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We approach the wreckage when Dean pulls out something. "What is that?"

"It's an E.M.F. meter. It reads electromagnetic frequencies," Dean answers.

"Yeah, I know what an E.M.F meter is, but why does that one look like a busted-up walkman," Sam rolls his eyes.

"'Cause that's what I made it out of. It's homemade," Dean says proudly.

"Yeah, we can see that," I nod. He glares at us, as we walk around the wreckage.

"Check out the emergency door handle," Dean says, scratching some white dust off of it. "What is this stuff?"

"One way to find out," Sam says, pulling out his pocket knife. He scratches some of it off into a plastic bag.

"We might need to get out of here soon. The actual Homeland Security people could be on their way," I say.

"Good call. Let's go."

We quickly rush out the door and I peak around a corner to make sure no one's nearby. We walk out from behind the corner when an alarm goes off. "Run, run, run," I say, running toward a fence. Dean tosses his jacket on to the top of the fence, jumping up and climbing over. Sam and I do the same. Sam reaches the ground before I do, and he holds out his hands. I jump into them, and he catches me, setting me on the ground with ease.

"These monkey suits do came in handy," Dean admits, grabbing his jacket.

~ ~ ~

"Huh. This stuff is covered in sulfur," Jerry says.

"You're sure?"

"Take a look for yourself. If you guys will excuse me, I have an idiot to fire." He leaves the room, and Dean walks around and looks into the microscope.

"Hmm. Not too many things leave behind a sulfuric residue," Dean says.

"Demonic possession," Sam questions.

"It would explain how a mortal man would have the strength to open up an emergency hatch," I admit.

"If the guy was possessed, it's possible."

"Yeah, but 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?"

"You ever heard of something like this before," Sam questions.

"Never."

*at the motel*

"So, every religion in every world culture has the concept of demons and demonic possession, right? Christian, Native American, Hindu-- you name it."

"Yeah, but none of them describe anything like this," I point out.

"Well, that's not exactly true. According to Japanese beliefs, certain demons are behind certain disasters, both natural and man-made. One causes earthquakes. Another causes disease," Sam explains.

"And this one causes plane crashes," Dean questions. Sam sighs, nodding.

"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," Sam sighs. Dean scoffs, scratching his head.

"What," I ask.

"I don't know. 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. I wish Dad was here," he admits.

"Yeah. Me too," Sam nods. Dean's phone goes off, and he answers it.

"Hello? Oh, hey, Jerry." Suddenly, Dean's eyes widen. "Wha-- Jerry, I'm sorry. What happened?" I stand up from my seat next to Sam. "Where'd this happen? I'll try to ignore the irony in that. Nothing. Hang in there, all right? We'll catch up with you soon." Dean hangs up the phone.

"Another crash," Sam asks.

"Yeah. Let's go."

"Where," I say.

"Nazareth."

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