A/N: Hey, everyone! So, so sorry for the long wait! I was busy with all the holidays and then had some writer's block, but I'm here! Thank you for your reviews, follows, and favorites. Please enjoy and thanks for reading!
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for my OC, Katherine.
Things, of course, weren't immediately simplified just because Kat had cried in Sam's arms for a few minutes. She slept peacefully and her few hours after waking up had not been so hard, but the more hours that ticked by, the more her brain caught up and wore her down bit by bit. By the end of the day, she was exhausted and found herself crying once more when she retired to her motel room.
The following days were the same. She would wake up mostly okay, start to tire throughout the day, and be back to square one by nightfall. Sam would ask her quietly how she was doing, and she noticed every single one of Dean's worried looks even though he tried to be subtle about it.
She didn't want to be as upset as she was, really. She wanted to get better, believe it when she tried to convince herself that it didn't matter what her father had done, put on a real happy face, make Dean stop worrying. But she couldn't help how she felt. The knowledge that her father was not the man she looked up to was devastating; all that time, holding him in her heart as a wonderful man, only to find out everything she knew was wrong. Was she overreacting? Was she justified? She wasn't sure, and wondering about it didn't help one way or another.
Blissfully and terrifyingly, devastation always lessens at some point, in some way. Whether it's because you're worn out from being upset, or you move on, or you force yourself to be numb, it lessens. Maybe you cry less, or stop crying, or laugh more, or enjoy things again.
Kat happened to run out of tears after about a week. She cried all she could, and then there was nothing left to cry over. No one can cry forever. It didn't mean she was no longer upset, just that all her tears were spent and passed. There was just no point, her body seemed to decide, to sit and cry.
The pain lessened, too. A little. It started out as a horrible ache from such a betrayal, and turned to a moderate-to-severe ache. There were seconds when she didn't think of it, which was progress.
It helped that she had hunts. A ghost here, a horrible monster there. It was hard to wallow when she was trying not to be killed.
It also helped that she had Sam and Dean. While Sam was still a bit fragile and Dean was worried about both of them, they were still such ridiculous idiots. They were amazing distractions and even got her to crack small smiles, that were growing little by little. It was an agonizingly slow progression, but it was there, and she knew she wouldn't even have that small progress if she didn't have her boys.
And, at the very least, she had her mornings, when her thoughts were refreshed and didn't wear her out until the afternoon.
Kat was and wasn't a morning person. It had been that way her whole life. She could get up around eight in the morning and be herself, not grumpy or overly chipper; but interrupting her sleep wasn't the best. But who did like such a thing? Everyone is a stranger version of themselves when they're tired, and she was included in that. Sure, she wasn't the type to scream for coffee or anything, but she was certainly less tolerant and a lot slower.
Especially this particular morning, as she woke up to a knock on her door.
Unexpected things were known to happen, so she had obviously been woken up a bit earlier than usual when there was some sort of monster-oriented emergency. However, this one was a first.
She lifted her head up from her pillow, looking over at the practically vintage alarm clock on the nightstand, blinking and blinking until her sleepy eyes could focus on the numbers. A five, a four, and a zero. Five, four, zero. 5:40. AM. Like, as in, 5:40 in the morning. She couldn't even remember getting up that early on Christmas.
She groaned, slowly pushing the covers back and getting out of the bed. "That better be some sort of horrible monster." She unlocked the door and opened it to find Sam standing there, holding a precarious stack of coffee cups in one hand and a box of presumably doughnut holes in the other. "Sam?"
"Hey. I thought you might want some breakfast..."
"Maybe in three hours."
"—sorry. I can let you go back to sleep if you want."
"No, no, I'm up. And I don't trust you and Dean not to eat all the food." There was no sense in going back to sleep anyway. The cold air from outside was already sweeping over her, waking her up just too much and yet not enough. She took one of the coffees so Sam wouldn't have to carry it, and also because it was warm. Her tank top and shorts were a fine idea for a semi-cozy motel bed, but not for a breezy motel doorway. She really needed to convince Dean to stop in a town with a laundromat so she could wash her more suitable clothing. "Dean up yet?"
"Nah, I just got back from picking up the coffee."
"You look tired," said Kat, with her tousled hair, sleepy gaze, and occasional yawn. But Sam did look tired. The bags under his eyes were unmistakable and now common. She knew exactly why, as Dean hadn't really hesitated to tell her that Sam was obviously still having nightmares about Jess.
"I'm fine." A lie, of course, but Kat decided not to push it. It's not like it had done her and Dean any good to push it before. "I'm gonna go give Dean his coffee."
"I'll come with you." She yawned again, moving to the little dining table that was in her motel room. She set down her coffee and grabbed a hoodie she had thrown over a chair the night before, slipping it on. "I'm officially up now anyway."
Sam smiled a little sheepishly, waiting for Kat to grab her coffee and leave her room, before the two of them started walking to his and Dean's room. It was only a few doors down, which was wonderful since it was a chilly fall morning, and Sam handed Kat the box so he could unlock the door. He let it swing open without a care since he was waking Dean up anyway, stepping inside and pausing behind a rather art-like separation in the room as he took the box back from Kat and waited for her to shut the door. Then the two moved around to see Dean laying face down in bed.
"Mornin', sunshine!"
Dean groaned, pushing up just slightly off the bed and looking over his shoulder. "What time is it?"
"Uh, it's about 5:45." Sam said the time so nonchalantly it was almost disgusting.
"In the morning? Where does the day go?" Dean moved onto his side, practically squinting at Kat, obviously still not fully awake. "He got you, too, huh?"
"Unfortunately." She walked over, sitting at the end of the bed.
Dean chuckled, looking over at Sam. "Did you get any sleep last night?"
"Yeah, I, uh," Sam looked away, making it obvious that he was lying. "I grabbed a couple of hours."
"You liar." Dean sat up and sat on the edge of the bed. "'Cause I was up at three, and you were watching a George Foreman infomercial." He rolled his eyes as Kat moved closer and rested her head on his shoulder. "Ah, come on. Not this early in the morning."
"What can I say?" Sam shrugged. "It's riveting TV."
"When's 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." This came, of course, from the man with the aforementioned bags under his eyes.
"Yeah, it is."
"Look," Sam laughed. "I appreciate your concern—"
"Oh, I'm not concerned about you. It's your job to keep my ass alive, so I need you sharp." It was a cover for his concern, as per usual. Dean couldn't be too vulnerable. "I mean, what the hell is this thing going to do for me?" He gestured to Kat, who had felt awake while walking through the cool morning air, but was practically falling asleep on his shoulder now that she was settled in a decently warm motel room.
"Who do you think's been keeping you alive all this time, buddy?"
Sam smirked slightly at Kat's comment, and nodded to humor Dean.
"—seriously, you still havin' nightmares about Jess?"
He let out a heavy sigh, walking over to the second bed in the room and sitting down across from Dean and Kat. "Yeah. But it's not just her, it's everything." He handed his brother one of the two coffees he was still holding. Kat had tightened her grip on her own cup of coffee, sitting up and looking at Sam with concern. "I just forgot, you know. This job...man, it gets to you."
"Well, you can't let it." Dean took the lid off his coffee, setting it aside. "You can't bring it home like that." He took a large, justified — it still wasn't even six in the morning yet — sip.
"So, what? All this, it never keeps you up at night?" His question just received a shrug from the older Winchester. "Never? You're never afraid?"
"No, not really."
Sam let out a little chuckle, leaning forward and reaching under Dean's pillow, pulling out a huge, rather terrifying knife and holding it up as evidence.
Dean paused, unsure how to defend himself for a moment, before carefully taking the knife back. "That's not fear. That is precaution."
"Alright, whatever." Sam said softly, looking down. "I'm too tired to argue."
"What bliss." Kat smiled and took a sip of her coffee. Even little, petty arguments between the boys over nothing were exhausting, and she was already pretty exhausted. "He's kind of right, though. I mean, I'm terrified all the time, but I can't let everything get to me. I just have to be scared of whatever the hell we're hunting, then let it go once we're finished. Sometimes it's easier said than done, but..." She allowed that to trail off. She never really had been bogged down by thoughts of monsters...not like she was now. Somehow her current situation made the hunting seem like rainbows and butterflies, especially since it was a welcome distraction.
Sam gave her an empathetic look. His dreams were most likely eighty percent Jess, twenty percent monsters. He knew that there were far worse things than goblins and ghouls.
"Are you kidding me? Just the thought of that wendigo almost sent you running straight for the hills—" Dean immediately stopped talking when his phone started ringing, grabbing it off the nightstand and looking at Sam and Kat with confusion.
"It isn't me."
"No shit." He gave Kat a look, flipping the phone open. "Hello?"
"Dean, it's, uh, it's Jerry Panowski. You, your dad, and your friend helped me out a couple years back."
"Oh, right, yeah. Up in Kittanning, Pennsylvania, the poltergeist thing. It's not back, is it?"
"It better not be." Kat sighed. "I didn't end up with a scar on my leg from being thrown around just for that thing to come back."
"No, no. Thank God, no. But it's something else and, uh...well, I think it could be a lot worse."
"What is it?"
"Can we talk in person?"
Dean and Sam's eyes met for a moment. "Yeah. We'll be there as soon as we can, okay?" He got the address for where to meet and then hung up, standing with a groan. "Looks like we're going to Pennsylvania."
"Hey, as long as it's not for that poltergeist, I'm cool with it." Kat took a large sip of her coffee, needing the energy it would give her to keep from falling asleep on the way there. "Do I have time to shower?"
"If you can shower in ten minutes."
"I can shower in five."
"I'll believe it when I see it."
She smiled slightly and walked out of the motel room, practically rushing to her room so she could get out of the cold and under a stream of lukewarm water.
Dean watched her go and Sam took notice with a sigh. "She's getting better, man. It's just gonna take a while."
"Yeah, I'm surrounded by people who take a while." He started to pass by, smacking him on the shoulder. "Pack your shit." With that, he went into the bathroom and shut the door.
"—so, the thing throws Kat into a fucking glass table, it shatters, she's not moving, Dad's yelling at me to get more salt, and I'm going over to make sure she's still kicking—"
"I'm guessing she was?" Sam interrupted Dean dryly, smirking slightly as they discussed the very there woman who sat in the backseat.
"Ha. You're hilarious. Anyway, she's up by the time I get over there, and I'm telling you, man...blood everywhere, and I've never seen her look so pissed off. Five minutes before that, she was trying to reason with it."
"And yet who was the one who got rid of it and saved you and your dad?"
"Who was the one who dug a two inch wide, one inch deep piece of glass out of your thigh?"
"Who left a scar?"
Sam grimaced. "How is it again that this job doesn't keep you guys up at night?"
"Emotional trauma has stopped us from clinging to fear." That was a stark contrast to her answer from before, and her tone was so serious that the brothers shared a look. It was getting later, and as per usual lately, with the day came the reminder of...everything. It wasn't so bad, though. The first week and a half, she would talk less and less with each hour. At least she was still talking and participating, just not as lightly as she had before, or even that morning.
Oh, she so wanted to snap out of it. Things were very slowly getting better, but she was still so bogged down and it was exhausting. Why did it have to hurt so much? Why couldn't she pick herself up, and carry on, and be completely herself again? For more than a couple of hours? She hoped she would feel better quicker than she had when she was fifteen. Everything with her father was heartbreaking, but certainly less so than what she had been through before, and it was already progressing faster, but still slowly enough that she couldn't see where it would all turn around.
Certainly, anyone who believed happiness is a choice would be horrified. Every time she tried to force happiness, it only seemed to last for a solid few seconds, or longer if her mind was still sleepy. At least she was trying, right? Maybe happiness just isn't a choice in situations like these. Not in the beginning anyway, but maybe later.
She could tell Dean was uncomfortable because she wasn't herself, and that was what bothered her the most. Sure, she hated feeling so off, but it was awful that Dean didn't seem to know what the hell to think without a constistenly positive, bantering, feelsy, tough Kat. He was damn good at hiding his discomfort, though.
Sam was good. Sam was amazing, actually. They were still falling back into a comfortable routine, so while he was concerned, he wasn't overly freaked out by her change. It didn't make him put off so much, and he just did his best to make sure she was okay. He was really becoming her comfort again, like he had been all those years ago. It was...bittersweet. Sweet thing, bitter circumstance.
"Kat—"
"I'm fine, Sam."
And she was, really. Just fine. She wasn't completely and utterly depressed, but just upset enough to make a big difference. Fine.
She really wanted to stop thinking about her father and her complicated feelings now. She just needed to focus on the good moments until they were less few and far between.
Even though Kat was just fine, she wasn't going to sulk around too much while they were on a possible hunt. Not only was it disrespectful to Jerry and whoever else might need help, but it was damn dangerous to have her guard down when there was something lurking around somewhere; even when she was more upset, she didn't walk around completely dejected while on a hunt. The adrenaline helped distract her, of course, and she really didn't want to mess up something like that. Hunts aren't something that can be fixed easily.
They made it to Pennsylvania and were now walking with Jerry through an airplane hangar, while he talked to Sam—rather excitedly since he got to meet another member of the group that helped him.
"Thanks for making the trip so quick. I ought to be doing you guys a favor, not the other way around. Dean, Kat, and your dad really helped me out."
"Yeah, Dean told me. It was a poltergeist?"
"Poltergeist?" A worker passing by had excitedly called out. "Man, I loved that movie!"
"Hey, nobody's talking to you." Jerry gave the man a look. "Keep walking!" He then glanced at Sam, lowering his voice. "Damn right it was a poltergeist, practically tore our house apart. Tell you something, if it wasn't for you two and your dad," he nodded to Dean at the mention of John, "I probably wouldn't be alive." He turned a corner, giving Dean the opportunity to give Sam a cocky smile.
Kat stepped between them both and gave her own smug —albeit half-hearted and small — smile, as a reminder that she had been the one to officially rid Jerry's home of the poltergeist.
"Your dad said you were off at college, is that right?" Jerry asked Sam as the four turned a corner, passing various airplane parts, both large and small.
"Yeah, I was. I'm...taking some time off." It was only slightly a lie.
"Well, he was real proud of you. I could tell. He talked about you all the time."
Though Jerry was leading them and couldn't see him, Sam gave him an incredulous look. "He did?"
"Yeah, you bet he did."
And it was true. Kat had known that night Sam had left, John's anger was mostly the pain of his son walking out on him; okay, it was mostly the fact that he need an extra hunter and didn't want Sam to do anything else with his life, but it was also a lot of pain from his son walking out on him. Once he adjusted to the fact, it wasn't strange for him to mention his 'son at Stanford' if they were spending a few days with someone, getting to know them a little as they helped get rid of whatever was bothering them.
"Oh, hey, you know, I tried to get a hold of him, but I couldn't. How's he doing, anyway?"
Dean glanced at Sam and Kat, then stared at he floor as they walked. "He's, um...wrapped up in a job right now."
"Well, we're missing the old man." Jerry turned to face them, continuing to walk backwards toward their destination. "But we get Sam. Even trade, huh?" He chuckled, turning back around.
Sam let out a little laugh. "No, not by a long shot."
True. Sam was a much calmer man to have in place of John.
"I got something I want you guys to hear." He lead them into an office, gesturing for them to sit down — Sam offered Kat a seat; a contrast to her repetitive standing back in Blackwater Ridge — before sitting behind his desk, grabbing a CD and putting it into 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."
The audio began to play, the sound of a plane engine in the background as a man hurriedly spoke, "Mayday, mayday! Repeat! This is United Britannia 2485! Immediate instruction, help!"
Another voice soon sounded, "United Britannia flight 2485, we copy your message—"
"May be experiencing some mechanical failure—"
The radio being used to communicate fizzled out, and there was soon a loud whooshing noise, almost sounding like an impossibly loud growl. Dean and Sam shared a look. Kat stared at the CD drive.
To hear the prelude of a crashing plane was so strange. So heavy. She could almost feel the panic of all the people who knew they were about to die.
"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?" Sam asked.
"No, I don't."
"Couldn't've been," Kat said softly, looking up from the CD drive. "Not unless he purposely crashed the plane, and a man who sounds like that isn't purposely crashing a plane."
Sam gave her a thoughful look, before returning his gaze to Jerry. "Jerry, we're gonna need passenger manifests, um," he began counting on his fingers as he listed the evidence they needed, "a list of survivors—"
"Right," Dean interrupted, "and, uh, any chance we can get a look at the wreckage?"
They were smart in their own ways, one would suppose. Kat got a feel of the situation and those involved, Sam focused on the data, and Dean wanted to get right down to the nitty-gritty.
"The other stuff is no problem, but the wreckage...fellas, the NTSB has it locked down in an evidence warehouse. No way I've got that kind of clearance."
Dean nodded, shrugging slightly. "No problem." He stood up, moving away from his chair as Sam stepped aside and Kat stood. "You get us anything you can, we'll get to work."
"Thanks, Jerry." Sam nodded to him, moving to the door.
"No, no, thank you." Jerry stood up, walking to the door with them. "It really is great to meet you, Sam. I know you'll be a lot of help. And I'm glad to have your help Dean, and I'm really glad to see you're still part of the team, Kat."
Kat smiled slightly, not as bright as she could have, but at least it wasn't fake. "I'm glad to see that it wasn't another poltergeist."
"No." Jerry laughed. "I think you scared the one so much, I'll never have another."
Sam and Kat were leaning against the Impala as they waited for Dean to make them brand new fake IDs in some place called 'Copy Jack'. Kat had been leaning on the car for a while before Sam got out and joined her, and she was grateful because sitting in the car while he went over the recording from the plane over and over only gave her time to think, and leaning against the car only gave her time to think, so the undistracted company was welcome.
It was deceptively sunny. If someone were looking out a window, they'd see that sun shining bright and think it was okay to wear shorts; but Pennsylvania in the fall was not exactly warm, and both hunters were bundled up in their jackets.
They still stood in silence for a good ten minutes and Dean still hadn't come out, so Sam asked softly, "How are you?"
Kat thought for a moment, then looked up at him with a small smile. "Usually by this point in the day, I want to crawl into a ditch. So I'm okay. I'm kinda...you know..." She looked away as she trailed off. "But...it helps to focus on the hunt. To focus on...all those people..."
It was hard to focus on, but it did help. She couldn't wallow in self-pity when she had to figure out what was behind the plane crash. What if it happened again? If that could be stopped, she'd be damned if she didn't do so because she was too busy laying in a ditch.
She really was getting better, though. Really.
"I know." He gave her a smile. "Dean's going crazy. It's...weird."
Speaking of, the older Winchester came out of the store just as a rather pretty woman was entering.
"Hey."
"Hi." He said with a bit of a laugh, looking her over as he let her in, before walking over to Sam and Kat and mouthing 'wow'. The two happened to exchange a look that was becoming common. It seemed he wasn't going too crazy.
"You've been in there forever."
Dean lifted his hand to show the IDs he held, flicking them out to show off all three. "You can't rush perfection."
"Homeland Security?" Sam took two of the cards from Dean, handing Kat hers. "That's pretty illegal, even for us."
"Yeah, well...it's something new." Dean moved around the car. "You know? People haven't seen it a thousand times." He got into the driver's side as Sam got into the passenger's side and Kat got into her usual spot in the backseat. "Alright, so, what do you got?"
"Well, there's definitely EVP on the cockpit voice recorder." Sam grabbed his laptop, putting it on his lap.
"Yeah?"
"Listen." He pushed play on what he'd gather on his computer, and Kat leaned on the back of the front seat so she could listen.
The typical noise was out of focus now, instead a rough, chilling voice could be heard saying, "No survivors."
"'No survivors'?" Dean furrowed his brow. "What's that supposed to mean? There were seven survivors."
"Got me."
"Maybe that was its intention?" Kat eyed the computer screen, the voice playing in her head over and over. "It just didn't realize the possibility of survival."
Dean nodded, looking at Sam. "So, what are you thinking? A haunted flight?"
"There's a long history of spirits and death omens on planes and ships, like phantom travelers. Or, uh, remember flight 401?"
"Right. The one that crashed and the airline salvaged some of its parts, put it in other planes, then the spirit of the pilot and the co-pilot haunted those flights."
"Right."
"Yep."
"Maybe we got a similar deal."
Kat wasn't sure. That voice just sounded different from any spirit she'd ever encountered.
"Alright, so, survivors." Dean picked up the list of survivors that Jerry had given them. "Which one do you want to talk to first?"
"Third on the list: Max Jaffey."
"Why him?"
"Well, for one, he's from around here. And two, if anyone saw anything weird...he did."
"What makes you say that?"
"Well, I spoke to his mother, and she told me where to find him."
It wasn't long before they were entering a place called 'Riverfront Psychiatric Hospital'. It was obvious Max really must have seen something, because he hadn't been in that hospital before. Telling someone or even thinking you saw a ghost, or an apparition, or someone disappearing, or something just as terrifying was a one-way ticket to a place like this.
They went inside under the guise of Homeland Security and were taken to see Max, and asked to speak with him outside so as to avoid any eavesdropping. The four were walking through a pleasant courtyard, Max using a cane for an injury from the plane crash.
"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..."
"Just before the plane went down, did you notice anything...unusual?" Sam was quick to start asking questions before Dean could.
Max frowned, shrugging a bit. "Like what?"
"Strange lights, uh...weird noises, maybe. Voices." Dean's list of possibilities earned a look from the guy that lasted a moment too long for his short answer to be entirely true,
"No. Nothing."
The four moved to a little wooden table with chairs, all of them sitting down as Dean started to continue, "Hm. Mr. Joffey—"
"Jaffey." It came from two voices, one from the man who was being addressed and the other from Kat, whose reminder came with a sigh.
"Jaffey. I knew that." Dean gave Kat a little look, before returning his attention to Max. "You checked yourself in here, right?" He got a nod. "Can I ask why?"
"I was a little stressed." His tone of voice made it obvious he found the question to be pretty stupid. "I survived a plane crash."
"Uh-huh. And that's...what terrified you? I mean, that's what you were afraid?" If Max could talk to Dean like he was stupid, Dean could talk to Max like he was a liar.
"I...I don't wanna 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."
"Oh. He was seeing things." Dean said dryly, looking at Sam and Kat before rolling his eyes.
"Look." Kat leaned forward on the table. "Maybe you were just seeing things, but maybe you weren't, you know? We need to get all the information we can, just in case. What did you think you saw?"
Max hesitated, sighing a couple times as he tried to find the words. "There was...this—man, um...and, uh, he had these..." He gestured to his face. "Eyes. These, uh...black eyes. And I saw him—or I thought I saw him..." He stopped, looking down, probably out of fear and thinking he was about to sound ridiculous.
"What?" Dean asked a bit impatiently.
"It's okay." Kat looked at him with as much support and kindess she could muster. It wasn't hard, she felt for the guy. Just like every other case. Even now, when she was partly wrapped up in herself, she wasn't going to stop caring. She hoped. "You're safe. You can tell us."
"—he opened the emergency exit." That one had the three hunters sharing a look of surprise with one another. "But that's...that's impossible, right? I mean, I looked it up. There's something like two tons of pressure on that door."
Dean couldn't respond, but Sam could, "This man, uh, did he seem to appear and disappear? Rapidly? It would look something like a mirage?"
"What are you, nuts?" Max laughed. It was a fair question, but Sam still looked a little bit offended. "He was a passenger. He was sitting right in front of me."
They left the psychiatric hospital and carried on to the next person on the list, or at least the relative of a person on the list, hoping for some clearer answers. What Max had to say just left them confused.
"So here we are. George Phelps, seat 20C."
"Hm." Dean stopped the car, leaning over to peer out the passenger window at the house they were parked outside of. "Man, I don't care how strong you are." He swung his door open and got out, followed closely by Sam and Kat. "Even yoked up on PCP or somethin'?" He leaned on the roof of the car. "No way you can open up an emergency door during a flight."
"It doesn't matter if you take any drug in the book, nothing can make you that strong. Even that sudden, heroic strength people get wouldn't do it, and it wouldn't even make sense to be heroic in that way, on an airplane." Kat got a surprised look from Dean. Probably because it was the afternoon and she was still talking. "No one can do that."
"Not if you're human. But maybe this guy George was something else." Sam turned to lean against the opposite side of the car roof to look at them. "Some kind of creature, maybe, in human form?"
"Does that look like a creature's lair to you?" Dean gestured to the house, which Sam turned to look at. It was a pretty typical suburban house, maybe a little higher end than some, but exactly what a normal family would be raised in; two stories, innocent white siding, flowers in the yard and hanging in planters, and lacy curtains in some of the windows.
"—not really."
"But doesn't that make it perfect?" Kat was almost joking, but not quite, and she wouldn't have even been almost joking if it weren't for her mind being mostly off of things. It felt good, but it was fleeting. "Let's go."
They walked up to the door of the house, Dean knocking as they waited until a pretty, middle-aged woman opened the door. "Yes?"
"Mrs. Phelps?" Dean took out his ID, letting her see he was Homeland Security. "We're here to talk about your husband. We're looking into the plane crash and wanted to know if we can ask you a few questions."
"Oh. Of course...please, come in." She was soft-spoken, stepping aside to let them come in and leading them to her living room. "Please, sit down." She moved to sit on the couch as Sam and Dean took chairs across from her, and Kat sat on the opposite end of the couch, turned so she could face the woman.
Sam picked up a picture of a man, looking at it. "This is your late husband?"
"Yes, that was my George."
"And you said he was a...dentist?" Dean seemed rather unimpressed.
"Mhm. He was headed to a convention in Denver. Do you know that he was petrified to fly?" She began to tear up, her lips quivering. "For him to go like that..."
Kat instinctively reached over to touch the woman's hand, offering what she could. George sounded like a nice, typical man and his wife seemed like a nice, typical woman. Neither of them deserved this. But who did?
"How long were you married?" Sam was so damn good at being soft and gentle. Better than Kat was most of the time.
"Thirteen years." That seemed to lighten Mrs. Phelps' mood a little, as she gave a proud smile.
"In all that time, did you ever notice anything...strange about him? Anything out of the ordinary?"
"Well..." For a moment, it seemed like she might have something. "He had acid reflux, if that's what you mean."
Sam and Dean shared a look, and Kat couldn't help but crack a small smile.
The rest of the visit didn't help anything. They learned about George's small health issues and his other fears besides flying, but Mrs. Phelps couldn't offer them anything that was exactly monster-like about the man. At least it let them cross someone else off the list.
They still left no further along than when they got there, though.
"I mean, it goes without saying." Sam walked down the steps outside of the house behind Dean, in front of Kat. "It just doesn't make any sense."
"Yeah, a middle-aged dentist with an ulcer's not exactly evil personified." They stopped as they approached the Impala. "You know, what we need to do is get inside that NTSB warehouse, check out the wreckage."
"—okay. But if we're gonna go that route, we'd better look the part."
Kat walked down the street feeling incredibly out of place. She had never dreamed about being a businesswoman and never considered herself to fit the part, but she damn well better have looked like one now.
The three of them trying to get into the warehouse as Homeland Security while wearing jeans, jackets, boots, and casual shirts was unrealistic, so it's not like they had a choice. Sam and Dean were able to rent some suits from a place in town, but Kat had to find the closest store that sold women's business attire. She was glad that clothes in small-town Pennsylvania weren't too expensive and that she had plenty of money stashed away from the pool she'd played, but they just weren't clothes she desired to own.
It was good, though. Hunts were getting more involved lately, and while she had posed as someone of another occupation before, she only had her dresses she used for pool. And they had people plenty questionable, so it was time to update. And those dresses were in the laundry, anyway, which needed to be taken to a laundromat at some point.
She wondered if she was as bad as her father. Her father had killed someone when he was young, and that wasn't good, but here she was. An adult who cheated drunk men at pool, and posed as Homeland Security, and didn't have a normal job, and she hunted ghosts. It wasn't exactly something to be proud of. But maybe her dad, being who she never thought he could be, was proud of it. Looking at her from wherever he was—
It was besides the point. She did this for the good of mankind, right? It didn't matter for the time being. She had a hunt to focus on. She could have all the thoughts and realizations later, when she wasn't depended on.
So, she was walking down the street feeling incredibly out of place. The only thing that felt halfway decent were some plain, black heels she'd picked out; her stark white dress shirt, black blazer, and black skirt were another story. She'd glanced in the mirror before she left the store and barely recognized herself.
She could see Sam and Dean standing outside the rental place as she got closer, the younger of the two looking sophisticated and, honestly, dashing. Dean would have looked just as good were it not for the obvious discomfort on his face and in his body language.
They both looked at her in surprise when they noticed her. She wasn't sure if it was because she looked good or because she looked as ridiculous as she felt. She decided not to worry about it and instead focused on Dean. "What's wrong?"
"These are stupid. Who invented this shit?"
"It's not the first time you've worn a suit, Dean-o." But that was the first time she'd used that nickname in the past couple of weeks. She moved to him to straighten his tie, just managing to do so before he batted her hands away like a child. "Besides, at least you look the part. I look like a ghost hunter wearing a dress suit for the first time." Another almost joke. If only thoughts of her father weren't still coming and going like a really terrible guest.
"Hey, I like the skirt."
Okay, pencil skirts were admittedly sexy, but that didn't stop her from giving him a look and a quiet, "Shut up." She stepped back, looking at both of them. "Let's see what we can find." She then turned and opened a back door of the Impala, moving into her usual seat.
"I told you she was getting better, man."
"—yeah, whatever." Dean couldn't let himself sound too pleased, and he figured it wouldn't last anyway. It hadn't yet. "Let's just get this show on the road. The sooner I can get out of this suit, the better." He walked around to the other side of the Impala.
With a roll of his eyes, Sam got into the passenger's seat.
Getting into the warehouse with their fake badges and new attire was incredibly easy, without a single question from the security guard, but walking around all the wreckage of the plane wasn't so easy. It wasn't physically difficult, since everything was arranged carefully and spaced apart; it just felt as heavy as that recording had. All the broken pieces seemed to carry the fear and pain that everyone felt.
Kat trailed a bit behind Sam and Dean, letting her gaze trail over everything.
"What is that?"
"It's an EMF meter. Reads electromagnetic frequencies."
She looked ahead, trying to shake off the intense feelings that being in this room gave her as she caught up to Sam and Dean.
"Yeah, I know what an EMF meter is, but why does that one look like a busted-up walkman?"
"That's what it is." She stopped next to them. "He made it himself." Her information had Dean giving his brother a proud grin.
"Yeah. I can see that." And the judgement in Sam's tone had that grin dropping, turning into a bit of a scowl.
Instead of starting an argument, Dean turned on the meter and began walking, moving it back and forth over bits of the wreckage. They had walked several feet with the meter not picking anything up, until Dean ran it over a door handle and it began to make a high-pitched whining noise. "Check out the emergency door handle." He tucked the EMF meter away, touching some yellow dust that was on the handle and scratching a bit off. "What is this stuff?"
"One way to find out." Sam took out a knife and flicked the handle out with ease, moving to put a sample of the dust into a bag.
"It could be some kind of drug, but again...no drug could make a human able to open an emergency door in the middle of a flight." Kat was looking at the dust, but just happened to notice out of the corner of her eye as Dean wiped his fingers on Sam's suit jacket. "Dean!"
"What? I wasn't doing anything!"
"You were— wait. Do you guys hear that?"
"Hear what? Now you're going crazy—"
"Sh! Just listen."
Dean obliged, if only because he was kind of relieved to see a glimpse of the Kat he knew.
It was only a moment before they all heard it. Footsteps. Several pairs of footsteps. They were thundering through the warehouse, getting closer and closer...coming for them.
"—let's go." Sam put the bag of dust into his pocket, looking around for a door.
"Over there." Dean took the lead, moving quickly to an exit that lead out to the back of the warehouse. The three paused outside, gathered their bearings, and made sure no one was waiting for them before they strolled out nonchalantly.
Until an alarm started blaring.
They all burst into a run, moving to the fence that kept people like them out of the warehouse. It was tall and had a few rows of barbed wire, so Dean threw his jacket over it to protect himself, Sam leapt over as swiftly as he could, and Kat took advantage of Dean's jacket. While her bare hands were protected from the barbed wire, the force of her landing as she pulled herself over the fence caused the heel on one of her shoes to break off.
"Well, these monkey suits do come in handy." Dean said as he grabbed his jacket, before running off.
"Damn! These were the only good thing about this outfit." Kat picked up the broken heel and ran after Dean as best as she could with her current leg height difference.
Sam stared after the two for a moment, then realized it was more important to run than it was to wonder why that's all they could think of in the moment.
They managed to escape without getting caught and took the sample of dust to Jerry to see if he could figure it out. It took a little while as he examined it under a microscope; Dean stood by and watched him intently, Sam loosened his tie and sat down, and Kat sat as well to avoid the discomfort of wearing one shoe that was now lower than the other.
Jerry sat back. "Huh. This stuff is covered in sulfur."
"You're sure?"
"Take a look for yourself." He backed away from the microscope.
A loud banging noise suddenly came from outside, followed by, "You fuckin' piece of crap!"
"If you three will excuse me, I have an idiot to fire." Jerry moved around the table he'd been standing at, leaving the room. "Hey! Eintstein! Yeah, you..." The farther he went, the more his words quieted.
Dean went to look in the microscope. "Hm. You know, there's not too many things that leave behind a sulfuric residue."
"Demonic possession?"
"It would explain how a mortal man would have the strength to open up an emergency hatch."
"If the guy was possessed," Sam sighed. "it's possible."
"Yeah, but this goes way beyond floating over a bed or barfing pea soup." Dean straightened up, putting his hands on his hips. "I mean, it's one thing to possess a person, but to use 'em to take down an entire airplane?"
Kat ran a hand through her hair, sighing. "Why not? They're supposed to be evil, right? I don't see what would stop them from using their power to kill a bunch of people. Sounds like a movie to me."
"You ever heard of something like this before?"
Dean shook his head. "Never."
They'd done a hell of a lot of research. A hell of a lot. Thinking it might be a demon was a good lead, and now the three hunters were in the boys' motel room, with books everywhere and pictures and articles taped to the wall. Sam sat at the little dining table in the room, tapping away on his computer, while Dean sat on one bed and read through a book that was laying open on the opposite bed. Kat sat cross legged behind him with a book in her lap.
They were all back in their normal clothes and none of them had complaints.
"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."
"Well, that's not exactly true. You see, according to Japanese beliefs, certain demons are behind certain disasters, both natural and manmade. One causes earthquakes, another causes disease."
"And this one causes plane crashes?"
Sam answered Dean with a sigh and a shrug.
"Why not?" Kat turned a page in the book. "Like I already said, they're evil. Maybe they just realized planes are a good vehicle for that."
Dean let out a breath, standing up. "Alright, so, what? We have a demon that's evolved with the times and ratchet up the body count?"
"Yeah." Sam said quietly. "You know, who knows how many planes it's brought down before this one?" He stared at Dean as he laughed a little and turned away. "What?"
"I don't know, man." Dean scratched the back of his head. "This isn't our normal gig. I mean, demons, they don't want anything, just death and destruction for its own sake. This is big. And I wish Dad was here."
"Yeah. Me too."
Kat kind of wished he was, too. Kat kind of wished her dad were there, for different reasons, of course. She wished John were there because he would know more about this, be able to figure it out and help them. She wished her dad were there so she could get answers, and closure, and peace, and—
"Get out of your head." She hadn't realized she'd said it out loud until she got two confused looks from the boys. She felt like she was going insane. She just wanted to feel completely okay, but it was hard. Her thoughts just kept coming around to her father and how much it hurt to know he'd kept something so detrimental from her. "Sorry. Guys. This isn't normal, and I guess it doesn't really make sense, but we have to deal with it. I wish your dad were here, too, but it's just us. We have to figure this out or it might keep happening."
Dean opened his mouth to say something, but paused when his phone started to ring. He pulled it out of his pocket and flipped it open. "Hello?"
"Dean, it's Jerry."
"Oh, hey, Jerry."
"My pilot friend...Chuck Lambert, is dead."
"Wha— Jerry, I'm sorry, what happened?" An apology was never good in a situation like this, so both Sam and Kat put all their attention on him.
"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?"
"Nothing. Jerry, hang in there, alright? We'll catch up with you soon." He shut his phone, putting it back in his pocket.
Kat closed the book and set it aside, getting off the bed. "What's going on?"
"Another crash?"
"Yeah, let's go."
"Where?"
"Nazareth."
"—like as in the Bible?"
Dean turned to give Kat a look. "Nazareth, Pennsylvania. Come on."
And so they went to Nazareth, and looked at the wreckage, and found more yellow dust, and took it back to have Jerry look at it again.
"Sulfur?"
Jerry pulled away from the microscope with a sigh and a short nod.
"Well, that's great." Dean turned to look at Sam and Kat, the former sitting behind Jerry's desk and the latter leaning against a file cabinet just behind him. "Alright, so 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."
"What's the bad news?"
"Chuck's plane went down exactly forty minutes into the flight. And get this, so did flight 2485."
"Forty minutes?" Jerry looked at Dean, then at Sam and Kat. "What does that mean?"
"It's biblical numerology. You know, Noah's ark, it rained for forty days. The number means death."
"I went back," Sam gestured to Jerry's computer. "And there have been six plane crashes over the last decade that all went down exactly forty minutes in."
"Any survivors?"
"No. Or, not until now, at least. Not until flight 2485, for some reason. On the cockpit voice recorder, remember what the EVP said?"
"'No survivors'."
"—I was right. It said that because that was the intention." Kat furrowed her brow, before her eyes widened slightly. "Chuck. That's still the intention." She looked at Dean with a bit of alarm, who seemingly also had wheels turning in his head as he realized the situation.
"It's trying to finish the job."
"We have to go. Now." Kat quickly walked from behind the desk and Sam wasn't very far behind. "We'll stop this, Jerry. I'm sorry we couldn't help Chuck, but we're not gonna let this happen again."
Jerry thanked them and wished them luck several times over, and then they were in the Impala, Dean driving while Sam and Kat made work of calling the survivors on the list to find out if they were going on a trip anytime soon.
"—please don't forget your friends at United Britannia Airlines. Thank you very much." Kat hung up her phone just as Sam was ending his own call in a similar way. "Okay, Blaine Sanderson says he's never stepping foot on a plane ever again."
Sam shut his phone with a sigh. "And Dennis Holloway isn't flying anytime soon." He grabbed the list of survivors, crossing the two names off.
"So our only wildcard is the flight attendant, Amanda Walker."
"Right. Her sister Karen said her flight leaves Indianapolis at eight PM. It's her first night back on the job."
"Ah. That sounds like just our luck."
"Dean, this is a five hour drive, man. Even with you behind the wheel."
"We have no other choice, Sam." Kat leaned forward in the backseat. "We have to at least try to get there in time."
"—why don't you call Amanda's cellphone again? See if we can't head her off at the pass."
"I already left her three voice messages!"
"And I left her two."
"She must have turned her cellphone off." Sam glanced at his watch. "God, we're never gonna make it."
"Oh, we'll make it."
Somehow — it may have had something to do with Dean speeding and generally ignoring most traffic laws — they made it just in time, rushing past people and running over to the departure board.
"Right there. They're boarding in thirty minutes."
"Okay," Dean said, slightly out of breath. "We still have some cards to play. We need to find a phone." He looked around, before spotting a courtesy phone and running to it with the other two behind him, taking it off the hook.
"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 paused a moment, looking at Sam and Kat as he tried to remember the number. "Flight 424." There was a long pause as the other line called for Amanda. "Come on..."
"What if she's already on the plane?" Kat briefly wondered how arrested they would get if they got on the plane and dragged her off.
"This is Amanda Walker."
"Ms. Walker," Dean's words and sudden professional tone of voice assured that they wouldn't have to do that. "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..."
"Wait, wait, wait. That's impossible, I just got off the phone with her."
Dean paused for a moment. "—you what?" Maybe they were going to have to go drag her off the plane. Kat and Sam shared a worried look.
"Five minutes ago. She's at her house, cramming...for...a final. Who is this?"
"Um...well...there must be some mistake." He turned away and Sam and Kat quickly moved closer to hear the conversation.
"And how would you even know I was here? Is this one of Vince's friends?"
"Guilty as charged." Dean chuckled.
"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! I mean, come on, the guy's...a mess, really, it's pathetic."
"—really?"
"Oh, yeah."
"Look, I gotta go, um...tell him to call me when I land."
"No, no, wait, Amanda. Amanda!"
These hunts were one of the only things that kept Kat together. Helping people and saving people was the main reason she did this, and she couldn't let Amanda get onto that plane if she could help it. Sure, it was a little crazy when she yanked the phone out of Dean's hand, but her emotions were already heightened anyway. "Amanda? Amanda? Shit!" She hung up the phone and moved away, running a hand over her face.
Thankfully, both Sam and Dean didn't feel any better about it.
"Damn it!" Dean paced back and forth. "So close."
Sam looked to be deep in thought, looking off into the distance before taking in a deep breath. "Alright. It's time for plan B. We're getting on that plane."
Were they actually going to have to drag her off and get arrested?
Regardless, Dean's mood suddenly took a shift that made Kat notice and pause. "Whoa, whoa, now just hold on a second."
"Dean. That plane is leaving, with over a hundred passengers on board, and if we're right," Sam became aware of the people around them and lowered his voice. "That plane is gonna crash."
"I know!" Fear was becoming evident in Dean's voice. His eyes were wide before and now they grew even wider.
"Okay! Then we're getting on the plane, we need to find that demon and exorcise it. Look, I'll get the tickets, you and Kat just go get whatever you can out of the trunk. Whatever'll make it through security. Meet me back here in five minutes." Sam turned to go to the counter to buy the tickets.
"—Dean." Kat moved to him. She could feel the fear coming off him even more than she could feel his discomfort when he was first wearing that suit from before. It took over everything, momentarily wiping away any thoughts of her own pain or Amanda's quickly-approaching predicament. "What's wrong?"
That made Sam stop and look at his brother, who looked more nervous by the second. "Are you okay?"
Dean shrugged, licking his lips. "No, not really."
"What?" Sam glanced at Kat, then back at Dean. "What's wrong?"
"Well, I kind have this problem with, uh..." He just sort of gestured and moved his hand through the air.
"Flying?"
"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, Sam?"
"Alright. Uh...Kat and I will go." He gestured to Kat, who nodded as she eyed Dean sympathetically.
"What?"
"We'll do this one together."
"What are you, nuts?" He looked back and forth between them. "You said it yourself, the plane's gonna crash!"
"Dean, we can all do it together, or Kat and I can go up there by ourselves. I'm not seeing a third option here."
"Come on!" Dean shifted on his feet, seeming an awful lot like a little kid. "Really? Man..."
"I'm gonna go get the tickets, okay? You guys get stuff from the trunk." Sam turned again to go and Kat was pretty sure she saw him smirk before he walked off.
When she looked back at Dean, he was sort of staring off into space and mouthing words to himself. He seemed to be going over every horrible scenario he could think of. "Dean, it's gonna be okay."
"No, the plane's going to crash."
"No, we're going to stop it." Though Dean was often disgruntled by 'touchy-feely' things and would likely push her away, she took his hand. He didn't respond, but he didn't push her away either; whether he was too scared or just didn't notice, she wasn't sure. "Let's go to the car and get what we can." She tugged on his hand and that's when he seemed to notice the hold, and he pulled away rather than pushed, and nodded stiffly. They walked quickly through the airport.
"If the plane crashes, I'm haunting your asses."
"We'll be dead, too, Dean."
"Well, it ain't gonna be peaceful."
A/N: Ah! I am so happy to have completed this chapter! I hope you all enjoyed :) Sorry about not writing in the beginning of the episode, but I made you all wait so long, I didn't want to just spend time writing a portion of the script but with more words! lol. Kat's a bit of a mess right now, but she'll figure things out. My apologies for any mistakes there might be, I always write these things pretty late at night! Please review if you would like! Although, I'm a little afraid because I had a dream that I signed on to see I had sixty new reviews, but they were all people telling me the story was terrible lol.