"A middle-aged dentist with an ulcer is not exactly evil personified. You know what we need to do is get inside that NTSB warehouse, check out the wreckage."
"Okay," Sam conceded, "But if we're gonna go that route, we'd better look the part."
"OOOOOOooooooooOOOOO! Dress up time!" Dean shouted, before blushing heavily, "I-I mean, uh..."
Sam chuckled next to him, curling up to try and hide his guffaws.
"Sh-shut up, Sammy!"
Black Sabbath's "Paranoid" begins to play.
Dean and Sam exit a suit rental store called "MORT'S for style", wearing crisp black suits with white shirts. Sam adjusts his collar.
"Dude, we looked so badass!" Dean said, "...And kinda like blues brothers..."
"Man, I look like one of the Blues Brothers."
"No, you don't. You look more like a...seventh-grader at his first dance."
"Wh-ah- N-no I don't, Sammy!" Dean said, blushing and stuttering, "I look fine!"
Finished with my woman 'Cause she couldn't help me with my mind
Dean looks down at himself, "I hate this thing."
People think I'm insane
"Hey. You want into that warehouse or not?"
Because I am frowning all the time
Dean starts the Impala, Sam already sitting shotgun.
The scene changes and the boys are entering a warehouse and show their badges to the security guard, who nods and lets them in. They walk among plane wreckage; Dean pulls out a device and puts earbuds in his ears.
"What is that?"
"Looks like an EMF reader, Sammy," Dean says, "Looks homemade too, sweet."
"It's an EMF meter. Reads electromagnetic frequencies."
"Yeah, I know what an EMF meter is, but why does that one look like a busted-up walkman?"
"'Cause that's what I made it out of. It's homemade," Dean grins.
"Called it!"
"We see that Dean," Sam says with a fond roll of his eyes. Dean smiles proudly, maybe he could impress Sam with some homemade EMF readers later, show him that he can be smart too.
"Yeah, I can see that," Dean's grin disappears. Dean runs the EMF meter over a piece of the wreckage with yellow dust on it and gets an audible spike.
Dean frowns a little at older-Sammy's teasing, judgy tone. But, he tries to shrug it off. Sammy, his Sammy, seemed proud, or at least slightly impressed by the EMF reader, so there.
"Check out the emergency door handle," Dean scratches at the yellow dust and gets some on his hand, "What is this stuff?"
"Looks like sulfur, boys," Bobby said, "Fine yellow powder, awful stench."
"One way to find out," Sam scrapes some of the yellow dust off into a bag. The screen now shows the front of the warehouse again, two agents in suits coming up to the security guard and show their badges. The guard looks confused.
"Homeland security?" he asked, "What, one team of you guys isn't enough?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Uh-oh."
"Two of your buddies went inside not five minutes ago," The agents look at each other. The agents, with several security guards, burst into the room Sam and Dean had previously been searching, guns drawn. Sam and Dean heard them coming and hid. When it's evident the agents and guards see nothing, the scene changes to Sam and Dean. The boys peer around a corner and walk out casually. An alarm blares, and they run to the gated exit. Pulling off his suit jacket, Dean throws it over the barbed wire at the top of the fence, and they climb over. He grabs the jacket afterward.
"Dude... we look so badass."
"Totally."
"Well, these monkey suits do come in handy," Dean runs off, Sam follows. The scene changes again, to the airport.
Chuck, the pilot, is sitting nervously in a chair. His copilot is giving him a pep talk.
"Listen, Chuck. It's like getting back on a horse. Only, in this case, a little twin engine. Not even a horse, more like a pony. I'll be right there with you too. Anytime you feel like you don't want the wheel, I'll take over. Look, Chuck, we don't have to do this today. I'm not trying to rush you."
"No, the...the waiting is worse," the copilot glances over his shoulder.
Dean seemed to stiffen back up again, nervously watching the screen and nodding along to Chuck's statement.
"Okay, they're filling up the tank. Then we go," the copilot gets up and leaves. Chuck takes a drink of coffee. Behind him, a cloud of black particles exits a vent and rushes into Chuck's eyes.
"Well, damn. Now it's got the pilot!"
"Well, these people are screwed."
"Yup."
The scene shifts to Jerry's office, with Jerry looking at the yellow stuff through a microscope; what the microscope sees is replicated on a screen.
"Huh. This stuff is covered in sulfur."
"You're sure?"
"Take a look for yourself," banging sounds can be heard from outside the office.
"You effin' piece of crap..." some guy mumbles. Jerry sighs.
"If you fellows will excuse me, I have an idiot to fire," as Jerry leaves, Dean goes over and looks into the microscope, "Hey. Einstein. Yeah, you. What the heck are you doing? Put the wrench down—" Jerry's voice can be heard.
"Welp..."
"I like 'im."
"Hmm. You know, there's not too many things that leave behind a sulfuric residue."
"Demonic possession?"
"Finally!"
"It would explain how a mortal man would have the strength to open up an emergency hatch."
"If the guy was possessed, it's possible."
"This goes way beyond floating over a bed or barfing pea soup. I mean it's one thing to possess a person, but to use them to take down an entire airplane?"
"...okay when he- you-you, yeah, when you put it like that it sounds weird. But it's what happened, dumbo."
"Dean, stop talking to yourself about yourself."
"...hmph. Fine."
"You ever heard of something like this before?"
"Never."
The scene changes back to the airport, on the tarmac. The copilot from before is waiting by a small plane, and Chuck can be seen coming out in a happy, relaxed and chipper mood.
"I'm ready. Let's do this," 'Chuck' said, the copilot seemed confused, but laughed and followed Chuck to the plane. scene changes again, and now the two are inside the plane, presumably flying.
"How you feeling?" the copilot asks.
"I feel great," was Chuck's response.
"You'll be back flying jumbos before you know it."
"I hope so. How long we been up?"
"He asked that last time too- the demon, I mean, not that guy," Sam pointed out. Bobby and Dean both nodded.
"Uh...almost forty minutes."
"...and that was the time said last time too," Dean pointed out.
"Yeah... maybe the demon has a thing for crashing forty minutes in.
"Wow. Time really does fly," Chuck says before he suddenly dives the plane towards the ground.
"Well... now the idjits just givin' me deja vu," Bobby mumbled, hoping to bring a smile to his boys' faces, especially since Dean tensed up and looked ready to bolt from the room. As the plane went down his eyes closed tightly.
"What are you doing?!" the copilot shouts. Chuck elbows the copilot in the face and the next we see him, his eyes are black. The scene changes one last time, to see a tractor, trundling by as the plane suddenly appears, crashing into a telephone pole and then the ground.
Dean shuddered but didn't open his eyes till Sam tapped his arm and he knew the scene had changed to at the very least a black screen.
The scene now on the screen shows Dean and Sam in 'full research mode' in their motel room. Images and articles are taped to the walls and strewn across the beds, and Sam is looking at something on the computer. Dean is reading something on one bed while sitting on the other.
"So, every religion in every world culture has the concept of demons and demonic possession, right? I mean Christian, Native American, Hindu, you name it."
"Yup. But I don't think any say something like a Demon who crashes planes forty minutes in," Sam mumbled, curling into Dean who still looked slightly panicked.
"Yeah, but none of them describe anything like this."
"Well, that's not exactly true. You see according to Japanese beliefs, certain demons are behind certain disasters, both natural and man-made. One causes earthquakes, another causes disease."
"And this one causes plane crashes?"
"That sounds stupid..." Dean mumbled, "Doesn't that sound stupid Sammy?"
"Sure does Dean," Sam mumbles back, eyes stll glued to the screen. Just by looking at the biy you can see the gears turning in his head, trying to figure out what will happen next.
Dean gets up, "All right, so, what? We have a demon that's evolved with the times and found a way to ratchet up the body count?"
"Yeah. You know, who knows how many planes it's brought down before this one?" Dean snorts, turning away, "What?"
"I don't know, man. This isn't our normal gig. I mean, demons, they don't want anything, just death, and destruction for its own sake. This is big. And I wish Dad was here."
"Yeah. Me too." right after Sam finishes saying this, Dean's phone rings and he quickly answers it.
"You think it's Dad?"
"It'd be a miracle if it was, and you know Dad ain't no miracle, Sammy."
"...yeah."
"Hello?" Dean says into the phone.
"Dean, it's Jerry."
"Oh, hey, it's Jerry!" Dean said with a roll of his eyes and a chuckle.
"Oh, hey, Jerry."
"My pilot friend...Chuck Lambert is dead."
"Wha—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."
Dean chuckled a bit, trying to hold it in during this very serious death related moment. He barely managed, but he shut up quickly when Sammy jabbed him in the ribs with his very sharp and boney elbow.
"I'm sorry?"
"Nothing. Jerry, hang in there, all right? We'll catch up with you soon," Dean says before he hangs up.
"Another crash?" Sam asked.
"Yeah. Let's go."
"Where?"
"Nazareth."
"Ooooo, so dramatic," Sam said, wiggling his fingers a bit.
"Shut up, Sammy."