Better Be Home Soon

Chapter 1

"No girl, Papa is doing this alone," Crowley muttered absentmindedly, scratching behind one of Juliet's ears in just the way she liked; but his words didn't placate her, they just made her whine.

"After what that… Moose did to Growley, I'll not risk you near that deuce of psychopaths."

Juliet's ears drooped further at the mention of Growley. The younger male hound had been sent to collect a series of contracts and never returned.

Papa had gone out to fetch the stupid pup and returned alone, agitated, and covered in turned earth which stunk of decomposing hound flesh and fury.

Growley never returned to the kennels, and Papa had been in a mood ever since. Muttering about Winchesters, and vaporising black-eyed demons left and right.

After Growley's unexpected loss, Papa had sent the pack out to collect on the contracts; all but her. She was forced to stay in hell and watch Ramsey and Romeo lead the pack; while she, Papa's favourite, was left behind despondent.

Juliet hated it! She did not understand what she had done to vex Papa or make him wish to punish her. And yet, on the nightless night when 'that bloody Moose' had walked into Hell and stolen Papa's favourite soul - the Hunter, Bobby Singer - right from under the noses of 'those useless morons who call themselves demons'… Papa had let her lay on his opulent four poster bed with him.

He hadn't even complained about the sulphur, which crusted thick on the plush velvet comforter, nor the rents her claws left behind in the velvet and the fine satin sheets beneath. He'd wrapped his arms around her, rested his head on her flank and called her his only friend.

Juliet, for her part, had listened to his fears and his fury that nightless night and learned that the Winchesters were up to something. Something worrying and bad for Hell.
They were, Papa told her, completing a series of trials from the God rock which smelled of ozone and burned her sensitive nose whenever it was near. The boy prophet, the small one Papa enjoyed playing the game of black and white squares with, had found instructions on the stone. Words he hadn't shared with Papa during his stay. A way to close and bar the Gates of Hell.

That was why the human's had killed Growley, why they had stolen the Hunter, Bobby Singer. Those were steps, part of a series of trials written on the God rock. A way for mere humans to slam and lock the gates of Hell.

Though Juliet was not as clever as Papa and did not understand politics or God rocks, she wished she had torn the souls from the Moose and the Squirrel on the first occasion she had laid eyes on them.
But alas, she had been too busy chasing after Meg, the whore, at the time.

Ramsey had already torn the soul out of Dean Winchester once, when she had collected the infamous contract on the man's soul for Lilith, the First Demon.

The fact Dean Winchester had once been a damned, contracted soul, then a creature of the racks, and was now nota demon, but instead human and alive once more irked Juliet's hellhound sensibilities.
It was not the way of things, nor was it the process she had been taught to expect. Yet Papa had always seemed unable, or perhaps more troublingly, unwilling, to end the Winchester Hunters.
He was plagued by a perverse kind of appreciation toward, 'The Boys,' as he called them in his more Winchester convivial moments.

Once Papa had explained it all to her, over a glass of fine scotch whiskey for him, and a tender joint of SS officer for her: without the Winchesters', 'brilliant bloody mindedness,' demons and all the denizens of Hell would have been wiped out years ago, by Lucifer. Those words had admittedly confused Juliet at the time. She knew Lucifer had created demon-kind and saved Ramsey, the First Hound, after the Creator intended to dispose of all the Hellhound race.

Yet she also knew Papa had been correct about the plot with the 66 seals, and the demise of the First Demon, Lilith. Events orchestrated to release the archangel from the kennel-cage where the Creator had banished him (as was the Creator's right, as alpha.)
After Lucifer's release, Juliet had seen him slaughter many demons and a few hounds, and to her mind those deaths had seem uncalled for. Then of course, the Boy King and the Righteous Man had banished Lucifer back to the Creator's kennel-cage, and Papa had eventually become king. Halting plans for the apocalypse.

Papa never lied to Juliet; he didn't need to. She wasn't some human, needing to be obfuscated to, to close a deal. Papa believed the Apocalypse failing had been a good thing, and Juliet could agree. There were still contracts to negotiate, souls to fetch, and the naughty bits of pedophiles to chew. The world kept turning, and Juliet and her brethren continued to complete their appointed tasks. She could be useful; she could be a Good Girl.

But, after learning of the Hell trials Papa hadn't allowed her to go out and fetch contracted souls.

Papa had a plan, he'd said. He was going to use the Winchesters' weakness against them. Utilise all the poor saps the Winchesters had saved from the monsters. Kill them, one by one, until the Moose and the Squirrel cried uncle and signed a deal. Agreed to cease and desist their scheme to upset the way of things and close the Gates of Hell.

The Winchester's would fold, Papa assured her. Because they were weak, because their empathy and self image wouldn't allow them to stand by and watch the people they'd sacrificed so much to save, die.

Papa had waxed lyrical over how the people the Winchesters saved were their excuse. Their entire reason for the sad, pathetic way they lived their lives. For all their futile acts of heroism.

Saving people and hunting things, the family business.

(Juliet herself could not understand the point of this 'saving people' all humans died in the end. It was their appointed fate.)

Papa said that to save the simpering wannabe monster chow, the Moose and the Squirrel would bow, and sign a deal to stop their foolhardy efforts to close the gates of Hell. His plan seemed needlessly complex to Juliet.
The easiest way to stop a human in her experience, involved teeth and claws, screaming, shredded flesh and blood.
If only Papa would let her, she'd go now and do just that. But she hadn't been created to decide on such things. She'd been created to serve, and to obey.

Papa said the Winchesters were useful and had an important place in the scheme of things.

Perhaps the Winchesters truly were better left alive. Papa was clever and had always understood the way events fitted together; he was far smarter and less capricious than the First Demon had been. Less sadistic than Alistair, the Cutter of Flesh, Lilith's pup, and less short tempered and dismissive than Azazel, the Yellow Eyed One, or his viperous brood of children.
Papa was not needlessly cruel, he did not waste assets, and he rewarded those who were loyal and did their job with efficiency. Even before he became King of Hell, the hounds had felt great joy at the sound of his footsteps and voice approaching the Kennels.

Juliet whined again and licked at Papa's hand, hoping he would relent, that he would at least allow her to accompany him topside, to guard his back.

The idea of allowing him near the humans that had ended Growley, without the protection of the pack or her, raised her hackles and filled her with a sense of wrongness. The hounds should be at his heels, ready to surround their master and take their pound of flesh if he were threatened.

But despite understanding every word, Juliet had not been given eloquence or a voice of her own to lay out her fears and argue her case.
Papa was her Alpha, he was Master, and she had been made to obey.

In response to her whines and stormy emotions, Papa simply rubbed an affectionate hand under her jaw in parting and told her that he'd be home again soon; then closed the kennel gate in her face when she attempted to worm her way through and follow him.

…ooo0ooo…

Juliet paced back and forth behind the kennel gate, panting with frustration.

Things were happening outside her realm; she could hear the raised voices, shouts of alarm, and gossiping of demons.

From other places furtive whispers reached her sensitive ears. Snatches of conversation between demons in loose and ever-changing alliance, scurrying about their business-like ants, deep in the bowels of Hell.

They spoke of how Papa had banned them all from going top side to America; how he had disappeared not long after, failing to return to his throne.

They spoke of Abbadon, the long-lost Knight of Hell, and her sudden return. Debated what those events could mean with regard to Crowley, the King.

Some were celebrating. Rioting drunkenly and jockeying for position within the ranks. Those demons expected a regime change any moment and were dreaming of a return to the old ways. A return to all the things Papa had eradicated with his 'modernisation.'

Others were terrified, believing the King had fled after catching wind of some plot of the heavenly host and an imminent attack. Those cowardly rats were in a state of blithering panic, hunting for any out of the way rock they could slither under and hide.

Some said Papa was dead, but Juliet knew he was not, she felt it deep in the burning core of her innermost being.

A demon was approaching, striding with an ill contained violence to its tread.

"Crowley's favorite hound, where is it? I have need of it." The brash creature was neither of the crossroads, nor the kennels.

Juliet stopped her pacing and bared her teeth.

"But the King… he said that that one wasn't to go anywhere." One of the kennel demons whined, dithering.

"The King isn't here, is he? And I say the beast is needed for a job!"

"But…"

There was a yell and sounds of a scuffle, punctuated by a hail of thick meaty thwacks. The scent of spilled ichor filled the air, along with the low sound of something being dragged. Then a sneering laugh.

The entrance to the Kennels swung open just enough to reveal a huge, black-eyed demon. Aloft the creature carried one of the hated gris-gris, Lilith, the First demon had used as punishment during obedience training, as it slid inside.
The mere sight of that awful bag of voodoo hoodoo dangling from the demon's hand caused Juliet whine, tail tucked low, ears plastered flat against her skull.

"Not so tough now, are you mutt?" The demon said, raising the gris-gris higher. In its other hand the demon held a wickedly barbed muzzle, like the ones Papa had tossed into the lake of fire after he was crowned King.

The sight of both those items made Juliet's legs feel weak and the urge to roll over and submit tugged low in her belly.
But then, the demon stepped closer, and the kennel gate creaked on its hinges, gaping wider behind the fiend's back. Undefended.

Juliet saw her chance and leaped forward; not toward the demon's throat as it obviously expected, but towards the widened gap.

In one bound she was through, leaping over the injured kennel guard who lay curled, battered and broken against the wall to race onward.

Down the oozing corridors and fiery passageways, she went, towards the surface, her muscles singing and snout huffing for a scent.

Papa had always boasted she could hunt down anyone or anything with her finely calibrated nose. No matter how hard her quarry tried to run or hide, Juliet would sink her teeth in and drag that contract bound soul home for Papa. But this time there was no soul or contract to call the chits on; only the finely wrought thread of loyalty she had felt since he chose her over her larger, more fearsome, male littermate all that time ago.

The First Demon had offered Papa, then a new up and coming crossroads demon, the pick of Juliet's litter. Such a boon was rare, especially for a demon so new to the job.

After spending every moment, he wasn't at The First demon's beck and call in the kennels, Crowley had pointed the finger and chosen her.

"You're so silly, mister Crowley. That puppy-wuppie is teenie-tiny. Why not a big bad boy, like this one?" Lilith had crooned cuddling Juliet's larger, male, litter mate close.

"Ah, but Lilith Darling, that puppy-wuppie might be a big bruisey great lad, but he's also thick as pig shit." Papa had then lifted The First demon's hand to his lips and kissed it gallantly. "As you well know, my dear, I far prefer a bonnie wee lass with brains."

Lilith had simpered in delight at Papa's overt flattery. Then, with an impish grin on her face, she had started to dispassionately twist and crush the bones of that larger pup's hindquarters, deaf to the struggling creature's pointless shrieks.

Finally done, Lilith had dropped the crippled creature to the floor with a little self-satisfied sigh. Watched on with avid delight, clapping her meat-suit's child sized hands in glee as Juliet and her litter mates ripped their larger littermate to shreds. Devoured him in a piranha-like frenzy of gluttony and violence.

"There now, Mr Crowley," Lilith had trilled in that piping little girl voice she used, wiping bloody hands down the front of her party dress. "Your clever girl is the biggest and strongest of the litter."

Crowley had swallowed jerkily and dropped like a stone to kneel in the blood at Lilith's feet.

"My Queen is most wise. We will not disappoint," he had murmured fearfully, head bowed low to the ground in a show of subservience, while Juliet and her pack mates still squabbled over scraps around him.

Lilith had smiled coolly down at Papa then, and caressed his hair with rough, bloody fingers. Tightened her grip until she drew a hiss of pain.

"Oh, I know you won't, clever boy. Because, you know what happens if you do. Don't you, Mr Crowley?"

Survival of the strongest and fittest was the usual way of things in the pack. Usually smaller at birth and slower to grow; few females survived the rigours and gained maturity.
Thanks to Papa's patronage Juliet had.

After he rose through the ranks and took his rightful place as Lilith's first Lieutenant, Crowley had been given the run of the pack. But she, Juliet, had always been his first, and most favoured