*****Quick but important note. Please read to avoid later confusion. With Spencer will be Bold. With Sam and Dean will be normal.*****
As soon as the line went dead, Cheryl was out of her seat, tears streaming down her face as she rushed out of the room followed by her father.
Gideon looked at Spencer, who had the job of typing up notes throughout the conversation and asked, "Could you trace it?"
He shook his head. "He was probably using a disposable phone and those are impossible to track down. Not even Garcia could get a location."
"She said she could see the moon," Elle offered.
"But she also sounded sedated," Gideon stated.
"That could mean that he isn't strong and has to keep her drugged in order to keep her quiet," Morgan said.
Elle stood and left the room, deciding it would be best if someone tried to help calm Cheryl down.
Gideon turned to Hotch, "Do we have everything on Davenport's staff?"
"Yes, but we should relook at current and past household aids backgrounds."
"Guys," Morgan said getting the room's attention. "She wasn't blindfolded."
Sighing, Gideon responded, "I know. That mean as soon as he gets the money…" he trailed off not saying what everyone else was thinking too.
"He said 'owed' like it was scripted," Spencer's voice had taken a fasted tone as their time before the next call ticked by.
"But not the whole time," Morgan imputed. "He sounded almost relaxed when he was talking with Cheryl; like he knew her."
"How much time do we have let?" Hotch asked.
"Two minutes and seventeen seconds," Spencer answered without thinking.
Gideon turned to see Mr. Davenport reentering the room a pained expression on his face. "How fast can you get the money?"
"I have enough here locked in a safe," he answered. Gideon nodded.
Just then, Elle came back into the room, guiding Cheryl with her arm around her in support.
"Are you sure?" Elle asked.
She sniffed and nodded, "Yeah." She swiped at her redden eyes.
"We have twenty-six seconds left," Spencer informed them.
The remaining standing agents and family members sat around the high tech sound board.
Cheryl had just cleared her throat when the phone rang. She nodded and Elle pushed the button to answer the call.
Before she could say anything, the unsub started, "Everything will be done by Cheryl. Cheryl will gather the money packets. Only she will touch the money. She will be the one to make the drop. If she is wired or if you use a look alike, Patricia dies. Cheryl is to get in her car with no one with her. No one is to follow her, no air surveillance, no car surveillance of any kind is allowed. I will give her directions over the phone while she drives. She is to leave at eight thirty precisely or Trish dies. She will follow all instructions to the very last detail." He hung up.
Hotch was the first to speak, "She is not going by herself."
"But, you heard what-" Mr. Davenport tried to protest.
"One car with tinted windows," Hotch explained.
He looked into each pair of eyes around the room in turn before sighing and saying, "If he sees one of you, and Trish dies. If my daughter dies…" he trailed off.
*CM*SN*SUPERMINDS*SN*CM*
"She will never believe us," Sam said as they headed to the back of the plane.
"We gotta try," Dean responded. He pulled back the blue curtains.
"Oh, hi," Amanda said sweetly. "I hope it's not too bumpy for you."
"Actually, we kind of need to talk to you about that." Dean paused to glance at Sam.
"Okay, what can I help you with?"
"We don't have time for the whole long 'the truth is out there' speech right now but…"
"Look, we know you were on flight 2485," Sam cut him off.
The smile on her face fell. "Who are you guys?"
Sam continued, "We've talked to some of the other survivors and we know what brought the plane down. It wasn't anything mechanical."
"And we need your help to stop it from happening again now."
She shook her head. "I'm sorry, I'm very busy." Amanda tried to get past the brothers and leave the small place that was making her feel claustrophobic all of a sudden.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, just wait a second," Dean stretched his am out to stop her.
"I have to get back to work," she tried.
"We're not going to hurt you, just listen. Chuck Lambert, the pilot from 2485, he's dead."
"What? Wait, Chuck's dead?"
"He died in a plane crash. The second in two months. Tell me that's not weird."
"Look," Sam said. "There was something wrong with that flight. Maybe you could feel that or maybe you couldn't but that same thing is going to happen here, now, unless we stop it."
She thought back. "On 2485, there was this man whose eyes were completely black. I thought it was just the lights or something."
"That's exactly what we're talking about."
"I don't get what you're asking me to do."
"We just need you to get the copilot back here so we can talk to him."
"What does he have to do with anything?"
"We don't have time to explain. We just need to talk to him."
"How am I supposed to-"
"Do whatever it takes," Sam said getting impatient.
"I could lose my job," she said.
"Or you could lose a lot more if you don't help us. Plus you said it yourself, you never cared much for flying," he added as if that made all the difference.
She took a moment to weigh her options swallowing, she relented, "Okay."
*CM*SN*SUPERMINDS*SN*CM*
"There's a GPS in her car so we can track her," Spencer told Morgan over the phone.
"Alright, well the first thing he's going to have her do is switch cars. Where is she headed?"
"Let's see." Spencer typed on the computer in front of him. "I have an address for a rental car lot."
Sam and Dean watched for a moment as Amanda walked to the cockpit and knocked on the door. She glanced back at them while she waited. The door opened and the copilot came into view. They saw her gesture towards the back. He closed the door tight and the two workers started the short walk.
They two in the back were getting things ready for what they were about to do. Dad's journal, holy water, the basic essentials.
"Now, what's the problem?" the copilot was asking when he opened the curtain.
Morgan had already pulled into the lot and was waiting with Hotch for Cheryl to show up for the drop.
"Want to know what I think?" he asked. Without waiting for an answer, he continued on, "One of these cars has a set of keys along with a disposable phone."
"Switch cars and phones," Hotch continued his train of thought.
"Mm-hum." He sighed. "He's probably going to have her drive around for over an hour just to be sure she wasn't followed."
"And then the ransom drop."
He sighed again.
"What?" Hotch asked.
"There's just something not right with this."
Dean had extended his fisted hand right into the guy's jaw causing him to fall to the ground. He startled him so he couldn't move then put duct tape over his mouth.
"I thought you said you were just going to talk to him," Amanda squealed.
"We are," Dean said back with a grunt. At the same time, Sam was squirting part of the contents of the holy water bottle on the demon's chest. It withered in pain and trashed around violently.
Amanda started to freak out and mumble incoherently. Over her, Sam said, "We need you to keep an eye out, make sure no one comes back here."
She was finally able to get an 'okay out.'
"Hurry up, Sam. I don't know how much longer I can hold him."
"What if he had eyes or ears on us?"
"The local PD did a bug sweep," Hotch brushed it off.
"You heard that ransom call," Morgan just couldn't shake the feeling. "It was way too simple."
"What would you have done differently?"
He didn't need to think about it, "No police or media involvement. No consecutive serial numbers. No marked or new bills. No tracking devices or dies," he listed.
"Why didn't he say any of that?"
They watched Cheryl with a phone in one hand and the money in the other exit the car.
Realization hit like a tidal wave. "Hotch, this was never about the money."
Sam sprayed more of the water before speaking in Latin, "Regna terrae, cantate Deo, psallite Domino-"
The demon was able to struggle free, knocking the water and journal out of Sam's hands and both hunters to the floor. Dean managed to get him pinned to the floor again and Sam continued where he left off.
Somehow, it managed to knock Dean over again and get the tape off his mouth. "I know what happened to your girlfriend!" it yelled. "She must have died screaming, still burning!"
Dean recovered from the fall and hit it in the jaw, "Sam," he yelled to get him moving again.
He shakes his head hard before he starts reading again. Finishing the last of it, he set the journal down to help Dean keep him down. His feet moved around in sporadic movements as his upper half continued to struggle.
It took a moment, but finally, its mouth opened wide and a black smoke poured out then up into the vent. With the copilot no longer the danger, they paid him no attention.
"Where is it?" Sam asked.
"It's in the plane. We have to hurry up and finish it." As soon as the words were out, the plane dipped in to a near nose dive.
Looking to the floor, Dean asked, "Where's dad's journal?"
A/N: Dun dun dun! How about that? Review if you want, I'll see you all tomorrow. And thanks again to every single one of you!