#hellhound juliet

Version 1: Hopeful Monsters

Basically after S12 finale and Crowley's death, things happen just as in the show: Asmodeus claimed the throne of Hell and Jack fell in with the Winchesters.

In Hell, it turned out that the demons Asmodeus put into positions of power got assassinated one after another, and there were signs they had been interrogated before the killing. Hell became a powder keg of paranoia, fear, and discontent. This was Juliet's doing as she took on human form so she could investigate the truth of Crowley's death, for vengeance but also to uncover clues to resurrect Crowley.

At the mean time, Jack was made to believe he was an evil monster or that he needed to be reformed by benevolent humans. After one of Dean's angry outbursts, he blipped away to hide in fear and anxiety (as in s13e2). Asmodeus and his minions immediately located him. Afraid of himself, confused about who he was, Jack couldn't figure out how to use his power, and was captured and imprisoned in Hell.

He was freed from Hell's prison by a very tall, very large woman with a curved blade, who was of course Juliet in human form. In her investigations, she learned that the Nephilim had great power so she decided to recruit him on a mission to invade the Empty and get Crowley out.

Although grateful for her assistance, Jack told Juliet she shouldn't put her faith in him because he was a monster. Juliet congratulated him for his gift, and told him she herself was one of the greatest of monsters, and another great monster was just what she needed to dismantle a world that caused the death of Crowley (she reluctantly threw in Castiel too to entice Jack).

Version two: I was not caught

Juliet was some form of an ancient monster. Her world was destroyed by Chuck in one of his rewrites of history. Before the war was lost, she saw the writing on the wall, and transformed herself into a Hellhound.  In the depth of Hell, over thousand of years, she hid in Chuck’s storyline and bided her time.  It’s not that she held on to the hope of overthrowing Chuck; Chuck owned the world and she was a realist.  But even in Chuck’s story, she would write her own part, live her own truth, honor the world she lost.

Nobody knew, not even Crowley. Crowley thought he adopted Juliet as his favorite hellhound. The reality was it was the other way around. Juliet had met Fergus as an abandoned eight year old and she watched over him, helping him survive. She couldn't change Chuck's story for him, but she stayed a guardian of Crowley, helping him in whatever way she could throughout the 300ish years.

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Inspired by Leonard Cohen song, Never Mind

(This took place in the AU after the end of my fic “Heart of a Hellhound”.  Having defeated their enemies and restored their families, Castiel and Jack and Kelly were living in a cabin in the woods, Crowley reclaimed hell, and Castiel and Crowley were good friends.)

“Why is my new suit not yet ready?” Crowley barked at his tailor, most displeased.

“It’s not my fault, your majesty.”  His tailor spread out his hands.  “I’ve had to restart it three times.”

“Because you screwed up the seams?”

“No, each time it was perfection. But look what happened to them.”

The tailor led Crowley to the back room, where three identical suits hang on three mannequins.

Indeed, the suits were elegantly shaped, beautifully detailed, each one more handsome than the next.

…Except for the part where the front or back or both had been thoroughly slashed in five long, clean lines.

“Ah.” 

Crowley had a pretty good idea what happened.

“Juliet!” He summoned his head hellhound.

A frenzy of loud clicks and clacks announced the arrival of the beast; when going to see Crowley, she doesn’t bother to retract her claws for stealth.

“What’s up, Papa?”

“Did you do this?” Crowley pointed at the shredded suits.

“Oh yes!  The fabric feels so nice under my claws!”

“Juliet, these are my suits.  You must not destroy them.”

“Pfffft.  They look great with the slits.  You should wear it on a date.”

“Do you hear me?  You are forbidden from touching my suit.”

But Crowley knew that his admonishment went in one ear, and out the other.

So when it happened again three more times, Crowley finally had enough.

He went to Juliet’s favorite woods, and found the tree stump Juliet liked to scratch her nails on.

He performed a transmutation spell and altered the tree’s substance from wood to a kind of coarsely ground angel blade material.  Like an adamantine sandpaper.

Whistling, he went back to his throne, and waited.

Soon, he heard a blood curdling howl. 

Crowley was starting to feel a little uneasy.

Then the hellhound was standing in front of him, red eyes glaring at him accusingly.

“I know it was you, Papa.”

She held up a paw.

“Look what you’ve done to me!  Look!”

Her nails were filed down into neat, smooth half moons. 

“Why, Juliet, your nails are so pretty!” Crowley suppressed a laugh.

Juliet threw her massive head back, and howled bloody murder once again.

“Papa, why do you betray me?”

Crowley huffed.

“Betray you?  I’ve improved you!  People pay good money to get their dog’s nails trimmed!  There are television commercials!”

"I am defenseless now!"

"Oh, aside from your sabor teeth, your fire breath, and your invisibility cloak? Besides, all our enemies have been vanquished, who do you even need to defend yourself against?"

Inside, Crowley was indeed feeling guilty.  But he was determined not to let Juliet walk all over him this time.

Juliet barked and growled, whirled around like a beast possessed, and scratched furiously at Crowley’s throne—realizing, to her further horror, that her trimmed nails were only able to leave shallow incisions on the upholstery.

Realizing that no amount of tantrum was going to bring her razor claws back, she stopped, gave Crowley a tragic stare, and disappeared in a black smoke.

Crowley decided to let his spoiled hellhound cool off for a few days.  She’ll forget all about it, he thought.

When Juliet was nowhere to be seen for three days, he started to worry.

Crowley went to Juliet’s own suite in Hell, with a sweeping view of the burning sulfur lake.

There he found a note that Juliet left for him.

“I have run away from Hell.  Goodbye forever.”

Crowley groaned and picked up his cell phone.

“Hello, Crowley.”  Said the gravelly voice on the other end of the phone.

“Hello, Feathers.” Though worried, a smile cracked involuntarily on Crowley’s face.  “Is Juliet over there with you?”

A beat of silence, and then, “No?”

Crowley’s smile grew bigger.

“You are a terrible liar. ”

“I am sorry, Crowley.  I don’t know what happened between you two, but she made me promise not to tell you.”

“It’s alright.  Let her stay with you until she comes to her senses and comes back.”

“Crowley, she was crying.  With tears!  Whatever you did, you should apologize to her.”

“How come you never choose my side?”  Crowley’s voice dripped with hurt feelings, and he enjoyed immensely the minutes of awkward stammering as the angel tried to redeem himself.

A week later, Juliet returned to Hell.

However, instead of a defeated, demure pet that Crowley expected, Juliet sauntered in with head held high, and eyes gleaming like rubies. 

“Juliet!  Did you have a good time at Castiel’s house?”

“Of course!  They treat me like a queen over there!”

Juliet stuck out her plump belly.

“Look! Jack fed me honey cakes every day!”

“You are a hellhound.  You can’t get fat.”

“Take it back!  Hellhounds are supposed to have pot bellies!”

“Fine, congratulations on your pot belly.”

“And Kelly knit many sweaters for me, and didn’t mind it at all when I shredded them.”

Crowley groaned.

“Ah… still mad at me about your nails?”

“Not any more.”  Juliet twirled in a tight, elegant circle, like a triumphant ballerina. 

“Now, look and weep at what Castiel did for me with his grace.”

She held up a paw.  Her claws had grown back sharper and stronger than ever, glistening menacingly like five daggers.

She walked over to the throne.

“No…  Don’t you dare, Juliet.”

With eyes directly on Crowley, Juliet brought down her claw in one smooth swipe, and rent the upholstery into oblivion.

“Juliet!”

Another two weeks passed, and it was time for Castiel and Crowley’s monthly meeting (or date, if you’d like).

“Nice suit,” Castiel didn’t usually understand fashion, but the dark grey and burgundy combination was so dashing he would have to be blind not to notice.

“Thanks,” Crowley beamed.  “Now, show me your blade.”

Castiel wasn’t sure if it was some kind of innuendo, but he agreeably drew his angel blade.

“What for?”

“I want you to stab me.”

“I will do no such thing.”

“Come on.  I assure you, it’s fine.”

Castiel frowned, and made a gentle slash at his suit.

“Oh Cas.  I asked you to stab me, not to tenderly caress me.”

Seeing that the suit remained pristine, Castiel understood the purpose. 

This time, he drove his blade forward with some real force.

He could always heal Crowley if necessary, he thought.

The blade was stopped at the burgundy vest, and could not penetrate it.

Castiel was pleasantly surprised.

“You made an angel blade-proof suit.  I am impressed.”

“My R&D demons and my tailor made a good team, don’t you think?” Crowley grinned proudly. “Protection sigils, woven into the fabric, with efficacy against a wide range of weapons.” 

“I take it you are now invincible to demon knives, salt, holy water, etc.”

“Yes.  Most importantly, my suits are now indestructible by hellhound claws.”

So this was how Crowley invented armored suits that were warded against all supernatural forces.