The Other Winchester {ON HOLD}

Chapter Eighteen: Fear?

Me and Dean were past out in the motel. I lift my head up to see him asleep and snoring. I threw my head back down. I hear the door trying to be opened and reach under my pillow for my gun. The door opens and I shoot up and aim at the intruder. It was Sam. I drop back down on the bed and pull the cover over my head.

"Morning, sunshine." Sam said, then pulled the covers off me. He had coffee and pastries. "Might wanna put some clothes on Kat." He smirked. I looked down. I was wearing booty shorts and a bra. I groan and get up to find a shirt

"What time is it?" Dean asked sleepily.

"Uh, it's about five forty-five." Sam replied as he put the stuff down. I throw on one of Sam's Stanford shirts and grab a coffee.

"In the morning?" I groan.

"Yep." Sam smirked popping the P.

"Where does the day go?" Dean says as he gets up and sits with us at the table. He grabs a coffee and a pastry. "Did you get any sleep last night?"

"Yeah, I grabbed a couple hours."

"That's bull Sam. Cause I was up at three, and you were watching a George Foreman infomercial." I tell him and shove an apple turn over in my mouth.

"Hey, what can I say? It's riveting TV."

"When was the last time you got a good night's sleep?" Dean asks him looking at Sam with the "don't bull crap me look."

"I don't know, a little while, I guess. It's not a big deal."

"Yeah, it is." I protest, with food pouring out of my mouth.

"Look, I appreciate your concern—" Sam starts but Dean cuts him off.

"Oh, I'm not concerned about you. It's your job to keep my ass alive, so I need you sharp."

"I'm not good enough Dee?" I chuckle, trying to get some of the heat of Sam, but instead I get a glare.

"Seriously, are you still having nightmares about Jess?" Sam take a gulp of his coffee.

"Yeah. But it's not just her. It's everything. I just forgot, you know? This job. Man, it gets to you."

"You can't let it. You can't bring it home like that."

"Easier said than done Dee." I say before taking another bite of the pastry.

"So, what? All this it...never keeps you up at night?" Dean shakes his head. "Never? You're never afraid?"

"No, not really." Dean says then Sam looks at me.

"Nope, doesn't hit that hard." Sam then pulls out Dean's giant hunting knife and the gun I had that almost shot him this morning.

"That's why you guys have this and you almost shot me." Sam said. I take my gun and Dean takes his knife.

"That's not fear. That is precaution." I tell him before downing all my coffee. Dean's phone rang and he awnsered it.

"Hello?.......Oh, right, yeah. Up in Kittanning, Pennsylvania, the poltergeist thing. It's not back, is it?........What is it?" Dean hangs up. Me and Sam look at him waiting for him to tell us who it was.

"Jerry Panowski? Remember him?" Dean asks me. 

"Sounds familiar."

"Well he needs us to come in and help him out." I nod and we all start packing and head to Jerry.

---------------------------------

"Thanks for making the trip so quick. I ought to be doing you guys a favor, not the other way around. Dean, Kat and your dad really helped me out." Jerry told Sam as we walked down an airplane hanger.

"Yeah, he told me. It was a poltergeist?" Sam said a little too loud.

"Poltergeist? Man, I loved that movie." A stranger commented as we walked past.

"Hey, nobody's talking to you. Keep walking. Damn right it was a poltergeist, practically tore our house apart. Tell you something, if it wasn't for you and your dad, I probably wouldn't be alive. Your dad said you were off at college. Is that right?"

"Yeah, I was. I'm—taking some time off."

"Well, he was real proud of you. I could tell. He talked about you all the time." A confused look arose on Sam's face.

"He did?"

"Yeah, you bet he did. Oh, hey, you know I tried to get a hold of him, but I couldn't. How's he doing, anyway?"

"He's, um, wrapped up in a job right now." I tell him.

"Well, we're missing the old man, but we get Sam. Even trade, huh? And look at you Kat, you are all grown up. Not as much of a mess as before." He grinned. 

"Yeah..."My voice trailed off and thought of how the turn of events have been.

"I got something I want you guys to hear." Jerry said and led us into his office. Dean and Sam took the seats in front and I stood in between.

"I listened to this. And, well, it sounded like it was up your alley." He put the CD in a system. "Normally I wouldn't have access to this. It's the cockpit voice recorder for United Britannia flight 2485. It was one of ours." He hits play and we listen closely.

"Mayday! Mayday! Repeat! This is United Britania 2485—immediate instruction help! United Britanis 2485, I copy your message—May be experiencing some mechanical failure..." Then a big whoosh sound came.

"Took off from here, crashed about two hundred miles south. Now, they're saying mechanical failure. Cabin depressurized somehow. Nobody knows why. Over a hundred people on board. Only seven got out alive. 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. Like it was his fault."

"You don't think it was?" Sam asked.

"No, I don't."

"Jerry, we're gonna need passenger manifests, um, a list of survivors." I tell him. He nods.

"All right."

"And, uh, any way we can take a look at the wreckage?" Dean asked.

"The other stuff is no problem. But the wreckage...fellas, the NTSB has it locked down in an evidence warehouse. No way I've got that kind of clearance." Dean's face fell then turned into a smirk.

"No problem."