The EMF readings ended up being useless. According to his meter, the whole mansion was haunted. He suspected it was some combination of the age and history of the building—according to Lionel, it had been shipped over from Scotland brick by brick, which explained a lot—as well as the backup generators.

He did find quite a bit of warding on the property—devil's traps, salt, sigils. "You know these won't help you against ghosts, right?" John asked, pointing out a devil's trap.

"Ah. Well. You're certain it is a ghost?"

"Well, I'm not finding any sulfur. No ectoplasm, either. No reason to think it's anything other than a ghost."

"Ectoplasm, you said?"

"Yeah. I can send you some resources when we're done here." It seemed like Lionel had just found random articles on warding. They were accurate, but not very specific. John would have spent the afternoon setting him straight on a few things, but he would have needed internet access or at least a couple of phone calls to confirm things he hadn't memorized, and he didn't seem to be getting a good cell signal in the mansion.

Lionel brought out a box of things that had belonged to his wife. Part of John was tempted to burn them on sight, just in case she was connected to any of the items, but it wouldn't have been a good idea. If Lilian didn't show up tonight, they would never know whether it was because John had burned the right item, or if it was just a coincidence. He would have to stay for days or weeks to be certain.

John had done as much scoping as he could, so he settled down to wait for the arrival of the spirit that night. As hunts went, the day turned out to be pleasant. Normally, John would have had to speak to more witnesses, work the case, do his research. This case seemed straightforward enough that he allowed himself some time to relax. He and Lionel spent the evening in the study, chatting about their boys. John enjoyed talking about Sam to someone who didn't know the full story. From the sound of it, Lionel's son Lex was a piece of work; John was glad Sam and Dean had never spent any time around Lex, or God knew what kind of ideas he'd have put in their heads.

The conversation quieted as the light pouring in from the window dimmed, and John knew why. Lionel carried his anxiety well, but John could hardly imagine what he would have felt if he were waiting for the ghost of his wife to appear and threaten or attack him.

As the last of the light faded, John got up to pour a salt ring around the couch where Lionel was sitting. He preemptively poured salt and lighter fluid into the box of Lillian's belongings as well.

He had only just finished with the lighter fluid when the room grew suddenly cold, and Lionel gasped beside him. John looked first to Lionel's face, then in the direction he was staring.

There stood a woman in a white nightgown, with dark hair, pale skin, and sunken eyes. She glared, eyes fixed on Lionel.

"Lillian," Lionel choked out.

"Our son," she said softly. "It's your fault!"

"No, no, I never..."

She flew toward him, and John lit the box on fire.

Lillian's ghost paused, the flames reflected in her eyes as the box of her things turned to ash. John held his breath, waiting for her to go up in flames.

Then she cried out and flew toward him.

John jumped back in surprise—he hadn't prepared to be attacked. He raced for the fireplace, grabbed an iron poker, and swiped it through the air just as she reached him.

She disappeared, and John breathed hard in the silence.

Lionel let out a long, shuddering breath. "Did it work?"

"No. That wasn't it."

"Where is she?"

"The iron sends her away, temporarily." John came over to stand inside the salt circle. "But she'll be back."

"What are we going to do?"

"We're going to stay inside this circle and figure out what else she might be tied to."

"She can't get past the salt, can she?"

"No more than we could get through a solid wall."

John's eyes darted around the circle. He expected her to appear anywhere within a few feet's range.

"There!" Lionel pointed across the room, and John squinted in the low light.

There stood Lilian, fingers on the handle for the window. Slowly, she turned and opened it, and a light breeze blew into the house.

John frowned. The ghost just stood, watching as a few papers fluttered up from the coffee table.

Then her eyes traveled toward the salt circle, where a few grains of salt at a time were blown aside by the wind, thinning the line until nothing remained.

John's heart dropped. "Run," he said, and they both did.

Lex tried to tell himself this was just another battle. Just the same as Dean and his father faced more or less every week, with every hunt they went on. The same as Clark faced with each new dangerous meteor mutant, while Lex and Chloe researched behind the scenes. The same as Lex faced on the regular as well—scaring away threats to his company, back when that was a concern, and now threats to his community, his friends, himself. They all went into battle all the time. This was no different.

Except it was. Because it was his father. The one adversary Lex knew better than any other, and yet the one he couldn't predict, couldn't defeat, because his father knew him just as well. There were always casualties in a battle against his father.

"I still don't know what my father wants with John Winchester," Lex said, sitting down across from Clark and Chloe at the couches in his living room. His new place wasn't a fraction as nice as the mansion, but the space felt less cold and more inviting. He infinitely preferred it.

"Do you think he wants to kill him?" Clark asked.

"As much as it would be in well within my father's nature to arrange a hunting accident, I don't see where it would benefit him here."

Clark frowned. "Could it have something to do with Sam and Dean? Maybe he knows about their connection to you."

"I don't know," Chloe said. "Maybe this is really about John. I've done a lot of research into him. He clears his tracks pretty well, and he uses fake credit cards, a new alias in every town, but he gets around. As far as I can tell . . . he must have killed tens, maybe hundreds of monsters."

"If my father knows about that, he might just as well want to ally with John."

"There's always a chance John sought out Lionel," Chloe said.

Lex raised his eyebrows. He hadn't considered that possibility.

"Either way, someone needs to warn Mr. Winchester." Clark's voice had taken on that determined tone, the one that was hard to talk him out of.

Lex gave him a meaningful look. "I agree, Clark, but if he knows about the supernatural, he might . . . be more dangerous than we realize."

Clark's eyes grew wide. He snuck a glance at Chloe, who rolled her eyes when he wasn't looking. Lex had to resist the urge to roll his own eyes. He couldn't say that his father might know about aliens or kryptonite, because officially, Chloe didn't know Clark's secret. Of course, given five minutes with Lex's research, she had mostly figured it out, but so far, they hadn't talked to Clark about it. He was terrible at keeping secrets, but he didn't like being reminded of that fact; it tended to derail all other conversations for days, weeks, or months at a time. In some ways, Clark was every bit the nine-year-old child Lex had become so protective of when he was only a teenager himself.

"I'll scope out the property a bit more," Lex said. Later, he would have to talk to Clark and Chloe each individually to tell them that the mansion was barricaded with salt, kryptonite, devil's traps, and every other warding Lex had ever heard of, and a few he hadn't, including some kind of electromagnetic barrier that didn't seem scientifically possible. It was no wonder no one had been able to get a message in to John. "And we're going to need to look more into what my father's been doing these past few months."

Chloe lowered her head a little, and Lex had a pretty good idea of why. He made a mental note to talk to her later.

"Both of you should be getting home," Lex said. "It's late. Your dads'll have my head."

Clark smirked. "Good night, Lex," he said, and he stood to head out.

"See you in the morning?" Chloe asked. "I'll bring you a coffee."

He smiled, a little weary. She knew him well enough to know his research would keep him up all night. "Yeah," he said.

"Night," she said, and she followed Clark.