't want to cast suspicion on him.
The edge had gotten stronger when they'd had to head into the hangar to talk to Jerry. He tried not to show it, but he could tell Dean was picking up on his anxiety. He'd felt better as soon as they had left, but the edge had come back with a vengeance when they started searching the wreckage of the plane. Sam had glanced around at all the broken and burned pieces, wondering if this was what his plane must have looked like after it crashed.
But now, they were heading into the airport to get to Amanda Walker to stop her from getting on the plane. Sam looked up at the departure board.
"Right there," said Sam, pointing up at it. "They're boarding in thirty minutes."
"Okay," said Dean. "We still have some cards to play. We need to find a phone." He rushed off to find the nearest courtesy phone.
Sam stayed frozen in front of the departure board, staring at it.
Sam glanced from his ticket up to the departure board, looking for his flight. He finally found it about halfway down the board:
Time: 07:45, To: Los Angeles, Flight No.: AA11, Gate: B32, Remarks: On Time.
"Sam!"
Sam jolted himself and looked over at Dean.
"Come on, man!" hissed Dean, heading back to looking for a phone.
Sam glanced up at the departure board one last time before following Dean through the terminal. Dean finally found a courtesy phone and picked it up.
"Hi," said Dean. "Gate thirteen." He paused for a moment. "I'm trying to contact an Amanda Walker. She's a flight attendant on flight, um…Flight 424."
As Dean talked with Amanda, Sam glanced around the airport in recollection.
Sam grabbed his bag off of the conveyor belt as he grabbed his cell phone and wallet from the tray the attendant handed to him. Once he was through security, he walked through the terminal, searching for his gate before finally finding it: Gate B32.
"Nothing serious," said Dean into the phone. "Just a minor car accident, but she was injured, so—" He paused, his face freezing after a moment. "You what?"
An intercom beeped overhead. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to United Britannia Airlines Flight 424 bound for Dallas. We are now boarding first-class—"
Sam glanced up at the speakers above him as he recalled that day.
Sam continued to flip through his Stephen King book in one of the lounge chairs.
The intercom beeped overhead. "Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to American Airlines Flight 11 bound for Los Angeles. We are now boarding first-class passengers, people with small children and those otherwise needing assistance. Once first-class is seated, we'll begin boarding by section. Please have your boarding cards ready."
Sam set his book down momentarily and checked his ticket to see that he was coach seating.
"No, no," said Dean. "Wait, Amanda. Amanda!" He pulled the phone away from his ear in dismay and hung up. "Damn it! So close!"
The intercom snapped on. "Thank you for flying United Britannia Airlines."
"Alright, it's time for Plan B," said Dean. "We're getting on that plane."
Sam's heart skyrocketed as he flung his hand out towards Dean. "Whoa, whoa, now just hold on a second."
"Sam, that plane is leaving with over a hundred passengers onboard, and if we're right," said Dean, glancing around and lowering his voice, "that plane is gonna crash."
"I know!" said Sam.
"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 began to head off when he noticed the look on Sam's face.
Sam could not believe this. He had tried to avoid this moment for the past four years, and now it was staring him in the face.
"Are you okay?" asked Dean.
"No, not really," said Sam shakily.
"What?" said Dean. "What's wrong?"
"Well, I kind of have this problem with, uh…" Sam sighed.
"Flying?" asked Dean.
"It's never really been an issue until now!"
"You're joking, right?"
"Do I look like I'm joking? Why do you think we drive everywhere, Dean?"
"Alright." Dean shrugged. "I'll go."
"What?" said Sam.
"I'll do this one on my own."
"What are you, nuts? You said it yourself! The plane's gonna crash!"
"Sammy, we can do it together, or I can do this one by myself. I'm not seeing a third option here."
"But…" said Sam, glancing at the gate in horror. "Really?"
"Look, just go get the supplies," said Dean. "I'll take care of everything else. Meet me back here in five minutes."
Sam nodded shakily before heading back to the Impala to get their things. The supply run took entirely too short of a time, and before he knew it, he was right back at the gate with Dean.
"Alright, come on," said Dean as they headed towards security.
Sam swallowed thickly as he stared at the security checkpoint. It was definitely more elaborate since the last time he had been in an airport. But that was to be expected after 9/11. Sam tried to ignore the airport personnel as he loaded his bag onto the conveyor belt.
Once they had made it through security, they began heading for the gate.
"See, was that so hard?" asked Dean.
"That was only security, Dean," Sam grumbled.
"Well, it still wasn't so bad, was it?" asked Dean, heading through the gate into the lounge.
Sam hesitated before following Dean into the lounge. They sat in the lounge for a couple minutes, with Sam trying to ignore all of his surroundings.
I'm not in an airport… Sam told himself. I'm not in an airport…
The intercom call came over the speakers. "We are now boarding all rows of American Flight 11 to Los Angeles."
"Sam!"
Sam looked up to see Dean on his feet.
"They're calling our flight," said Dean.
Sam nodded and stood up on unsteady legs to follow Dean towards the hallway that lead to the plane. Dean got his boarding pass checked and headed into the walkway. Sam dazedly handed over his boarding pass, but could not take his eyes off of the hallway. The last time he'd stood in front of one of these, it had been early morning, not night.
"Sir?"
Sam looked at the attendant as she held out his boarding pass.
"Enjoy your flight," she told him.
Sam tried to smile as he took his boarding pass from her. He slowly followed Dean down the walkway and to the door of the plane. A few inches before the threshold of the plane, Sam froze, staring into the cabin and the flight attendant waiting for him.
A flight attendant whose nametag read Betty smiled at him. "Good morning, sir. Welcome to American Airlines Flight 11. Do you know where your seat is?"
Sam smiled and handed over his boarding pass. Betty took a look at it and handed it back.
"Seat 17A," said Betty. She pointed down the aisle towards the back of the plane. "Pass through three curtains, and it'll be the first row on the right."
"Sam, come on," said Dean, grabbing Sam's boarding pass and handing it to the flight attendant.
"Seat 25A," she said, handing the boarding pass back. "Enjoy your flight and welcome to United Britannia Flight 424."
Sam nodded as he accepted the boarding pass back. Looking down at the floor, he watched as his foot stepped over the threshold of the hatch and entered the plane. The second he stood in the cabin, his heart began to pound.
Dean noticed the freaked look on his face and gently grabbed hold of his arm. "Sammy, it's okay. Come on."
Sam let himself be led down the aisle of the plane towards coach. Dean plopped his bag into a row of empty seats on the port side of the plane, starting to sit in the aisle seat.
"Ah…" began Sam.
Dean stopped, looking up at him. "What?"
Sam looked out his window, putting his head against the frame to see in front of them as much as he could. He watched skyscrapers tearing past, and he looked towards the front of the plane. He narrowed his eyes, watching as something in front of them swarmed straight for them at high speed…a building. As it seemed to fill the entire window, Sam closed his eyes for impact.
"Um…" said Sam, unsure how to tell Dean without telling him.
Dean rolled his eyes and slid further into the row, taking the window seat.
Sam ducked his head sheepishly and mumbled, "Thanks…" He sat down in the aisle seat, strapping his seatbelt immediately.
After a few minutes of Sam grasping his hands tightly in his lap, the loudspeaker pinged overhead.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I'm Stephanie Wheeler. On behalf of Captain Nielson and the entire crew, I'd like to welcome you aboard United Britannia Flight 424, destination Dallas. At this time, please return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts. We will be departing the gate at 8:00 P.M."
Sam stared at the young flight attendant as she hung up the microphone.
The lights dimmed slightly as the loudspeaker pinged overhead.
"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen," said a flight attendant's voice. "I'm Amy Sweeney. On behalf of Captain Ogonowski and the entire crew, I'd like to welcome you aboard American Flight 11, destination Los Angeles. At this time, please return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts. We will be departing the gate at 7:45 A.M."
Sam reached forward and grabbed the card with the safety information on it from the back of the seat in front of him.
"You gonna be okay?" asked Dean.
The plane rumbled as it began moving away from the airport.
Sam's heart froze in his chest. "I'll let you know…"
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your first officer speaking. We have received clearance to depart and head to the runway. Please remain seated with your seatbelts fastened and seats in their upright and locked position until the fasten seatbelt sign has been turned off. Thank you and welcome aboard."
The 767 began to push back from the gate. About four minutes later, they began taxiing towards the runway, where they lined up with the pavement. The engines began to whine as the cabin trembled, the plane accelerating down the runway. As the cabin shook a little, the ground receded in the window, and they took to the air.
Sam fumbled with the safety information card as the plane's engines began to power up.
"Just try to relax," Dean mumbled to him.
"Just try to shut up," Sam bit off at him.
As the plane accelerated down the runway and the cabin began to shake, Sam dropped the card and tightened his seatbelt, gripping the armrests in a white-knuckled death grip. As the plane tilted up and took off, Sam closed his eyes, his heart trip-hammering against his ribcage. He never expected to be sitting in a plane ever again. The engines quieted down, and Sam's grip eased slightly. Something clicked and whined under their feet, causing Sam to jump and look around in fear. As he realized it was just the landing gear being stowed away, he winced at the smirk Dean sent him.
They sat in silence for a while as the plane headed through the night.
Sam looked over at the aisle he was sitting next to.
Sam looked down to see that two flight attendants and a passenger lay on the floor in the aisle, blood staining the carpet under them.
Sam winced and quickly looked away from the aisle.
Dean looked over at Sam's white knuckles on the armrests. "Look, man, I get you're nervous, alright? But you got to stay focused."
Sam nodded as he took a couple deep breaths. "Okay."
Dean glanced at his watch. "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."
"On a crowded plane?" said Sam. "That'll be easy."
"Just take it one step at a time, okay?" said Dean. "Now, these things usually possess 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." He glanced pointedly at Sam.
"Well, this is Amanda's first flight after the crash," said Sam.
Mine, too, thought Sam.
"If I were her, I'd be pretty messed up," said Sam.
A flight attendant began to pass their row.
Sam leaned forward a little. "Excuse me."
The flight attendant turned, and Sam froze. Her face…it was so familiar…
"Please listen very carefully," said the flight attendant on the Airfone. "This is Amy Sweeney on Flight 11. We've been hijacked. Two attendants have been stabbed. We're off course, and—"
"Sir?" the flight attendant asked.
Sam shook himself from his stare. The flight attendant looked so much like Amy Sweeney…
"Are you Amanda?" asked Sam.
"No, I'm not," she said.
"Oh, my mistake," said Sam.
The flight attendant moved on, and Dean looked at Sam.
"You okay?" asked Dean.
Sam looked at him. "Yeah, I'm fine." He glanced back towards the restroom area and spotted a blonde flight attendant preparing drinks on a tray. "Alright, 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."
"But what if she's already possessed?" asked Dean. He began digging in his carry-on bag. "There's ways to test that." He pulled out a squashed bottle of water. "I brought holy water."
Sam frowned. "No." He grabbed the bottle from Dean and tucked it inside his hoodie. "I think we can go more subtle. If she's possessed, she'll flinch at the name of God. If it's in Latin, of course."
"Oh," said Dean. "Nice."
Sam got up from his seat and began walking down the aisle towards the back of the plane. The plane rumbled and shook, and Sam's heart stopped.
The passengers screamed as they grabbed onto the seats. Sam braced himself on the seat in front of him as the plane turned.
The plane's engines whined as the nose tilted downward steeply. Everyone was thrown against the seats in front of them.
"We're in rapid descent!" said Amy into her phone. "Something is wrong!"
Sam began hyperventilating as the plane dived. He closed his eyes in fear.
Sam gripped the back of the seat he was standing next to, closing his eyes and waiting for the turbulence to abate. After a moment, the plane settled, and Sam clenched his fist, banging on the seat he had held onto.
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your first officer speaking. We are experiencing a little turbulence, but not to worry. We are flying on course and will be out of the clouds in a moment."
Sam shakily began moving towards the back of the plane again. He walked through the open curtain and smiled at Amanda.
"Hi," said Sam.
"Hi," said Amanda. "Can I help you with something?"
"Oh, no," said Sam. "I'm just a bit of an uneasy flier. It makes me feel better to walk around a little bit."
"Oh, it happens to the best of us," said Amanda.
Sam frowned slightly, wondering how she could be a flight attendant after the crash of Flight 2485. Sam was practically a nervous wreck after his crash, even without being on this plane.
Sam cleared his throat, playing his part. "Of course, you being a stewardess, I guess flying comes easy to you."
Amanda laughed. "You'd be surprised."
"Really?" said Sam. "You're a nervous flier?"
"Yeah, maybe, a little bit."
"How is it that, being a stewardess, you're scared to fly?"
"Kind of a long story."
"Right. Sorry I asked."
Amanda looked at him for a moment. "Look, everybody's scared of something. I just, uh…I'm not gonna let it hold me back."
"Huh," said Sam.
"So…" said Amanda.
Sam glanced at her and whispered, "Cristo."
Amanda looked up at him. "I'm sorry?"
Sam watched her closely, but she gave no reaction. "Nothing. Just, uh, have a good flight."
"You, too, sir," said Amanda.
Sam walked back through the curtain and sat down in the aisle seat.
"Well?" asked Dean, looking up from his search through their father's journal.
"She's not possessed," said Sam. "And I don't think she's getting possessed."
"So, if it's on the plane, it can be anyone," said Dean. "Anywhere."
The plane shook once again.
"We're in rapid descent!"
Sam began hyperventilating as the plane dived rapidly, the engines screaming.
Sam gripped onto the armrests, inhaling sharply and finally giving into the fear. "Okay, that can't be normal!"
"Hey, it's just a little turbulence," Dean told him.
Sam looked at him, trying to hold the tears back. "Dean, this plane is going to crash, okay? It's gonna—"
"You need to calm down," said Dean.
Sam stared at him, lowering his voice. "Dean, there is a demon on this plane, and it is going to crash, and we are going to—"
Dean leaned closely towards Sam, trying to calm his little brother down. "Listen, if you're panicked, you're wide open to demonic possession, so you need to calm yourself down. Right now."
Sam looked at him and took a few deep, steadying breaths.
"Good," said Dean. He turned back to their father's journal. "Now, I found an exorcism in here that I think is gonna work. The Rituale Romanum."
"What do we have to do?" asked Sam.
"It's two parts," said Dean. "The first part expels the demon from the victim's body. It makes it manifest, which actually makes it more powerful."
"More powerful?" asked Sam. "How?"
"Well, it doesn't need to possess someone anymore," said Dean. "It can just wreak havoc on its own."
"And just how is that good?" asked Sam.
"Because the second part of the exorcism sends the son of a bitch back to hell once and for all," said Dean.
"First things first," said Sam. "We have to find it."
Dean reached into his jacket, pulling out an EMF meter. "I'll take care of that. You stay here."
Sam nodded, not sure if his legs would support him for another walk through the cabin. Dean stood from his seat and headed to the back of the plane to start getting readings from the passengers. Sam sat in his seat with his eyes closed, trying to ignore the hum of the engines around him.
Sam dialed John's number.
"This is John Winchester. Leave a message."
The phone beeped.
Sam took a deep breath. "Dad…" His voice began to crack. "Listen, uh…I know we haven't talked in a few months…I just wanted to say…" His heart jumped up into his throat, and he took another deep breath. "Just, uh…I shouldn't have left things the way I did…I wanted you to know that…" His voice grew strained. "Tell Dean…I'm sorry…Listen, take care of yourselves. I, uh…Goodbye, Dad."
Sam hung up and looked down at the phone in his hand, staring at it in shock.
Something whined in the cabin, and Sam opened his eyes to see Dean passing by his seat. When Dean got to the front of the cabin, Sam stood up and put his hand on Dean's shoulder.
Dean jumped slightly. "Don't do that, man."
"Anything?" asked Sam.
"No, nothing," said Dean. "How much time we got?"
Sam glanced at his watch, and his eyes widened in horror. "Fifteen minutes. Maybe we missed somebody."
"Maybe the thing's just not on the plane," said Dean.
"You believe that?" asked Sam.
"Well, I will if you will," said Dean.
Sam frowned at him until the EMF meter in Dean's hand started humming and lit up. Dean looked up to see the co-pilot walk out of the restroom and begin to head into the cockpit.
"What?" asked Sam. "What is it?"
"Cristo," said Dean.
The co-pilot flinched and turned to glare at them, his eyes black. He turned and went into the cockpit.
"The demon is the co-pilot?" said Dean. "Ugh. This was supposed to be simple."
"Compared to what?" asked Sam.
"Come on," said Dean, grabbing Sam's arm and heading towards the back of the plane.
"What?" asked Sam.
"We gotta tell Amanda," said Dean.
"What?" exclaimed Sam.
"Well, how else are we gonna get the demon out of the cockpit," said Dean. "They're not exactly gonna let random civilians into there, and for good reason."
Sam flinched a little at Dean's reference to the 9/11 hijackings. "She's not gonna believe this."
"Twelve minutes, dude," Dean told him.
They headed through the curtain into the back area where Amanda was.
"Oh, hi," said Amanda. "Flight's not too bumpy for you, I hope."
"Actually, that's kind of what we need to talk to you about," said Dean as Sam closed the curtain.
"Um, okay," said Amanda. "What can I do for you?"
"Alright, this is gonna sound nuts, but we just don't have time for the whole 'the truth is out there' speech right now," said Dean.
"Alright, look, we know you were on Flight 2485," Sam interrupted.
Amanda's smile disappeared. "Who are you guys?"
"Now, we've spoken to some of the other survivors," said Sam. "We know something brought down that plane, and it wasn't a mechanical failure."
"We need your help because we need to stop it from happening again," said Dean. "Here. Now."
"I'm sorry," said Amanda. "I—I'm very busy. I have to go back—" She tried to head past Dean and leave through the curtain.
Dean put his hands on Amanda's shoulders to stop her, and Amanda gasped in fear. Sam looked into her scared face.
"Be quiet!" a terrorist yelled as the passengers and flight attendants in business class watched in fear. "Be still! Sit down! Be still!"
Amy picked the Airfone up and dialed a number. "Listen and listen to me very carefully. I'm on Flight 11. The airplane has been hijacked. They have knives and mace. They say they have a bomb."
"Okay, the aircraft is erratic again," said Betty into the phone. "Flying very erratically."
Sam shook himself out of his memories as Dean tried to reassure Amanda.
"I'm not gonna hurt you, okay?" said Dean. "But listen to me, uh…The pilot from 2485, Chuck Lambert? He's dead."
"Wait, what?" said Amanda. "Chuck is dead?"
"He died in a plane crash," said Dean. "Now, that's two plane crashes in two months. That doesn't strike you as strange?"
"I—" said Amanda.
Sam finally recovered from his reverie. "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," said Dean.
"On…on 2485, there was this man," said Amanda. "He…had these eyes."
"Yes!" said Sam. "That's exactly what we're talking about."
"I don't understand," said Amanda. "What are you asking me to do?"
"Okay," said Dean. "The co-pilot, we need you to bring him back here."
"Why?" asked Amanda. "What does he have to do with anything?"
"Don't have time to explain," said Dean. "We just need to talk to him. Okay?"
"How am I supposed to go in the cockpit and get the co-pilot—" began Amanda.
"Do whatever it takes," said Sam, eager to stop the plane from crashing. He could not go through that again. "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—" said Amanda.
"Okay, well, you're gonna lose a lot more if you don't help us out," said Dean.
Amanda hesitated. "Okay." She left and headed for the cockpit, knocking on the door.
Sam pulled out the holy water as Dean pulled out John's journal and handed it to Sam. Sam opened it as Dean peeked through the curtain. He stepped back a little and got ready.
The co-pilot stepped through the curtain. "Yeah, what's the problem?"
Dean punched the co-pilot in the face, knocking him down. He pinned the guy down and put duct tape over his mouth.
"Wait," exclaimed Amanda. "What are you doing? You said you were just gonna talk to him."
Sam knelt down next to the possessed co-pilot, focusing on the exorcism. Maybe he could ignore his building fear of being in that plane by focusing on the hunt.
"We are gonna talk to him," said Dean, splashing holy water on the co-pilot's skin, which sizzled.
"Oh, my God," said Amanda. "What's wrong with him?"
Sam knelt next to the co-pilot as he looked up at Amanda. "Look, we need you calm. We need you outside the curtain."
"Well, I don't understand—" began Amanda.
"Don't let anybody in, okay?" said Sam. "Can you do that? Can you do that? Amanda?"
"Okay," said Amanda. "Okay." She left, closing the curtain.
"Hurry up, Sam," said Dean. "I don't know how much longer I can hold him."
"Regna terrae, cantate Deo, psallite Domino—" recited Sam from the journal.
The demon hit the two of them until Dean hit him back. Sam grabbed the journal and began reciting again until the demon knocked Dean away and pulled the tape off of his mouth.
The demon grabbed Sam's jacket, pulling him close. "I know what happened to your girlfriend! She must have died screaming! Even now, she's burning!"
Dean punched the demon as Sam stared at him, stunned.
"Sam!" said Dean.
Sam shook himself and began reading again. He put the book down and helped Dean pin down the demon.
"I got him!" said Sam.
The co-pilot convulsed a few times before black smoke flew out of his mouth and disappeared into a vent.
"Where'd it go?" asked Sam.
"It's in the plane," said Dean. "Hurry up. We gotta finish it." He rushed through the curtain to look for the journal as Sam got to his feet.
The plane suddenly dipped and heaved violently, the engines screaming. Sam was thrown back against the hatch, his heart thudding against his ribcage once again.
The plane's engines whined as the nose tilted downward steeply. Everyone was thrown against the seats in front of them.
"We're in rapid descent!" said Amy into her phone. "Something is wrong!"
Sam began hyperventilating as the plane dived. He closed his eyes in fear, certain that this was the end.
Sam reached forward, struggling to pull himself towards the curtain. The passengers screamed in the cabin as the plane shook and rattled around them all.
The nose of the plane tilted lower and lower, the engines whining.
"We are in rapid descent," said Amy into her phone. "We are all over the place." She looked out the window of the starboard side. "Oh, my God! We are too low!"
Sam lunged forward, trying to grab onto the doorway. He was flung backwards into the door as the plane engaged in free fall.
The engines screamed as they gained power, accelerating very rapidly. The plane leveled out, and Sam could now see that they seemed to be just barely skimming the rooftops of the buildings.
Oh, my God… Sam thought, gripping his seat tightly. Oh, my God…
"I see water," said Amy into her phone, glancing out her window. "I see buildings." She paused, her eyes widening. "I see buildings! We are flying low."
Sam slammed his eyes closed as the plane shook around him. A yell involuntarily ripped itself from his throat as the all-too-familiar fear enveloped him.
Sam looked out his window, putting his head against the frame to see in front of them as much as he could.
"We are flying very, very low," Amy went on.
Sam watched skyscrapers tearing past, and he looked towards the front of the plane. He could just barely see what was coming.
"We are flying way too low," Amy continued. "Oh, my God, we are flying way too low."
The yell continued to spill from Sam's throat as his eyes flew open of their own accord. The scene was way too familiar. The plane was plummeting rapidly towards the ground.
Sam narrowed his eyes, watching as something in front of them swarmed straight for them at high speed…a building.
"Oh, my God!" Amy cried, spotting the same thing.
Sam gasped as the building seemed to fill the entire window, closing his eyes for impact.
An electric bolt seemed to run along the entire plane, shaking it.
The ground thudded under his feet, and he opened his eyes to see that he was standing outside in a square between two buildings. He looked up to see that he was at the foot of the World Trade Center Twin Towers. And just as his eyes registered that fact, he watched as a Boeing 767 plowed into the northern façade of the North Tower.
The flight stopped plummeting, and the engines returned to their normal hum. The passengers' screams slowly ceased as the plane leveled out. Sam took several deep breaths and slowly pulled himself up onto his shaky legs. He peered out of the curtain to see Dean getting to his feet, the journal held tightly in his hands. Dean looked back at Sam, who was still staring at the cabin with wide eyes.
Dean walked over to Sam. "You okay?"
Sam slowly nodded. "I will be…just get me off this thing…"
Dean nodded, guiding Sam back to their seats. "Well, good news, I think after this, they're gonna land back at the airport soon."
"Good," breathed Sam, sitting down in his seat and putting his head in his hands.
He stayed that way for a while or so before Dean reluctantly put a hand on his back.
"You gonna be good?" asked Dean. "You're not gonna puke or anything, are ya?"
Sam looked up at his brother. "No…I'll be fine…"
"You sure, 'cause you're looking really pale," said Dean.
"Just knock me out till we land," said Sam.
Dean chuckled. "I think they'd detain me if I did that. Look, just…hum something."
Sam frowned at him. "Hum something?"
"Yeah, try Metallica," said Dean, shrugging. "It calms me down."
Sam shook his head with a laugh. Sure enough, Sam started feeling a little better. That was probably what Dean was aiming for. Sam knew his brother was probably wondering why he got so freaked out on this flight…but he could never tell Dean that he was on one of the hijacked planes on September 11, 2001.
