Hey Guys! Guess who's back?! I know. You're probably thinking what the hell, right?

Now before you get all excited, unfortunately, this is my goodbye. I no longer have the time to keep writing this story, this chapter has been sitting on my laptop for the last four years with no progress, whatsoever. But thanks to the lovely reviews I receive from time to time (which yes, I do read on my email ;)), I understand that some of you want more, and thanks to that last lovely guest comment, I decided that I will upload what I did write as my parting gift to you! Note: This is not a finished chapter, therefore, it finishes off suddenly, if you don't want to be left hanging, please don't continue reading.

Thank you to all the amazing people who left comments, they really made my days when I read them and who knows? Maybe I'll finish this story one day. As for now, I hope you enjoy this.

Disclaimer: I only own what I originally came up with.

To all you reviewers, just know that I am beyond grateful for your amazing comments, this one is for all of you that took a time to leave me a nice comment!

Lexi POV:

"Lexi," he tapped his fingers against my waist. All I could see was blackness, though, so it was strange hearing his honeysuckle voice. "Follow my voice, Lex."

By now, I was used to my strange dreams, but it was weird being this conscious in a dream, usually, they were hazy, a flow of images being shown to me on a blank wall. But here, I could feel his arm encircle my waist, his arms were firm, an indication that he worked out heavily; I could feel his chest up against my back. My hands were fisted and I slowly relaxed them.

"Open your eyes, Lexine," he whispered against my ear and I shivered, involuntarily.

I opened my eyes and I saw the same clearing I saw last time, although this time, it was nightfall. The moon and stars were bright in the midnight sky. The same roses were around me from last time that I saw this clearing. And it was still just as beautiful.

"Lucas," I whispered in the darkness. I could feel him shift more to accommodate my body between his legs as were sitting down on the ground with my back against him. I became aware of his other hand gently stroking my arm up and down. I could feel goosebumps start to rise and I cursed my body for being so responsive to him.

"Lexi, it's not safe for you to keep appearing like this," he waved with his hand in my general direction and I suddenly grew frustrated.

"You keep saying that but I don't understand anything, Lucas," I turned and looked at him for the first time that night. He still looked as beautiful as ever and I could still feel his lips from the last time he tried to kiss me to wake me up.

"Do you know where we are?" he asked.

I shook my head no, silently.

He looked at me then looked over my head at something in the distance, I looked behind me to see what caught his attention but I only saw the same stretch of roses and a small lake in the distance. I didn't understand why he looked worried, all of a sudden.

"Lexine," my full name rolled off his tongue like velvet and I suddenly started thinking about what else he can do with that tongue when I stopped myself, vehemently. What is it with him and my hormones? I needed to get laid more often. "You are not safe here, darling. You have a vibrant energy and they're going to feel you."

Now I was more confused than before. "Could you stop with the riddles and wake up calls? What's happening to me, Lucas? I need answers!" I demanded.

"I promise I'll explain everything. I'll find you when you wake up but you need to promise me to stop coming here. At least, for now. Everyone's been on high-alert recently and your pure energy is now all over this map. They'll track you down and…" he trailed off, his arm tightening my waist.

For some unknown reason, I could trust Lucas. Everything about him seemed familiar, like we were somehow connected on such an instinctual level that I felt comfortable to not question anything he was telling me.

"Can you feel it, Lex?" I stared into his ocean eyes, drowning in the sudden silence that fell over us, "We are made of the same energy, Lexi. This is why we're connected so deeply and how every time you travel, you somehow find me."

"Travel? Travel where?"

He grabbed my hand and pressed a kiss against my palm. Suddenly, I could feel burning tingling in my hand and I could feel my face burning, too, at the sweet gesture and my dirty thoughts.

"C'mon, Lex, wake up."

I gasped, suddenly not wanting to let go of this sweet, sweet dream.

"Lucas, no. Explain to me what's going on!"

"All in due time, my sweet Lexine. But for now, you need to leave, the more time we spend together, the more we burn brighter," he threw me a cheeky grin before continuing, "when our energies connect here, we create a beacon of warmth," to prove his point, the hand that was around my waist pulled me closer to him and I was hit with the scent of warm honey, French vanilla, and a deep spicy musk that was simply mouthwatering. I watched him, already half-drunk on his smell and touch, as he leaned in closer to me.

"You drive me craxy, Lexi," he whispered against my ear before his lips trailed down and gently pressed a kiss on my neck. "Wake up."

I opened my eyes at the sound of something. I wasn't really focusing since all I wanted to do was go back to sleep. My eyes drifted over to the windows of the motel room we were in, the sun was high and it was streaming in, I squinted against the sunlight and guessed that it was probably very early in the morning.

I had a strange warm feeling, like I was supposed to remember something but couldn't, a foggy memory that escaped every time I got close to putting my finger on it.

I heard a noise again, it sounded like a lock unlocking. After my eyes adjusted to the light, I looked at Dean sleeping in the other bed next to the one I was lying in. The blanket was wrapped around his legs, wrinkled from him kicking at it all night. He was wearing a shirt and his boxers.

Dean, as usual was sleeping on the bed closest to the door. Maybe he wasn't conscious of it, but I knew Dean lived to protect me and Sam.

I heard the noise again and I automatically reached for the gun under the mattress of my bed. I saw Dean shift too and he opened his eyes faintly. I didn't think Dean noticed that I was awake but I saw his hand slide ever-so-slightly under the pillow and take hold of the knife he kept under there. The door kept making sounds as someone was trying to unlock it and we waited in silence. The door opened with a creak and then it was slammed shut. Both Dean and I jumped, turning around to see …Sam coming into the room.

Come to think of it, I didn't notice that Sam wasn't in the room till now. I relaxed and released the death grip I had on my gun. I saw Dean do the same, and then as if he just woke up now, turned around only to meet Sam's gigantic figure looming over him.

"Mornin' sunshine," Sam said brightly with a grin. He had three cups of steaming hot coffee I bet and a box of what I expected a sugar dose in something.

"What time is it?" Dean asked him sleepily.

"It's about 5:45," Sam said, again very happy for some reason. I stifled a groan at the unfairness of it all. I happen to like my sleep unlike gigantic freaks that didn't need to doze. Maybe, if I pretend to sleep then they won't wake me up.

"In the morning?" Dean yawned.

"Yep," Sam replied.

"Where does the day go?" Dean asked expecting no answer this time.

He stretched then swung his legs off the bed and sat on the edge. I closed my eyes all the way, shifting a little to show that I was asleep and not totally faking it when a pillow came down right across my face.

"If I have to wake up at 5:45 in the freakin' morning Lexi, then so will you," Dean said just as he pulled the pillow off me so that I couldn't throw it back at him. I sat up in bed with a glare directed at Dean the size of freaking Mexico.

"Good morning to you, too," I glowered but he turned back to Sam just as I was about to shout at him.

"Did you get any sleep last night?" Dean asked Sam.

"Yeah, I grabbed a couple hours," When I heard Sam's answer, I paused my escalating tantrum to listen to Sam. I know he didn't sleep last night because he never came into bed.

"Liar." Dean argued. "'Cause I was up at three, and you were watchin' the George Foreman infomercial."

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

Dean sighed. "Lexi, tell him something," Dean said to me.

"Hey man, as long as I get the bed all to myself, I'm totally okay with you not sleeping. I hear that the best movies are on at night," I grinned at him; completely oblivious to Dean's glare. When no one laughed though, I got back to glaring at Dean. I let out a breath slowly because honestly I didn't know what to tell him. It wasn't something that he was able to control.

"When was the last time you got a good night's sleep?" I interrogated Sam.

"I don't know. A little while, I guess. It's not a big deal," God, Sam didn't even know when was the last time he slept? I got serious, it was bad.

"Yeah, it is," I threw back at Sam. "Listen to me Sam, I know the idea of sleep sounds unappealing when you know you're going to just see stuff that you want to forget but you have to try." It was obvious Sam still dreamt of Jessica and what happened to her, I don't blame him. "There are ways you can knock yourself out enough to sleep without having nightmares."

"Look, I appreciate your concern—" Sam started but Dean interrupted him.

"Oh, we're not concerned about you. It's your job to keep my ass alive so that I can keep Lexi's alive, hence I need you sharp," Dean retorted but I knew he was concerned about Sam. Sam nodded. "Seriously, are you still havin' nightmares about Jess?" Dean asked him a little softer this time.

"Yeah," Sam mumbled, he walked around Dean's bed and sat down next to me across from Dean. He handed Dean a cup of coffee and handed me mine. He put the box on the bedside table of what turned out to be donuts. Dean took off the lid of the cup, threw it on the bedside table, and sipped his coffee while listening to Sam. "But it's not just her. It's everything. I just forgot, you know? This job—man, it gets to you." I sighed sadly; I really wanted to help him, I just didn't know how. With the kind of imagination we Winchesters had, it was hard to get a lucid, hushed mind even for a few hours.

I put my coffee next to the donuts and gave Sam a hug from the back. I knew it wouldn't solve his problems but it was a reminder that I was always there for him. Sam rubbed my arms that were around his neck just as Dean started to speak again. "Well, you can't let it. You can't bring it home like that."

"So, what? All this—it never keeps you up at night?" Sam asked skeptically with his eyebrows raised. Dean shook his head with the perfect innocent look on his face. "Never? You're never afraid?" Sam asked him again just to make sure of Dean's reply.

"No, not really," Dean confirmed, trying to show us that he was a tough guy. Sam looked at Dean, then just to prove his point, reached under Dean's pillow and pulled out Dean's hunting knife; it was exactly like the one you saw in Scream.

Sam just held it up next to his face without saying a word. He didn't need to; Dean was caught with no way of escape. For a moment, Dean looked embarrassed but then he quickly dismissed the expression from his face and grabbed the knife out of Sam's hand. "That's not fear. That is precaution," Dean just continued arguing while he put the knife back. I stifled a chuckle. They both turned to me and I wiped the smirk off my face.

"Hey, don't look at me like that; I'm not afraid of what we do. Unlike you two, I'm strong enough to handle the job." I stated proudly. I wasn't scared of them finding out about my gun, no one knew where I put it. Sam and Dean though both reached at the same time to the exact place where my gun was hidden. Dean reached first, and he pulled it from under the bed, or mattress.

Psh…Whatever.

"I happen to really like my gun, okay? So…so…just…stop starring," I said finally. I looked to Sam. "That's precaution." I echoed Dean from earlier and Sam just grunted. I snatched my gun back and hid it under my pillow; my secret was out so it didn't matter where I put it.

"All right, whatever. I'm too tired to argue." Sam gave in.

I picked up my coffee again when the conversation died…and when I knew that the coffee won't burn my tongue once I drank it. I sipped slowly at the coffee and sighed happily when it was just the right kind of warm. It went down my throat warming its path. I savored each sip of coffee; it was really good this time. Maybe we should let Sam be in charge of breakfast in the morning from now on. I snapped out of my coffee-heaven when I heard Dean's phone ring.

Dean starred at us in question as we listened to the phone ringing. Not many people knew his number and unless it was dad or someone that knew exactly who we were, no one called. Hope flared inside of me like an endless candle lit on fire lighting up everything around it, and I saw the same light in Dean's eyes, the same hope that it was dad calling.

Dean reached across to the bedside table where his phone was lighting up in time with its insistent calling. He flipped his phone open and put it to his ear. Sam and I waited with held breath.

"Hello?" Dean said.

We heard someone talking on the other side of the line and then the light inside of Dean's eyes died out, like someone blowing out that endless candle. I went back to my coffee-inspired-heaven, sipping at it ever so slowly as I leaned against Sam. "Good?" Sam asked me when he noticed my love with the coffee. I smiled at him gratefully and he laughed at me.

I could hear a guy talking to Dean but he shrugged to us, he didn't know who was calling him. I looked at him curiously. It was another moment before recognition crossed Dean's face then he replied to whomever he was speaking to, "Oh, right, yeah, up in Kittanning, Pennsylvania, the poltergeist thing. It's not back, is it?" Dean asked him.

Sam looked at me in question as I tried to think of Kittanning. A poltergeist? I kept racking my brain when I suddenly remembered. Jerry Panowski; a poltergeist was taking residence at his house. Dean, Dad, and I took care of it a couple of years back. I turned to Sam to explain. "His name is Jerry Panowski, it was a hunt and we met him while doing it. The poltergeist was hunting him and his family." Sam nodded at me in understanding; I noticed him chewing on something but there wasn't any donut in his hand or anything that he could be chewing. "Dude, you have gum?" I asked suspiciously.

"Yeah," Sam just answered. I waited for him to offer but he didn't.

"Can I have?" I asked him impatiently. He looked at me like he just noticed I was there for the first time but then he grinned and handed me a pack. "The whole thing?" I asked him again, surprised.

"I got one for you," Sam said. I smiled at him, Sam was sweet as always. I turned back to Dean though when I noticed his voice get serious.

"What is it?" Dean asked through the phone.

Another moment of silence. Then Dean snapped his phone shut.

"Pack your bags, we're leaving," he said just as he got up to go to the bathroom. Sam and I looked at each other and we both silently went to retrieve our bags to get ready.

We arrived in Pennsylvania, where we were supposed to meet up with Jerry. He wanted to talk to us in person; he thinks it's something serious though he refused to tell us anything about it. We were in a warehouse where they—people who made airplanes—constructed said airplanes. The engines were so big, I'm pretty sure that if we stood in front of those engines while they were on full speed, we would fly. An errant thought ran through my mind; what would it feel like to fly?

Before I can become delirious with my flying thoughts, Dean and I spotted Jerry coming towards us. He was just as I remembered. He had a rounded face and brown eyes. He was a little shorter than Dean, probably my height; and yes, I am tall. He was wearing a shirt and a tie and his pants. This was where he worked probably. When we reached him, he had a smile on his face but his eyes were worried.

"Dean, Lexi, it's good to see you again," Jerry shook Dean's hand then mine. He turned to Sam and I realized that they didn't officially know each other.

"Jerry, this is Sam, our brother," I introduced him and Jerry nodded like he suspected it was him. Jerry shook Sam's hand too then motioned for us to start walking.

"Thanks for makin' the trip so quick. I ought to be doing you guys a favor, not the other way around," Jerry apologized while he headed down to what seemed like an office. I was still looking around, fascinated with what an airplane's engine looked like from the inside. Jerry then turned to Sam. "Dean, Lexi, and your dad really helped me out," Jerry told him.

"Yeah, they told me. It was a poltergeist?" Sam asked him just as a man who I guessed was an employee here overheard him.

"'Poltergeist'? Man, I loved that movie!" The random guy exclaimed as he passed by. It was hilarious, he was completely off subject.

"Hey, nobody's talkin' to you. Keep walkin'," Jerry told him, scowling. He turned back to Sam "Damn right, it was a poltergeist—practically tore our house apart." Then he turned to me and Dean "I'll tell you somethin'—if it wasn't for you and your dad, I probably wouldn't be alive." Once again, he started talking to Sam. "Your dad said you were off at college. Is that right?" Jerry asked him.

"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," Jerry said to him with a smile, both Dean and I looked over at Sam.

"He did?" Sam asked him back, shocked.

"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?" Jerry asked us all this time. I looked to Dean leaving him to answer Jerry.

"He's, um….he's wrapped up in a job right now."

"Well, we're missin' the old man. We get Sam. Even trade, huh?" Jerry lightened the mood. He had no idea. We all laughed more out of politeness than humor really. We were all still very edgy on everything dad-related.

"No, not by a long shot," Sam said finally.

As we neared the end of the long hallway, we turned left then stopped by a door. "I've got somethin' I want you guys to hear." Jerry got serious as he opened his office door.

There was a desk in the middle of the room, it wasn't big but it had all kinds of piles of paper on it. Jerry brought three chairs in front of the desk. He walked around the desk and sat down. We sat down on the chairs and waited patiently for Jerry to finally tell us or show us what had him worried. He placed a CD into his computer then pressed a couple of times on the computer screen.

"I listened to this. Well, it sounded like it was up your alley. Normally, I wouldn't have access to this. It's the cockpit voice recorder for United Britannia Flight 2485. It was one of ours." Then he played the CD.

At first, there is lots of static and indistinct talking as the pilot keeps talking. I think the plane was landing even though have of the vocabulary I didn't understand. The static kept getting louder and I listened more closely. Moments later, a blaringly loud hiss started to cover the sound of everything and a really scary sounding growl or snarl. The hiss was back for a second then just like that it ended. Sam, Dean, and I exchanged confused looks. It sounded like something was trying to talk but the frequency didn't quite get it. "Took off from here—crashed about two hundred miles south. Now, they're saying mechanical failure. The cabin depressurized somehow. Nobody knows why. Over a hundred people on board—only seven got out alive. The 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." Jerry explained. This was definitely weird.

"You don't think it was?" Sam questioned with his business-tone-fully-in-place.

"No, I don't." Jerry shook his head.

"Jerry, we're gonna need passenger manifests, a list of survivors—" Sam counted them off on his fingers.

"Right. And any way we can take a look at the wreckage?" Dean asked Jerry. I looked at Dean then back at Jerry. It would help a lot of we did.

"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." Jerry told us. I knew the NTSB stood for National Transportation Safety Board; their job was to investigate any transportation accidents. They were pretty big and their authority was firm.

Dean just smiled and shook his head. "No problem," he said. And with the expression on his face, I knew Dean was absolutely up to no good.

Jerry got up to get the things we asked him for. I looked over at Sam and Dean but they were both quiet. It was a weird case, but we specialized in weird. Jerry was back really fast, this time holding a couple of papers in his hand. He handed them all to Sam and went back around his desk to sit on his chair.

"That's what you wanted, anything else?" Jerry asked us all this time.

"No, thank you," Sam stood up, and Dean and I followed suit. We all smiled at him and turned around. Before I went out the door though, I turned around back at Jerry.

"Hey Jerry, you mind if I borrowed that CD?" I asked him.

"Yeah, sure," he said. Jerry ejected it out of the CD player and handed it to me after putting it in a cover.

"Thanks," I smiled at him again then headed to where Sam and Dean were waiting for me. Once I reached them, we started walking back to where the Impala was parked. "I think we need to do research before anything," I told them.

Sam nodded but Dean shook his head. "There's one thing I need to do before that," Dean smirked. I looked at him in confusion. "We need new ID cards." He said.

"We already have a lot Dean," I rolled my eyes at him.

"Not what we need," Dean disagreed. I was going to tell him that we didn't need to create IDs and that we should focus on research but decided against it. Once Dean's mind was settled on something, it was impossible to convince him otherwise. It was best to let it go, that way you'd save a lot of time…and probably a headache.

I shrugged and continued walking to the car. When I reached, I unlocked the door and got in. Dean and Sam did the same; pretty soon we were back on the road, heading into town. Dean kept driving till he found what he was looking for. He parked the Impala and was going to get out but turned back to us.

"Sam, do you have a small picture of you? The one I have won't work; too young," Dean asked him. Sam hesitated for a moment but then reached back and pulled out his wallet. H took a picture of him out and handed it to Dean. He nodded happily. "Wait here, okay?" Dean said as he got out of the car. We just nodded to him and watched Dean disappear inside a small shop called Copy Jack.

There were posters hanging on the glass from the outside on the shop. I kept looking till I got bored then turned to seat next to me to get out my laptop. Researching was better than starting at people passing by.

"Sam, here," I handed him the CD, "try and see if there's any EVP on that," I muttered to him. "I'll look up the survivors," I held my hand out and he passed the papers to me. There was a tiny smile on his face. "What?"

"Nothing, it's just that you've grown up so much since the last time I saw you," Sam said. I grinned at him hugely. He looked at me and beamed back then his eyes slid to the laptop I had and he raised his eyebrow. "That yours?" He asked me.

"Yeah, I bought it completely on my own," I told him proudly. His eyebrows just rose higher in question. "I hustled enough money that I could afford it," my grin just widened.

"Poor people," he said sadly though I could see humor and pride in his eyes.

"Hey, it's not my fault if guys are way too cocky to refuse a bet. I won that money fair and square," I said to him defiantly still smiling. Sam shook his head at me and then we worked in silence after that.

I started researching each name that I saw on the list. The first one was a girl named Diana Jack. She lived in West Hills, a town next to the one we were in. I jotted down her telephone number and her address next to her name.

Next on the list was another girl, her name was Amanda Walker. She was one of the flight attendants on flight 2485. I jotted down her address and her phone number too.

Third one on the list was a guy named Max Jaffey. I searched his name and besides the usual results there was one site that was different than all the rest. When I pressed on it, a picture of a guy about my age came up. He was on an ambulance and he looked terrified. I figured calling him first was going to lead us somewhere; he certainly looked like he saw something.

I wrote down his address and his phone number then I dialed his phone number on my cell. I got out of the Impala, the air was refreshing outside. I took a few deep breaths then I hit the call button. A few rings and then someone answered.

"Hello?" A woman said.

"Hi," I said lamely.

"Can I help you?" She asked after she waited for me to talk and realized I wasn't going to.

"Yes, can I talk to Max Jaffey, please?" I asked her politely, she didn't sound young.

"I'm afraid he's not here, I'm his mother. Would you like to leave a message?" Max's mom said. I didn't want to leave a message though, I wanted Max.

"No, that's okay. Do you know, maybe, where I can find him?" I asked one last time in hope that somehow, someone nice will make this easy on me.

"He's…Max is in Riverfront Psychiatric Hospital," she said to me and I could detect the underlying tone of sadness in her voice. I sputtered, shocked. He definitely saw something.

There was a bit of shuffling around on the other side of the line and then Max's mom, who I still didn't know the name of, started talking really fast. "My poor baby suffered an accident big enough to rattle his mind. He was just here two mornings ago, we had a fight but I didn't mean it, I swear. Now he won't even come home," the woman sobbed through the phone. This was getting awkward.

"What do you mean?"

"Max, he, he went into the hospital by his own will. He doesn't even want to tell me why," she sobbed more. My shock increased more but I think it was time to end this really uncomfortable phone call.

"Well, as you said, it was a big accident. But I'm sure your son is just fine and before you know it, he'll be at your doorstep."

"I hope you are right. You seem like a very nice young lady, who did you say you were?" She asked me and the problem was…I never told her who I was.

"I'm…one of Max's friends," I lied.

"Oh, are you Kate?" She kept asking.

"Y-yeah, I am, it was nice talking to you Mrs. Jaffey but I have to go," I told her quickly before she could ask me another question.

"Yes, you too, bye," and the line disconnected.

"Bye," I said to the air with a grunt.

So Max seems to be scared of something that he probably saw. I mean, no one checked themselves into a psychiatric hospital on their own, unless of course you thought you were crazy from something that you saw or heard or…you get the point.

I turned back to the car to see Sam leaning against the passenger door in the sidewalk. I walked around the car and stood against the Impala next to Sam. I held my phone to indicate that I had information. Before he could ask however, I spoke. "Where's Dean?" I asked Sam, Dean was taking forever.

"He's still inside," Sam sighed. Just as he said that, Dean walked out of the shop. Finally! A girl walked by him and she mumbled a 'hi', Dean held the door for her and checked her out after she passed him. I rolled my eyes at him.

"You've been in there forever." Sam stated with a whine in his voice.

Dean held up three fake ID cards. "You can't rush perfection," he smirked. A grin exploded on face when I read what these cards identified us as.

"Homeland Security? That's pretty illegal, even for us," Sam, always the caution one, said; I quickly snatched mine from Dean's hands before Sam convinced him that we couldn't use them. I looked at it; my name was Kaleen Martz. I looked over at Dean and I saw him smirking at me. I got it then, it was a made up name but both names were from an all-girl band that was supposed to be the chick version of Metallica. Their band was called Misstallica. I would have liked a better name than this but I didn't mind; they had a few cool songs.

"Yeah, well, it's somethin' new, you know? People haven't seen it a thousand times." Dean told him as he walked around the car. We all got in then Dean turned to us, "All right, so, what do you guys have?" Dean asked us. Up until now, I completely had forgotten about the CD, and I looked to Sam curious to see what he found out.

"Well, there's definitely EVP on the cockpit voice recorder," Sam started talking, and he looked to me for emphasis. So I was right.

"Yeah?" Dean asked him.

"Listen." Sam said. He played the audio on his laptop. We could still hear the pilot talking but it was much slower and the frequency was lower. A distinct hiss started to get louder but instead of the growl we were all waiting for, a voice that sounded oddly like an old woman's voice—the one you saw in really scary movies with wired hair and falling teeth—said "No survivors."

Once the CD finished playing, the three of us all looked at each other. This was off. What did it mean 'no survivors'? There were seven survivors.

"'No survivors'? What's that supposed to mean? There were seven survivors," Dean asked, frowning.

"Got me," Sam shook his head.

"So, what are you thinking? A haunted flight?" Dean asked us. But it didn't seem likely though. I mean, why would a spirit haunt a flight? It's not like they died on it.

"There's a long history of spirits and death omens on planes and ships, like phantom travelers," I told them recalling from one of the many books I have read throughout my life.

"Mm-hmm," Dean thought. He didn't sound convinced.

"Or, remember Flight 401?" I gave him an example, thinking back of an accident that crashed a plane then its pilots haunted that plane later.

"Right—the one that crashed, then the airline salvaged some of its parts, put it in other planes, then the spirit of the pilot and co-pilot haunted those flights," Dean recalled.

"Right."

"Yup," Dean said.

I looked outside the window from the backseat. Cars were passing by, some slow and some fast. All kinds of cars then I looked at the people walking on the streets and watched them. It fascinated me sometimes, how people lived their lives each day not knowing what lurked in the dark. Sam's voice pulled me out of my reverie. "Maybe we've got a similar deal."

I looked over at them. It seemed that that was the conclusion that they seemed willing to go with. I don't think it was a spirit however but I decided to keep my thoughts to myself. Research would clear things up. Dean reached back and took a paper that was lying on the seat next to me. I realized it was the survivors list. "All right, so, survivors—which one do you wanna talk to first?" Deans asked me.

I pointed to the third name on the list. "Third on the list—Max Jaffey," I stated; if there was a person that saw something, it was definitely him.

"Why him?" Dean asked me.

"Well, for one, he's from around here. And two, if anyone saw anything weird, he did," I told them. I went back to starring out the window hating where we had to go next.

"What makes you say that?" Sam asked me this time.

"Well, I spoke to his mother," I spoke thinking back of the awkward phone call that I had with Mrs. Jaffey, "and she told me where to find him."

Dean parked the Impala in front of the sign that said 'Riverfront Psychiatric Hospital'. We got out and I shuddered as I thought of this place. I hated psychiatric hospitals. These places were only made in the first place to house insane people and try and 'cure' them. Thing was, you can't cure crazy people! I didn't know why I hated these places. I mean they were for a good cause but maybe because some hospitals like these did horrible things to their patients.

Dean and Sam walked ahead of me to the gate where a security guard was standing alert. I slowly trailed after them not wanting to go inside. I reached them just in time to catch the lie we were going with.

"We're with homeland security, we're here to speak to Max Jaffey," Dean spoke with a calm monotone voice. It was the voice he used when he didn't want people to detect the emotions inside him. I didn't have to look at him to see the perfect poker face I knew I would find on his face. We showed him our badges; the guard took one look at them then opened the gates for us.

We walked in and I looked around at the garden we were in, patients of all sorts were hanging around, some were sitting together playing cards, some were sitting alone silently, and some were completely unaware of their surroundings.

I could see Sam and Dean walking towards the building that probably housed the reception. I took a moment to look around, slowly taking in the people around me. A bush of red roses caught my eye on the right; as I looked closer, I suddenly remembered the roses from my dream this morning.

Lucas, how could I forget about our chat?!