Dean's heart was pounding and everything around him seemed to be spinning. He felt like he was going to be sick. The closer that he got to the plan, the more Dean felt like throwing up what little food he had in his stomach. He just hoped that he'd be able to keep his lunch down at least until the plane had landed again. Dean's clothes already weren't in the best condition and puking all over himself wouldn't make things any better.
His airline ticket had been clutched so tightly in his hands that he had actually bent it a little bit. When he handed the attendant at the terminal his ticket, she had given him a funny look and asked if he was alright. He couldn't exactly remember what his response had been, but apparently it had been convincing enough for her not to ask any further questions.
Everything around him seemed to be passing by in a blur. Part of him hoped that someone would see just how freaked he was and refuse to let him board the plane. Maybe someone would think he was ill and prevent him from flying for the safety of the other passengers. To be honest, Dean was pretty sure that he really was getting sick. As he walked through the passageway to board the plane, Dean got a shifting feeling of unease. Some gut instinct was telling him that this was all wrong. There was something not right about this and Dean knew it. He and almost turned around and tried to make a break for it, but the person behind him cleared his throat and told him to keep walking. Dean hadn't even realized he stopped moving.
Dean's feet felt like led the moment he stepped into the plane. He showed his ticket to the flight attendant and vaguely heard her explain where his seat was. Dean moved like a zombie down the eye, his eyes looking at everyone but not really seeing anything. Around him, people were bustling and shifting, moving to their seats or putting things up in the overhead compartments. Dean knew he should do a preliminary scan of the people on this flight, but he just couldn't get himself to focus. His mask of bravery had been forgotten at the terminal entrance and Dean felt like he was four years old again, lost, alone, and petrified by fear. His heart leapt with anxiety as he felt rather than heard the strange popping of the metal floors underneath his feet. Part of him wondered if it was actually moving or if it was only his imagination. Dean decided that knowing the answer wouldn't make him feel any better.
As Dean got closer to the back of the plane, he checked his ticket again to figure out which seat was his. It only took him a couple seconds to spot the chair that was his. He tried not to focus on the fact the he had gotten stuck with a window seat. He had specifically asked not to be given a window seat yet that was exactly what they had stuck him with. The last thing Dean wanted was to be able to actually look out the window and see just how far up they were. He would be closing the shades on the window for sure.
"Fucking airlines," Dean grumbled under his breath, as the color drained from his face ever so slightly. The women he was passing by must have heard him because she shot him a dirty look.
The moment Dean's ass hit the uncomfortable blue seat he clipped the buckle. He rapidly reached over and pulled down the plastic shade on his window. Once the shade was in place, Dean braced his head back against the headrest, held tight to the armrest and closed his eyes. He mentally willed the flight to just be over already so he could be back on solid ground.
"Are you alright?" a soft feminine voice asked beside him.
Dean jumped slightly at the sound and opened his eyes to see who was speaking. While he had been silently freaking out, a woman had joined him and was sitting on his right. Dean had been so enveloped in his own thoughts that he hadn't even noticed her arrival.
He instantly began to analyze the women and assess if she was going to be any kind of threat to him. She was an older woman with soft mousey blonde hair and eyes the color of Sam's. Her face was etched with nothing but concern as he looked at him. Dean noticed that one of her hands was halfway extended towards him in what he assumed was supposed to be a comforting gesture.
"Does it really show that much?" Dean asked, trying his best to speak in a joking manor. Jokes were Dean ultimate defense against weakness. If he could get someone to laugh or even crack a smile they would usually forget about their question.
"Just a little," the worry didn't leave her face, but she still smile softly over at Dean. "Is this your first time?"
Dean shook his head. "No, I had to go on once when I was like ten." He tried not to shudder as he thought back to that dreadful experience. "I hated it," Dean added grimly.
It had been another occasion when they had been in a hurry to get somewhere. John had insisted that flying was the only was the only was they'd get the job done before more people got hurt. He remembered almost hyperventilating as the plane took off. The entire frame had shifted and warped under the intense speed and pressure at which they had been moving. Once they made it into the air, things hadn't gotten any better. The turbulence was terrible, rattling the entire plane and making it feel like they were flying through an earthquake. Dean had been stuck by the window on that flight too. He remembered making the mistake of looking out the window that time and immediately rushing off to the nasty airplane bathroom to throw up the contents of his stomach.
When he had returned Sam had taken Dean's seat by the window. His father was just glaring at Dean, and Dean had hung his head in shame. Everyone around them was looking at them funny, watching Dean with a wary eye. When Dean had taken the middle seat, beside Sam, his father had thoroughly scolded him and told to 'calm the hell down and get his shit in order. It was just a damn plane ride'.
After that, Dean had spent the rest of the flight, pale faced, sitting stiffly in his seat as he placed a strangle hold grip onto the armrests. He never relaxed fully, but at one point, Sam and taken his small hand and placed it carefully on top of Dean's. It had provided Dean was a small ounce of comfort and he was able to get through the rest of the flight without incident, Sam's little hand rubbing smooth lines over his skin.
This time things felt much worse. This time, he didn't have his little brother to help keep his head on his shoulders. He was on the edge of a panic attack and they hadn't even taken off yet.
"Don't worry dear," the woman said, soothingly. Gingerly, she placed one of her soft, hand over his in a comforting gesture. Dean looked down at her hand without a word, wishing for all he was worth that this was Sam's hand on his instead of hers. He still appreciated her attempt at soothing him though.
The woman paused, her hazel eyes scanning Dean's face briefly before jumping to the window behind him. Dean was a little surprised when a moment later she asks, "Would you like to switch seats with me so you're not by the window?"
Dean's eyebrows jump up as he hesitantly breathes, "You'd be willing to switch?"
"Of course love," she smiled warmly at him and shifted her legs so Dean could get up and slide past her.
When Dean was sitting down again he felt marginally better. As he buckled the seatbelt, Dean let out of soft sigh of relief. He hadn't realized until then just how uncomfortable the window seat had made him.
"Thank you," Dean said gratefully as he tried to give her a soft, appreciative smile.
"No problem honey," she answers. "I'm Amber by the way."
"Dean," Dean said, holding out his hand as he introduced himself.
"So you're flying alone Dean?" Amber asked curiously.
"Yeah, I'm going to meet up with my brother, dad and uncle," he told her truthfully.
"Ah, and how old are you sweetheart?" It was clear that Amber was trying to keep Dean's mind off the impending flight, so he kept letting her ask him questions. Normally, he wouldn't be so willing to talk about himself to someone that he just met. Dean didn't think Amber was any kind of threat to him so he didn't mind speaking with her. She was nice and Dean needed a distraction. Her questions were the perfect distraction.
"I'm fifteen," Dean told her, a slight blush rising on his cheeks.
Her eyes widened slightly as she gasped, "But you're so young... Do you parent leave you alone like this often?"
"I mean, my dad travels a lot for work but he doesn't usually just leave me like this. This was something that couldn't be avoided though. Normally when he leaves, Sammy is with me so I don't mind." Dean tried his best to explain without getting into too much detail. There were still somethings that he couldn't tell to anyone, they wouldn't understand.
"Sammy, is that your sibling?" Amber asked curiously.
"Sam," Dean said, hopefully emphasizing that only he was the only one allowed to call him Sammy. "He's my eleven year old dweeb brother. He's a damn genius, way smarter than I am. Annoying as hell too, but I love him to death."
"He sounds wonderful," Amber whispered happily. "Are you boys close?"
Dean nodded smiling as he thought about Sam, "He's my best friend and I'd do anything for that kid."
"You sound like a great big brother. Sam is lucky to have you."
"Yeah, well I don't always feel like a great big brother." Dean huffs, letting some of his insecurities bubble to the surface. He glanced at Amber briefly before continuing, "He's does stupid stuff, stupid dangerous stuff that I should stop, but I can't.... He's just so young and I don't want anything bad to happen to him."
Dean though about the cases that he and Sam had help their father with over the years. There were so many instances where they could have died, both of them. With all the creatures that they had fought, Dean was sometimes surprised that his family survived. Any one of the monsters could have killed his brother, and Dean wasn't doing anything to stop it. Sam was too young to hunt and Dean knew it. He didn't need to see those kinda things now, or ever. Dean wanted to get Sam out of the life before he really did get killed.
Sam had only started hunting a few years ago. He helped work his first case at age nine, which was far too young in Dean's opinion. The only reason Sam hadn't started earlier was because Dean had been adamant about keeping his brother in the dark. He begged his father to let Sam be a kid for a little bit longer. That plea had only worked for so long though.
Dean remembered his own first hunt. He had been seven at the time. That day had changed him forever. They had been hunting a vengeful spirit, but it was a nasty one. The screams of the spirit as it burned reminded Dean far too much of his own mothers death. It had been hard on him, watching fire engulf the spirit as it died. Much like the day his mother was killed, the images of his first hunt had been imprinted into his mind.
That day Dean decided that day that he hated hunting. He hated it with a passion and wished he never had to go on another hunt. Dean never admitted this to his father though. John wouldn't stand for that. Hunting was the family business and they saved a lot of lives doing it. His father would never let him quit the life, not until his mother's killer was dead. Dean didn't resent John for this, he just wished him and Sam could have lived a normal childhood. If he really wanted someone to blame, it was yellow eyes.
Dean knew that no matter how much he hated hunting he had to keep on fighting for his dad and Sammy. They needed him to stay strong, so Dean kept on hunting day after day, week after week, month after month, year after year. Part of him believed that he would find himself hunting until the day he died. Dean had to be there for his family. If that mean he had to hunt his whole life, than God help him he would just to keep his family alive and well.
Dean remembered the first hunt that Sam went on. His little brother had seemed almost unfazed by the whole deal, though he never concealed his dislike for hunting. Sam complained about being on the road all the time, about jumping from school to school, about each hunt that he had to go on. Sam hated hunting and he made sure everyone knew it. Dean wished that he had been able to keep Sam away from hunting all together. His brother was too young for this and far too impressionable, not to mention all the question he constantly asked. One of the hardest parts of it all was the torrent of questions that Sam would fire off at him. Most of the questions would be things like, 'Why don't we have a mom Dean?', 'Dean, why do we have to move around so much?', 'When is dad going to be back this time?', 'Dean, do I have to go on another hunt?', 'Why does dad make us go hunting with him Dean?'
With each question Dean had grown more and more tired. As Sam got older the questions grew less frequent, but the number of hunts they had to go on increased. Sam had soon realized that the less questions he asked the better things would be. Sometimes not knowing was better.
Dean felt a pang in his chest as he though back to the first time his brother had gotten hurt on a hunt.
That had been hard for Dean to see. It was a hunt gone wrong, Sam had freaked out during the case and the costs had been devastating. They had been hunting a spirit, and he was supposed to salt and burn the body. However, when the spirt appeared front of him, Sam froze and he had been thrown back twenty feet. Dean remembered the world going red and he functioned on instinct alone. He had lit a match and torched the spirt before dashing over to his brother to check on him.
At first, Dean was sure that Sam was dead. He had been so still and pale, but when he checked his brother's pulse he was relieved to find its dull thrum.
Once he had been taken to the hospital, Sam had been out for three days. Dean remembered sitting beside him in the hospital room, Sam completely unresponsive, leaving Dean's mind a muddled mess of pain and emotions. Dean didn't pray often, but during those three days, he prayed more than ever before. He prayed that his brother would heal quickly, that Sam could get out of the life, that he could actually be normal one day. Dean just wanted his brother to be okay. He knew that he wouldn't be able to go own without his little brother by his side.
Once Dean knew his brother was going to be alright, he snapped and channeled all his anger towards his father. For the first time in his life, Dean yelled at his father, really yelled at him. He screamed at John, blaming him for putting Sam in this kind of situation, asking him how he could care so little about their lives. He hadn't been able to hold back his anger that time so he let his father have it. His father had sat in silence, letting him vent for a solid thirty minutes.
When Dean had calmed down, John had told him that he'd 'Never forgive himself for letting Sam get hurt' and how he was 'Trying his best, but he couldn't be a perfect father'. Dean refused to talk to his father for three days after that, refusing to leave Sam's side until he finally woke up.
Sam meant everything to Dean. He was the one who was always there through each move and each state they passed through. Yeah they fought a lot, but they were siblings and that's what they were supposed to do. They weren't always supposed to get along; they just had to be there for one another when it really mattered. He never wanted to see his brother back in the hospital or worse, a morgue, just because of a hunt gone wrong.
That was why Dean needed to get to Tennessee fast. He loved his dad, but he didn't always trust him to keep Sam out of trouble. Hell, John couldn't keep himself out of trouble half the time, that's why he had Dean. Dean was the glue to their messed up little family.
Dean was the peace when Sam and John butted head. He was the voice of reason when all logic seemed to fly out the window. His family needed him, but the painful truth was... Dean needed them more. They were the only reason that he wanted to go on. Without them Dean would have nothing. They were his reason for hope and happiness. When he thought of home, he imagined himself with them. Sometimes a home wasn't just a house; sometimes it was the people that you're with that can make somewhere a home. Dean needed his home. His family was his sanity and his stability.
Dean sighed deeply and looked over at Amber as she said, "I'm sure you're a wonderful brother."
"I sure hope so..." Dean murmured back, though he wasn't sure she heard him.
Before any more questions could be asked, Dean felt the plane began to vibrate as the engine was revved up.
He heard the overhead speakers come on as the voice of the one of the pilots said, "Good afternoon flyers, this is you're pilot speaking. We will soon be leaving the runway, so I ask that everyone please stay in your seat and buckle up so we can have a safe and happy flight."
The speakers crackled loudly as the pilot got off the com and let the air fill with the soft chatter of people. Dean pressed himself further back into his the seat as the plane began to roll forward.
Before Dean knew it he felt them turning onto the runway as they started to pick up speed.
His heart felt like it was in his throat, knowing what was coming next. Take off.
Dean hated taking off. He hated the way his ears popped as they went up. He hated the way his stomach dropped the moment he felt the tires lifting off the runway. He hated knowing that maybe, just maybe the plane would never make it fully off the runway and end up exploding into a giant ball of fire. Dean would have rather run all the way to Tennessee if it meant he didn't have to fly. Dean just wanted off this damn plane.
With his eyes squeezed shut, he felt someone place a hand over his. Dean jumped violently and eyes snapping over to Amber. He had pretty much forgotten that she was even there.
Their eyes met momentarily before Dean flipped his hand over and scrambled to clutch at her fingers. Her fingers laced easily with his and held him securely, to try and tell him that everything would be alright. When he felt that sinking pit in his stomach begin, Dean started squeezing Amber's hand for all he was worth. He held onto her hand so tightly that he was worried that her bones would crack in his palm.
When the plane finally leveled out Dean loosened his grip on Amber's hand and pulled it back quickly. Dean was still ashamed of the fact that he was fucking afraid of flying after all the things he's hunted and all the horrors he's seen. Who would have guessed, him Dean Winchester, scared of something so... so normal.
"Wow, you have quite a grip there," Amber chuckled softly as she flexed and rubbed at her red hand.
"Sorry..." Dean murmured apologetically.
"It's alright, don't worry about it. Just try to relax alright. Try to take a nap or something. It makes the time pass by quicker," she told him kindly.
Dean snorted, yeah right; his chances on sleeping on the plane were slim to none. There was no way he'd be able to sleep on this rattling metal deathtrap.
He chewed on his lip uncomfortably and braced himself for the ride ahead of him.
Much to Dean's surprise, the first half an hour of the flight relatively smoothly. He had expected the trip to be far worse than it was. Yes, they had hit some turbulence, but overall, everything seemed to be running smoothly. Plus, there weren't any screaming children on board, so at least he wouldn't be deaf when he landed in Tennessee.
Eventually, a flight attendant passed by and asked Dean if he needed anything. Before she had finished talking, Dean brushed her off and said that he was fine. Judging by the smile she had given him initially, Dean was sure that she wanted to get into his pants. Dean really didn't care though. She had a pretty face and a nice body, but he really wasn't too focused on any of that. He was too stressed to eat, to tense to sleep, and had absolutely no desire to join the Mile High Club. He preferred his sex when he was on squishy bed, not a million miles up in the sky. No thank you not interested. Dean was not in the mood.
When the flight attended walked away she looked slightly disappointed, but Dean couldn't bring himself to care. This was no place for kindness and formalities, Dean just wanted off the damn plane.
About half an hour later, the storm that had been rolling towards California finally caught up to them. Dean had known the storm was going to be rough as soon as they hit the first patch of turbulence.
Outside the aircraft, thunder growled loudly and lightning split through the sky. Most of on board seemed completely unfazed by the fact that there was now a storm twisting and churning around them. How could they not be worried about this? What if the wind got too strong or a tornado started up and pulled them down! Dean didn't really know if California got tornados, but with his luck it would be like one of those freak storms that happened once every half a million years. Sam would know for sure if California had tornados. He'd have to ask his brother after they landed.
As the storm's intensity picked up, the overhead lights flashed on, telling everyone stay in their seats and to buckle their seatbelts.
Of course his belt was still clicked securely into place and he had barely shifted more than an inch since the plane took off. Dean couldn't help but be thankful for the fact that he no longer had the window seat. It made his experience just a little bit better, but Amber had opened the window back up earlier and then fell asleep before shutting the shade again.
So far, Dean had managed not to look out that window, or any other window for that matter, the entire flight. It didn't stop him from seeing the blinding flashes of lightning all around the aircraft, nor did it stop the thunder from screaming at them for invading in its domain and it certainly didn't stop the plane from swinging to and fro from wind and turbulence.
Soon, the rocking of the plane became so violent that not even the flight attendances were walking around anymore. The people around him were finally starting to look a little bit unsettled.
'Of all the damn flights I had to get on, I had to pick the fucking bumpiest fucking one,' Dean thought angrily to himself.
John was really gonna owe him for this one. His dad was lucky that Dean was on this flight at all. He certainly wished he was anywhere but here. This was a nightmare.
Thunder crashed around them again, booming deafeningly and making him jump in surprise. That had been the loudest rumble yet. It was followed by a blinding flash of lightning that left him blinking flashing spots away for far longer than he desired.
Suddenly, Amber, who had somehow been asleep through most of this, jolted upright. Her eyes were wide and shocked, as horror filled her face. Hazel eyes connected with Dean's and he couldn't help noticed that there was something strange about the way she was watching him. Her mouth was parted in a slightly 'O' shape and her face was white as a sheet. If Dean hadn't been so terrified, he would have said that her expression was almost comical.
He was about to ask what was wrong when the plane belched out a loud ear splitting scream. The next thing Dean knew, the cabin was launched into darkness. It took less than a second for the emergency lights to come on. The lights cast an eerie shadow across the whole cabin. Air bags began dropping from the roof as people began to scream. Dean clutched wildly for his air mask and hurriedly strapped it to his face.
Seconds later, the Captain's voice came over the com and instructed everyone to remain calm and put their face masks on. He reminded everyone to keep their belts buckled and to make sure that they helped their children with their own air masks.
Amber's, hand was on Dean's again. Her nails scrabbled at the back of his before she clutched his wrist tightly. Dean's breath was shallow and broken as he let go of the seat arm and flipped his hand for her to hold. This time, her grip was just as tight as Dean's had been. He wasn't sure of the quivering he felt was caused by how own panic or by the rattling of the plane itself.
Dean was sure that his heart was going to beat right out of his chest as he felt his stomach drop. He was literally living his worst nightmare.
Dean knew they were falling he just knew it. He could tell by the nauseating, sinking in his stomach and by the painful popping in his ears as the altitude dropped faster than his body could adjust.
Dean was hyperventilating and knew he was probably going to go into shock or even pass out if he didn't get his breathing under control (that is, if he didn't fucking die first). Maybe he really should have tried to join the mile high club when the flight attendant had walked by. At least he would have been able to go out with an amazing blow job or something.
All thoughts of the flight attended were forced from Dean's mind when he glanced to the side. He realized how big of a mistake he had made when he noticed that the entire wing on his side was missing. Where the wing was supposed to be was only jagged metal and thick cables whipping in the air. There were sparks shooting from the broken wing and Dean knew he was about to die.
He forced his gaze away from the window and squeezed his eyes shut. Dean thought of Sammy's bright cheery face and silently thanked God that Sam wasn't stuck on this plane with him.
Dean was sure that he had only seconds left before they made contact with the ground. So with what Dean knew were probably his final seconds of life, he remembered all the good times he had with his family.
Dean remembered helping his little brother learn to walk, and showing him how to ride that old rusted bike they found in Bobby's junk yard. It had taken ages for him to find a new chain and get it into usable condition, but it had been so worth it to see Sam's toothy smile.
Dean remembered the first time his father had taken him out into an empty field and shown him how to shoot a gun. Dean had been a natural; he nailed every can on the very first try. John had been so damned proud of him. He remembered the first time his dad let him drive the Impala. Being the one behind that leather bound steering wheel had been thrilling, scary and fun all at once. Best of all, he didn't even crash.
Dean remembered the days when Bobby would take him and Sam to the park so they could throw a baseball around on cool summer days. Bobby always let them have a little fun when John was out. He had made sure that him and Sam had fun every now and then and didn't overwork themselves.
Dean thought of the Christmas and Thanksgiving dinners at Bobby's place. They didn't go there every year for the holidays, but when they did, it was always amazing. Bobby made the best food and they all stuffed themselves until they felt like they were going to puke as they laughed and joked. They'd then spend the rest of the evening exchanging hunting stories with one another until he and Sam fell asleep on the couch.
Finally, Dean thought of his mother, how she had been before she died. Dean remembered her singing 'Hey Jude' to him at night when he couldn't sleep. He remembered the chicken soup she made him when he didn't feel well and how nice the house would smell when she made apple pies. Sometimes his mother had even let him have some of the pie before dinner. Dean thought of the bedtime stories she'd read to him and Sam right before bed.
Dean remembered when they were a happy, whole family. It had been only a short period of time, but Dean missed it all the same. He truly wished that things could be like that once again. Dean wanted to remember his family like this, happy and smiling. Maybe, just maybe, his brother would be able to get out of the life and have a family of his own, give his own kids the life they never had. Dean hoped all the best things in life for his little brother and was sad that he wasn't going to be there with him anymore.
'I'm sorry Sammy'
Those were Dean's last thought before his entire body went from free falling to dead stop. He felt pain rip across his senses followed by a loud, broken scream being drawn from his own throat.
All at once, his scream was cut short and the pain dissolved into red fire, followed by blissful silence and darkness.