Hello, my wonderful readers! It is time to return to the angst pit known as this fic. I have no special announcements, only the usual. I do not own Welcome to Hell in any way, shape, or form. That honor belongs to Erica Wester. I only own my personal ideas. A huge thank you goes to my beta and best friend who is always willing to read over my chapters no matter what. I love you, cos-cos! Without further ado, please enjoy the chappie!

When he was sure that Sock was distracted by cute cat videos, Jonathan pulled his phone out of his hoody pocket and opened the Internet. Typing quickly, he pressed enter and silently prayed that the Wi-Fi would move quickly. It did not. Jon spent the next couple of minutes looking between his phone and Sock, nervous. When the page did finally load up, Jonathan couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief. Sock glanced over, confused.

"You okay, Jon?"

Smiling slightly at the use of his nickname, Jonathan nodded. "Yeah, I was worried I wouldn't be able to check my grades, but the Wi-Fi finally started to work."

Sock nodded, knowing how important Jonathan's grades were to him, and returned his attention to the cat videos. Jonathan, meanwhile, quickly began to peruse the information he'd looked up:

ILLNESSES THAT AFFECT SPIRITS

There was nothing on the page that explicitly said ghosts could get sick, but there was one paragraph heading that caught Jon's interest. As he read the information that followed the heading, Jonathan's eyebrows slowly rose. While it was not known if spirits and other supernatural beings could become ill, it was suspected that emotions played a large role in the afterlife. Specifically, the sudden loss or return of memories could turn even the most benevolent of spirits into malevolent ghouls. However, there was nothing about spirits completely changing forms. Jonathan bit back a groan, frustrated at the lack of answers. At least the emotions bit was applicable. Sock had been acting differently since the flashbacks started.

With a small sigh, Jon put his phone back in his pocket. If nothing else, he had something to go off of. Now he only needed a plan. Should he try to summon Mephistopheles and interrogate him? Or should he risk the helix's wrath and ask Sock about what was happening? Would it be wise to attempt trapping Sock until he figured out what was going on? Would he have the emotional strength to trap his best friend in some voodoo circle?

As Jon sat on the edge of his bed, trying to come up with a plan, something within Sock was becoming suspicious. He tried to write it off as illogical paranoia but found that he couldn't. Some dark, poisonous part of his mind kept whispering doubts. At the forefront of these worries was a single thought:

'Jonathan is up to something.'

"Jonathan," Sock began, slowly lowering the laptop lid. "What were you really looking at?"

"What do you mean?" Jon asked, eyebrow arched slightly. "I told you, I was checking my grades. It's almost the end of the semester."

"You're lying." Sock said softly. "You think something is wrong with me, and you were checking Google for answers! You think I'm sick, don't you?"

Jonathan didn't see the point in lying. "Yes. There's something different about you, and I can't quite figure out what it is."

"Then why didn't you just ask?" Sock snapped. Jon, however, couldn't think logically. As he watched, Sock's teeth seemed to lengthen, almost sharpening. His back hunched, and a pair of black, feathery wings exploded from his back. To Jon, the wings seemed to be a mockery of angel wings. Mostly black, the wings were shot through with streaks of crimson, silver, red, and sickly yellows. Even this single feature gave off an aura of sickness.

"I knew you'd get upset. I thought if I could find answers, I would be able to think of a way to help you." Jon replied, surprised at the steadiness of his voice.

"So, you tricked me?" The creature that had once been Sock shrieked, moving until his face was only inches away from Jonathan's.

The blonde shook his head quickly, moving away from the demon quickly. "No. I wasn't going to keep anything I found out from you. I just wanted to collect my thoughts before I spoke with you."

Sock-not-Sock tilted his head to the side, listening to a voice only he could hear. Then he returned his focus to Jonathan. "Only helping?" If Jonathan hadn't been as panicked as he was, he would've noticed that Sock's voice seemed to have changed; it had grown deeper in pitch, almost a growl. He also would've noticed that Sock's speech, once fluent, almost seemed to resemble a person speaking broken English.

"Yes, I was only trying to help." Jonathan replied, nodding in agreement.

Once again, the little demon seemed to be listening to a voice only he could hear. He nodded, agreeing with whoever he was listening to. Jonathan bit his lip, instinctively sensing that Sock was not receiving good counsel from whoever he was "speaking" with. After what seemed like forever, Sock looked at Jonathan with hazy eyes. Later, Jonathan would think it was the look of a puppet.

"Still wrong." The creature murmured, gazing at Jon with glassy eyes. Jonathan swallowed nervously. He didn't know what to do; nothing he could say felt like a safe response. The creature shook his head, grinning and baring his sharp teeth.

"Sock go now."

It took a moment for the words to sink in. When he realized what was going to happen, he rushed forward, meaning to grab the demon's arm. "Wait!"

Before anything else could be done, Sock disappeared. There was no cloud of smoke, no flash of bright light, and no sound. Sock was just gone.

As always, I hope everyone enjoyed this week's chappie. Constructive criticism and the like are always appreciated, but pure negativity is not. I'll see you soon!

XOXOXOXO