You had been half asleep in your motel bed, the bright 7AM light peeking through the shades just enough to wake you from your slumber. Though, your tranquil wakening was rudely interrupted by the ringer of Dean’s phone. The man mumbled softly, raising himself up from laying on his stomach to answer gruffly. “Hello?” “Dean, it's uh.. Jerry Panowski. You and your dad helped me out a couple of years back.” Dean nodded even if the man on the phone– Jerry could not see him. “Yeah, right. Up in Kittanning, Pennsylvania, the poltergeist thing. It's not back, is it?” “No. Thank god no. But it’s something else, and…uh… I think it could be a lot worse.” “What is it?” “Can we talk in person?” “Yes.” Dean finished the call, a glance to you as you look back. Stretching his arms over his head with a soft groan. “Wake up, sunshine. Today's a new day.” A sarcastic comment and a nudge to his brother Sam. Who replied with a groan, shoving his face back into a pillow.

Early afternoon around 1 pm. You arrive at the office, where Jerry wants to meet up. Jerry greeted you all, bringing you out of the hallway and into his office. Where he grabbed a CD, holding it up with one hand. “I wanted you three to hear this. It sounded like something up your alley.” He placed the CD into the player where you could hear the pilot panicking, saying a mechanical failure alongside some odd sounding noise. It's almost static sounding. “Took off from here, crashed about two hundred 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. It was like it was his fault.” “I see. Anyway, we can look at the survivor list and the wreckage?” “Yeah, the list of survivors I can do, but the wreckage? There's no way in hell I have that kinda clearance.” “Alright.. No problem.” Dean responded casually. You three gave a goodbye to Jerry. Your fingers twiddled with the fake ID Dean gave you after walking out of a copyjack. “Homeland security? This is pretty illegal, even for us.” “Ah but it's something new! It's not something people have seen a hundred thousand times.” Dean said cockily, hopping into his beloved impala. After an hour or so, you arrive at the place where the planecrash scene is being preserved. Surprisingly, they get through security. On the plane crash, there was this odd yellow powder. None of you had any idea what it was. “One way to find out..” Sam mumbled, scooping some into a bag. Though alarms went blaring, the actual Homeland Security was here. Running out of the building, wind whipping against you as you three hop into Baby, making an escape. You find out it's a demon possessing someone and when the next doomed flight is.

So now you’re up thirty-five thousand feet high in a plane doomed to crash, sitting in between Dean and Sam. You raise an eyebrow at how tightly Dean was gripping the arm rest. “Careful Dean, grip it any tighter, and you might just rip the fabric.” Dean didn’t pay any mind to you, eyes closed tightly, humming to himself. “You’re humming Metallica?” Sam said, amusement laced in his tone. “Calms me down.” Dean said, still no eye contact. “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.” Sam countered calmly. Pulling out the lore book to recite the Latin exorcism. Amanda walked past you, heading to the back area to clean plates. “I’ll go see if she's the one possessed.” Sam spoke again. “Remember, Christo.”