AN: yeah life's just been Busy honestly. Anyway, here's chapter five, which means I am officially one fifth of the way done with this story, so that's promising. Anyway, I changed a few things from the show, mostly with the Latin, it always bothered me that they said Christos was the name of God when it's actually the name of Christ. I mean, I know it would have the same effect on a demon, but the details count to me lol.
Oh! Also, there seems to be some concern about the nature of Dean and Elena's relationship, I don't wanna give too much away, but trust me, friends, this is marked Deanlena for a reason. I guess it isn't explicitly labeled, but you all have the great misfortune of reading a slow burn. Like, the slowest slow burn, but I promise, Deanlena will happen before the last chapter.
Anyway, please accept this chapter as my apology for having horrible time management skills. Enjoy!
Addendum
(n.)
A thing to be added; an addition.
Chapter Five
Phantom Traveler
aka
I'm Overcoming Gravity
Catasauqua/Lehigh Valley Airport, Pennsylvania: December 2017
Dean is the only one who likes to sleep in. Sam still has nightmares, so he avoids sleeping as much as he can. Elena seems to thrive on very little sleep, she's up before the sun every day to run. Sam is thankful that she doesn't nag him about his poor sleeping habits, but Dean is another story entirely.
"Good morning, Sunshine," Sam says cheerfully when he gets back.
Dean is just waking up, groaning and resentful, and Elena isn't quite back yet.
"What time is it?" Dean asks groggily.
"It's about 5:45," Sam answers peppily.
"In the morning?" Dean's tone is incredulous.
"Yep."
Dean grimaces.
"Where does the day go?" he says sarcastically. He rolls over, sees that Elena is gone, rolls his eyes. "She's insane."
"Did you get any sleep?" he asks Sam.
"Yeah, I grabbed a couple hours," Sam says.
"Liar." Dean calls him out instantly, sitting up. "I was up at three, and you were watching a George Foreman infomercial."
Sam shrugs, somewhat defensive.
"Elena barely sleeps," Sam reminds him.
"Elena runs on caffeine, Sammy, she's not like us mere mortals, the less she sleeps, the stronger she gets."
Dean says this all so seriously that Sam's not entirely sure he's joking, so he takes his word for it.
"When was the last time you got a good night's sleep?" Dean asks, refusing to let Sam distract him with Elena's awful sleeping habits.
"I don't know, a little while I guess," Sam answers casually. "It's not a big deal."
"Yeah it is," Dean says immediately, refusing to let him make light of it.
"Look, I appreciate your concern." Sam's deflecting, and they both know it.
"I'm not concerned about you, you have to have our backs, you keep us alive, we keep you alive. We need you sharp."
Sam opens his mouth to once again remind him of how little Elena sleeps, but Dean ignores him.
"Elena's more than proved that she can do her damn job and watch my back with very little sleep," Dean says, anticipating it. "You haven't. Seriously, are you still having nightmares about Jess?"
Sam sighs heavily, moves to sit down on the other bed.
"Yeah," he says finally. "But it's not just her," he admits, handing a coffee over to Dean. "It's everything, I just forgot, you know? This job, man, it gets to you."
Dean shakes his head.
"You can't let it, you can't bring it home like that," he says, like it's simple and easy.
"So, what, all this, it never keeps you up at night?"
Dean shrugs, shakes his head.
"Never? You're never afraid?" Sam asks, unbelieving.
"No, not really," Dean says casually.
Sam scoffs, leans forward and pulls the knife out from under Dean's pillow, waving in his face in emphasis.
"That's not fear, that's precaution," Dean says, taking back his knife.
"All right, whatever, I'm too tired to argue." Sam gives in.
Elena comes back then, covered in sweat, her ponytail a bit messy, and of course she still looks perfect, like a Nike ad for women.
"Morning," she says, looking amused at finding Dean awake this early.
"Morning," they chorus.
Dean gets a sly look in his eyes. "Hey, 'Lena, what's in your sock?" he asks, his voice full of casual innocence.
Without blinking she pulls a butterfly knife out of her sock and Sam blinks in surprise.
"I like to be prepared," she answers with a shrug, already gathering her clothes for the day and heading for the shower.
"You never know what could happen."
Dean gives Sam an I-Told-You-So look just as his phone starts to ring. He grabs it, looking confused at the idea of anyone calling him this early/
"Hello?" he answers.
"Dean, it's Jerry Panowski."
Sam is close enough that he can hear what the man on the other line is saying.
"You and your dad helped me out a couple years back."
The confusion clears from Dean's face.
"Oh, right, yeah, up in Kittanning, Pennsylvania, the poltergeist thing," Dean says, remembering him now. "It's not back, is it?"
"No, no," Jerry says, chuckling a little. "Thank God, no. But it's something else, and well, I think it could be a lot worse."
"Well, what is it?" Dean asks.
"Can we talk in person?" Jerry requests instead of answering.
"Thanks for making the trip so quick," Jerry says. "I oughta be doing you guys a favor, not the other way around. Dean and your dad really helped me out." He's leading them through his workplace to his office, Sam by his side with Elena and Dean lagging behind.
"Yeah, he told me. It was a poltergeist?" Sam asks, more out of politeness than real interest.
"'Poltergeist'? Man, I love that movie!" One of the workers calls out as he crosses their path, giving Elena an appreciative once-over that she completely misses.
Dean, true to form, does not miss it, and glares him down until Jerry chastises him.
"Hey, nobody's talking to you, keep walking," he says, giving Elena a sheepish smile that she returns with barely a hint of confusion even if she'd missed the entire reason for Dean's ire.
"Damn right it was a poltergeist," he continues on once he's out of earshot. "Practically tore our house apart."
He turns back to Dean.
"Tell you something, if it wasn't for you and your dad, I probably wouldn't be alive." he shakes his head, turning back to face forward, turning left past a plane engine.
"Your dad said you were off at college, is that right?" he asks Sam, having already easily accepted Dean's explanation for Elena's presence – a family friend that John had taken in when her father died a few years ago.
"Yeah, I was," Sam replies. "I'm…taking some time off."
"Well, he was real proud of you, I could tell," Jerry says, surprising Sam. "He talked about you all the time."
"He did?" Sam asks, taken aback.
"Yeah, you bet he did," he says casually before turning to Dean. "Oh hey, you know I tried to get ahold of him, but I couldn't."
He turns forward again, completely casual and unaware of anything amiss with the other three.
"How's he doing anyway?"
Sam and Elena look to Dean, who improvises.
"He's, uh, wrapped up in a job right now," he finally settles on, since it isn't a complete lie.
"Well, we're missing the old man," Jerry says as he pivots back to face Sam and Elena. "We get Sam."
He takes both of Elena's hands in his, and she lets him, amused. "And this beautiful one," he adds, beaming at her, and she smiles at his antics. "Even trade."
He drops her hands and turns back to continue to lead them towards their destination.
"She's a helluva lot more than just a pretty face," Dean says, because as often as he teases her about her looks, he knows better than anyone exactly what she's capable of in their line of duty, and it still impresses the hell out of him, as much as he has to do with it.
Elena mouths an 'awww' at him and gives him a sappy look and bumps against his shoulder so he rolls his eyes at her and swings an arm around her shoulders to give her an affectionate squeeze.
Sam looks away to hide his smirk when he leaves his arm there.
"Oh, I don't doubt it," Jerry is saying, shaking his head. "Your dad wouldn't suffer any amateurs."
Sam nods in agreement. "He certainly wouldn't," he mutters under his breath, more to himself than anyone else.
"I admit, I wouldn't have imagined John Winchester taking in a friend's kid, but he's a good guy."
Elena smiles and nods.
"Yeah, well, he's always done his best by me."
Sam tries not to let his surprise show on his face, that's the most complimentary thing he's ever heard Elena say about his father, and while he can't pretend he knows her as well as Dean does, he has the feeling that she sincerely means her words.
Whatever arguments she might have with their father, she really does seem to believe that he means well.
If only he knew why his father had gone through all this trouble for her, what could be after that she had spent the last two years of her life on the run, as a hunter no less. Why would hunting monsters and risking her life for perfect strangers be a viable option for someone who was heavily implied to be on the run for her life?
"I got something I want you guys to hear."
"I listened to this, well it sounded like it was up your alley."
Jerry puts the CD into the machine, he's sitting behind his desk, with the three of them on the other side. With only two guest chairs in his room, he'd attempted to give his up for Elena, but she'd waved him off, forcing Dean into one of the chairs opposite him before easily and comfortable perching on the arm of his chair before Sam could even think to offer her the other chair. Bemused, he'd sank down into the empty chair, knowing better than to argue with her by now.
"Normally I wouldn't have access to this," Jerry admits. "It's the cockpit voice recorder for United Britannia flight 2485, it was one of ours."
He lets the audio play, all of them focusing on the white noise distorting the captain's mayday cries along with the sound of the plane crashing. Those sounds cut off abruptly, replaced with a distinct and horrific growling noise. The audio ends.
"Took off from here, crashed about two hundred miles south," Jerry explains. "Now, they're saying mechanical failure, the cabin depressurized somehow. Nobody knows why. Over a hundred people on board, only seven got out alive. The pilot was one, his name is Chuck Lambert, he's a good friend of mine. Chuck is, uh…" he trails off.
"Well, he's pretty broken up about it, like it was his fault."
Sam cocks his head to the side. "You don't think it was?" he asks, trying to get the lay of the land.
"No, I don't," Jerry says plainly.
"Jerry, we're gonna need passenger manifests, a list of survivors," Sam starts.
"Right, and any way we can take a look at the wreckage?" Dean throws in.
"The other stuff is no problem," Jerry says right away. "But the wreckage, the NTSB has it locked down in an evidence warehouse." He shakes his head. "No way I've got that kind of clearance."
Dean nods his head in understanding.
"No problem," he says easily before turning to look up at Elena with a wicked grin.
"You've been in there forever," Sam complains when Dean finally resurfaces from the copy store.
Elena is sprawled across the trunk of the Impala, like a cat in the sun, but she still lets out a lazy hum of agreement.
"You can't rush perfection." Dean waves the cards in front of Sam's face, showing off their brand new identities. He whacks one of Elena's boots. "Get off my car," he says, like they haven't had this conversation a million times and like he doesn't know she's going to do it again the second he's out of sight.
She lets out an annoyed little whine but crawls off the car at his request, glaring at him when her eyes finally open.
"Homeland Security?" Sam questions, ignoring them. "That's pretty illegal, even for us." He glances at Elena. "And Elena doesn't look old enough to take the entrance exam, let alone be a fully-fledged field agent," he points out. "No offense, Elena," he adds.
She waves a dismissive hand at him. "You only say that because you haven't seen what I can do with a makeup brush."
Dean nods in agreement.
"Homeland Security?" Sam repeats, going back to his first concern.
"It's something new, you know?" Dean says, rationalizing his choice as he walks around to the driver's side. "People haven't seen it a thousand times."
He opens Elena's door for her before his own, without thought. Sam doesn't comment. If he commented every time Dean acted like Elena's boyfriend, he'd lose his voice, or his tongue, depending on how generous Dean was feeling.
"All right, what do you got?" Dean ask once they're all in their seats, indicating to Sam's laptop.
"Well, there's definitely E.V.P. on the cockpit voice recorder."
"Yeah?"
Sam nods. "Listen." He presses play.
The pilot's voice comes out distorted as all hell, but then, clear and insidious – "no surviiivors"
"Creeeepyyy," Elena singsongs from the backseat.
"'No survivors'?" Dean repeats, ignoring her. "What's that supposed to mean? There were seven survivors."
"Got me," Sam says, shaking his head.
Elena chimes in.
"Whatever it is, it's not going to be pretty."
Dean shoots her a look, but nods in agreement.
"So, what are we thinking? A haunted flight?" Dean asks, prompting them both for more theories.
Sam starts. "There's a long history of spirits and death omens on planes and ships, like phantom travelers."
Dean hums in agreement.
"Or uh, remember flight 401?"
Dean nods then looks back at Elena, pop quiz time.
She rolls her eyes but complies.
"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 copilot haunted those flights."
Sam nods, but Elena looks at Dean expectantly.
"Did I get it right, teach?" she asks teasingly.
He grins. "Sure did, A plus."
Elena spins her finger in a circle, her deadpan celebration making Dean laugh.
Sam bites back a joke about teacher's pet, and forges on.
"Yeah well, maybe we got a similar deal."
Dean reaches for the papers Jerry gave them.
"All right, survivors, which one do you wanna talk to first?"
Sam's reply is instant.
"Third on the list, Max Jaffey."
"Why him?" Elena asks.
"Well, for one, he's from around here, and two, if anyone saw anything weird, he did."
Dean looks at him.
"What makes you say that?" Dean asks.
"Well, I spoke to his mother, and she told me where to find him."
"I don't understand, I already spoke with Homeland Security?"
The three hunters followed Max as he walks across the grounds.
"Right," Dean nods. "Some new information has come up." He offers vaguely.
"So if you could just answer a couple of questions."
Sam takes over.
"Just before the plane went down, did you notice anything unusual?" he asks.
"Like what?"
His tone is terse, without a word between the three of them, Elena takes over.
"Strange lights, weird voices, maybe, voice?" she lists, her voice soft and soothing, her tone curious, but warm.
Max stares at her.
"No, nothing," he insists.
She smiles, devastatingly perfect.
"Lying to a Federal Agent is a crime, Mr. Jaffey," she says her voice gentle and lulling still, without a sour note to it.
Sam manages to refrain from making a face at the fact that impersonating a Federal Agent is an even bigger crime.
"You checked yourself in here, right?" she asks, breezing past her accusations before he can deny it.
He nods.
"Can we ask why?" It's Dean's turn again, but Max doesn't take his eyes off of Elena.
"I was a little stressed," he answers, stating the obvious. "I survived a plane crash."
"And that's what terrified you?" Elena cuts in, smoothly.
Sam doesn't even consider jumping in, it's almost mesmerizing the way the two of them work together.
"I don't want to talk about this anymore," Max says, avoiding the question.
"I think maybe you did see something up there." Dean jumps in.
"We need to know what." Elena leans forward as she says it, inviting.
"No, no," Max says, more to himself than any of them. "I was delusional, I was seeing things." He says all of this like he's trying to convince himself, comfort himself.
"He was seeing things," Dean repeats, turning to Sam with a straight-faced look.
"Tell us what you thought you saw," Elena suggests. "Please," she adds, not at all above using all of the powers she's been given to get what she wants.
Her powers are substantial, and ultimately, effective.
"There was this…man," he starts reluctantly. "And he had these eyes…these, uh, black eyes…and I saw him, I thought I saw him," he corrects himself. He stops.
"What?" Dean asks, his tone impatient.
Elena reaches out to touch Dean's wrist, stopping him.
"What did you think you saw, Max?" Elena asks.
"He opened the emergency exit."
They all stared at him until he began to speak again, hastily.
"But that's impossible, right?" He's rambling now. "I mean, I looked it up, there's something like two tons of pressure on that door."
Dean nods in agreement absentmindedly, lost in thought.
Sam takes over.
"This man, did he seem to disappear and reappear rapidly? It would look something like a mirage."
Max looks him up and down.
"What are you, nuts?"
Sam looks taken aback.
"He was a passenger," Max explains. "He was sitting right in front of me."
The three hunters exchange looks.
"Thank you, for your time, Mr. Jaffey," Elena says.
"You are welcome," he replies, putting emphasis on the 'you'.
Dean rolls his eyes.
"Seriously?" he mutters under his breath.
Sam fights back a laugh.
"So here we are, George Phelps, seat 20C," Sam announces as they pull up to the curb outside of an expectantly ordinary looking house.
"Man, I don't care how strong you are," Dean is saying as he climbs out of the driver seat, opening Elena's door for her. "Even yoked up on PCP or something, no way you can open up an emergency door during a flight."
Elena hums in agreement.
"Not if you're human," Sam says, stating the obvious. "But maybe this guy George was something else, some kind of creature, maybe in human form?"
Dean points at the house. "Does that look like a creature's lair to you?"
Elena's response is immediate.
"Yes, totally."
Both brothers turn to look at her and she shrugs.
"Hiding in plain sight is a pretty common tactic," she reminds them.
"That's true," Dean concedes, swinging an easy arm around her shoulders, still a little annoyed that their mental patient witness had hit on her. "This is why you're the star student, 'Lena."
She just laughs and shoves him off of her, the two of them completely at ease with each other.
Sam, on the other hand, can't shake off her certainty. He doesn't know of very many creatures that live in suburban homes, after all.
"This is your late husband?" Sam asks tactfully, looking at the photograph of a man he's taken from the coffee table.
Mrs. Phelps nods.
"Yes, that was my George."
"And you said he was a dentist?"
She nods again at Dean's question.
"He was headed to a convention in Denver." She pauses. "Do you know that he was petrified to fly?"
Dean blinks in surprise, but she doesn't seem to notice, barely holding back her tears.
"For him to go like that…" she trails off, her emotions getting the better of her.
Elena leans forward, touches her on the arm and gives her a sympathetic look.
"We are so very sorry for your loss," she says softly.
Mrs. Phelps gives her a grateful smile.
"How long were you married?" Sam asks.
She smiles again then, her eyes soft with memories.
"Thirteen years," she answers.
"In all that time, did you ever notice anything strange about him? Anything out of the ordinary?"
They all collectively hold their breath while she seems to think about this unusual question.
"Well, uh, he had acid reflux, if that's what you mean," she finally answers.
Dean and Sam look at each other, already certain that they've been met with another dead end. They're about to make their excuses to leave but then Elena asks another question.
"Did your husband have any jewelry that he wore all the time?" she asks. "A ring, or a bracelet, maybe a family heirloom, something that you never saw him take off?"
Both brothers turn to look at her, caught off guard by her question, but she ignores them to focus on Mrs. Phelps.
When Mrs. Phelps gives her a slightly startled look, Elena pats her hand reassuringly.
"It could help with the body identification," she says delicately.
"Oh," Mrs. Phelps says in morbid understanding, but then she shakes her head. "No, nothing like that, not besides his wedding ring and his watch, and both of those were rather unremarkable I'm afraid."
"What did you mean by the jewelry question?" Sam asks as soon as they're outside.
Elena shrugs casually.
"Witches can do some pretty interesting things with jewelry," she says evasively.
Dean nods in understanding suddenly.
"That's right, your family has heirloom rings that can bring you back from the dead if you're killed by a supernatural force."
Sam looks at her in surprise.
She shrugs. "A witch was in love with one of my ancestors. He saw himself as something of an inventor, and she liked to secretly fix all of his inventions so they actually worked."
"That's amazing," Sam says, instantly fascinated by the idea in general but also perfectly aware that this is only the second time Elena has referenced her family's long history of entanglement with the supernatural.
Elena shrugs. "It didn't lead us anywhere though," she reminds him. Pointedly, she starts towards the Impala, both boys behind her.
Taking the hint, Sam switches back to the case.
"It goes without saying, it just doesn't make any sense."
Catching on, Dean continues his train of thought.
"Yeah, a middle-aged dentist with an ulcer's not exactly evil personified."
Elena climbs into the backseat just as the boys get to the car, so she leaves the door open in order to hear their discussion.
"You know what we need to do is get inside that NTSB warehouse, check out the wreckage."
Dean looks at Sam, the only hold out on his plan.
He relents. "Okay, but if we're gonna go that route, we better look the part," Sam says, looking at Dean meaningfully.
Dean groans.
"Fine."
They get into the car, so Elena finally closes her door.
"You know those rings are badass, and damn useful, why don't you have one, again?" Dean asks Elena, suddenly remembering the past topic.
She shrugs. "They're passed down through the male bloodline," she answers evasively.
Dean shakes his head.
"That's a damn shame."
He starts the car.
Her answer is soft enough that it almost gets lost in the roar of the engine.
"I don't know, the consequences are pretty dire."
Sam is left wondering exactly what the consequences are.
"Man, I look like one of the Blues Brothers," Dean says, coming out of the tuxedo rental shop, tugging uncomfortably at his collar.
"No you don't," Sam says, fiddling with his own collar. "You look more like a seventh-grader at his first dance."
He smirks at Dean who gives himself a once over.
"I hate this thing," Dean says declaratively.
"Hey, you want into that warehouse or not?" Sam asks.
Elena comes up behind Dean, catching the end of their conversation.
"I think you look hot," she says, causing Dean to spin around.
She smiles teasingly at him, raising an eyebrow as she steps forward to fix his tie.
He gives her a playful glare, but his shoulders relax.
Sam ducks his head to hide a smirk.
Elena's gifts are a truly powerful thing.
"You don't look so bad yourself," Dean says, eyeing her appreciatively.
She's wearing a dove grey blazer and a matching pencil skirt, with a deep red blouse and shiny black pumps. She'd had to go find a department store, since they didn't exactly rent business wear for women.
"A pencil skirt for a field assignment?" Sam asks speculatively.
"People tend to overlook a girl in a skirt," Elena points out. "They're too busy focusing on other things," she adds archly.
Sam has no reply to that, but he can't help but wonder at the way Elena seems to strategize everything she does or says, right down to what she wears.
Elena has never seemed all that fond of their father, but Sam has a hunch his father can at least appreciate this about Elena's character.
They head towards the Impala which is parked right outside the tux rental.
"Yeah well that's 'cause they don't really know you," Dean is saying. "If they did, they'd never make the mistake of underestimating you."
Elena grins at him.
"I like it when they underestimate me," she admits.
"Yeah, I know you do," he says, shaking his head at her as he opens her door.
She slides in gracefully, like she wears heels and pencil skirts everyday instead of boots and jeans.
"Hell, I guess I like it too, it's damn useful."
The security guard lets them through with little fuss, he stares a little too long at Elena, but she gives him a look that could freeze the sun and he quickly straightens his spine and lets them through.
He doesn't see Dean give Elena a low, discreet fist bump, or the dirty look he throws over his shoulder at him.
Inside the warehouse, Dean gets straight to work, pulling a device out of his pocket.
"What's that?" Sam asks.
"It's an EMF reader, it reads electromagnetic frequencies," he explains, unwinding the earphones and putting them in.
"Yeah, I know what an EMF reader is," Sam says impatiently. "But why does that one look like a busted-up Walkman?"
Dean looks down at it and back up at Sam.
"'Cause that's what I made it out of," he says with a grin. He holds it up. "It's homemade," he reiterates, clearly pleased with himself.
Elena grins at his jubilation.
"Yeah, I can see that," Sam says with irony.
Dean's grin fades.
"Don't worry, Dean, I think it's cool," Elena says, shooting Sam a chastising glare. "Unlike Debby Downer here."
"Thank you, Elena," Dean says, shooting Sam a glare of his own.
Cowed, Sam turns back to the wreckage.
Dean turns on his EMF reader and begins to walk amongst the wreckage, listening for any abnormalities in the static.
When they approach a particular piece of wreckage the reader begins to admit a high-pitched frequency.
"Check out the emergency door handle," Dean says.
Rubbing his finger along the edge of it, it comes away coated in black powder with a sticky consistency.
"What is this stuff?"
"One way to find out," Sam replies, pulling out a pocket knife and a plastic baggie.
Carefully he scraps some of it into the bag, pocketing it for later.
Elena cocks her head to the side, listening.
"Sounds like we have company," she says calmly, referring to the sound of fast-paced footsteps.
Without a word they move towards the emergency exit on the other side of the wreckage. Within seconds of them making it outside, the alarms begin to blare.
Moving more quickly, they approach a gate, Sam and Dean easily scaling it.
"These monkey suits do come in handy," Dean says, referring to how he'd used his jacket to cushion the barbed-wire.
Elena, still on the other side of the fence, makes an impatient hand gesture, and they both quickly turn around.
A second later they hear her heels hit the ground and they turn around in time to see her tugging her skirt back down. Sam tries not to blush at the thought of how inappropriately high it must've been a minute ago.
Elena tosses Dean his suit jacket that he'd thoughtfully left over the barbed-wire for her.
The three of them all make a run for it now that they're all on the right side of the fence and are decently covered.
"Huh," Jerry finally says after examining the residue under a microscope. "This stuff is covered in sulfur."
"You're sure?" Sam asks.
"Take a look for yourself," Jerry invites, already moving towards the door. "If you'll excuse me, I have an idiot to fire," he says, referring to the man yelling and banging on a delicate piece of equipment out in the work area.
Dean moves over to see for himself.
"Yeah, there's not too many things that leave behind a sulfuric residue," he points out.
"Demonic possession?" Sam questions, not quite willing to believe.
"It would explain how a mortal man would have the strength to open up an emergency hatch."
Sam sighs. "if the guy was possessed, it's possible," he agrees.
"Yeah, but this goes way beyond floating above a bed or barfing pea soup—"
"Ew," Elena interjects, sitting in Jerry's chair with her heels off.
Dean shoots her a look but continues on with his train of thought.
"It's one thing to possess a person, but to use 'em to take down an entire airplane?"
Sam shakes his head.
"You ever heard of something like this before?"
Dean's reply is instantaneous.
"Never."
Back in the hotel room, in their own clothes, Sam types away at his laptop, organizing his research. They've already hit the library, but Elena had taken one look at Sam's drooping eyelids and insisted they go get something to eat and continue in the privacy of their own room.
"So every religion in every world culture has the concept of demons and demonic possession, right?" Sam starts. "Christian, Native American, Hindu, you name it."
Dean is seated at the end of the bed, Elena sprawled across it.
"Yeah, but none of them describe anything like this," Dean points out.
"Well, that's not exactly true," Sam says, contradicting him. "You see, according to Japanese beliefs, certain demons are behind certain disasters, both natural and man-made. One causes earthquakes, another causes disease," he lists.
"And this one causes plane crashes?" Dean ask speculatively. "All right, what, so we have a demon that's evolved with the times and found a way to ratchet up the body count?"
"Yeah," Sam says softly. "You know, who knows how many planes it's brought down before this one."
They're all silent for a moment, until Dean breaks it with a disbelieving little laugh.
"What?" Sam asks.
"I don't know, man, this isn't our normal gig," he says. "I mean, demons, they don't want anything, just death and destruction for its own sake. This is big." He pauses. "I wish Dad was here," he finally admits.
"Yeah, me too," Sam agrees.
Elena doesn't say anything, just sits up and wraps her arms around her legs, but she nods. As often as she argues with John, his certainty is always reassuring in the face of new challenges.
Dean goes to sit next to her.
Dean's cell phone ringing breaks the moment and he goes to answer it.
"Hello?"
"Dean, it's Jerry."
"Oh, hey Jerry."
"My pilot friend…Chuck Lambert, is dead."
"Jerry, I'm sorry, what happened?"
"He and his buddy went up in a small twin about an hour ago, the plane went down."
"Where'd this happen?"
"About sixty miles west of here, near Nazareth."
"I'll try to ignore the irony in that."
"I'm sorry?"
"Nothing. Hey Jerry, hang in there, all right? We'll catch up with you soon?"
Dean hangs up.
"Is now really the time to be making biblical jokes, Dean?" Elena asks, having heard the entire conversation due to proximity.
Dean ignores her.
"Another crash?" Sam asks.
"Yeah, let's go," Dean says, focused once again.
"Where?" Sam asks.
"Nazareth," Dean replies, and Sam understands Dean's urge to make biblical jokes despite everything.
Back in Jerry's office he confirms that once again it was sulfuric residue found on the wreckage they'd visited in Nazareth.
"All right, that's two plane crashes involving Chuck Lambert, this demon sounds like it was after him," Dean theorizes.
"With all due respect to Chuck," Sam starts, holding his hands up in a placating manner before continuing, "if that's the case, that would be the good news."
"What's the bad news?" Elena asks.
"Chuck's plane went down exactly forty minutes into the flight," Sam pauses, then adds, "and get this, so did flight 2485."
"Forty minutes, what does that mean?" Jerry interjects.
Dean taps Elena on the shoulder, time for his star student to show off.
"It's biblical numerology," she says, looking at Dean, and when he nods approvingly, she continues, "you know, Noah's Ark, it rained for forty days. The number means death."
Dean, never one to resist a little teasing, even in the face of such a serious moment, reaches over to draw an A+ on Elena's arm. She rolls her eyes at him, smiling all the while.
"I went back and there have been six plane crashes over the last decade that all went down exactly forty minutes in," Sam says.
"Any survivors?" Dean asks.
Sam shakes his head. "No, or, not until now, at least. Not until flight 2485, for some reason."
"The cockpit voice recorder," Elena interjects suddenly. "Remember what the E.V.P. said?"
"'No survivors'," Sam answers.
"It's going after all the survivors," Dean concludes grimly. "It's trying to finish the job."
In the Impala on the way to the airport, Sam figures out the logistics of which survivors are at immediate risk through the use of phony survey phone calls.
The only wildcard is Amanda Walker, the flight attendant.
"Her sister Karen says her flight leaves Indianapolis at 8 PM, it's her first night back on the job," Sam reports.
Dean sighs. "Well that sounds like just our luck," he says, grumbling a bit.
"Dean, this is a five hour drive, man, even with you behind the wheel," Sam says worriedly.
"Why don't you call Amanda's cell phone again," Dean says by way of response. "See if we can't head her off at the pass."
"I already left her three voice messages," Sam reminds him. "She must've turned her cell phone off."
Sam rubs his hair in frustration. "God, we're never gonna make it."
Elena abruptly flicks him in the back of the head, and when he turns around she's glaring at him.
"We will," she says, and he has no choice but to hope she's right.
When he turns back around, he can see just the hint of a smile hanging off the corner of Dean's mouth.
Elena leans back into her seat as Dean accelerates.
They get there with thirty minutes to spare, Dean uses the courtesy phone to try to convince Amanda not to get on the flight, going through several ridiculous stories, everything from a fake car accident to an prank arranged by an ex. Ultimately, none of them work, with no other choice, they set out to get themselves onto flight 242 with Amanda.
Dean, however, is slightly resistant to the idea at first.
"Dean, that plane is leaving with over a hundred passengers onboard, and if we're right," Sam lowers his voice, "that plane is gonna crash."
"I know," Dean says with extra emphasis, his eyes wide.
"We're getting on the plane, we need to find that demon and exorcise it," Sam says with finality.
Dean looks at Elena, who nods in complete agreement.
"Look, I'll get the tickets," Sam continues, completely bulldozing Dean. "You and Elena just go get whatever you can out of the trunk, whatever'll make it through security. Meet me back here in five minutes."
Sam starts to leave, but Elena stops him, gesturing towards Dean's panicked face.
"Are you okay?" Elena asks.
"No, not really," he admits.
"What? What's wrong?" Sam asks.
"Well, I kind of have this problem with, uh…" Dean sweeps his hand in a quick upward motion, unwilling to say it out loud.
"Flying?" Sam looks at him in disbelief.
"It's never really been an issue until now," Dean says defensively.
"You're joking, right?" Sam asks.
"Do I look like I'm joking?" Dean snaps. "Why do you think I drive everywhere, Sam?"
"Sam and I could do it without you?" Elena suggests.
Dean shakes his head.
"No, Sam said it, the plane's gonna crash, we need all hands on deck," he says with determination.
Elena exhales through her nose.
"Dean, Sam and I can get on that plane, or we can all get on that plane, but there isn't a version where we can do this on the ground at this point," she says with finality.
Sam nods in agreement.
Dean stares at them.
"Oh, fuck me."
Once they're on the plane, Elena quickly takes control, shooing Sam into the window seat, taking the middle in order to put a little distance between the brothers, since despite himself, Sam couldn't help but find a bit of humor in Dean's fear. Especially after his ill-timed speech about not letting the job get to you.
"Just try to relax," Sam says to Dean, leaning forward to see him past Elena.
"Just try to shut up," Dean retorts.
Sam just laughs but Elena gives him a scolding look.
The plane starts to take off, and without a word Elena slips her fingers into Dean's, pulling his hand into her lap.
He doesn't say anything, just wraps his fingers around hers so tightly both of their knuckles go white.
Dean closes his eyes, but they snap open at the sound of the wheels retracting into the plane.
Elena wraps her other hand around the wrist of the hand she's holding, stroking the inside of his wrist gently.
Sam bites his lip and looks out the darkened window. It turns out Elena is just as good at acting like Dean's girlfriend as he is acting like her boyfriend. They're a perfect, stupid couple.
They barely make it through takeoff before Dean starts to lose it a little, his grip on Elena's hand is iron tight.
She sighs, releases her hand from around his wrist, pushing the seat's arm between them out of the way. She leans across him and twists her torso until they're chest to chest, her free hand stroking his hair as she whispers in his ear.
Sam has a dozen comments about personal space on the tip of his tongue, because really, the only reason she isn't literally in Dean's lap right now is because of her seatbelt, but he restrains himself. After all, if Dean needs Elena sprawled across his lap and whispering in his ear to keep him calm, then Sam can't say much.
After a moment, Sam realizes that Elena isn't whispering, she's humming.
"You're humming Metallica?" he asks her, bemused.
"It calms me down," Dean answers for her, his voice slightly muffled by her ponytail.
Their intertwined hands are resting in Elena's lap still, an older woman across the aisle is looking at the two of them like they're the cutest thing she's ever seen.
Sam badly wants to point it out to Dean, because it's hilarious, but he knows they have to focus on finding the flight attendant and the demon, so he lets it go.
He checks his watch.
"We've got thirty-two minutes and counting to track this thing down, or whoever it's possessing anyway, and perform a full on exorcism," Sam says, trusting that Elena can both listen to what he's saying and continue keeping his brother calm.
"Yeah, on a crowded plane, that's gonna be easy," Dean replies.
"We'll just take it one step at a time, all right?" Sam suggests. "Now, who is it possessing?"
"Well, 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" Dean stops, realizing he could be describing himself.
Elena finally pulls back to look at Dean, her upper body still mostly in his lap. She grips his open collar in her hand, narrowing her eyes at him.
"Dean Winchester, the only weakness you might have right now is how much of my hair you've probably swallowed." Her tone is commanding, and it's almost like her saying it makes it true, because Dean laughs, and uses his free hand to flick her ponytail over her shoulder in an exaggerated manner.
Sam finds himself relaxing a little, Elena has a knack for that kind of thing after all.
"Well, this is Amanda's first flight after the crash," Sam reminds them, easily imagining an alternative, he adds, "If I were her, I'd be pretty messed up."
Dean nods and hums his agreement.
"Smart thinking, as always, Sam," Elena says, pushing herself off of Dean and back into her own seat finally.
She keeps hold of Dean's hand though, Sam notices.
"Excuse me, are you Amanda?" Dean asks the flight attendant passing them.
She shakes her head. "No, I'm not."
"Oh, my mistake," Dean replies.
She hums, smiles at Elena who returns it with one of her blinding ones, and then moves on.
Dean looks back, seeing another flight attendant sorting out the beverage cart.
"All right, well that's gotta be Amanda back there, so, I'll go talk to her, and uh, get a read on her mental state."
Sam nods.
"What if she's already possessed?" he asks.
"There's ways to test that," Dean leans down, pulling a bottle out of their carry on. "I brought holy water."
Sam shakes his head, takes it from him, putting it in his jacket.
"No," he says decisively. "I think we can go more subtle. If she's possessed, she'll flinch at the name of God."
Dean shrugs.
"Oh, nice," he agrees, getting ready to leave, but Elena stops him.
"I should go," she says, shaking her head before he can protest, clearly knowing that he thinks she's suggesting it because of his flying anxiety. "Girl talk," she reminds him, unbuckling her seatbelt.
"How are you going to work the name of God into girl talk?" Sam asks, genuinely curious.
Elena stands, giving Dean's hand one last squeeze before she lets go.
"Sam, girl talk can be about anything."
On that note, Elena starts to make her way back towards Amanda.
"Hey," Sam says, getting her to turn back. "Say it in Latin," he advises.
She gives an impatient nod, moving to leave again.
"Hey," Sam says again, she rolls her eyes as she turns back. "In Latin it's-"
"Deus, I know," Elena says, interrupting him.
"Good luck," Dean says.
She squeezes his shoulder in response as she walks away.
"Dude, you really think Dad let her anywhere near a hunt without knowing basic Latin?" Dean gives him a look. He rolls his shoulders a bit, looking tense.
Sam ducks his head somewhat sheepishly. It is a good point. Their father has high standards for what he considers rudimentary hunting skills.
"How do you think she's gonna work Deus into a normal conversation?" Sam wonders aloud after a moment.
"It's Elena, she'll think of something," Dean replies, speaking through clenched teeth.
Recognizing that without Elena there Dean has to control his fear all on his own, Sam decides to just keep quiet and let him do just that.
Sam looks back as discreetly as he can.
Amanda is talking, and Elena has given the other woman her full attention.
"You know, it's still a little disconcerting, how much people like her," Sam says, not necessarily expecting Dean to answer.
He does. He laughs a little.
"Yeah, you'll get used to it eventually," Dean says rather fondly.
Sam raises an eyebrow.
"So you're used to?"
Dean shrugs. "I spend more time with Elena than pretty much anybody else, you take her anywhere and someone's gonna fall in love with her, whether she notices or not. When it's basically a daily occurrence, you get used to it."
Sam cocks his head to the side.
"You didn't exactly seem used to it when Max was hitting on her," Sam says, somewhat carefully.
Dean gives him a look.
"He's in a friggin' mental institution," Dean reminds him. "Plus, it's not appropriate to flirt with a Federal Agent," he adds as an afterthought. "It's just a douchebag move."
Sam laughs a little, not completely buying it, but unable to argue.
"Whatever man, you hate it when anyone flirts with her."
Dean glares at him, affronted.
"It's not like that, it's my job to look out for her," Dean argues, adding, "Dad said so, he wrote it in the book, literally."
Sam laughs.
"Dean, I don't think Dad was thinking about random guys hitting on her in bars when he wrote that down," he points out. "It's probably more along the lines of this kind of thing than that."
Dean snorts.
"He didn't specify, so as far as I'm concerned, anything and everything is covered in my job description."
Dean has that stubborn look on his face, so Sam considers letting it go, but their arguing seems to have distracted Dean from his fear, so Sam keeps going.
It's not like he's been biting his tongue for weeks, holding back these very questions.
"So what happens if she flirts back?" Sam asks, purely for argument's sake. "She clearly doesn't need protecting if she's interested."
Dean grins, taking Sam by surprise.
"Oh Sammy, of course she flirts back sometimes. Especially when it's a bartender."
Dean shakes his head at him fondly when he sees the baffled look on his face.
"Free drinks, Sammy, free drinks," Dean says. "Most of the time she can convince them to get me a drink too, it's friggin' impressive."
Sam laughs out loud at that.
"Seriously?" he asks, amused.
Dean nods. "I bet she could get you one too."
Sam shakes his head, grinning at the extent of Elena's powers of persuasion. "I'd like to see that."
"Next time," Dean promises, grinning too.
Sam chuckles, no longer intent on continuing their earlier conversation about Dean's blatant dislike of people hitting on Elena.
Dean's grin fades, a shadow crossing his face.
"What? You all right, man?" Sam asks, afraid that Dean's fear of flying is kicking back in.
Dean shakes his head.
"Nothing, I guess I never really considered the whole 'keep her safe' thing fully before," he explains.
Sam can feel his own smile fading.
Dean's next words completely demolish the good mood they'd finally built.
"She could have a demon after her and we wouldn't even know."
Dean clenches his jaw so tight that Sam's head hurts.
He can't even bring himself to deny it, they don't know what's after Elena.
"I guess, we just have to hope that it's not that bad, but prepare for it like it is," Sam says.
Dean nods, still looking troubled.
More than anything, Sam wants to know Elena's secrets for Dean's sake, it would be easier, if they weren't flying blind.
"Well, Amanda is lovely, and definitely not possessed by a demon," Elena says, announcing her return with no preamble.
She crawls over Dean, using his shoulders as handholds to maneuver herself over him and back into her seat.
"Seriously?" Dean asks, his disbelief apparent.
"Yup, not even a flinch," she confirms.
"Well she's gotta be the most well-adjusted person on the planet," Dean mutters.
Sam persists.
"You said Deus?" Sam asks, being specific.
Elena rolls her eyes at him a little.
"Sam, I recited the introduction to the friggin' Final Prayer in Latin, Oremus: Deus, cujus Unigénitus, per vitam, mortem et resurrectiónem…"
Dean interrupts their little intellectual showdown
"All right, yeah that would've been more than enough." Dean gives Sam a look.
"Yeah no, that's perfect," Sam agrees, feeling a little guilty for being so pushy about it when in truth, her Latin was much better than his, he could barely remember the Lord's Prayer off the top of his head, let alone the Final Prayer.
Dean pauses, squints, turns to look at Elena.
"How the hell did you manage to casually recite the Final Prayer to her?" he asks, incredulous.
Elena rolls her eyes.
"I pretended I was waiting for the bathroom, started chatting, mentioned that my boyfriend's a nervous flyer who sometimes recites Catholic prayers to himself in Latin in order to distract himself. Then she said she's never heard of that method, so I demonstrated." Reaching the end of her explanation, she shrugs.
"She said she might try it sometime, in English, of course."
"So I guess I'm Catholic now," Dean mutters under his breath.
Elena gives him a look, clearly aware that he's teasing her.
Ignoring that Elena had pretended Dean was her boyfriend without thought, Sam focuses on the fact that the demon is still at large.
"So no demon in her."
Elena shakes her head.
"Honestly, I can't imagine there will be either, Dean's right, she's extremely well-adjusted."
Sam nods, deep in thought.
"So if the demon's on the plane, it could be anyone, anywhere."
At the end of his ominous statement, the turbulence kicks in.
Dean grabs for Elena's hand without hesitation, and she wraps her hand in his, using her free hand to rub his shoulder comfortingly.
"Oh come on, that can't be normal!"
"Hey, hey, it's just a little turbulence," Sam says as firmly as he can.
"Sam, this plane is going to crash okay," Dean whispers back fiercely. "So stop treating me like I'm friggin' four."
"You need to calm down," Elena cuts in smoothing her hand up his shoulder to press her fingers to his racing pulse. She strokes his neck with the very tips of her fingers.
"I can't," Dean insists, not nearly as irked with her as he is with Sam.
"Yes you can," Sam says.
"Dude, stow the touchy-feely self-help yoga crap, it's not helping." Dean's ignoring the fact that he couldn't be more intertwined with Elena unless she crawls back into his lap, it's all quite literally touchy-feely.
"Listen, if you're panicked, you're wide open to demonic possession," Sam says, cutting straight to the point. "So you need to calm yourself down right now."
Almost like Elena had read Sam's previous thought, Elena curls herself back around Dean, whispering something in his ear that makes him chuckle.
Her fingers are back in his hair, stroking soothingly, and much to Sam's surprise, he starts taking deep, calming breaths.
Sam stays quiet, letting Elena work her magic, watching his brother interact with the person he's undoubtedly closest to in the world.
Dean makes a lot of jokes about the way people react to Elena, and even Sam admits it's fascinating to watch her interact with people. Seeing them now, however, Sam can't imagine that anyone reacts to Elena the way Dean does.
He waits a few minutes, until Dean seems to be calming down, before he mentions the exorcism he found in Dad's book.
"The Rituale Romanum."
Sam pauses, looks at them.
"What do we have to do?" Dean asks.
"It's two parts," Sam starts. "The first part expels the demon from the victim's body. It makes it manifest, which actually makes it more powerful."
He looks down at the Latin words in his father's familiar handwriting.
"More powerful? How?" Dean asks, more than a little freaked. Elena draws her fingers over his pulse reassuringly.
"Well, it doesn't need to possess someone anymore," Sam explains, turning to look at them again. "It can wreak havoc on its own."
"Oh," Dean says. "And why is that a good thing?"
"Well, because the second part sends the bastard back to Hell, once and for all."
"Well that's nice," Dean mutters under his breath.
"I think Elena should do it," Sam says.
Elena looks at him. Involuntarily, Dean tightens his grip on her.
"Like hell she is." Dean almost snarls as he speaks.
Elena stays calm.
"Why me?" she asks, curious more than anything else, she seems sure that Sam has a good explanation for why he'd pick her of the three of them.
This gives Sam the courage to continue on despite Dean's glare.
"Your Latin is the best, I can tell even from the bit of Final Prayer you recited. We've got a limited amount of time, and an extremely precarious conditions that we're working under, we need this to be perfect. If it happens that Dean or I have to say it instead, so be it, but ideally, it's you." Sam takes a breath.
"Your Latin is good," Dean admits grudgingly, clearly reluctant to go along with the idea, but also aware that Sam's point is a good one.
Elena shrugs a little.
"I've always been good with languages," she says. She grins, wryly, adds, "Even the dead ones."
With Dean on board with Elena performing the exorcism, they begin their search for the demon. Dean's using his homemade EMF reader disguised as what it used to be, a Walkman, so that he can scan the other passengers incognito, walking up and down the aisle slowly with the earbuds in.
When Dean reaches the front of the plane, Sam comes up behind him, grabbing his shoulder.
"Don't do that," Dean scolds, startled.
"Anything?" Sam asks, ignoring him.
"No, nothing," Dean says, "how much time we got?"
Elena comes up behind Sam, ducking around him to stand on Dean's other side.
"Fifteen minutes," Sam says, glancing over at her.
Without a word, Elena leans against Dean, who slips an arm around her waist, clearly enjoying her more frequent affection, despite the circumstances.
Sam knows she's only doing it to keep Dean calm, but he can't help but notice how easily it comes to her, leaning into him, touching his arm, his hair, his face, like she's been holding it back this entire time.
"Maybe we missed somebody?" Elena suggests in undertone.
Sam nods in agreement.
"Maybe the thing's just not on the plane," Dean says, clearly hoping for that option.
"You believe that?" Sam asks, blatantly doubtful.
"Well I will if you will," Dean counters, glancing over at Elena.
She gives him a skeptical look.
Just then Dean's EMF reader starts to make distressed noises in his ears.
He turns to look at the man exiting the bathroom, the copilot.
"What is it?" Elena asks.
Dean's attention is fixed on the copilot, already opening the door to the cockpit.
"Oremus: Deus, cujus Unigénitus, per vitam, mortem et resurrectiónem…" he says, aware that he only needs to say the second word, but unable to resist playing up his fictional counterpart's compulsion that Elena had improvised for Amanda.
The copilot's shoulders roll back into a flinch, and when he turns to look at Dean, his eyes are demon black.
They quickly realize that they're going to need insider help if they're going to get to the copilot, so they turn to one crew member any of them have any kind of connection to, Amanda.
With no other options, Elena leads them to the back of the plane where Amanda is. The three of them then do their best to explain the situation, emphasizing that the plane is in danger. At first, she doesn't want to listen, so Dean goes for what he knows will make her listen.
"The pilot, from flight 2485, Chuck Lambert, he's dead," Dean tells her.
"What? Chuck is dead?"
Amanda looks between the three of them for a denial. All of them wear grim expressions.
"He died in a plane crash," Elena says.
"That's two plane crashes in two months," Dean continues. "That doesn't strike you as strange?"
Finally, Amanda admits that she also saw the man with the black eyes on flight 2485.
"What is it that you're asking me to do?"
Dean jumps right in, no hesitation.
"Okay, the copilot, we need you to bring him back here."
Amanda is still resistant, despite everything.
"Why, what does he have to do with anything?"
"We don't really have time to explain," Elena says, looking over at Dean, so he continues for her, like usual.
"We just need to talk to him."
Once they see that the copilot is following Amanda back to them, Sam removes the holy water from his coat while Dean takes their dad's journal from his, grimly handing it over to Elena.
She opens it to the correct page, taking a breath as she looks down at the Latin words on page.
Dean squeezes her shoulder offering silent encouragement before they move to get into place before the demon enters the curtained off area.
"Now, what's the problem?" the demon asks as he steps through the curtain.
Without warning, Dean punches him in the face, knocking him to the ground. Moving swiftly, he grabs him by the shirt, picking him up and slamming him back down, knocking the air out of his lungs before he can yell for help. He slaps a piece of duct tape over his mouth.
"What are you doing? You said you were just gonna talk to him?" Amanda shrieks.
"We are gonna talk to him." With that, Sam opens the holy water and spills it all over his struggling form, causing steam to rise up from his burning flesh.
Dean stays on top of him, keeping him down. Sam moves to add his weight.
"Oh my god, what's wrong with him?" Amanda asks, out of her depth.
"Look, we need you calm. We need you outside the curtain," Sam instructs her. "Don't let anybody in, okay? Can you do that?"
"Amanda," Elena says her name, her voice calm and firm. "Make sure no one comes in."
Amanda finally turns and moves towards the curtain.
"Okay," she says. "Okay."
Dean punches the demon in the face.
"All right, Elena, showtime," he says. "Make it quick, I don't know how long we can hold him."
Elena, as far away from the demon as she can get in their limited space, begins to recite the exorcism.
"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio…"
Elena's voice is steady, she doesn't stutter or trip over the archaic words, they flow from her tongue like she was born to speak them.
Sam knows he made the right choice when he insisted that she be the one to perform the exorcism, his tongue feels heavy just hearing her speak the words.
Elena nears the end of the exorcism, so Dean rips the duct tape off.
The demon has the last word before the copilot's mouth opens and he is forcibly removed from the body in a thick, black smoke.
"I know what happened to your girlfriend. She must have died screaming. Even now, she's burning!"
The black smoke disappears into a vent so quickly that Sam misses it, still focused on the last words it had spoken with the copilot's mouth.
"Where'd it go?" he asks.
"It's in the plane," Dean answers. "Hurry up, Elena, we've got to finish it."
She nods sharply, clearing her throat to start the next part of the exorcism when the plane drops dramatically.
They're all forced down into sitting positions.
Dean's eyes widen in panic.
Elena reaches out, grabbing his hand, and then she continues.
"Terribilis Deus de sanctuario suo. Deus Israhel ipse truderit virtutem…" Elena continues on, reciting the Latin through the mayhem around her as the plane drops and the other passengers scream and panic, alarms blaring.
"Benedictus deus. Gloria patri." She finishes at last.
After a few moments, the plane stabilizes.
"Nobody knows what you guys did, but I do," Chuck says.
The four of them are standing outside Chuck's workplace, the three hunters more than ready to hit the road again.
"A lot of people could've been killed. Your dad's gonna be real proud."
He shakes their hands, giving Elena an extra hand squeeze and a fond grin.
"We'll see you around, Jerry," Sam says.
Jerry starts to walk back to work.
"Hey Jerry," Dean calls, stopping him. "You know, 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," Jerry replies, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.
All three of them look at him almost perfectly in sync.
"What?" Sam says.
"When did you talk to him?" Dean asks, not wanting to get ahead of himself, their dad has only been M.I.A. for a little over a month at this point.
"Well I didn't exactly talk to him, but I called his number," Jerry explains. "His voice message said to give you a call."
With one more thanks, Jerry leaves them.
They make it a few miles away before Dean pulls over to the side of the road, pulling out his phone.
"This doesn't make any sense, man, I've called Dad's number like fifty times, it's been out of service," Sam says.
Elena nods in agreement. "Yeah, me too," she admits.
Dean finishes dialing, presses send. It rings a few times before the message picks up.
He puts it on speakerphone
"This is John Winchester, I can't be reached, if this is an emergency, call my son, Dean..." then he rattles off Dean's number and finishes by saying that he can help.
It's another sleepless night for Sam, more of a concentrated effort than ever, now that he has the demon's words to obsess over.
Elena comes out of the bathroom, already dressed for her run. She stops at the sight of Sam, awake and watching another infomercial.
She sighs, moves over to his bags, rustling through them for something.
He sits up, curious.
She comes to the end of his bed, tosses something at him.
He catches it reflexively. His running shoes.
He'd been so out of it when he packed, he doesn't even remember deciding to bring them.
She gives him an expectant look, and he gets the message.
He goes back to his bag, rustles up something decent to wear for a run, and then heads into change.
They say nothing as they head out the door. Elena locks the door behind them and tucking the room key into her sock – the other sock, not the one with her butterfly knife in it.
"So, you took pretty good care of Dean on the plane," Sam says, finally breaking the silence.
Elena raises an eyebrow at him.
"He's my partner," she says, her voice just short of scolding.
"Sure he is," Sam replies.
Elena gives him a look.
"Just for that, I'm not gonna easy on you like I planned."
Sam laughs.
She keeps her promise though, she sets a punishing pace, and Sam is affronted to discover that he can barely keep up.
When they get back to the room, Elena gets the first shower, mostly because Sam is too exhausted to fight her for it.
He's asleep before his head hits the pillow, still wearing his running shoes.
tbc.
AN: chapter title is from Aeroplane by Red Hot Chili Peppers. I know it's not cool to like the RHP but I dunno, Dani California is a song that just puts me in a good mood whenever I hear it, and the Adventures of Rain Dance Maggie is a song that I just find absurdly sexy, I can't explain it. I mean, it's not like I'd buy tickets to see them in concert, but they've got songs that I can appreciate, you know?
Questions? Comments? Please leave a review!
xoxo
-Pixie