A/N: Much belated gratitude and credit to my good friend Abbie who suggested Bleeddry as Diane and Carmen's human last names. A good idea is a good idea. She knows why.

A/N the second: Despite the best efforts of my muse and that darn story outline this story has taken on a life on its own. The end is near, but I added some chapters. Let's roll with it, people.

Chapter 9 – chicken soup for the hellhound soul

I took the lead out the door and down the stairs.

Tik tik...

I stopped and cocked my head to one side as I listened.

...tik tik...

I knew what that sound was. Remember I said I could scent the hellhounds who'd died in that house?

They were downstairs. Walking around on the hard wood floor.

They weren't alone.

Two hellcats sat on the upstairs hallway table outside the bedroom. Ten more crouched on the balcony railings. They looked solid, dressed in all colors and stripes, patches and color, but I wasn't fooled. Lighter than air spirits but still still leashed to this terrible place.

Despite that they made that purring sound cats make. As we passed by they looked at us and blinked very slowly. I still don't know what that meant, but they looked peaceful.

The stairs were clear. The front hallway was packed all to wall with the ghosts of every animal who had ever suffered and died in that house. Adults. Puppies. Black dogs. Hellhounds. The other spirits were regular dogs and cats unlucky enough to enter the house. The cats sat in the windows. The dogs came up to me and touched noses. They were both sexes, all shapes and sizes.

They circled around Dean. Even though they knew he meant them no harm they were still wary of him. He was a two-legger and a demon, after all.

Boomer stared at them wide eyed. "They told me to run. When I first came here. They told me to. I didn't listen. I thought this was a good place."

The pup whimpered deep in his throat and buried his face in Dean's shoulder. He couldn't look at them anymore.

"It's okay, Boomer," Dean murmured. "You're okay."

Boomer still didn't believe what Dean said, no matter how kindly he said it. Hurt things never do believe. We can't. It feels better to be on guard, even if being on guard doesn't stop the hurt. We hear soft words all the time. Empty promises or downright lies.

The spirits were everywhere. In the tv room they sat on the couch they stood on the floors and in the windows. In the kitchen the cats perched atop the refrigerators, the counters, the table and the stove. Cats like high places. I've never understood why. The dogs sat on the floor, smiling, their faces soft, their tails wagging.

Boomer never looked up. He cried softly to himself even as we walked into the kitchen. He probably thought that Diane and Carmen would jump out of thin air at him. A part of me knew exactly how he felt. There wasn't anything that Dean or I could say to him that would calm him down.

But maybe we could show him he didn't have to be scared anymore. I headed for the back room.

The demons were still on the floor in their bodies. The spirits stood around them. They made room when Dean and I walked in. There wasn't much to see. Diane and Carmen hid in the space behind their hearts.

Several hellhounds ghosted through the basement door. I didn't recognize their clans, but I knew their bodies were buried in the basement.

"Get back out here." Dean's voice held an angry edge to it. He forced the demons back out into the open with a thought. They coiled back and forth inside their bodies, around and around in a space as large as a human fist. Dean nodded at me.

"Hey, Boomer?" I said quietly. "You need to see this."

"Don't wanna," the pup mumbled into Dean's shoulder.

"They're right here. And they can't hurt you anymore."

Boomer slowly lifted his head. His eyes were slits. He turned his head slowly. When he looked down his eyes widened. The look of surprise on his face was almost funny.

"See? They're never going to hurt you or anybody else," Dean said. "It's over."

The pup leaned forward until he nearly fell out of Dean's arms. His expression softened. That tail of his started wagging.

I bussed noses with the spirit of a spotted Great Dane. A silver grey hellhound with a short stubby tail approached Dean. She stood up on her hind legs and shyly licked at his hand. She didn't jerk back when he gently scratched the top of her head.

Dean smiled at her. "Hello, sweetie."

The hound nudged his hand one more time with her nose. She dropped back down on all fours and moved back so the others could come closer. A tiny little grey and black tabby with big ears rubbed up against Dean's legs and purred.

The air inside the house grew brighter.

One by one they disappeared. When the last one left the light faded out. The house felt different somehow. Smaller. That place still didn't feel right to me. Too much had gone on within those fences and walls.

I've heard tales that regular animals go to some place called the Rainbow Bridge when they die. My pack told me that hellhounds pass over to a place all their own. A place where all the clans and packs run free and no one ever feels pain and fear ever again. I'd like to believe that. I really would.

I don't know if I do or not.

I do know that as I watched the Other spirits fade out I saw that none of them were afraid or scared. That tells me that their final resting place is a good one. It has to be. Right now that's more than good enough for me.

I sat down and stared at the demons. I could drag them back to hell, even though they tasted foul and upset my stomach a little. My mouth wasn't as soft as it was before. I could do it.

Turns out I didn't have to.

The smoke demons stopped moving.

Dean stuck his arm out, palm up. The older female demon disappeared, only to reappear floating over his outstretched hand. The smoke essence lowered itself down onto his hand, Dean hooked his fingers into a claw and closed his fingers. When he opened them up again the demon looked like a lump of coal.

Then it disappeared.

Boomer looked puzzled, but I knew what Dean did. "I can carry them down."

"You don't have to," Dean said mildly.

He called up the daughter next. She disappeared the same way.

As soon as his hand was empty Dean frowned up as though he tasted something nasty. He wiped his hand on his jeans. His expression darned a little as he looked around the house. "I've got an idea about this place. Remind me when we come back."

His power wrapped around us like a warm blanket and away we went.

Chapter 10 is next.