1.04
Dean makes me bunk with Sam again. Which I think is crap. One: Sam is still having nightmares and jerks like he's having a seizure. And two: Sam is a giant and takes up way more than half the bed. And then tonight, he can't sleep. His giant body getting out of the bed practically flings me out of the bed. I open one eye and watch as he turns on the TV. Annoyed, I throw his pillow at him.
"Hey," he says. Sam turns to face me. "Did I wake you?"
"No, you crawled out of bed as gentle as a feather."
"Sorry," says Sam. "Go back to sleep."
I groan. Sam throws his pillow back and it hits me in the chest. I take it hostage under my arms and fall back asleep.
"Morning sunshine," is the next thing I hear. I roll over and look. Sam's come in the door with coffee and food.
"What time is it?" asks Dean from his bed.
"Uh, it's about five forty-five," says Sam.
"Ugh," I say and pull my pillow over my face.
"In the morning?" asks Dean.
"Yep."
"Where does the day go?"
"It can go to hell," I say under the pillow.
I hear Dean move. Is he seriously getting up. Before seven? "Did you get any sleep last night?" he asks Sam.
"Yeah, I grabbed a couple hours," Sam says.
"Liar. Cause I was up at three, and you were watching a George Foreman infomercial."
"Hey, what can I say? It's riveting TV."
"When was the last time you got a good night's sleep?"
"I don't know, a little while, I guess. It's not a big deal."
"Yeah, it is," says Dean.
"Look, I appreciate your concern-"
"Oh, I'm not concerned about you," says Dean. "It's your job to keep my ass alive, so I need you sharp. Seriously, are you still having nightmares about Jess?"
Sam sits on our bed. I feel his giant weight. And then he pulls my pillow off my face. "Yeah. But it's not just her. It's everything. I just forgot, you know? This job. Man, it gets to you."
I'm trying to reach my pillow from around Sam but his arms are giant. When I give up he hands me a coffee cup. Fine. I take it, and crawl across the bed to sit next to him.
"You can't let it," says Dean. "You can't bring it home like that."
"So, what? All this it...never keeps you up at night?" Sam looks at me at I shrug and I sip my coffee. Except it's not coffee. It's hot chocolate. I gag. Sam and Dean look at me.
"Why no coffee?" I ask. "It's not even 6 and there's no coffee?"
"You're too young for coffee," says Sam. "You'll survive."
I look at Dean for help but he just smiles.
"Jerks," I say.
"So you're really never afraid?" asks Sam.
"No, not really."
"You should be afraid of what I'll do to you if you keep this crap up," I say.
"You're fine," says Sam. "And you…" Sam says to Dean, reaching under his pillow and pulling out a knife.
Dean takes his knife back. "That's not fear. That is precaution."
"All right, whatever. I'm too tired to argue."
"Imagine how I feel without coffee?!" I say.
"Can you give it a rest," says Sam. "You're 12, I'm not giving you coffee."
"Dad lets me," I say.
"He does not," says Sam. "Dean?" Sam asks.
Dean's sipping his coffee. "Sometimes, yeah," says Dean.
"I can't believe he would-"
Dean's phone rings. He answers it. A pause. "Oh, right, yeah. Up in Kittanning, Pennsylvania, the poltergeist thing. It's not back, is it?" Another pause. "What is it?" Dean eyes Sam and I.
Oh, this is so not good.
I've never been in an airplane hanger. It's cool. It's huge. I keep getting distracted and Dean literally grabs me by denim jacket to pull me back.
"Thanks for making the trip so quick," Jerry's saying as we walk through, "I ought to be doing you guys a favor, not the other way around. Dean and your dad really helped me out."
"Um excuse me," I say to Jerry.
"And Jane figured out it wasn't a ghost," adds Jerry.
"Damn straight," I say. I try and shrug off Dean's grip on my jacket but he doesn't budge.
"Dean said," says Sam. "It was a poltergeist?"
A random worker says, "Poltergeist? Man, I loved that movie."
"Hey, nobody's talking to you. Keep walking," he says to the worker. I remember I like Jerry. "Damn right it was a poltergeist, practically tore our house apart. Tell you something, if it wasn't for you two and your dad, I probably wouldn't be alive. Your dad said you were off at college. Is that right?"
"Yeah, I was. I'm-taking some time off," says Sam.
"Well, he was real proud of you. I could tell. He talked about you all the time."
"He did?"
"Yeah, you bet he did. Oh, hey, you know I tried to get a hold of him, but I couldn't. How's he doing, anyway?"
All I get out is, "He-" before Dean tugs on my jacket like I'm a naughty dog.
"He's, um, wrapped up in a job right now," says Dean.
"Well, we're missing the old man, but we get Sam. Even trade, huh?" says Jerry.
Dean laughs.
"No, not by a long shot," says Sam. Damn straight.
"I got something I want you guys to hear," says Jerry.
Only when we get into Jerry's office does Dean let go of my jacket.
"I'm not a dog," I hiss at Dean.
"Then stop running off," he hisses back.
Jerry hasn't noticed, "I listened to this. And, well, it sounded like it was up your alley," he says and puts a CD in a drive. "Normally I wouldn't have access to this. It's the cockpit voice recorder for United Britannia flight 2485. It was one of ours."
The recording plays, Mayday! Mayday! Repeat! 2485-immediate instruction...may be experiencing some mechanical failure...There is a loud whooshing sound.
"Took off from here, crashed about two hundred miles south. Now, they're saying mechanical failure. Cabin depressurized somehow. Nobody knows why. Over a hundred people on board. Only seven got out alive. Pilot was one. His name is Chuck Lambert. He's a good friend of mine. Chuck is, uh...well, he's pretty broken up about it. Like it was his fault."
"You don't think it was?" asks Sam.
"No, I don't."
"Jerry, we're gonna need passenger manifests, um, a list of survivors."
"All right."
"And, uh, any way we can take a look at the wreckage?" asks Dean.
"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."
"No problem," Dean says.
We go to a Copy Jack, Dean says he'll be a few minutes but it's been way longer than that. I'm sitting on the hood of the Impala and Sam's leaning next to me.
"What the hell is taking him so long?" I ask.
"No idea," says Sam.
We sit in silence for a while longer before Sam says suddenly, "What's your problem with me?"
"What?" I ask, not meeting Sam's eye.
"You know what. You've been mad at me for weeks now. Aren't you tired?"
I shrug. "I've got a lot of energy and not a lot of outlets."
Sam huffs. "You were mad when I left and now you're mad that I'm back? I don't get it."
"I'm not mad that you're back," I say. And I shock even myself. But I realize it's true.
"Then what is it?"
I swing my legs back and forth a few times. "I miss Dad," I admit. "I know it's not your fault, but it's just…I don't know. You're here and he's not. It's not fair."
"I know," Sam says. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry."
"No you're not. You don't even like Dad."
"What makes you say that?"
"You always fought with him. Not to mention when he had to come get me from Stanford…"
"Yeah that wasn't…great," says Sam. "But you and Dad he was always…" Sam shuffles his feet. "He was always so different with you than with me, even Dean."
"It's not like I asked for your dad and my mom to…whatever. And I certainly didn't ever want our house to be haunted. If it hadn't been anyway you guys never would've known about me and we'd all be blissfully ignorant of each other."
"Don't say that," says Sam.
"What?"
He cocks his head. "Well the haunting thing, yeah, that was bad. But as far as sisters go, you're pretty good. I never regretted Dad taking you in."
I take a deep breath. "I just want him back."
"I know," says Sam. He wraps his giant arm around me and pulls me in for a side hug. I rest my head on him, and we finally see Dean come out. Sam unwraps me and I jump off the hood. Dean's holding two IDs.
"You've been in there forever," says Sam.
"You can't rush perfection," says Dean.
"Homeland Security?" Sam says taking one of the IDs. "That's pretty illegal, even for us."
"Yeah, well, it's something new. You know? People haven't seen it a thousand times."
"You know what people haven't seen, a 12 year old Homeland Security officer," I say.
"Dream on," says Dean.
We all get in the car. I graciously let Sam take the front seat.
"All right, so, what do you got?" asks Dean.
"Well, there's definitely EVP on the cockpit voice recorder," says Sam.
"Yeah?"
"Listen," Sam plays the tape he edited and there's creepy voice: no survivors.
"'No survivors'? What's that supposed to mean? There were seven survivors," says Dean.
"Got me."
"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."
"Mm-hmm."
"Or there was flight 401?" I say.
"Right. The one that crashed, the airline salvaged some of its parts, put it in other planes, then the spirit of the pilot and copilot haunted those flights."
"Right," say Sam. "Maybe we got a similar deal."
"All right, so, survivors, 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?"
"Sam spoke to his mom," I say.
"And she told me where to find him," says Sam.
We arrive at the Riverfront Psychiatric Hospital. And guess where I get to go? That's right. Nowhere. Just the car.
"Really?" I ask as Dean literally closes the door on me.
"Do your schoolwork," he suggests.
"Are you serious?"
He smiles and walks away.
We get to go visit the person Max apparently saw magically open the plane door. Magical door opening guy. Fun. Or it would be if I wasn't delegated to 'watch the car' duty. Sam and Dean decide they need to look the part and they pick up suits. They both look like dancing monkeys when they get back into the car and I tell them so.
"I know!" is all Dean says as we make our way to the warehouse to try and see the wreckage.
"Am I going to be able to come this time?" I ask.
Sam and Dean share a look.
"So, no? Maybe I should just sleep in the car too, not go into motels. I can just fuse with the back seat and you never have to worry about me moving at all."
"Don't be dramatic," says Dean.
"How would we explain a literal child coming in to the warehouse? We're meant to be Homeland Security," says Sam.
"Say I'm short for my age."
Sam scoffs.
"Say I'm doing work experience?"
"I don't think so."
I lean back in the seat and fold my arms. I feel Dean's eyes watching me from the rearview mirror but I purposefully stare at the back of Sam's seat. They leave and say they'll be back soon.
"What the hell?" I ask as Sam and Dean run to the car. Dean's missing his jacket.
"We're good," says Dean. "And we're going." He doesn't even wait to put on his seatbelt before we get out of there and go see Jerry.
"Do I need to tether you?" asks Dean when we arrive. I'm staring at a turbine. It's huge! It's like three me's across. Fascinating. "Jane?" Dean says.
"What?" I say.
Dean grabs my arm and pulls me along. "We're going," he says.
"They're huge!" I exclaim. "It's it amazing?"
"Amazingly dangerous," says Dean and we hurry to catch up with Sam with the stuff for Jerry.
Jerry's looking at something off the handle under a miscroscope. It's showing on the screen. It's weird.
"Huh. This stuff is covered in sulfur," says Jerry.
"You're sure?" asks Sam.
"Take a look for yourself." Something bangs out in the warehouse and someone swears. "If you all will excuse me, I have an idiot to fire." Jerry leaves.
"Hmm," says Dean. "You know, there's not too many things that leave behind a sulfuric residue."
"Demonic possession is one," I say.
"It would explain how a mortal man would have the strength to open up an emergency hatch."
"If the guy was possessed, it's possible," says Sam.
"This goes way beyond floating over a bed or barfing pea soup," says Dean. "I mean it's one thing to possess a person, but to use them to take down an entire airplane?"
"You ever heard of something like this before?"
"Never."
It's creepy. We go to the library and copy as much as we can find about demonic possession. At the motel we try and narrow down at least a what as to what would want to take a down plane and leave no survivors but it's…well fruitless is the word that comes to mind. Sam and I are still finding more stuff online while Dean's been looking in the books we managed to find at the library.
"So, every religion in every world culture has the concept of demons and demonic possession, right?" says Sam. "I mean Christian, Native American, Hindu, you name it."
"Yeah, but none of them describe anything like this," says Dean.
I lean back in my chair and rub my eyes. "Nothing's coming close," I say.
"Well, that's not exactly true," says Sam. "You see according to Japanese beliefs, certain demons are behind certain disasters, both natural and man-made. One causes earthquakes, another causes disease."
"And this one causes plane crashes?" he gets up. "All right, so, what? We have a demon that's evolved with the times and found a way to ratchet up the body count?"
"Yeah. You know, who knows how many planes it's brought down before this one?"
"Well that's a perfectly horrifying thought," I say.
Dean snorts.
"What?" asks Sam.
"I don't know, man," says Dean. "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."
Sam and I share a look. "Yeah, me too," he says.
Dean's phone rings, "Hello? OH hey, Jerry." Dean's face drops. "Wha-Jerry, I'm sorry. What happened?" a pause. "Where'd this happen?" Another pause. "I'll try to ignore the irony in that…nothing. Jerry, hang in there, all right? We'll catch up with you soon." Dean hangs up.
"Another crash?" asks Sam.
"Yeah. Let's go."
"Where."
"Nazareth."
"Of course," I say.
"Yeah," says Dean, "I don't like it either."
Sam and Dean managed to get some wreckage from Jerry's friends' crash. Jerry's looking at it under the microscope.
"Sulfur?" asks Dean.
Jerry nods.
"Well, that's great. All right, that's two plane crashes involving Chuck Lambert. This demon sounds like it was after him."
"With all due respect to Chuck," says Sam, "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 flight. And get this, so did flight 2485."
"Forty minutes? What does that mean?" asks Jerry.
"It's biblical numerology," I say.
Jerry frowns.
"You know Noah's ark, it rained for forty days," explains Dean. "The number means death."
"I went back, and there have been six plane crashes over the last decade that all went down exactly forty minutes in," says Sam.
"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'," says Dean.
I shudder.
"It's going after all the survivors," says Dean. "It's trying to finish the job."
Dean's driving and Sam's been contacting people. "Really? Well, thank you for taking our survey, And if you do plan to fly, please don't forget your friends at United Britannia Airlines. Thanks."
He has a great customer service voice. "I think you missed your calling," I say to Sam. "You should've been a switch girl."
Sam scoffs. "Next time I'll get you to make the phone calls," he says. "All right. That takes care of Blaine Sanderson and Dennis Holloway. They're not flying anytime soon."
"So our only wildcard is the flight attendant Amanda Walker," says Dean.
"Right. Her sister Karen said her flight leaves Indianapolis at eight pm. It's her first night back on the job."
"That sounds like just our luck."
"Dean, this is a five-hour drive, man, even with you behind the wheel."
"Call Amanda's cellphone again, see if we can't head her off at the pass."
"I already left her three voice messages. She must have turned her cellphone off."
"God, we're never gonna make it."
"We'll make it," says Dean.
"How?" I ask.
Dean doesn't say anything but the car definitely starts going faster.
We make it the airport with little time to spare. We rush up to the departure board.
"Right there," says Sam. "They're boarding in thirty minutes."
"Okay. We still have some cards to play. We need to find a phone," says Dean.
We find a courtesy phone. Dean picks it up, "Hi. Gate thirteen…I'm trying to contact an Amanda Walker. She's a flight attendant on flight, um...flight 4-2-4."
I hear the PA announcement for her.
"Come on," says Dean, walking on the spot. "Miss Walker. Hi, this is Dr. James Hetfield from St. Francis Memorial Hospital. We have a Karen Walker here…Nothing serious, just a minor car accident, but she was injured, so-…." Dean pauses. Oh no. "You what?...Uh, well...there must be some mistake…" Sam goes unnaturally close to Dean to try and hear the phone. "Guilty as charged…He's really sorry…Yes, but...he really needs to see you tonight, so-… Don't be like that. Come on. The guy's a mess. Really. It's pathetic…Oh, yeah. No, no. Wait, Amanda. Amanda!" Dean hangs up the phone. "Damn it! So close."
"What do we do?" I ask.
"It's time for plan B," says Sam. "We're getting on that plane."
"Whoa, whoa, now just hold on a second," says Dean.
"Dean, that plane is leaving with over a hundred passengers on board, and if we're right, that plane is gonna crash."
"I know."
"Okay. So we're getting on the plane, we need to find that demon and exorcise it. I'll get the tickets. You and Janie get whatever you can out of the trunk. Whatever that will make it through the security. Meet me back here in five minutes."
I go to move but Dean is staring at Sam.
"Dean?" I ask.
"Are you okay?" asks Sam.
"No, not really," says Dean.
"What? What's wrong?"
"Well, I kind of have this problem with, uh..."
"Flying?"
"It's never really been an issue until now."
"Seriously?" I say.
"Do I look like I'm joking?" says Dean. "Why do you think I drive everywhere?"
"All right. Uh, Janie and I'll go?" suggests Sam.
"What?" Dean says
"I can do this one with Jane."
"What are you, nuts?" asks Dean. "You said it yourself, the plane's gonna crash."
"Dean, we can do it all together, or I can do this one by myself, or with Janie. I'm not seeing another option, here."
"Come on! Really? Man..."
Sam takes the window, I get the middle, and Dean's in the aisle. He's reading the safety card of all things.
"Just try to relax," Sam says to him leaning over me.
"Just try to shut up," says Dean.
Sam and I smile at each other. Every tiny noise or movement Dean jumps. Sam and I have to hold back laughter.
Eventually Dean stops the jumping but he begins humming. I elbow Sam and nod my head to Dean.
"He's humming," I whisper to Sam.
"You're humming Metallica?" Sam says to Dean.
"Calms me down."
"Look, man, I get you're nervous, all right? But you got to stay focused."
"Okay."
"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."
"Thanks for that update, Sam," I say.
"Yeah, on a crowded plane," says Dean. "That's gonna be easy."
"Just take it one step at a time, all right?" says Sam. "Now, who is it possessing?"
"It's usually gonna be somebody with some sort of weakness, you know, a chink in the armor that the demon can worm through. Somebody with an addiction or some sort of emotional distress."
"What about Amanda?" I offer.
"It's her first flight after the crash," says Sam. "If I were her, I'd be pretty messed up."
"Mm-hm," says Dean. He turns to a flight attendant. "Excuse me. Are you Amanda?"
"No I'm not," she says.
"Oh, my mistake."
Dean looks to the back of the plane. "All right, well, that's got to be Amanda back there, so I'll go talk to her, and, uh, I'll get a read on her mental state."
"What if she's already possessed?" asks Sam.
"There's ways to test that."
Dean pulls out the water we brought. "I brought holy water."
"No," says Sam flatly. He grabs the water. "I think we can go more subtle. If she's possessed, she'll flinch at the name of God."
"Oh. Nice."
Dean gets up to go.
"Hey."
"What?"
"Say it in Latin."
"I know."
Dean leaves.
"Okay. Hey!"
"What?!"
"Uh, in Latin, it's "Christo"."
"Dude, I know! I'm not an idiot!"
Dean finally starts heading to the back of the plane. I glare at Sam.
"What?" he asks.
"Do you think we were just, you know, lost in the woods without you?" I ask.
Sam shrugs. "Not you and Dad, but him?" Sam gestures to Dean. "He's…well, he's Dean."
"And?"
"Come on, if it doesn't shoot he's not going to remember it."
Sam has a point, so I shrug.
"All right, well, she's got to be the most well-adjusted person on the planet," says Dean coming back to the seat.
"You said "Christo"?" asks Sam.
I stare at him. He shrugs.
"Yeah," says Dean.
"And?"
"There's no demon in her. There's no demon getting in her."
"So, if it's on the plane, it can be anyone. Anywhere."
"So we are all going to die," I say.
The plane shakes.
"Come on!" says Dean. "That can't be normal!"
"It's fine," I say.
"Hey, hey, it's just a little turbulence," says Sam.
"Sam, this plane is going to crash, okay? So quit treating me like I'm friggin' four."
"You need to calm down," says Sam.
"Well, I'm sorry I can't."
"You have to," I say.
"Guys, stow the touchy-feely, self-help yoga crap, it's not helping," says Dean.
"Listen, if you're panicked," says Sam, "you're wide open to demonic possession, so you need to calm yourself down. Right now."
Dean takes a long, deep, slow breath.
"Good," says Sam. "Now, I found an exorcism in here that I think is gonna work. The Rituale Romanum."
"What do we have to do?" asks Dean.
"It's two parts. The first part expels the demon from the victim's body. It makes it manifest, which actually makes it more powerful."
"More powerful?" I ask.
"Yeah," says Sam.
"How?" asks Dean.
"Well, it doesn't need to possess someone anymore. It can just wreak havoc on its own."
"Oh. And why is that a good thing?"
"Well, because the second part sends the bastard back to hell once and for all."
"I like the sound of that part," I say. "But how the hell do we find it?"
Dean pulls out his EMF reader, he pretends he's listening to music but as I watch him, he's not being very subtle. People are glaring at him.
I keep reading through Dad's journal in case we've missed anything, and Sam goes to get up. "Stay here, okay?" he says to me.
"Where am I going to go?" I ask.
"You know what I mean," he says.
I nod.
I check my watch. We haven't got long. I look up to see what Sam and Dean are up to and…oh no. Is it the co-pilot? They both come down the aisle.
"Stay put," Dean says to me as I go to get up. He takes the journal off me.
"But-" I start but they've already walked past. I kneel in my seat, they've gone to the back of the plane to talk to Amanda. She then goes to the front…and walks with the co-pilot to the back. Sam closes the curtains. Great. Amanda appears, holding the curtain shut. The person behind me is glaring at me. I stop kneeling on my seat and stand in the ailse. Nothing. Amanda looks at me. Warily. I can't wait any longer. I walk back to her.
"How are they doing?" I ask.
"They're-"
The plane suddenly dips. Amanda falls on top of me. There are screams everywhere.
"Just stay down," Amanda says to me. "It's safer."
"Okay…" I manage to say. She's the expert.
More screaming. Is that Dean?
There's a high pitched noise and then mercifully, the planes levels out. Amanda sighs and gets up. She offers me a hand and I stand.
"Thanks," I say.
Sam opens the curtain. "We all good?" he asks Amanda and I.
Amanda straightens her uniform and breaths a sigh of relief. "Yes."
I just nod. Sam's holding Dad's journal and the co-pilot is lying looking half-dead on the floor. I can't help it, I hug him.
Amanda goes down the aisle, checking on people. Woman should win an award or something. She's great under pressure.
"You all right?" I ask Dean, he's leaned up against the door.
"Yeah, I'm great," he says. He's sweating and breathing heavily.
"You know it's all good now, right?" asks Sam.
"Yeah I know."
"You gonna move?" I ask.
"Eventually."
The plane is diverted back to the airport. What a shame. The FBI are questioning the pilots and flight attendant but the passengers are left alone.
"Let's get out of here," says Dean when it's clear we're all good.
We head for the exit.
"You okay?" asks Dean.
Sam stops and turns to us.
"It knew about Jessica," says Sam.
"The demon?" I ask.
Sam nods.
"Sam, these things, they, they read minds," says Dean. "They lie. All right? That's all it was."
"Yeah," says Sam. But I know he doesn't believe Dean.
"Come on," says Dean.
We go pay a final visit to Jerry. I really do like him.
"Nobody knows what you guys did, but I do. A lot of people could have been killed," he says and he shakes our hands. "Your dad's gonna be real proud."
"We'll see you around, Jerry," says Sam.
We go to head off but Dean turns back, "You know, Jerry."
"Yeah?" he says.
"I meant to ask you, how did you get my cellphone number, anyway? I've only had it for like six months."
"Your dad gave it to me."
"What?" Sam and I ask.
"When did you talk to him?" asks Sam.
"I mean, I didn't exactly talk to him," says Jerry. "but I called his number. His voice message said to give you a call. Thanks again, guys."
We go to the car.
"This doesn't make any sense, man," says Sam. "I've called Dad's number like fifty times. It's been out of service."
I'm sitting on the car and watch Dean dial Dad's number.
The voice message plays: This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son, Dean. 785-555-0179. He can help.
Sam's angry. He huffs and gets in the car.
"Come on, Munch," Dean says to me. He helps me off the car and we climb in too.