Miracles and Prayer Part 2

[stakeaclaim]

Miracles and Prayer continyed, split for length.


Miracles and Prayer
-

Grateful that Sammy’s attention was elsewhere, Dean just concentrated on breathing. Oxygen was always good. He’d be fine. If only those people in front would shut their damn cakeholes.

‘You know why they ask us to assume the crash position in an emergency?’

‘Everyone knows that. It’s to protect your vital organs so you have a better chance of surviving a crash,’ his companion replied.

‘No, that’s not it.’

Half of Dean wanted to know the worst, whilst the other half decided ignorance was bliss, and was silently begging the brother not to ask…. There was a pause, but in the end inquisitiveness must have won out.

‘Then why?’

And at this point Dean was feeling a little ill, because they were suspended half a mile in the air, and he just wanted to curl up and block his ears. He quickly reached for his earphones and fumbled them out of their sealed polythene cover….

‘Preserve the teeth.’

‘The teeth? You are joking….’

…. and plugged them in, not caring what music was playing as long as it was loud and smothered the conversation in front.

Damn, nothing coming through yet, not on that channel anyway, and already he knew what was coming next because he knew more about identifying bodies than your average 9-year old.

‘Look how white they are Dean. You’d think they’d be grey but look! They look like mounds of snow, fluffy snow.’

‘You’re right. Awesome,’ he breathed.

They had clouds below them and the wrongness of that just stupefied him.

‘Yep. If the flight goes down and you pop your clogs they need to identify bodies, so they make you protect your teeth so they can match them to your dental records. Macabre, if you ask me.’

‘Yeah, well, I didn’t.’

There was a respite for a few seconds. Dean fought the urge to reach over and hug Sam and tell him everything was fine. Yeah. Like that wouldn’t freak his little brother right out. Besides, Sam was perfectly happy staring at fluffy white clouds and probably fantasising about snow angels and Frosty the Snowman.

His fingers found the correct button and stabbed at it, skipping through the channels, attempting to find anything with sound.

‘Did you know….’

‘Just shut up,’ the companion said. ‘You’re giving me a headache.’

It was so in tune with what Dean was thinking he thought for a moment he’d spoken the words.

‘What? I was just going to say that….’

‘Well don’t.’

‘But…’

‘I hate you.’

‘I freakin’ second that,’ Dean muttered.

‘Huh?’ Sam asked.

Luckily, Sam hadn’t heard the exchange; he was still staring out the window, tip of his tongue protruding between his lips as he concentrated on the weird landscape of mountains and valleys that the clouds seemed modelled on.

‘Nothing,’ Dean mumbled.

He finally found a rock channel and began to hum along, until the only thing in his head was the music, and he once again began to relax.

Their drinks arrived, together with a bag each of miniature cookies, and they both settled back munching away. Watching clouds must finally have lost its novelty as Sam’s eyes began to drift shut. Dean raised the seat arm that separated them and settled Sam so that his nodding head was tucked securely against Dean’s shoulder, then he picked up one of lurid orange blankets and carefully tucked it around his brother.

He turned down the music so that he could hear Sam’s snuffling snores. In a way, this wasn’t that much different to being in the back seat of the car. Long hours spent sitting next to Sammy, music blasting his eardrums, landscape flying by outside the window... he deliberately didn’t look in that direction, content with the illusion he was building.

Some cartoons were playing on the small screen above the aisle and Dean allowed himself to be dragged into the world of explosions and animated violence. He sipped on his Sprite and yeah, it was all good. He was good.

The cartoons ended and at some point he must have dozed off because the next thing he knew little fingers were prodding at his shoulder.

‘Need to go, Dean.’

‘Huh?’

‘Need the toilet. Now.’

‘Yeah, yeah. C’mon then,’ Dean yawned.

The entrance to the toilet was placed just behind their seats. Normally Sam would object, loudly, to Dean accompanying him, but when he glanced in and saw how unfamiliar it all looked: ‘Where’s the tissue Dean? How do you flush it?’ He gave in and made room for Dean. It was a tiny space but somehow Sam managed to take care of business. Dean took his turn and between them they sussed out how to work the faucet. Then, just as Sam was washing his hands something began to ping through the sound system.

‘What’s that?’ Sam’s head cocked and he stilled as he listened.

‘Not sure,’ Dean replied.

A knock at the door.

‘Boys? The seat belt sign has come on. We’re about to run into some turbulence, can you go to your seats as soon as possible.’

The warning came a little too late as the floor seemed to disappear from beneath their feet, water from the faucet splashed through the air catching Sam in the face. He let out a yelp and Dean made a grab to steady Sam with one arm whilst the other grabbed for the edge of the sink. Their feet seem to hit the floor again with a thump.

A startled whimper escaped Sam’s lips.

‘Sam? You okay? Yeah, you’re ok. Just a little bit of water. Look we’re gonna go back now, just hold tight to me.’

He opened the door and dependable Marie was there waiting for them, still on her feet and still managing to find a smile for them.

‘That’s right. Quickly now.’

They fell into their seats as the plane lurched sideways. She grabbed an arm as she helped them buckle up.

‘Don’t worry guys, this is perfectly normal. Especially around Chicago. It’s not called the Windy City for nothing. There you go, all safe and secure. I’ll just be over there ok?’ She pointed to her own little seat.

They both nodded.

‘Dean….’

Unclenching his teeth, Dean replied, ‘You heard the lady. It’s all normal.’

‘Okay.’

And Sam said no more, sensing that this was neither the time nor the place to be plying Dean with a hundred and one questions.

The plane dipped again and immediately recovered. Small shrieks and gasps accompanied each fall and rise.

Once again the captain’s voice filled the plane.

‘Apologies, but unfortunately, due to high winds in the Chicago area, two runways have been closed at O’ Hare. This will result in approximately half an hour delay as we will be put in a holding pattern until given permission to land. Please keep your seat belts fastened for the remainder of the flight, as we are experiencing turbulence.’ There was a titter of nervous amusement at this statement of the obvious. ‘To aid transfers we will be announcing the gates for connecting flights. My apologies for any inconvenience.’

‘What’s he saying, Dean? What does he mean? Is it normal?’

‘Yeah, it’s ok. It’s like when an interstate is closed and we have to queue up to reach a different road. We just have to wait our turn, which means that we’re going to be up here slightly longer than expected.’

‘Dad will wonder where we are….’

‘No, they have screens at the airport, which will tell him what time our plane is landing.’

‘Are you frightened?’ Sam whispered as the plane shuddered again.

‘Dude!’ Dean put as much indignation into his voice as he could muster. ‘Look, it’s no different to an amusement park ride. We’re in a bit of a storm and we’re getting caught in updrafts and downdrafts. Gusting wind,’ he clarified. ‘But planes are built to cope with this sort of stuff, okay? So yeah, it’s just like those little airplanes you used to like, you know, the ones that went up and down? The worst that’s gonna happen is you might feel sick like you did on that ride.’

‘Dean! I was never sick!’

‘There ya go, nothing to worry about then.’

Finally soothed, Sam nodded and took the bumps and shakes fairly complacently, even letting out a small giggle when only the seatbelt kept their asses in the seats. So for Sam’s sake Dean was managing to hold on and keep a tight smile on his face. The one thing he didn’t need was the muttering from the guys in front of them.

‘Holding pattern? Remember that plane that fell out of the air? It was put in a holding pattern and eventually it ran out of fuel. Dropped to the ground. No survivors.’

The dude really didn't know when to quit, but this time his voice had lost its arrogant twang. It was edged with panic. And the tone more than the content sent Sam rigid.

‘Dean. Dean!’ he hissed.

And Dean knew what was coming next because he was thinking the same thing.

‘What if we run out of fuel? Like that other plane.’

‘Not gonna happen.’

‘But what if….’

‘No, Sam.’ He spoke loudly and clearly, cutting through Sam’s anxious tones. ‘Listen, there’s a fuel gauge in the cockpit that tells the captain exactly how much is left. If he doesn’t notice then his co-pilot will. If that happens, they’ll radio the control tower and we’ll be put to the front of the queue. They’re not going to let this plane run out of fuel, ok?’

Another sudden dip and then something scarily different happened as the steady roar of engines experienced a stutter and the whole plane rolled slightly to the left, the lights went out for a few seconds and then flickered back to life, someone let out a scream, Sam grabbed for his hand clinging tightly and Dean swore that, for a moment, his heart actually stopped beating.

He took a deep breath. Before his brother could even begin panicking Dean was talking, his voice calm and reassuring.

‘Engine stalled. You know, like the car does sometimes when it's cold. But don’t worry, plane’s not like a car, it has two engines.’

He carried on his monologue because if he was talking, if he was reasoning, then he wasn’t giving in to blind terror that roiled inside.

‘We’re fine, the pilot will try to start it again but otherwise a plane can run on one engine, bet you didn’t know that?’

Sam shook his head.

‘Yeah. Stalling happens sometimes, at a certain angle… or is it at a certain speed…. Can’t remember. But yeah, planes have often landed when they’re down to one engine. In fact, even when both go it’s possible to glide the plane in, just have to get the undercarriage down. The wheels, yeah? And they’ll glide in, smooth as you like. You know, like those paper planes we make? They didn’t have engines but they seemed to fly forever.’

He looked into Sam’s eyes and blinked back a hundred emotions he refused to name.

‘You remember them, huh? We used to see whose could go the furthest. You were a damned good plane maker, Sammy.’

‘Dad used to help me,’ Sam confessed.

‘You cheated?’

‘You always say that if you can’t win fairly, then cheat,’ Sam replied.

‘Yeah, but not against me, dude. I’ll never trust….’ There was another slight twist and uplift. ‘Hey, hear that?’

‘Has the engine started again?’

‘You got it, bud.’

‘This is your captain speaking. We’re now beginning our descent. The temperature in Chicago is….’

Dean didn’t hear the rest. He closed his eyes and concentrated on Sam’s warm hand beneath his. Sam watched out the window again as the ground drew closer. Dean braced himself for the landing.

And finally touchdown. The plane bounced once, experience a weird lurch sideways as the wind caught at it and then they were cruising along the runways. The guys in front of them were laughing in sheer relief. Some people were applauding, the tension in the plane visibly diffusing.

‘Why are they clapping?’

‘Dunno. Guess they really enjoyed the flight.’

So Sam began to politely clap as well.

Marie stayed with them. Apologised for the flight and gave them some freebies. In no time at all Sam was whirring his toy plane above his head.

‘I know that was a bad one boys, but don’t let it put you off flying, ok?’

Dean didn’t really hear. Too busy concentrating on keeping Sammy close and casting searching looks towards the waiting people.

And there he was, smile on his face, scooting down for a hug from Sammy and an arm reaching for Dean. And finally Dean could let go of the responsibility. All the determination and stoicism leaking away.

‘Just gotta….’ He nodded towards the men’s room.

‘Dean?’ Dad called after him, troubled by the paleness and darkly haunted eyes.

Dean couldn’t stop or look back. He walked away, made it to a cubicle and then let his legs collapse. He hung his head over the bowl and threw up, retched until there was nothing but bile. His head was aching, his ears roaring and his knees were shaky as he regained his feet. He felt fuzzy and ungrounded. Wiping his mouth he went to the sink, rinsed out and splashed cold water over his face until the redness faded from around his eyes.

He sensed someone behind him, a hand on his shoulder that he was too tired to react to. And then the dreaded English voice.

‘Hey, mate. You ok?’

Dean didn’t answer.

A paper towel was pressed into his hands. Dean stared at it for a second before rubbing it over his face, scrubbing some colour back into his cheeks.

The man was still with him, leaning against the counter.

‘That was some flight, huh?’

‘Yeah, some flight,’ Dean replied. His voice sounded weird to his ears.

‘Sorry about my little bro. He’s scared of flying. Used to tease him, tell him he was an idiot. All he did was dig up all these stupid facts to prove his point. I suppose he thought that if he was going to be scared shitless it was only fair that everyone else should be. Yeah, anyway. Sorry.’

Dean said nothing.

The man coughed awkwardly.

‘I… I just want to say you did a good job up there.’

Dean finally looked at the guy. He was younger than he’d expected.

‘When all that shit happened, well, I thought that was it, you know? I think my brother would have been catatonic and I’d have been screaming like a baby if you hadn’t have been there, talking and… and well, thanks.’

He looked a bit unsure, as though he wanted to say more. Curiosity finally got the better of him.

‘Can planes really land in a storm like that with only one engine?’

Dean shrugged.

‘I’ve no idea.’

‘Oh….’

The warm hand on his shoulder gave a quick squeeze before releasing him.

‘You going to be alright?’

‘Yeah. Always am.’

Something about this boy kind of broke his heart, but the man just nodded and walked to the door.

‘Hey?’

‘Yeah?’ Dean was drying his face properly and their eyes met in the mirror.

‘When I grow up I want to be just like you,’ he said with a boyish grin

Dean finally cracked a smile at the stupid compliment.

‘Cool,’ he said.

‘Yeah, damned cool.’ Then the Englishman smiled and walked away.

Dean drew a breath. He still felt wobbly and cold. His face was still too pale, but he’d do. He went out to rejoin his family.

And then wished he’d taken another couple of minutes.

There was Sammy dragging at Dad’s hand trying to pull him away from…. Uh oh….

Dean tried to prevent the catastrophe, raised an arm and shouted, ‘Hey!’

Sam saw him and looked relieved. He could see Dad’s mouth moving, ‘Will you stop tugging me, Sammy. Yes, I can see Dean too!’

And then it was too late. A big, bluff looking guy came panting up to John Winchester.

‘Sir! Sir! Let me shake your hand.’

Dean and Sam shared a panicked look. John just looked a little bemused as his hand was grabbed and pumped up and down.

‘Okay…. Good to meet you, too.’

‘That was truly the flight from hell, but I remembered the teachings of the Church of the Holy Son.’

‘The Holy…. That’s… nice,’ John said calmly but his eyes swivelled to Dean and his eyebrows began to rise towards his hairline.

The boys knew that tone of voice and instinctively exchanged concerned glances.

‘The plane dropped from the air, the engines stalled and the lights went out and I remembered your son’s words.’

‘You what now?’ John’s tone changed completely.

‘Oh yes! Miracles and prayers, he said, and boy did I pray, and then the Lord answered my prayers! The lights came on, the engines started and the plane landed safely. Who’d have believed, eh? Miracles and prayers. Surely your boys were sent from heaven to show me the error of my ways.’

‘From heaven? You think so?’

The man ignored the doubt and confusion in the father’s voice.

‘I do! And if you have any leaflets, I’d be interested in taking a look.’

He looked a little embarrassed by his request, couldn’t quite believe that he was voluntarily asking for religious pamphlets. John looked a little stunned.

‘Leaflets?’

‘Yes. I think it was called….’

‘Daddy, we have to go! Dean’s waiting. Look!’

Dean was wavering between coming forward and hiding like a two year old.

‘Wait a minute, Sam. This is important church business.’

Oh God. Sarcasm with a hint of irony. Sam looked pleadingly at Dean, and he finally came across to support his brother.

‘Hello again,’ the man smiled nervously at Dean, aware that last time they’d spoken he’d given the boy the brush off.

‘I was just asking about those leaflets. You know, Save Your Soul the W….’

‘Yeah, sorry,’ Dean quickly interrupted not daring to glance at his dad. ‘Uh, we’re all out,’ he improvised.

The man laughed.

‘Guess I can understand that, after the flight we had. Jesus that was scary. Get’s everyone thinking about the state of their souls.’

‘I guess.’

‘So. Nice meeting you, and thanks for everything. Y’all take care, you hear.’

‘Uh, you too.’

Dean raised his arm in farewell.

Then the three of them were left staring uncomfortably at each other.

Dean supposed he should start and squared his shoulders.

‘About the leaflets…,’ he began.

John just shook his head and asked quietly, ‘Did the engines really stall?’

‘One of them,’ Dean replied.

‘And the lights went out?’

Dean was silent but Sam nodded.

‘That was a little scary, wasn’t it Dean?’

‘You thought it was going to crash?’ John breathed softly.

‘Of course not,’ Sam chirruped, ‘Dean said that planes are designed to fly, not like cars and….’

John caught the small movement as his eldest nodded.

‘Jesus Christ.’

Dean couldn’t remember when Dad had last picked him up but just this once he gave in, allowed himself to be swept up with Sammy and crushed in a hug, felt the warmth of his dad’s face against his own, breathed in the familiar scent of engine oil, gunpowder and salt, felt a big hand cradling his head and a gruff voice repeating, ‘You’re okay. You’re okay, son.’

Then Dad was wiping his cheek and the world began to settle back to normal. The chill finally left his bones, Sammy was skipping to keep up with them both and his dad was clapping his hands saying, ‘Come on, kids. Let’s get to the car. We’ll soon get it heated up and cosy.’

There she was.

Black and gleaming with a glint of frost silvering the edge of her windscreen. She'd never looked more beautiful.

Dean slid into the familiar leather seats and it felt like the only home he knew. Right at that point he fell a little in love. She was his prayer and his miracle, welcoming him, cocooning him, protecting him. His hand caressed the dashboard as he vowed never to step into a freaking demon-spawn airplane ever again. She purred happily in response and the open road rumbled comfortably beneath them.

THE END