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azulirawrites · 3 years

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Favors of A. Blight ch. 4

Rating: T Word Count: 2,309 Contains: Paranoia, Verbal Abuse, Abandonment Issues

Alador had never been a great planner, not even when it came to his Abominations. He preferred to think of himself as a tinkerer; he knew his end goal, and he knew where to start, everything else was just details he could figure out along the way. It was part of why Blight Industries was second-to-none. The designs couldn’t be stolen until the Abominations had actually been produced, because they didn’t exist until the very last second, and the only people capable of replicating the Abominations without Alador’s assistance were shareholders in BI anyway. And even then, they’d have a difficult time without Alador’s notes.

However, Alador could name a number of times where his inability with planning served more as a detriment. Like right now, for instance. His feet thudded against the still warm mud, and he felt the exhaustion in his bones as he conjured the energy for another spell, wiping away traces of his passing for this portion of his journey. He had no idea where he was going, or even where he was. When he’d left, over half a day ago judging by the first faint traces of sunrise in the distance, he’d been heading towards the Elbow.

If he’d gone by cart or staff, he’d have been by now. But if he had gone by cart, there was no way he could have avoided being tracked. Not without hurting, and possibly killing, people. He wasn’t a murder. “Aren’t you?” he tried to ignore the intrusive thought, whispered to him with the faintest touch of Odalia’s voice.

Then there was his staff. He fiddled with the zipper hidden in the interior of his work jacket. It hadn’t been unzipped in a long time, and it had been even longer since he last laid his hands on his staff. Would Pige even recognize him, after all these years? If she did, would she be able to forgive him, for locking her away to gather dust in a bag of holding? For abandoning her? Lily had, but… that was different. The bond between a palisman and a witch was supposed to be something unbreakable. And if it was broken… well, Alador had seen his fair share of Odalia’s palismans. The ones that escaped with cracks and breaks were the lucky ones.

So no, his staff wasn’t an option. He couldn’t afford to lose Pige now. That left his feet. Heading towards the elbow, with no idea what to do afterwards. Probably head towards the shoulder, and then… the skull, maybe? It was largely untamed, due to the difficulty of crossing the mouth… Which would also present him his own challenge.

He couldn't walk much longer, he knew. The only thing keeping him going was the momentum of it; if he stopped, he would collapse where he stood. Then he saw the shack, alone amongst the trees, with a wild garden creeping around and, in a number of places, on it.

Alador made his way into the dusty abode, the door creaking as it opened before him. He coughed, and dust swirled in the air. He took in the room. It was bare, save a coffee table, an armchair, and a rather large couch. He almost cried seeing the couch, and collapsed upon it. Exhaustion took him immediately.

He awoke with a start, to the sound of someone drinking something. Someone lived in all this dust? "Of course not. Don't be stupid, dear," Odalia's voice answered his private thoughts. His body froze. "At this point it might set a record."

"You're dead!" He wanted to shout, but it came out as a whisper.

"And yet, here I am" Odalia's voice commented, and he could hear her take a slow drink. "What makes you think I'd be dead?"

"You couldn't have survived…" his own voice felt distant. Barely there.

"Survived what, dear?" Odalia's voice was strong; firm, yet calm.

"I killed you."

"No, you didn't, Alador," she denied, and he felt her cold hand reach out and take his. He shuddered as she squeezed. "You made an Abomination do it, and ran away. Nearly thirty years, and you didn't even stay to watch the light leave my eyes."

"Shut up," he tried to command her voice; she couldn't be here, he had to be hallucinating.

"Honestly Alador, could you at least act a little more mature? You tried to have an Abomination murder me, and I'm still able to hold a civil conversation."

"How are you here?"

"Because you failed, Alador. Like always."

"I'm not a failure!"

"Yes you are! You've been a failure since you were a child! When was the last time you even contributed to anything successful?"

"The company-"

"Yes, your father's company, that he made successful with his own Abominations. His success earned him his spot as the first head of the Abomination coven. Then, he passed it down to you, and I made sure it didn't crash and burn while you… tinkered."

"My Abominations-"

"Are certainly unique, I'll give you that. But successful? Please Alador, we both know that for every one that works there are at least seven failures."

"I-"

"Don't speak. I've proven my point," Alador felt his jaw reluctantly clinch with Odalia's command. "Honestly, Alador, why do you always insist on fighting what you know is right?"

"You're wrong," his voice came out quiet, and weak.

"Am I?" He felt the cold spread from his hand up his arm, seizing his throat.

"I'm not worthless," he said, trying to squeeze her hand hard enough to hurt. She gave no reaction.

"I never said you were worthless, Alador," she said, affecting a soothing tone, "You're worth quite a fortune, and you were able to sire one good heir. Although she did inherit your rebellious streak. But I can smooth that out. No, Alador, what you are is pathetic."

He felt the chill settle on his heart, as tears began to well in his still closed eyes, "No."

"Yes, Alador. You've always been pathetic. Even when you were a child, and you wanted to settle for Lilith."

"Shut up!" He shouted, but found himself unable to rip his hand from her grip, or move at all.

"The second-best child of a second-rate family. But honestly, if it weren't for your money, even she would have been out of your league. "

"Shut up!" A sharp blow came across his cheek, and a chill spread out from the impact. She'd slapped him?

"You will not speak back to me like that Alador!" Odalia's voice… changed, somehow. Even in her fury her voice was icy, cold enough to burn. "I've spent every moment of our marriage taking care of you, even when you began cheating on me and drinking that horrid memory potion, and this has been my repayment? Leaving the job of murdering me to one of your little toys, sending our children off to be under the care of criminals, and this ungrateful attitude when all I've tried to do is remind you of your place?"

"How do you know about the children?" Alador asked. She wouldn't have had time to check on them if she had followed him, and there was more that didn't add up, "And you couldn't know about the memory potion… and I made sure to wipe my tracks."

He could feel the ghost of her lips near his ear as she whispered to him, "I know everything about you, dear. You can't escape."

Alador shot upwards in a cold sweat, the blankets pooling at his hips. There hadn't been blankets when he'd passed out… Had Odalia really been here? He looked around, and noticed a surprising lack of disturbance in the dust, save what he knew himself to be responsible for. "How?"

"Are you awake this time?" A voice called from above him. Turning his head towards the voice, he saw a fox, upside down on the ceiling.

"Uhm… yes?"

"Good. You're quite noisy in your sleep. I hoped the blankets might help calm you, but they didn't."

"Oh… my apologies… I didn't realize this home was occupied," Alador pulled the blankets to the side, and sat up, preparing to leave.

"It's not," the fox said quickly, "and I don't mind if you stay. I'll just need to close my ears." Alador took a moment to process everything as his brain shook off the last remnants of his terrifying rest. The fox was carved from wood, but moved naturally, and was now making its way down the side of the wall, one paw always on the wood. Was it a house demon? But it was so different from the Owl House's house demon? Perhaps, if Alador were lucky, Hooty was unique.

"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I can't stay. I'm making my way to the Skull."

"Oh," the house demon's body slumped, "Is that far?"

"Oh, uhm," something about the question threw Alador, "I'm not sure. I've never made the journey on foot. Maybe a week?"

"That seems a long way, why are you going so far?" the fox questioned, and Alador froze up. How was he meant to answer this? Any answer he could give would only bring more questions that he was even less ready to answer.

"I don't believe I owe you an answer," he decided to avoid the question.

"You barged into me and passed out, and now you're trying to abandon me! An answer is the least of what I'm owed." Alador took a moment to process the demon's words, as he stared down at it. It looked up at him, clearly upset.

"Abandon you?" He asked,and the fox almost winced, withdrawing into itself.

"Well," the fox stuttered, "I just thought that, with how you came in and passed out, that maybe you'd stay..."

Alador carefully thought out his answer, finally responding "You might be right, about me. I guess it is kind of like me abandoning you. I've… done a lot of that this past day."

"You don't have to," the fox offered, "you can stay."

"I can't," Alador denied, "I'm a wild witch. You'll end up hurt if I'm found."

"Then don't be found!" The fox exclaimed desperately, "I don't think wild witches are bad, if that's what you're worried about. My old occupant was a wild witch!" That… explained a lot, when Alador thought about it. Including why the house was likely abandoned.

"I can't," Alador said, stepping towards the door. "I'm not strong enough to stay."

"You don't have to be!" The fox said, "Please, stay!"

"I'll make you a promise," Alador offered, "when I can come back, I will."

"Daphne said the same thing," the house demon muttered, looking away. After a moment, the fox offered its paw, "Make an Everlasting Oath."

Alador, hesitantly, drew the energy up for the Oath, taking the fox's paw. "When I can, when I have the strength to, I will come back." The oath sealed itself. Alador made his way to the door.

"My name is Vul," the house demon called out to him, "when you come back, you can call me Vul."

(Line break)

Luz ascended the stairs quietly, listening for any sounds from the Blights. However, even as she stood in front of the door to her room, she heard nothing. Carefully, she pushed open the door, letting out a breath when she saw all three Blights, sitting quietly in a circle. Piled on the floor between were their scrolls, and even from here Luz could see the massive amount of notifications. News travelled fast. On the Boiling Isles apparently.

"Hey," she gently called out, to no reaction from the seemingly-numb Blights. After a moment of the awkward, somber silence, she continued, “I wanted to come check on you guys. Are you ok?” Quickly, she continued, “Sorry, that’s a stupid question. Of course you’re not ok, given everything going on. I’m sorry, I’ll leave-”

“Stay,” Amity said, softly, just as Luz was about to cross the threshold out of the room, “Please.”

“Alright,” Luz agreed, moving towards Amity. She sat down gently, joining the Blights in their silence. She found Amity's hand, and gave it a gentle, comforting squeeze. Amity squeezed back, tight, and didn't let go, as if making sure Luz was really there.

It was Emira who broke the silence, "What happens now?"

The squeeze from Amity's hand tightened for just a second, before Amity spoke, "I don't know."

"We wait for Dad, right?" Ed suggested, "Miss Lilith said they didn't find him, so he's probably out there, right?"

"Ed…" Emira quietly said

"No!" He almost shouted, "They probably need Dad, because he's really powerful with Abominations, or they want the money and need one of our parents, and Dad was the smarter choice. So he's alive."

"Ed's right," Amity agreed, "If he wasn't found, there's no reason to believe he's dead." An uncomfortable silence descended, as Amity spoke the fact they'd been avoiding. Eventually the silence was broken, by a crow pecking at the window.

"Dear Emira, Edric, and Amity Blight," a voice Luz didn't recognize called out, "As assistant to the leader of the Oracle Coven, I wish to inform you that the coven will be taking the burden of making funeral arrangements for your mother. Currently, the funeral is scheduled for tomorrow, Sunday the Eleventh, at three p.m. If this time is inconvenient, please respond with a time better suited. If not, we will see you tomorrow at the coven's temple in Bonesborough." The crow then closed its beak, almost entirely motionless as it perched on the windowsill.

"Wow, that seems quick," Luz commented, "In the human realm it's like three days to a week." When none of the Blight children responded, Luz added, "Sorry. I probably should have kept that thought to myself."

"It's alright," Amity says lightly, squeezing Luz's hand for comfort.

#the owl house #toh spoilers #owl house #Favors of A. Blight #alador blight #house demon oc #Vul #Blight siblings #amity blight #edric blight #emira blight #luz noceda #cw: verbal abuse #cw: paranoia #cw: abandonment issues

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charliesradiodemon · 4 years

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Charlastor Week Day 6: Hurt/Comfort

(This is a bit different from my usual charlastor-centered works. I’ve recently been interested in Heaven and the angels and what they think about the yearly exterminations and I got an idea for this fic because of it!

I hope you enjoy!)

Hurt/Comfort

The spear raised slowly above the angel’s head. It looked a little worse for wear, but it hadn’t succumbed to it’s injuries just yet.

Despite their best efforts, Charlie and Alastor could only injure the heavenly being. It had bested them both and now they lay on the rooftop of the Happy Hotel, battered and bruised, defeated by a single angel.

It stumbled over to Charlie first, limping slightly. It didn’t seem too concerned with its injuries nor did it make any noise that hinted it felt any serious pain.

Once it made it to its destination, the bloodied being stood above Charlie, who could barely move an inch.

She couldn’t give up now. She had to move, she still needed to save the hotel and Alastor. Everyone was depending on her to keep them safe, and Charlie couldn’t bear the thought of losing her friends.

With a groan, she lifted herself up from her prone position slightly, coughing weakly. Despite the slow pace the angel limped at, It was far too late for her to get away. When she looked up, she found that the angel was already there and ready to strike her down. She needed to get up. Even if she didn’t make it out of this extermination, she could at least slow the angel down until the bell tolled.

But then she collapsed before she could push herself up all the way. The angel loomed, holding the spear at the ready while watching its prey helplessly exert itself on the ground.

It was truly a pitiful sight that was too much to bear, even for the angel. It was time to put the demon out of her misery and bring her salvation.

The spear fell quickly and Charlie couldn’t do a single thing to get out of the way. Tears pricked her eyes as she shut her eyes and waited for the blow to come.

‘Alastor I’m so sorry...’

But it never came.

A spray of blood mixed with a low grunt caught her attention. When her eyes shot open, a new surge of adrenaline rushed through her, giving her enough strength to twist her expression into anguish. With an audibly panicked gasp, Charlie found Alastor knelt before her with a long thin spear sticking straight out of his back.

He was still smiling at her even as the angel removed the weapon with a sickeningly slick sound. Once he looked up to her when he found her unharmed, his smile weakened. “Charlie, go.” He breathed as he fell forward.

Charlie shrieked. “A-Alastor!” Using the rest of her strength, she reached forward and caught the love of her life in her arms. Though she faltered, she quickly recovered when adjusting to his weight.

The angel couldn’t move seeing the demoness uncontrollably sob over the fallen mortal soul. Tears flowed freely as her desperate hands clung to him. “No! No no no no, Al, please!”

But no response came.

The angel stood above them, spear in hand but not at the ready. Instead the heavenly being stared down at them, confused and curious all at once. The damned mortal soul risked his life for another. His selfless reaction was a clear act of love for the bawling demoness that held him. What was most surprising was the fact that she’d seemingly forgotten about the angel that loomed over them, its job still unfinished. Even with the threat still present, she still paid the angel no mind. She could easily be struck down with the demon in her hands, but it didn’t seem to matter to her.

‘This is ridiculous...’ He thought with a shake of his head. He raised his spear, ready to finish the job. But once he took a good look at the female demon’s face, he froze once more.

“You’re not my brother! Not anymore!”

With a cough, the defeated angel before Michael laughed with a pained wheeze. “You sound like father,” he coughed once more and closed his eyes, accepting his fate. “I know I’m a fool Michael. And I know you’ll never understand why I did what I did, but it doesn’t matter anymore,” Lucifer opened his eyes and looked to the side, keeping his gaze fixed on something. Michael didn’t have to look to see what exactly he was staring at, he knew the first woman was watching from afar.

“Get on with it then, Michael. Just don’t hurt her please. This was my doing,” He smiled, even when he knew he was going to die. “Promise me you’ll let her live. It’s the last thing I’ll ever ask of you.” Michael watched his blood brother in horror, completely baffled how even when he laid battered and beaten, he could still smile at the reason he was in this mess. How could he worry about the first woman when he was about to die by his own brother’s hand?

Being a being of love and goodness, Michael instantly recognized the unconditional love his brother had for Lilith. It was the purest love one could feel, something he’d never seen in Hell. That is, until today. Somehow, in the cesspool that is Hell, he’d found it.

And he found it in a demon that looked so much like his brother.

‘No. It couldn’t-‘

The booming toll of a bell caught the angel’s attention. He needed to get back before the portal closed and stranded him in the pit of suffering.

With one last look at the pair, Michael flew away feeling too many things all at once. He had never enjoyed these cleanses, but he had never once felt remorse for participating in them either. He was an angel of mercy and he was so sure that he was granting these sinners mercy by putting them out of their misery. It was just his job as an archangel: to bring mercy to the wicked.

But never had he seen anything as beautiful or pure like love in Hell. Not like this.

‘Lucifer and the first woman... And now his own offspring with a sinner... and that sinner sacrificed himself for her...’ It was mind boggling. No, it was damn near maddening. This challenged everything he believed in.

He crossed the barrier and his wounds instantly healed, causing him to sigh in relief. His foes this year were far stronger than he anticipated.

“Michael? What’s wrong?” A familiar voice broke Michael out of his thoughts. It was his sister and underling Azrael, and she was covered in blood. It was a normal sight for the returning angels to be covered in blood, but it looked as if Azrael bathed in blood of the cleansed.

Michael removed his bloodied mask. “Oh nothing! Just... thinking.”

“Oh? What about?”

“About... Do you think these creatures are capable of love?”

His angelic companion burst into hysterics at the suggestion. “The damned souls? Love? Oh don’t be silly brother,” she sighed, attempting to calm herself a bit. “If they were then we wouldn’t be putting them out of their misery now would be? Father told us that, ‘ if they truly knew love, they wouldn’t suffer.’ We’re just helping them move on from their horrid lives.” She explained as she admired the bloodied tip of her angelic spear with a smirk. It was clear that their job was just a game to her. Michael would have scolded her for her being so callous, but he couldn't help his distracting thoughts from taking over. Then a thought hit him.

If that sinner hadn’t surprise him so suddenly, Michael would have fully impaled him. He wondered if he was still alive. Part of him hoped that he was strangely enough.

And the girl- the girl who looked too much like his fallen brother. She mourned for the sinner, she held him close and shed tears for him. She was too alike Lucifer to be a coincidence. Just like his brother, she cared too much about others to consider her own safety. Had he not hesitated, she would have perished alongside the mortal she seemed to care about. She was certainly Lucifer’s child: a dramatic, hopeless romantic.

For the first time in his existence, Michael quietly prayed for the sinner’s recovery.

Alastor was not yet dead, but he was losing blood so fast that it was almost inevitable.

The extermination may have been over, but all the hope that remained in Charlie’s heart flowed out of her like the blood of her lover. Alastor’s warm blood oozed out of his back in full force and stained her hand. Guilt, anguish and helplessness hit her harder than the angel ever had. Her tears flowed freely, dripping from her cheek and onto her love’s face. Yet, he wasn’t reacting to it in the slightest.

Again, she was a failure. She couldn’t protect Alastor and instead had to be protected and put him in immediate danger. Now he lay in her arms, beaten and broken. “I’m so sorry Al,” she sobbed, bringing his body as close as she possibly could. “I couldn’t protect you.”

An unbloodied hand suddenly rested on Charlie’s tear-streaked cheek and began wiping the tears away. “Shhh stop crying my love. Crying doesn’t suit you in the slightest.” It was Alastor’s voice, but his voice was warped, making his words came out like static, yet he still sounded so sure in his tone- as if he was sure he wasn’t going anywhere.

“A-Alastor?” She whispered with a sniff. Her eyes widened down at him, her expression unreadable aside from the shock.

He chuckled and nodded slightly. “Yes, I’m still here,” he said calm and cooly. “You can’t get rid of me that easily I’m afraid.” The static died down a bit, clearing his tone ever so slightly.

Charlie’s tears burst from the floodgates with renewed strength. Her heart pounded in her chest, feeling everything from euphoria to relief. “I-I-I th-thought you were dead! I d-d-d-didn’t think you were gonna make it!” Charlie hiccuped, wiping the flooding tears from her cheeks before they overwhelmed Alastor. She wanted to look at him with unobstructed sight, but the relieved tears continued to replace her anguished ones.

“I was very close to it, don’t mistake me. But-“ he gingerly lifted himself out of Charlie’s arms, but immediately collapsed again. Charlie promptly caught him, pressing a hand on his chest to make sure he stayed.

In the moment he got up, Charlie saw it. From the exposed flesh on his back, she saw the inky tentacles that remained gathered right over where his heart would be. It seemed the majority of the flowing blood had come from Alastor’s projections, rather than his own person. They’d taken the brunt of the blow, but Charlie hadn't seen exactly how far the spear went into him. Thankfully though it didn’t seem to be an emergency just yet.

“No, stay here a little longer and relax.” She said sternly before snaking her hand up to his cheek. “You scared the shit out of me. You idiot.” an airy laugh escaped her lips as she brought her forehead to rest on his.

Alastor chuckled in response, suddenly feeling stronger by the second. In this life Alastor hadn’t sustained many injuries, but he knew that this was not normal, not in the slightest. Something must be healing him, but he couldn’t figure out what or how.

But for now it didn’t matter. Everything that did was still here. “I know I’m a fool, darling. But please forgive me, this fool had too much to lose.”

#charlastorweek #charlastorweek2020 #charlastor #charlastor fic

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shirtlesssammy · 6 years

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4x06: Yellow Fever

Then:

Cas saved Dean from Hell, and now Dean finds himself in a whole new kind of hell.

Now:

We open with our very own Dean Bean running like his life depends on it. And from the sound of the hounds barking behind him, it sounds dire. Dean’s fresh from hell so his fear of dogs is heightened here, so when a tiny little yorkie pops up on screen, I laugh but also cry.

43 Hours Earlier

Sam and Dean Agents Tyler and Perry pull into Rock Ridge, Colorado’s coroner’s office to investigate the death of one Frank O’Brien --a seemingly healthy 44 year old man who dropped dead three days ago. There’s been a string of heart attacks and Agent Perry just wants to see the autopsy report. One hasn’t been done, so the coroner sets to the task with the agents in attendance.

The brothers both notice oddities about the deceased body --missing wedding ring and scratches on the arms. The coroner finds nothing wrong with the heart and Sam gets hit with a little spleen juice. Yum.

Later, they meet with the very germaphobic sheriff --even surprising Dean! The sheriff was friends with Frank, and he mentions that Frank was scared of something before his death. The brothers reassure him that it was just a heart attack.

It was definitely not a heart attack.

They don’t know what it is, but decide to interview the neighbor of the victim as a start --right after Dean gives some loitering teens the stink eye.

The neighbor is a collector of exotic pets it seems. And while Sam conducts the interview, Dean gets increasingly jumpy. They find out from him that Frank was afraid of everything before he died. He also reluctantly admits that once upon a time Frank was “a dick.” Also, his wife died about 20 years prior. That really broke him and he wasn’t so bad as the years went by.

Dean meets Marie.

Sidenote: I recall seeing an interview or con video once where they talk about this scene --and Jared was too afraid to be in the same room as the snake. Bravo on the editing. I wouldn’t have guessed.

Later, an increasingly jumpy Dean shows Sam his investigation into the death of Frank O’Brien’s wife --manic depressive who hung herself. Sam finds nothing at Frank’s apartment. It’s a real puzzle.

It’s also a real puzzle to Sam why Dean’s driving 20 mph. “Safety’s a crime now?” Dean asks indignantly. He also is not suicidal and won’t turn left into oncoming traffic (Cautiously smart, my friend.) It’s then that Sam hears his EMF machine go berzerk. “Am I haunted? Am I haunted?!” DEAN BEAN.

The next day (not sure where they slept the night before…), Sam surprises Dean jamming out to Survivor. He’s got scratch marks on his arm AND he passes on doughnuts. Sam’s reaction shots are PURE GOLD this episode. Sam talked to Bobby and Dean appears to be haunted with Ghost Sickness. It can spread like the flu once one person is infected. Frank contracted it first and passed it to friends --and Dean. They have to kill the ghost that started it all to save Dean. (But first Sam has to move their hotel room from the fourth floor to the first for Dean.)

Later, Dean’s reading up on Ghost Sickness when he starts coughing and hallucinating words on the page.

(Are all these close ups really necessary?)

Later, Sam returns with no news on who the ghost is and Dean laments on being near death again. It’s nice (but sad) to rewatch and realize how much they did address Dean’s Hell trauma.

He then coughs up a woodchip (I legit can’t breath during this every time) and Sam realizes that Dean’s a clue. “I don’t want to be a clue,” Dean whines. BBY.

They head to the local abandoned lumber yard. Dean refuses to go inside, but Sam needs backup. Dean drinks a fair amount of hunter’s helper...and decides that he’ll “man the flashlight.”

They head inside to investigate and find a kitten.

*Classic Gif Alert*

Sam is increasingly losing it. And Dean’s weak little “wait?” at the end of the scene? GAH.

They find more clues about Frank’s wife and Luther Garland, when the saw mill starts working. Manning the flashlight, Dean’s too paralyzed to say or do anything when he sees someone standing in the corner of the room.

Dean takes off and finishes off the rest of his booze while Sam blasts the ghost with salt. Their ghost is Luther Garland.

Back at the sheriff’s department, a drunk little Dean Bean flirts a little bit with the deputy. A drunk man’s words is a sober man’s thoughts, Dean.

Sam snatches his brother away before he gets the dude’s number. (I mean, he was trying to reach into his pocket for a pen, right?)

The sheriff, through the intercom, asks what the Winchesters wanted and the deputy tells him. Cut to the Sheriff who is actually sandpapering the skin off his forearms. URG. He loads a gun. An apparition of himself intones ominously, “They know what you did.”

Meanwhile, Dean is still freaking the fuck out. At a retirement home, he jumps when he runs across a little old lady. Poor Dean.

They meet Mr. Garland, who asks for ID.

Dean freaks out about the scrutiny. “Those are real,” he tells Garland convincingly.

Sam asks Garland about the death of his brother. Garland tells them that everyone was scared of Luther, but he was the kindest man he ever knew. In the flashback Luther pulls a kitten out of a box and I melt into a giant puddle.

Sam pulls out the drawing of the woman they found. Garland identifies the woman as someone who worked at the mill. Her husband killed Luther and furthermore, this was common knowledge. Luther had a crush on her and when she killed herself Frank assumed that Luther had a hand in her death. He went into his room at the mill, saw pictures of her everywhere and assumed the worst. He tied a chain around Luther's neck and dragged him by a truck until he was dead.

Garland tells them that he complained to every cop he could find about Luther's murder but nobody would act on it. Frank was a pillar of the community. He says, in a moment that I did not remember at all, that he didn't hate Frank anymore. Frank's wife was missing and Frank was afraid. “That's fear,” Garland says. “It spreads and spreads.” (What an unexpected moment – where I remembered only fear and almost comical hijinks...there's this odd moment of peace and forgiveness - even of his brother’s murderer.)

The interview with Garland clarifies some things for Dean. The rash on his skin is road rash and the woodchips were swallowed by Luther as he was dragged. Dean's ready to burn some bones and be free again but Sam points out that Luther's body was ripped to shreds. They'll never recover all the remains.

Dean takes this very well.

Classic Dialogue Alert

Dean: What are we doing?!

Sam: We're hunting a ghost.

Dean: A ghost, exactly! Who does that?

Sam: Us.

Dean: Us? Right. And that Sam, that is exactly why our lives suck. I mean, come on, we hunt monsters! What the hell?! I mean, normal people, they see a monster, and they run. But not us, no, we search out things that want to kill us. Or eat us! You know who does that? Crazy people!

Dean heads off in a huff, flop sweating his ass off, when an adorable pup approaches. And we've joined up with the start of the episode. Sam finds Dean sweating and breathing hard in the motel room. Sam wonders how he got to the hotel. “Ran,” Dean says, wide eyed. Dean frets that he only has four hours left and Sam tells him it's about time he dies and heads back to hell. He's been a real pain in his ass. Sam's eyes glow yellow. Sam pushes Dean against the wall and tells him that the yellow eyes don’t mean he’s possessed...it's all him. He's going to turn evil and there's nothing Dean can do about it.

Snap to real Sam trying to help Dean calm down while Dean experiences a full out panic hallucination against the wall. It's getting bad...

It's time to bring in Bobby! He meets up with Sam and pulls out an encyclopedia of spirits written in Japanese. Bobby can both read and speak Japanese. Mmmmm yessss goooood. The fearful ghost, a Buru Buru, can be destroyed by fear. “So we have to scare a ghost to death?” Mmm hmm yes good luck with that.

Sam calls Dean and tells him to “hang in there” and they've got a plan. Cut to Bobby outside the mill who tells Sam that their plan is a TERRIBLE idea. Still, it's all they've got. Sam heads into the mill and tries to lure out Luther.

Back at the motel, Dean hears barking dogs. It's hellhounds at the door! No, it's the Sheriff. He breaks down the door, one arm bloody, and asks why Dean is looking into Luther's death. Dean tries to reason with him, even in his state of extreme fear, and the Sheriff decks him in response.

The Sheriff tells Dean that Frank was his friend and he let him go. He's not going to let Dean bring him down. Dean fights the Sheriff and sees his eyes turn demon black. Reality shifts madly between them. The Sheriff starts to seize from a heart attack. Dean yells at him to calm down but it's too late. (Yelling “calm down” is always effective with panic attacks.) The Sheriff dies.

Back at the mill, Sam realizes that walking around with a gun is scaring Luther's ghost. Sam sets down his gun and tries a different tack to luring out Luther. He starts tearing up the photos of the secretary. This works and Luther appears.

Dean continues to totally lose it, scratching his forearms and hearing barking hellhounds. He finds a bible and holds it in a firm embrace. Suddenly child-Lilith appears. She hugs him, sweetly,

Dean's going back to Hell. She tells him that she knows he remembers everything from Hell. Four months is like forty years, like “doggy years.” Oh, Dean Bean <3

Dean falls to the floor, his heart clenching. He tells her that she isn't real but she tells him it doesn't matter. “You're still gonna die. You're still gonna burn.” She smiles smugly.

“Why'd I get infected?” Dean asks.

“Silly goose. Listen to your heart. Ba BOOM BA BOOM.”

Luther, meanwhile, is beating up Sam. It's looking bad when Sam wraps chains around Luther's neck and yells at Bobby to “punch it.” Using the Impala, Bobby drags Luther's ghost in a horrible reenactment of his death, until Luther dissipates and moves on.

At the last minute, Dean gasps for air in the motel room and finds his arms are healed, skin unbroken.

Later, they tell Dean how they destroyed Luther's ghost with an iron chain. They gloss over the darkness of his second death and ask how Dean's doing. “I'm fine. You want to go hunting? I'll hunt. I'll kill anything.” So. Dean's doing GREAT and not at all long-term traumatized by his experiences in Hell.

For Science:

Bobby takes off and Sam asks Dean what he saw near the end. Dean thinks he sees yellow flash in Sam's eyes and tells him he saw “the usual stuff” and nothing he can't handle. Dean’s FINE, guys. EMOTIONS.

And while this is the end of the episode, it's not the END of the episode because. Guys. Here's where we get Jensen Ackles car dancing to Eye of the Tiger.

[video https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ljpJJCTBIKY]

Chuck bless this silly, serious, sometimes disturbing show.

The Only Thing We Have to Quote are Quotes Themselves:

Our room’s on the fourth floor. It’s...high.

Awesome. It's nice to have my head on the chopping block again. I almost forgot what that feels like

Who would pretend to be an FBI agent, huh? That's just nutty.

Life's too short for hate

You're gassy! You eat half a burrito, and you get toxic!

He's adorable.

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