One More Time

28.

*at Riverfront Psychiatric Hospital*

"I don't understand. I already spoke with Homeland Security," Max says.

"Right. Some new information has come up. So if you could just answer a couple of questions...," Dean lies.

"Just before the plane went down, did you notice anything unusual," Sam asks.

"Like what?"

"Strange lights, weird noises, maybe... voices," I suggest.

"No, nothing," he replies, as we take a seat.

"Hmm. Mr. Jaffey, you checked yourself in here, right," I say. He nods. "Can I ask why?"

"I was a little stressed. I survived a plane crash," he points out.

"Right, and that's what terrified you? That's what you were afraid of," Dean says.

"I-I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"See, I think maybe you did see something up there. We need to know what," he sighs.

"No. No, I was delusional-- seeing things."

"He was seeing things," Dean repeats, looking at me and Sam.

"It's okay. Then just tell us what you thought you saw, please," I sigh.

"There was... this... man. And, uh, he had these eyes... these, uh... black eyes. And I saw him-- I thought I saw him..."

"What," I say.

"He opened the emergency exit but that's impossible, right? I mean, I looked it up. There's something like two tons of pressure on that door," he says.

"This man-- Did he seem to appear and disappear rapidly. It would like something like a mirage," Sam says.

"What are you, nuts?"

"He was a passenger. He was sitting right in front of me."

~ ~ ~

"Here we are-- George Phelps, seat 20c," Sam says.

"You know, I don't care how strong you are. Even messed up on PCP or something, there's no way you can open an emergency door during a flight," I say.

"Not if you're human," Sam points out. "But maybe this guy George was something else-- Some kind of creature, maybe, in some human form."

"Does that look like a creature's lair to you," Dean says, pointing at the nice suburban home behind us.

Once we're inside and settled in, Sam picks up the picture, speaking. "This is your late husband?"

"Yes, that was my George."

"And you said he was a... dentist?"

"Mm-hmm. He was heading to a convention in Denver. Did you know that he was petrified to fly? For him to go like that..."

"How long were you married," I ask.

"13 years."

"In all that time, did you ever notice anything... strange about him, anything out of the ordinary," Sam questions.

"Well... uh, he had acid reflux, if that's what you mean."

After we've left, I sigh. "I mean, it goes without saying. It just doesn't make any sense."

"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," Dean says.

"Okay. If we're gonna go that route, we'd better look the part," Sam nods.

~ ~ ~

We leave the store, and Dean speaks. "Man, I look like one of the blues brothers."

"No, you don't. You look more like a seventh-grader at this first dance," Sam corrects.

"I hate this thing."

"Why? I think you two look adorable," I coo. "Anyway, do you want into that warehouse or not?"

"Yeah, yeah," Dean rolls his eyes.

"You know, I don't think you've ever looked so nice," Sam says making me glare at him.

"Ha ha."