Girl!Sam Episode 4 - Phantom Traveller - Part 1
Here it is...if anyone still cares...
I can't think of any warnings, but if you haven't seen ep 4 season 1 of Supernatural............WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN! :)
And btw, if it's not obvious by the heading, Sam's a girl in this AU.
The rating is the same as the episode.
Consider yourself warned.
Mr. George Phelps sat in the airport terminal trying to get a grip on his nerves. He was about to get on a plane and he was absolutely terrified of flying. Everyone said the best way to conquer your fears was to face them head on, but right now George just felt nauseated. He got up and walked to the restroom to wash his face. He was so nervous that he was sweating. He ran some cool water and splashed his face, but it wasn’t helping the nausea. A man walked out of one of the stalls and noticed him. “Nervous flyer?”
George looked up at the man’s reflection in the mirror. “It’s that obvious, huh?”
The man dried his hands as he shook his head. “What are the odds of dying in a plane crash…I mean what? 20,000 to 1?” He grinned and walked away.
That did not help at all. “Wow, that’s really reassuring…thank you.”
George leaned back over the sink and splashed his face again. He was completely unaware of the swirling black mass that had emerged from the air vent. It hovered behind him until he noticed its reflection in the mirror. He spun around quickly, but he barely had time to gasp as the darkness entered him.
George was completely composed now as he boarded his flight. He was all calm and smiles as he passed Amanda, the flight attendant. “Have a nice flight, sir.”
He turned back to look at her. “Oh, I’m countin’ on it.” His eyes became completely black, startling the flight attendant.
She paused, but then shook it off and continued helping another passenger. “11 F…that’s the middle section.” She glanced at George again as he was taking his seat, sure that she was imagining things. She was a bit tired after all….
George had a window seat toward the rear of the plane. He was looking out the window before turning to the woman sitting next to him. “Excuse me. Do you know how long we’ve been up?”
The woman glanced at her watch. “Oh, uh. About 40 minutes.” She smiled pleasantly.
George smiled back. “Wow. Time really does fly huh?”
She smiled at the rather lame joke and went back to looking at the TV screen.
“’Scuse me.” George stood up. “Gotta stretch my legs.”
The woman moved to let him pass, and he walked to the back of the plane, presumably toward the restroom. He smiled at a young man in the last row by the aisle as he passed. The smile was odd enough to make the man turn to watch George pass. Instead of heading to the restroom, he stopped in front of the emergency exit and gripped the handle.
“Hey! What the hell are you doing!” The man yelled, alerting the other passengers. George turned and gave the man a quick glimpse of his eyes. They were completely black as they had been with the flight attendant. He easily lifted the door handle, sucking both him and the door out of the plane and damaging part of the tail.
The pilot and co-pilot struggled for control of the plane, but the rapid depressurization and the damaged tail made it impossible. The oxygen masks dropped from the ceiling, and Amanda fought to pull herself to a free seat and secure her seatbelt for the inevitable crash.
Dean was sound asleep in the crappy bed at the latest crappy motel. The room’s door rattled and opened rousing him, but he didn’t move. He opened his eyes and slowly slid his hand beneath his pillow, gripping the hilt of the knife he’d hidden there. The door slammed shut and Dean sat up to find Sam standing at the foot of his bed holding two cups of coffee. “Mornin’ Sunshine.”
Dean released the knife beneath his pillow, unseen. “Ugh. What time is it?”
“Oh, about 5:45.”
Dean turned back to his pillow. “In the morning?”
“Yep.”
"Where does the day go?” Dean rolled over. “Didja get any sleep last night?”
“Yeah, I grabbed a couple of hours.”
“Liar.” He threw his legs over the side of the bed and sat up. “‘Cause I was up at 3 and you were watching the George Foreman infomercial.”
“What can I say.” She shrugged. “It’s riveting TV.”
“When’s the last time you got a good night’s sleep?”
“I don’t know. A little while I guess. It’s not a big deal.”
“Yeah. It is. “
“Look I appreciate your concern-“
“Oh, I’m not concerned about you. It’s your job to keep my ass alive, so I need ya sharp.” Sam smiled to herself and nodded as Dean continued. “Seriously…you still having nightmares about Jess?”
Sam sighed and sat down on the bed opposite Dean. “Yeah. But it’s not just him. It’s everything.” She handed Dean one of the coffees. “I just forgot, ya know. This job…it gets to you.”
“Well, you can’t let. You can’t bring it home like that.” Dean took a sip of his coffee.
“So…what? All this…it never keeps you up at night?” Dean shook his head, but Sam wasn’t buying it.
“Never. You’re never afraid?”
Dean shook his head again. “No. Not really.”
Sam scoffed and reached under his pillow, pulling out the large knife he had grabbed earlier. She held it up as proof that Dean was indeed a bit scared by what they dealt with.
Dean took the knife back. “That’s not fear. That is precaution.”
“All right. Whatever. I’m too tired to argue.”
Dean’s cell phone rang. He picked it up, but didn’t recognize the number on the caller ID. ”Hello?”
“Dean. It’s uh, it’s Jerry Panowski.” Dean shook his head at Sam, not recognizing the name. “You and your dad helped me out a couple years back…”
Recognition hit. “Oh, right. Yeah, up in Kittanning, Pennsylvania…the poltergeist thing. It’s not back is it?”
“No. No. Thank God, no. But it’s something else, and well, I think it could be a lot worse.”
Dean was really listening now. “What is it?”
Jerry was tentative. “Can we talk in person?”
“Okay…we’ll be there as soon as we can.”
“Thanks.” Jerry sounded relieved. “I’ve gotta go, but I’ll be in touch.”
Dean hung up the phone and looked at Sam. “Looks like we’re goin’ to Pennsylvania.”
They had met Jerry at work, a warehouse where they built airplanes. They followed as he led the way to his office. “Thanks for making the trip so quick. I oughta be doing you guys a favor, not the other way around.” He glanced back at Sam. “Dean and your dad really helped me out.”
“Yeah, he told me. It was a poltergeist?”
One of the workers overheard part of the conversation. “Poltergeist? Man, I love that movie.”
“Hey, nobody’s talkin’ to you. Keep walkin’.” Jerry said, making Dean smile. He turned back to Sam. “Damn right it was a poltergeist. Practically tore our house apart.”
He turned to Dean. ”I’ll tell ya somethin’…if it wasn’t for you and your dad…we probably wouldn’t be alive.” Dean gave Sam a smug grin. Man, how she hated that smug grin...
Jerry continued and was talking to Sam again. “Your dad said you were off to college. Is that right?”
“Yeah, I was. But I’m…takin’ some time off.”
“Well, he was real proud of you. I could tell. Ya know, he talked about you all the time.”
Dean knew all this, but it was news to Sam. “He did?”
“Yeah. You bet he did.” Sam wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. If her father was so proud of her, why didn’t he let her know? Why did he make her choose between the life he had chosen for them and the one she wanted to live?
Sam’s confused musings were interrupted by Jerry talking to Dean again. “Oh hey, ya know, I tried to get a hold of him, but I couldn’t. How’s he doin’ anyway?”
“He’s umm…wrapped up in a job right now.”
“Well, we’re missin’ the old man, but we get Sam. Even trade, huh?”
There was obligatory laughter as Sam replied. “Nah, not by a long shot.”
Jerry had finally reached his office. “I’ve got somethin’ I want you two to hear.” He led them inside and closed the door.
Sam and Dean sat down as Jerry took out a CD and loaded it into his computer. “I listened to this and well, it sounded like it was up your alley. 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 disk started playing and it had a good bit of static.
“Mayday. Mayday. This is United Britannia Flight 2485 requesting immediate
instruction for help.”
“United Britannia Flight 2485, we copy your mayday.”
“We seem to be experiencing some kind of mechanical failure.”
The static completely covered the conversation and turned into a strange roaring sound before cutting off completely. Sam and Dean exchanged looks.
“Took off from here. Crashed about 200 miles south. 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…well, he’s pretty broken up about it. Like it was his fault.”
“You don’t think it was.” Sam commented.
“No, I don’t.”
“Jerry.” Sam began ticking things off. “We’re gonna need passenger manifests…, a list of survivors-“
“Right.” Dean interjected. “And, any way we can take a look at the wreckage?”
“The other stuff is no problem, but the wreckage…the NTSP has it locked down in an evidence warehouse. No way I’ve got that kind of clearance.”
Sam looked over at Dean. He slowly nodded his head. “No problem.”
Sam waited by the car for Dean to come out of the copy store. Finally, he emerged holding the door for an attractive blond to enter. She smiled her thanks, and he glanced at her butt as she passed.
“You’ve been in there forever.” Sam complained.
Dean reached into his pocket and produced two ID cards. “You can’t rush perfection.”
Sam took hers and looked at it. “Homeland Security? That’s pretty illegal. Even for us.”
Dean walked around to the driver’s side. “Well, ya know, it’s somethin’ new. People haven’t seen it a thousand times.”
They both got in the car and Dean smirked as he put away his fake ID. “All right…so what d’ya got?”
Sam opened the laptop. “Well, there’s definitely EVP on the cockpit voice recorder.”
“Yeah?”
“Listen.” She played the message she had processed.
An unnatural, macabre voice came through the speaker. “No survivors.”
“No survivors? What’s that supposed to mean? There were seven survivors.”
Sam shook her head. “Ya got me.”
“So what’re you thinkin’. A haunted flight?”
“There’s a long history of spirits and death omens on planes and ships, like phantom travelers. Or remember
Flight 401.”
“Right, the one that crashed and the airline salvaged some of its parts, put ‘em in other planes. Then the spirits of the pilot and co-pilot haunted those flights.”
“Right.”
“Yep.”
“Maybe we got a similar deal.” Sam suggested.
Dean pulled out a piece of paper. “All right. So, survivors…who d’ya wanna talk to first?”
Sam pointed. “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.”
Dean looked up. “What makes you say that?”
“Well, I spoke to his mother, and she told me where to find him…Riverfront Psychiatric Hospital.”
Max Jaffey was the young man from the aisle seat on Flight 2485. He had survived the crash, but was left with a limp and used a cane. He led Dean and Sam out into the park area of the facility, toward a group of unoccupied chairs. “I don’t understand. I already spoke with Homeland Security.”
Dean glanced at Sam. “Right. Some new information has come up, so if you could just answer a few questions.”
Sam stepped in. “Just before the plane went down, did you notice anything…unusual?”
“Like what?”
“Strange lights, weird noises maybe, voices…?” Dean asked.
“No. Nothing.” They had finally reached the chairs and Max eased himself into one.
Dean sat down across from him. “Mr. Jaffey, you checked yourself in here, right?” He nodded. “Can I ask why?”
“I was a little stressed. I survived a plane crash.” Max replied a bit sarcastically.
Dean wasn’t buying it. “Uh huh. And that’s what terrified you. I mean, that’s what you were afraid of?”
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
Dean was persistent. “See, I think you did see something up there. We need to know what.”
“No. No. I was…delusional. Seeing things.”
Dean turned to Sam. “He was seeing things.”
Sam gave Dean a look and turned her attention back to Max. “It’s okay. Just tell us what you thought you saw. Please.”
Max took a deep breath. “There was this…man. And he had these…eyes. These uh, black eyes. And I saw him, or I thought I saw him…” Max stopped.
“What?” Dean urged.
“He opened the emergency exit.” Max finally looked up at Dean. “But that’s impossible right. I mean, I looked it up. There’s something like two tons of pressure on that door.”
“This man, uh, did he seem to appear and disappear rapidly?” Sam asked. “It would look something like a mirage?”
Max laughed. “What are you? Nuts?” Sam looked confused, so he continued. “He was a passenger. He was sitting right in front of me.”
The Impala pulled up in front of what appeared to be a typical suburban home. Sam double checked the address. “So here we are. George Phelps. Seat 20 C.”
Dean turned off the engine. “I don’t care how strong you are…” he opened the door and got out. “Even yoked up on PCP or somethin’…no way you can open up an emergency door during a flight.”
Sam stood next to the Impala staring at the house. “Not if you’re human.” She turned around to face Dean who was propped up against the roof of the car. “But maybe this George guy was somethin’ else. Some kinda creature maybe, in human form?”
“Does that look like a creature’s lair to you?”
Sam didn’t answer as she joined her brother walking to the front door.
A woman in her early forties answered Dean’s knock. “Mrs. Phelps?”
“Yes.”
“Good afternoon. We’re from Homeland Security, and we were hoping you could answer a few questions for us regarding your husband and Flight 2485.” Dean and Sam both held up their fake IDs.
Mr. Phelps gave the IDs a once over and then invited them in. She led them to the living room where they took seats opposite her on the sofa.
Sam picked up a picture from the coffee table. “This is your late husband?”
“Yes. That was my George.”
“And he was a dentist, is that correct?” Dean asked.
Mrs. Phelps nodded. “He was heading to a convention in Denver. Did you know that he was petrified to fly?” Dean gave her a sympathetic look. “For him to go like that…” Emotion threatened to overcome her.
“How long were you married?” Sam asked gently.
She smiled. “Thirteen years.”
“In all that time…did you ever notice anything…strange about him? Anything out of the ordinary?”
Mrs. Phelps was caught off guard by the question. “Well…he had acid-reflux, if that’s what you mean.”
Dean smiled at Sam. “Well, thank you very much for you time Mrs. Phelps. And we’re very sorry for your loss.”
They all stood and she showed them out. As soon as the door was safely closed behind them, Sam turned to Dean. “I mean, it goes without saying…it doesn’t make any sense.”
“Yeah. A middle-aged dentist with an ulcer is not exactly evil personified. You know, what we need to do is get inside that NTSP warehouse and check out the wreckage.”
“Okay. But if we’re gonna go that route, we better look the part.”
“You’re probably right.” Dean conceded, getting into the car.
Sam smiled and hopped into the car, barely containing her obvious excitement.
Dean grimaced. “Calm down Sammi. This isn’t a shoppin’ spree. We’re getting’ what we need and getting’ out. That’s it.”
“Yeah, okay.” But Sam wasn’t going to let Dean ruin her excitement. She was going to get a new outfit, and despite how girly it sounded, that always raised her spirits
For your enjoyment, (or ridicule...whatever) my previous Girl!Sam fics can be found here.
Cheers!
next part
I can't think of any warnings, but if you haven't seen ep 4 season 1 of Supernatural............WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN! :)
And btw, if it's not obvious by the heading, Sam's a girl in this AU.
The rating is the same as the episode.
Consider yourself warned.
Mr. George Phelps sat in the airport terminal trying to get a grip on his nerves. He was about to get on a plane and he was absolutely terrified of flying. Everyone said the best way to conquer your fears was to face them head on, but right now George just felt nauseated. He got up and walked to the restroom to wash his face. He was so nervous that he was sweating. He ran some cool water and splashed his face, but it wasn’t helping the nausea. A man walked out of one of the stalls and noticed him. “Nervous flyer?”
George looked up at the man’s reflection in the mirror. “It’s that obvious, huh?”
The man dried his hands as he shook his head. “What are the odds of dying in a plane crash…I mean what? 20,000 to 1?” He grinned and walked away.
That did not help at all. “Wow, that’s really reassuring…thank you.”
George leaned back over the sink and splashed his face again. He was completely unaware of the swirling black mass that had emerged from the air vent. It hovered behind him until he noticed its reflection in the mirror. He spun around quickly, but he barely had time to gasp as the darkness entered him.
George was completely composed now as he boarded his flight. He was all calm and smiles as he passed Amanda, the flight attendant. “Have a nice flight, sir.”
He turned back to look at her. “Oh, I’m countin’ on it.” His eyes became completely black, startling the flight attendant.
She paused, but then shook it off and continued helping another passenger. “11 F…that’s the middle section.” She glanced at George again as he was taking his seat, sure that she was imagining things. She was a bit tired after all….
George had a window seat toward the rear of the plane. He was looking out the window before turning to the woman sitting next to him. “Excuse me. Do you know how long we’ve been up?”
The woman glanced at her watch. “Oh, uh. About 40 minutes.” She smiled pleasantly.
George smiled back. “Wow. Time really does fly huh?”
She smiled at the rather lame joke and went back to looking at the TV screen.
“’Scuse me.” George stood up. “Gotta stretch my legs.”
The woman moved to let him pass, and he walked to the back of the plane, presumably toward the restroom. He smiled at a young man in the last row by the aisle as he passed. The smile was odd enough to make the man turn to watch George pass. Instead of heading to the restroom, he stopped in front of the emergency exit and gripped the handle.
“Hey! What the hell are you doing!” The man yelled, alerting the other passengers. George turned and gave the man a quick glimpse of his eyes. They were completely black as they had been with the flight attendant. He easily lifted the door handle, sucking both him and the door out of the plane and damaging part of the tail.
The pilot and co-pilot struggled for control of the plane, but the rapid depressurization and the damaged tail made it impossible. The oxygen masks dropped from the ceiling, and Amanda fought to pull herself to a free seat and secure her seatbelt for the inevitable crash.
Dean was sound asleep in the crappy bed at the latest crappy motel. The room’s door rattled and opened rousing him, but he didn’t move. He opened his eyes and slowly slid his hand beneath his pillow, gripping the hilt of the knife he’d hidden there. The door slammed shut and Dean sat up to find Sam standing at the foot of his bed holding two cups of coffee. “Mornin’ Sunshine.”
Dean released the knife beneath his pillow, unseen. “Ugh. What time is it?”
“Oh, about 5:45.”
Dean turned back to his pillow. “In the morning?”
“Yep.”
"Where does the day go?” Dean rolled over. “Didja get any sleep last night?”
“Yeah, I grabbed a couple of hours.”
“Liar.” He threw his legs over the side of the bed and sat up. “‘Cause I was up at 3 and you were watching the George Foreman infomercial.”
“What can I say.” She shrugged. “It’s riveting TV.”
“When’s the last time you got a good night’s sleep?”
“I don’t know. A little while I guess. It’s not a big deal.”
“Yeah. It is. “
“Look I appreciate your concern-“
“Oh, I’m not concerned about you. It’s your job to keep my ass alive, so I need ya sharp.” Sam smiled to herself and nodded as Dean continued. “Seriously…you still having nightmares about Jess?”
Sam sighed and sat down on the bed opposite Dean. “Yeah. But it’s not just him. It’s everything.” She handed Dean one of the coffees. “I just forgot, ya know. This job…it gets to you.”
“Well, you can’t let. You can’t bring it home like that.” Dean took a sip of his coffee.
“So…what? All this…it never keeps you up at night?” Dean shook his head, but Sam wasn’t buying it.
“Never. You’re never afraid?”
Dean shook his head again. “No. Not really.”
Sam scoffed and reached under his pillow, pulling out the large knife he had grabbed earlier. She held it up as proof that Dean was indeed a bit scared by what they dealt with.
Dean took the knife back. “That’s not fear. That is precaution.”
“All right. Whatever. I’m too tired to argue.”
Dean’s cell phone rang. He picked it up, but didn’t recognize the number on the caller ID. ”Hello?”
“Dean. It’s uh, it’s Jerry Panowski.” Dean shook his head at Sam, not recognizing the name. “You and your dad helped me out a couple years back…”
Recognition hit. “Oh, right. Yeah, up in Kittanning, Pennsylvania…the poltergeist thing. It’s not back is it?”
“No. No. Thank God, no. But it’s something else, and well, I think it could be a lot worse.”
Dean was really listening now. “What is it?”
Jerry was tentative. “Can we talk in person?”
“Okay…we’ll be there as soon as we can.”
“Thanks.” Jerry sounded relieved. “I’ve gotta go, but I’ll be in touch.”
Dean hung up the phone and looked at Sam. “Looks like we’re goin’ to Pennsylvania.”
They had met Jerry at work, a warehouse where they built airplanes. They followed as he led the way to his office. “Thanks for making the trip so quick. I oughta be doing you guys a favor, not the other way around.” He glanced back at Sam. “Dean and your dad really helped me out.”
“Yeah, he told me. It was a poltergeist?”
One of the workers overheard part of the conversation. “Poltergeist? Man, I love that movie.”
“Hey, nobody’s talkin’ to you. Keep walkin’.” Jerry said, making Dean smile. He turned back to Sam. “Damn right it was a poltergeist. Practically tore our house apart.”
He turned to Dean. ”I’ll tell ya somethin’…if it wasn’t for you and your dad…we probably wouldn’t be alive.” Dean gave Sam a smug grin. Man, how she hated that smug grin...
Jerry continued and was talking to Sam again. “Your dad said you were off to college. Is that right?”
“Yeah, I was. But I’m…takin’ some time off.”
“Well, he was real proud of you. I could tell. Ya know, he talked about you all the time.”
Dean knew all this, but it was news to Sam. “He did?”
“Yeah. You bet he did.” Sam wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. If her father was so proud of her, why didn’t he let her know? Why did he make her choose between the life he had chosen for them and the one she wanted to live?
Sam’s confused musings were interrupted by Jerry talking to Dean again. “Oh hey, ya know, I tried to get a hold of him, but I couldn’t. How’s he doin’ anyway?”
“He’s umm…wrapped up in a job right now.”
“Well, we’re missin’ the old man, but we get Sam. Even trade, huh?”
There was obligatory laughter as Sam replied. “Nah, not by a long shot.”
Jerry had finally reached his office. “I’ve got somethin’ I want you two to hear.” He led them inside and closed the door.
Sam and Dean sat down as Jerry took out a CD and loaded it into his computer. “I listened to this and well, it sounded like it was up your alley. 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 disk started playing and it had a good bit of static.
“Mayday. Mayday. This is United Britannia Flight 2485 requesting immediate
instruction for help.”
“United Britannia Flight 2485, we copy your mayday.”
“We seem to be experiencing some kind of mechanical failure.”
The static completely covered the conversation and turned into a strange roaring sound before cutting off completely. Sam and Dean exchanged looks.
“Took off from here. Crashed about 200 miles south. 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…well, he’s pretty broken up about it. Like it was his fault.”
“You don’t think it was.” Sam commented.
“No, I don’t.”
“Jerry.” Sam began ticking things off. “We’re gonna need passenger manifests…, a list of survivors-“
“Right.” Dean interjected. “And, any way we can take a look at the wreckage?”
“The other stuff is no problem, but the wreckage…the NTSP has it locked down in an evidence warehouse. No way I’ve got that kind of clearance.”
Sam looked over at Dean. He slowly nodded his head. “No problem.”
Sam waited by the car for Dean to come out of the copy store. Finally, he emerged holding the door for an attractive blond to enter. She smiled her thanks, and he glanced at her butt as she passed.
“You’ve been in there forever.” Sam complained.
Dean reached into his pocket and produced two ID cards. “You can’t rush perfection.”
Sam took hers and looked at it. “Homeland Security? That’s pretty illegal. Even for us.”
Dean walked around to the driver’s side. “Well, ya know, it’s somethin’ new. People haven’t seen it a thousand times.”
They both got in the car and Dean smirked as he put away his fake ID. “All right…so what d’ya got?”
Sam opened the laptop. “Well, there’s definitely EVP on the cockpit voice recorder.”
“Yeah?”
“Listen.” She played the message she had processed.
An unnatural, macabre voice came through the speaker. “No survivors.”
“No survivors? What’s that supposed to mean? There were seven survivors.”
Sam shook her head. “Ya got me.”
“So what’re you thinkin’. A haunted flight?”
“There’s a long history of spirits and death omens on planes and ships, like phantom travelers. Or remember
Flight 401.”
“Right, the one that crashed and the airline salvaged some of its parts, put ‘em in other planes. Then the spirits of the pilot and co-pilot haunted those flights.”
“Right.”
“Yep.”
“Maybe we got a similar deal.” Sam suggested.
Dean pulled out a piece of paper. “All right. So, survivors…who d’ya wanna talk to first?”
Sam pointed. “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.”
Dean looked up. “What makes you say that?”
“Well, I spoke to his mother, and she told me where to find him…Riverfront Psychiatric Hospital.”
Max Jaffey was the young man from the aisle seat on Flight 2485. He had survived the crash, but was left with a limp and used a cane. He led Dean and Sam out into the park area of the facility, toward a group of unoccupied chairs. “I don’t understand. I already spoke with Homeland Security.”
Dean glanced at Sam. “Right. Some new information has come up, so if you could just answer a few questions.”
Sam stepped in. “Just before the plane went down, did you notice anything…unusual?”
“Like what?”
“Strange lights, weird noises maybe, voices…?” Dean asked.
“No. Nothing.” They had finally reached the chairs and Max eased himself into one.
Dean sat down across from him. “Mr. Jaffey, you checked yourself in here, right?” He nodded. “Can I ask why?”
“I was a little stressed. I survived a plane crash.” Max replied a bit sarcastically.
Dean wasn’t buying it. “Uh huh. And that’s what terrified you. I mean, that’s what you were afraid of?”
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
Dean was persistent. “See, I think you did see something up there. We need to know what.”
“No. No. I was…delusional. Seeing things.”
Dean turned to Sam. “He was seeing things.”
Sam gave Dean a look and turned her attention back to Max. “It’s okay. Just tell us what you thought you saw. Please.”
Max took a deep breath. “There was this…man. And he had these…eyes. These uh, black eyes. And I saw him, or I thought I saw him…” Max stopped.
“What?” Dean urged.
“He opened the emergency exit.” Max finally looked up at Dean. “But that’s impossible right. I mean, I looked it up. There’s something like two tons of pressure on that door.”
“This man, uh, did he seem to appear and disappear rapidly?” Sam asked. “It would look something like a mirage?”
Max laughed. “What are you? Nuts?” Sam looked confused, so he continued. “He was a passenger. He was sitting right in front of me.”
The Impala pulled up in front of what appeared to be a typical suburban home. Sam double checked the address. “So here we are. George Phelps. Seat 20 C.”
Dean turned off the engine. “I don’t care how strong you are…” he opened the door and got out. “Even yoked up on PCP or somethin’…no way you can open up an emergency door during a flight.”
Sam stood next to the Impala staring at the house. “Not if you’re human.” She turned around to face Dean who was propped up against the roof of the car. “But maybe this George guy was somethin’ else. Some kinda creature maybe, in human form?”
“Does that look like a creature’s lair to you?”
Sam didn’t answer as she joined her brother walking to the front door.
A woman in her early forties answered Dean’s knock. “Mrs. Phelps?”
“Yes.”
“Good afternoon. We’re from Homeland Security, and we were hoping you could answer a few questions for us regarding your husband and Flight 2485.” Dean and Sam both held up their fake IDs.
Mr. Phelps gave the IDs a once over and then invited them in. She led them to the living room where they took seats opposite her on the sofa.
Sam picked up a picture from the coffee table. “This is your late husband?”
“Yes. That was my George.”
“And he was a dentist, is that correct?” Dean asked.
Mrs. Phelps nodded. “He was heading to a convention in Denver. Did you know that he was petrified to fly?” Dean gave her a sympathetic look. “For him to go like that…” Emotion threatened to overcome her.
“How long were you married?” Sam asked gently.
She smiled. “Thirteen years.”
“In all that time…did you ever notice anything…strange about him? Anything out of the ordinary?”
Mrs. Phelps was caught off guard by the question. “Well…he had acid-reflux, if that’s what you mean.”
Dean smiled at Sam. “Well, thank you very much for you time Mrs. Phelps. And we’re very sorry for your loss.”
They all stood and she showed them out. As soon as the door was safely closed behind them, Sam turned to Dean. “I mean, it goes without saying…it doesn’t make any sense.”
“Yeah. A middle-aged dentist with an ulcer is not exactly evil personified. You know, what we need to do is get inside that NTSP warehouse and check out the wreckage.”
“Okay. But if we’re gonna go that route, we better look the part.”
“You’re probably right.” Dean conceded, getting into the car.
Sam smiled and hopped into the car, barely containing her obvious excitement.
Dean grimaced. “Calm down Sammi. This isn’t a shoppin’ spree. We’re getting’ what we need and getting’ out. That’s it.”
“Yeah, okay.” But Sam wasn’t going to let Dean ruin her excitement. She was going to get a new outfit, and despite how girly it sounded, that always raised her spirits
For your enjoyment, (or ridicule...whatever) my previous Girl!Sam fics can be found here.
Cheers!
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