Where There's A Will

by jennytork

It starts with a visit from a hellhound. It ends with a visit to a lawyer. Along the way, Crowley gets fed up with Castiel's lack of fashion sense.

WHERE THERE'S A WILL...

Dean Winchester rolled over, knuckling sleep from his eyes, and froze. He slowly sat up, shook his head, squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again. Nope. No change.

There really was a hellhound sitting at the foot of his bed, holding something in its mouth that looked very much like an envelope.

After three abortive tries, he managed to roar out Sam's name. Sam came running, only to skid to a stop in the doorway, hair bouncing in suddenly huge eyes as he breathed out a curse.

"I'll take that to mean I ain't hallucinatin'," Dean couldn't resist.

"Is... Is that a -"

"Yup."

"How can we see it?"

Dean knuckled his eyes again. "I'd say it's because it's here to deliver that message it's holding. Armed?" When Sam's hand went to the small of his back, Dean nodded. "Cover me." He slowly rose to his knees and crawled to the edge of his bed. He reached out toward the hellhound, then blinked, jerking back slightly.

"Dean?" Sam hissed.

"I know her!"

As if acknowledging his words, the great tail began to thump.

Sam frowned at him. "What do you mean, you know her? And how can you tell it's a her?" His nose wrinkled. "Do you tell like a – like a dog, dog, or how?"

Dean glared at his brother. "For the record, hellhounds are junkless. And I know it's a her because her name is Princess, and we got to know each other quite well." He got off the bed and one hand scratched behind the dark ears as the other one took the envelope out of the canine's mouth.

To Sam's surprise, the dark red eyes closed and the head pressed into Dean's touch as though it was Bobby's old dog Rumsfeld. "Okay, this I gotta hear."

"When I did my stint Down Below, part of the training Alistair gave me was working with the hellhounds, using them as extensions of our torture. Princess, here, was Meg's pet hound."

Sam's eyes narrowed. "That means she was at Carthage, right? One of those who killed Ellen and Jo?"

"Nope," Dean said firmly. "Princess was nowhere near Carthage."

"And you know that so definitely because-"

"Because those were all males. Males are the super-killers. Girl hellhounds are more for intimidation, protection." His eyes narrowed. "Big question is, what are you doing here, huh, girl?"

Sam finally – slowly – ventured into the room and moved to the bed. When the hound just kept leaning into the petting, he dared to sit on the bed. "Good question," he said. "Especially since Meg's dead. Let me see that envelope." Dean handed it over and Sam drew out a single sheet of paper. His eyebrows suddenly shot up as though they were trying to escape into his hairline. "Huh!"

"'Huh'?" Dean asked, giving Princess one final pat on top of the head before climbing onto the foot of the bed. "What caused that reaction?"

"It's a summons," Sam said. "'The four named herein'," he read, "'are to present themselves at the law offices of Sullivan, McGuire and Ryan at 11 AM on' this coming Monday."

Dean's eyes narrowed. "The four named?"

"Yeah." Sam met his eyes. "Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, James Novak and Fergus McLeod."

Dean felt his jaw drop open. "Cas and Crowley? Okay, why are the four of us being told to present ourselves at a lawyer's office?"

Sam looked at him, eyes large with surprise. "We're to be present for the reading of Meg's will."

Dean blinked at him. "Meg left a will?"

"Under the name of Megara Masters, looks like."

Dean scrubbed his hand down his face. "Somehow, I'm having trouble wrapping my head around that." He looked back at Priness. "Still – that explains why she would be delivering it. Hey, girl, can you locate Crowley?"

Sam flinched as the hellhound let out a single, low bark that vibrated along his bones.

"Princess? Human stealth mode."

Sam frowned. "Human stealth mode? What does that-" His voice trailed off into another eye-widening expression of surprise as the hellhound's form rippled and altered. Suddenly an overly large German shepherd sat there, grinning a doggy grin as the tail thudded on the floor. "...oh."

Dean chuckled, then laughed. "Crowley, Princess. Fetch."

The hellhound barked again – and then was gone.

Dean closed his eyes. "Hey, Cas, got your ears on? Meet us in the kitchen in about fifteen." He opened his eyes and stood. "I still need a shower."

"I'll make the coffee," Sam said as he fled the bedroom, Dean's laughter following him.

SPN SPN SPN

Fifteen minutes to the second later, Castiel appeared in the Bunker's kitchen. "Sam. Dean asked me to come?"

"Sit down," Sam gestured. "Want a pancake?"

Castiel considered. "Yes, thank you. So I take it there's no dire emergency?"

"No. But just to warn you, a hellhound will be arriving with Crowley any second."

Caught with a mouth full of pancake, Castiel's only reaction till he swallowed was an almost comical widening of his blue eyes. Then he said, "Something must be wrong with my hearing. I believed that I heard you say a hellhound and Crowley were arriving for breakfast."

"You heard correctly," Crowley purred as he walked in, holding onto Princess's neck.

Castiel shot to his feet, flicking his sword into his hand.

Crowley rolled his eyes. "Put it away, Columbo. I'm here at their request." He released Princess, and the hound bounded away. Crowley frowned. "Wait...are those..."

"Pancakes," Sam said. "Want one?"

"I haven't had those in a century," Crowley mused as he sat down. He looked rather like a bearded child as Sam sat the plate in front of him.

Castiel slowly sat back down, making the sword vanish as he did so. Seconds later, he was sharing a chuckle with Sam.

Crowley was clearly enjoying his food – and if the slight happy noises were any indication, he'd been spending far too much time with Dean.

Castiel abruptly stopped laughing. "Wait – where did the hellhound go?"

That question was answered seconds later when Dean's voice reached them, pitched about an octave higher. "Oh, you like that! Who's a pretty girl, huh? Who's a good girl? You are, yes you are!"

Sam grinned, and it only grew when he took in Castiel's confused expression and Crowley being the picture of disgust.

Catching Sam's eye, Castiel nodded toward the hallway. "I thought Dean was afraid of dogs – especially hellhounds."

Dean shook his head as he and Princess walked into the kitchen. "Dude, I was afraid of everything then. Fresh outta Hell, remember? The Ghost Sickness didn't help matters at all. Besides-" He smiled at Princess, who returned it with another thump of her tail, "-Princess, here, wouldn't hurt anyone."

"That's the truth," Crowley scoffed. "How the former crown princess of Hell itself ended up with such a panty-waisted pacifist of a hound..." Princess growled at him, and he growled right back at her.

"All right, you two," Dean said as he sat down with a plateful of pancakes. "Ratchet it back a couple of notches."

Castiel waited till Sam sat with his own plateful, then said, "What was the summoning for, that we all had to be together?"

Sam swallowed his mouthful of pancake, then brought out the summons Princess had delivered and read it aloud.

Castiel shook his head. "I have never heard of a demon leaving a will."

"It does happen," Crowley said slowly. "Not often, but it does. As I said – former crown princess of Hell. Probably wanted to avoid the power vacuum fights that happened when her old man was iced."

Castiel looked alarmed. "Is there a power vacuum pending in Hell?"

"Not on my watch," Crowley snarled. He looked over the summons that Sam had placed between them on the table. "Oh, yeah, this is all legal and above board. Since a human lawyer is involved, I'm willing to lay odds that it has to do with her earthly possessions." He met Castiel's eyes. "As in belongings, not bodies." He took shameless advantage of Princess's begging beside Dean to steal a pancake from the hunter's plate, and hissed as he got stabbed in the hand with a fork for his trouble.

"So," Castiel said slowly, "We are to come to this lawyer on Monday. Very well. I shall see-"

"Hold it right there, Featherbrain," Crowley shot. "You can't show up at the lawyer's looking like that!"

Castiel frowned down at himself. "I... I don't understand."

"You look like you're coming off the back end of a week-long bender!"

"Crowley," Castiel sighed. "Speak plainly. I am not coming off a bender – I haven't drank a liquor store in years!"

It was a rare sight, to see Crowley visibly startled. But Castiel had managed to do just that. Dean leaned over and helpfully added, "In his defense, it was during the Apocalypse."

Crowley leaned on the table and dropped his forehead into his palm. "Oy," he groaned. "Oy-oy-oy-oy..."

"Crowley?" Castiel asked.

Crowley stood up, slapping the table as he did so. "Come on, Columbo. You and I are on a mission."

"We are?"

"We are," Crowley said. "Nothing illegal..." His lip curled. "Just because it's you."

"Thank you," Castiel said. "So what is the price of this mission?"

Crowley smirked. "Because I actually like you, the only price will be a savings."

"A savings?"

"Yes. A savings." He took Castiel by the arm. "I get to save my eyes from your awful sense of style!"

Then they were gone.

Seconds later, Dean's phone vibrated. He opened it to find a text from Crowley. *I took him to London and all I got was this.*

Dean burst out laughing at the attached picture of Castiel glaring at Crowley as though willing him to burst into flame.

Half an hour later Dean's phone vibrated again. He found a picture of a put-out Castiel in jeans and a plaid button down with Crowley's comment of *You're a bad influence, Winchester.*

After showing it to Sam and having a shared laugh, Dean sent back, *Takes one to know one.*

*Bite me.* Twenty minutes later came a second picture, of the angel looking down at himself as he held up a pair of neon green pants to his waist as if seeing if they fit. *Seriously, is his vessel colour-blind?*

Another three pictures followed, showing various ridiculous outfits. The last one, a grinning Castiel in a brand-new tan trench, was simply captioned *Oi.

Actually?* the next text read, *That gives me an idea.*

"Uh-oh," Dean chuckled.

No picture accompanied the next text. *And we have hit the jackpot, Squirrel! See you Monday. We won't be late.*

Frowning, Dean texted back, *Where are you going to be till then?*

*London has a nightlife and Featherbrain enjoys television. Figured we'd pop over to Cardiff and I'd introduce him to the Doctor Who set.*

Dean grinned. *If you do, send pictures. Blow Sammy's mind.*

*Right. Moose's mind. Like I don't know who the science fiction nut in your family tree is.*

The pictures trickled in all weekend, and Dean was well-pleased.

SPN SPN SPN

Monday morning, at the law office, Sam rolled his eyes but submitted as Dean insisted on retying the Windsor knot tie for the fifth time. "Would you relax? It's not time yet!"

"I know, but we want to look like we at least know what we're doing..."

"Your tie's crooked, too." Sam grinned as Dean grumbled, retying his own tie.

"Ah, yes," Crowley said in a nature announcer voice as he and Castiel walked up to them. "And here, we see the Squirrel out of his native environment, stuffed into a suit and fussing to show his nerves." He smirked at them. "Hello, boys."

Dean and Sam whistled in near unison as Castiel looked a little uncomfortable with their scrutiny. He was in his usual style of dress, but every piece was a different shade of grey or black, topped with a brand new midnight black trenchcoat. Even his hair had been combed.

Sam nodded. "Not bad," he grinned.

Dean pointed. "What's up with -" he gestured toward his own head.

"Ah, you noticed," Crowley chuckled. "I had always figured that mess of a mop was from typical angelic neglect -" He ignored the glare Castiel sent his way. "I had never considered the possibility that it's naturally curled, till Maxine found it out."

"Maxine?" Dean asked.

Castiel sighed. "The demonness who doubles as his hairdresser."

Dean blinked, turning back to Crowley. "You have enough hair to need a dresser?"

Crowley glared and opened his mouth, but the door at the end of the hall opened and a man stepped out. "Messers Winchester, Winchester, Novak and McLeod? This way, sirs."

"And here we go," Dean muttered under his breath as they walked in as a group.

Once they were all seated and the lawyer – Mister Ryan – had introduced himself, he brought out a few sheets of paper and began to read aloud.

After a few sentences in sarcastic sounding legal terminology, he read, "'Basically, all that crap is legal talk for 'If you're hearing this, I'm dead and gone'."

Dean couldn't resist the chuckle. "Now, that sounds like Meg."

Ryan read on, "'It's not common practice for someone like me to leave a will, but there are some things that need to be taken care of. I know the four of you are about as patient as I am – well, except for Clarence, who I think could outwait a saint – so let's just get on with this, shall we?"'

"About bloody time," Crowley grumbled.

"'So let's start with the trinkets. Ryan, here, has in his possession a blue jewelry box.'" He placed it on the desk. "'This box and its contents are to go to Dean Winchester. It is something my father stole from his family, and I suppose he should have it back."'

Dean took the box and opened it. His eyes closed for a second and he nodded. Before Sam could ask, he turned it so his brother could see. Sam sat back and nodded as well.

Then Dean closed the box gently, tucking Mary Winchester's charm bracelet out of sight once more.

Ryan continued reading. "'For Sam Winchester and James Novak, I leave a single key. This opens a storage locker in this office.'" Ryan nodded toward it. "'The weapons and necklace inside go to Novak, for his collection. Clarence, I'm trusting you with them.'"

Castiel nodded. "I understand."

"'The books and parchments inside go to Winchester, for his collection. I've been inside your head, Sammy. I know knowledge makes you tick, so that's things my father collected over the years. Have fun.'"

Dean chuckled at the way Sam's eyes lit up at the thought of more arcane things to add to the Men of Letters collection.

"'And finally, to Fergus McLeod, I leave the most precious thing of all. My dog Princess.'"

"What?" Crowley erupted.

Unperturbed, Ryan finished, "'He may be a selfish, self-serving son of a bitch, but the one thing I do know is that he takes good care of his animals. Mine needs good care, now that I'm gone, so – there you have it. Don't make me haunt you, Crowley. You know I'll find a way if you don't take care of her."'

Sitting back, Crowley muttered things under his breath that no human could hear, but brought a smile tugging at Castiel's lips.

Ryan read, "'Well, this is it. Take care of each other – somehow, you four always seem to end up on the same side. I still haven't figured that quirk of the universe out, but there you have it. Take care of each other. Bye.'" He put the papers down. "That's all."

He handed over the key, and Sam opened the locker. Nobody was surprised to find the necklace was the one that Meg had worn in both female incarnations they'd known her. Sam was surprised, however, when Castiel slid it over his own head and tucked it under the grey dress shirt.

Ryan said his goodbyes and the four walked out of his office, arms laden with weapons and books. Castiel and Crowley teleported everyone to the Bunker, and Castiel went back for Baby.

By the time he'd returned, Crowley had taken Princess and left "before I curse Squirrel with baldness for that crack about my hair!"

Castiel stored a few of the swords Meg had collected at the Bunker and volunteered to help Sam with the organisation of the new works he'd gained.

Dean excused himself from the "geekfest" with the excuse that he'd rustle up something for everyone to eat. But he detoured to his room, where he opened the box and sat on the bed, studying each and every charm on the bracelet.

Smiling fondly, he put it back in the box and tucked it safely under his pillow before he headed out of the room.

Life went on – and he had burgers to make.

END