"Man, I hate freaking airplanes!" Dean groused.

"At least you're not puking." Sam poured his brother another drink.

"Not yet." The plane gave a lurch and Dean groaned. "We're goin' down, I freaking know it!"


At the small, muffled cry, Sam looked across the aisle. An attractive young woman, dressed in black and pale as milk, obviously terrified, sat next to the window, shade pulled down and eyes shut tight.

"Dean." Sam nodded meaningfully across the aisle. "Knock it off."

Dean glanced over and his face softened in sympathy. He unbuckled his seatbelt and plopped himself down in the empty seat beside her.


Her eyes flew open, startled. "Oh – hi."

"You look like you hate flying just as much as I do," Dean said. "Maybe if we keep each other company, we can get through this, huh?"

She hesitated, then smiled shyly. "That sounds great. I'd like to avoid the airbags if I can."

Dean grimaced. "Yeah, you and me both."

The plane lurched again and she grabbed his hand, squeezing it tight. "My name is Susan," she said breathlessly.

"I'm Dean," he answered, keeping his eyes determinedly on hers. "Why don't you tell me all about yourself?"