Archive of Our Own ^beta

"That ocean's brawl is really sweet on us tonight, Captain my Captain," Meg drawled as she clung to the mahogany foremast of the Hellerman vessel, using it to lazily swing herself to his throne, where she chuckled darkly, slightly unhinged.

He could easily presume she'd stolen a few extra rum rations, but he knew better. During these violent squalls, most cowered in fear of capsizing. Meg merely let her demonic glee come out to play.

"Dare I ask? Don't tell me-Missouri has food poisoning and boils. Which means you must've removed the iron balasts again, so the storm's swells and pitches have the souls in that region retching all the more?"

Meg's maniacal laughter only reached higher octaves of delight. "Something cheerful like that, yeah. And Jeffrey has to clean it up."

Crowley rolled his eyes as he continued signing an endless amount of documents. "John Smith, eternity for premeditated murder. Zhang Yong, eternity for leaking covid-19. Travis Aaron Wade, evil fuckery in general." 

The list was as infinite as his existence. The clickety clacking made by a familiar set of nails on the floor as Juliet approached made Crowley's heart beat in elation. She was his precious hound who always lifted his demonic legions' morale, and kept all the souls in line. He relied on her probably more than he should, but she brought him such contentment.

"Are you ready for your stroll with Papa?"

She blessed him with a beautiful two foot-wide grin, then set back on her haunches demonstrating impeccable manners and patience. The stump of her tail thumped in patterned anticipation and joy. They began their long walk, seeing to the various regions of the vessel. 

The flaying dungeons glorious screams were collected, then transported via enchantments to souls whose sentences dictated auditory torture by merciless, around the clock assault. Their ensuing headaches and madness were siphoned for employment against those who'd inflicted it on others. Round and round the excruciating, yet judicious suffering continued. Nothing was wasted. Everything had its purpose. 

Crowley recognized the moment they were approaching Delaware, as Juliet cantered along with a little more pep in her step. The state had the highest rate of animal cruelty cases in the U.S. and why Juliet spent much of her time there, when left to roam as she pleased. The brand of punishment heaped upon these souls was unique, for even Hell hath reserved a special place for them. 

He peered through a glass window, observing an enclosed arena where souls were ushered into the center like nervous, trembling cattle. Juliet gave a rousing approval with a single "woof!"

Circling those in the center were hellhounds, growling and snarling so loudly Crowley felt the thundering resonance shaking the glass. The hounds began to wildly tear at what the souls perceived as their human flesh. Tendons were exposed, ligaments were ripped away. The hounds peeled muscle from bone like humans eating tasty chicken drumsticks. 

When Juliet somberly howled in observance and honor of her extended fallen canine family by the hands of those just eaten by her siblings, Crowley quietly matched her tone in solidarity, for he too, mourned them. Despite his particular station, even Hell considered crimes of this nature unforgivable. Not to mention he greatly appreciated her company; a genial creature with whom to take a howl at the moon which had just risen.

He patted her head. "Yes, it's satisfying to watch them get their just desserts, isn't it?" 

When the souls had been shredded like Tuesday night chicken tacos, there was a brief period where the moving red sand on the arena floor began scavenging the remains. Billions of tiny, carnivorous insects had their time at the souls, all still perfectly aware, yet unable to move while yet another Hell species slowly consumed them. 

A rise in barometric pressure alerted Crowley that they'd shortly be pulling into port. The only thing strong enough to pull his Juliet from the carnage due, was the familiar scent of those who cherished her like family. The gracious hosts who allowed her free roam of their coastal lands for sport, always had a warm fire for her to sleep beside, and would therefore always be close to her beautiful black heart.

Her howl shifted into a specific bay as she turned from the arena, trotting in the direction of the vessel's quarter deck. Never straying too far from her beloved master, Crowley found her beside Meg and Belphegor, who skillfully steered the ship into Winchester Bay. Meg gave Crowley a sinister smile and handed him a box containing something of import. The sky's magnificent array of a trillion twinkling spheres welcomed them to port with a shooting star as an exclamation point to the sentiment. The moon beamed upon them with such illumination, one almost wouldn't dare call it night. Juliet excitedly woofed at the three tall figures greeting them from land.

"Hello boys," Crowley regarded with jovial warmth.

"Welcome back Your Majesty," the three levi'd, clad-in-plaid men returned in unison. 

"We hope you'll stay until morning," Adam conveyed, extending his hand in friendship.

As Crowley firmly shook it he replied, "Wouldn't miss it."

Juliet was whining, pained at having to exercise restraint when she'd rather take off faster than a speeding bullet and jump into the satisfying, enveloping arms belonging to the tallest of the trio. The one her Papa called "Moose."

"Good girl, go ahead," Crowley granted her permission.

He inwardly chuckled at the enthusiasm with which she'd bounded off, launching herself at Sam. The tallest Winchester welcomed her snarling smile and hugged her fiercely, with plenty of hound scritches. 

"Juliet!" Sam both laughed and gagged simultaneously, "ugh! Blech! You've been snacking on changelings again, haven't you?"

He wiped her icky slobber from his face, but continued the pets.

"Of course, they're her favorite," Crowley confirmed with a wicked smirk, gifting Dean that which Meg had given him, "Hand of God."

"Awesome," Dean thanked with genuine awe in his eyes. 

"David's sling and stone. Good for one miracle only."

"We appreciate it. Up for some delectable entertainment tonight?" Dean posed to Crowley, Meg, and Bel, with the nearly the same amount of enthusiasm with which Juliet displayed towards her Moose.

"Always the party planner Dean-o," Meg maniacally grinned with delightful anticipation.

"Hell yes," Bel agreed. 

Dean rubbed his hands together, and gestured towards their massive estate which rivaled the Vanderbilts’.

"Juliet, go get'em!" Sam released her to chase along and hunt with the estate’s prowling dire wolves.  

Crowley watched her bound off helter skelter into the windy coastal headlands, triumphantly announcing her arrival to her canine comrades, whose terrifying howls in answer fit the evening’s aesthetic so well. They entered their hosts not-so-humble abode, and were given bottomless tumblers of Craig, before being shown to their gargantuan home theater. 

Secretly hoping to himself that it wasn't another cozy karaoke sesh, Crowley was pleased to learn the night’s festivities were filled with nocturnal delights of the burlesque variety. The most exquisite men and women sensually teased, danced, and sang the night away, lavishing them with pleasurable company in the theater, and later in everyone's respective bedrooms. 

When the coastal fog clinging to the mornings wet sand and shores on the bay grew light, Crowley graciously extracted himself from a lovely man and woman with whom he'd had the delight of sharing his bed. He thanked them both for a truly wonderful time, and parted from each with a soft kiss. Out in the hallway Meg and Belphegor were issuing goodbyes to their lovers in similar fashion.

"How'd it go last night, eh?" Dean lightly prodded from the drawing room.

Crowley assured, "Marvelous morning, the evening was full of decadent escapades."

"Speaking of decadence, breakfast?" Sam gestured to the legitimate buffet spread across the twenty foot-long table. 

"Pancakes are my favorite!" Belphegor sang, heartily accepting the gracious culinary hospitality. 

The breakfast was divine, Crowley had to admit. Yet duty called and time waited for no man, King of Hell or otherwise. 

"The cargo's ready," Adam announced as he strode inside, swiping a piece of bacon.

"Many thanks for the cargo and the rousing hospitality." Crowley regally bowed as he readied to depart with his crew of two plus Juliet, who stretched at the magnificent fireplace where she'd been snoozing.

Dean and Sam handed over a few boxes of Craig, aged thirty years according to its packaging. 

"Here's a few party favors," Sam kindly informed.

Dean added, "For taking this month's riff raff off our hands."

Crowley was touched. Their alliance hadn't always been easy, yet like the tide, over time it carved, then smoothed the coastal shores to its will. Professional respect and friendship now remained, for which both parties were grateful. 

"A most generous gift. I shall drink to your continued professional success and good health." He graciously accepted before stepping outside with Meg and Belphegor, carrying the beautiful booze burden behind him. 

They waited patiently as Sam, Dean, and Adam rolled the cages of snarling monsters frothing at the mouth, onto the ship's cargo bay. 

"I've forgotten myself, my apologies. The King of Purgatory welcomes his new subjects and sends his best regards," Crowley conveyed with a petite wave as Bel pulled the vessel's anchor. 

"Tell Benny we said to put the gladiator games on pause sometime this century and come visit us, alright?" Dean replied with a faux grumble, displaying his dimples of discontent.

Issuing his trademark, " No ," Crowley tossed them a taunting smirk with blood red peepers as brimstone infused flames magically engulfed him. When they transported him to his cabin with Juliet hot on his heels, he cautiously stored some of the treasured Craig. 

As the vessel pulled out of the bay, a pleased Crowley took up his post on Hell's throne, sensing the tingling heat of his corporeal halo flickering to life, he appreciatively mused to himself. He was grateful for the fine spirit in his hand, the faithful hound at his feet, favorable friends to his back, and the small, but loyal crew who kept his realm a well oiled machine moving forward.

There was no place like home, truly no place on earth, like the Hellerman.