A/N: Story title taken from the 10th episode of LA Law, Season four. Other pop culture references in an A/N at the end of this epic.

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. This is for entertainment only, not for profit.

Summary: Antichrist!Sam and Dark!Dean meet with their defense lawyer at Mel's Diner. This is pure crack, folks. No angst, no redeeming qualities at all. One shot AU.

Name's Delbert Stewart Murphy.

When I was alive folks told me that I looked just like that actor, Danny DeVito. Now I gotta admit that I used that resemblance to score with some really fine women in my life. All's far in love and war, y'know? I never heard DeVito complain about it.

I was a Wall Street lawyer in life, and now that I'm dead I think the Powers That Be are a bunch of sick fucks. I'm a lawyer again, part of a celestial bar association that defends what I privately call Greys.

I'm here to defend these nitwits.

They're not Big Bads, but they can swing either way, and they usually do. Sometimes they do the right things for the wrong reasons. When they do that I'm called in whenever there's any legal action.

Don't be fooled by the hype. Even some of the archangels are licentious sonsofbitches, but I'm not here to judge. My association is like Switzerland. We're supposed to be neutral.

Yeah, right.

My one o'clock today is the Winchester brothers at Mel's Diner.

They're sitting at the far booth, with an eye on the door. Figures. Apparently you never can lose the habits of a hunter. They're John Winchester's sons, the eldest and the youngest, by Mary Winchester. Everybody was concentrating on the younger kid, Sam. He's the big-time AntiChrist, but nobody bothered to check if his older brother had gotten a taste of demon blood when he was a kid, too.

Oops. He had. Go figure.

They're a couple of nice looking kids. The younger one is freakishly tall, shaggy, with intense hazel eyes. The other one is slumped up against the back wall of the booth. Kid looks like a male model. I can see him doing Blue Steel for the camera. No horns, or any other unsightly facial appendages that might prejudice a jury against them.

"Are you Sam and Dean Winchester?"

The taller kid nods. "I'm Sam. This is Dean."

"I'm Del Murphy." I slide into the booth, open up my briefcase and start pulling out folders.

"Hey," the other kid mutters sleepily. He has the brightest green eyes, which is kind of a surprise, since most of my scumbag clients' eyes are pitch black. There's a little bit of dark gold in the center.

I pull my glasses down the bridge of my nose and stare at him like a not so amused authority figure. "Rough night, huh, kid?"

"Yeah." Dean smiles lazily. He's losing the battle to stay awake. His head slides down on his arms and in the next moment his eyes blink shut and he starts snoring like a buzzsaw.

Now that might piss off some of my legal brethren, but not me. I've had clients transform into lower hell forms, sulfur stink, exploding guts and all. If this Winchester kid wants to take a nap, I'm not gonna bitch about it. I've had worse.

"Spare me the gory details. Only thing I wanna know is did either one of you two geniuses enter into a doomsday contract with the Brotherhood of the Inverted Cross? They're suing both of you for breach of contract."

Sam frowns, then shakes his head. "Nope." He gives sleeping beauty a hard nudge in his shoulder.

"Dean!" Sam barks.

"H-huh? Wha'?"

"Make any deals lately?"

"D-deals? Who…who with?"

"The Brotherhood of the Inverted Cross."

Dean huffs. "Those losers? Please." He smiles, slow and lazy. "Now if the Sisterhood of Corrupted Hearts had asked me, that'd be a whole 'nother story." He smirks to himself. "They're babes. Every last one'a them. I'll never look at a black altar the same way again," he leers sleepily.

What that means I don't even wanna know.

Sam nods. "Okay." He turns to me and his smile is bright and somehow boyish. "We just opened a hellmouth near Chicago, Illinois. Those virgins didn't slaughter themselves," he says proudly.

The older one chuckles. "Dude, they weren't virgins."

Sam stops short, stares at his brother as the light evidently dawns. "And they're not dead, are they?"

"Well, no…"

"What!?" Sam shrieks.

"Dude, use your inside voice," Dean sighs.

Sam's furious expression changes just then as he glowers intently at his brother. The Sam Winchester bitchface. I've heard about it. Pretty scary.

Brother Dean is unimpressed.

"I draw the line at necrophilia, Sammy. I got standards to maintain. Standards! Lindsey's parents are away for the weekend so we're all meeting at her house later on. Her dad's got a new grill in the back that can barbeque half a cow, so we're gonna try it out. If you're not doin' that AntiChrist thing of yours tonight, you can come if you want."

"Dean!"

"What?"

"You're telling me that you didn't sacrifice Lindsey, Britney, Miley, Megan, Vanessa, Jennifer and Halle after I left to invoke the dark gods on the mountaintop?"

"Nope."

Sam carefully massages the space between his eyes. "The sacrifice of those seven virgins was supposed to open the hellmouth! After I did the invocation, the dark ones laughed at me. Laughed at me, Dean! I should have known ---"

"I told you your intel was all wrong. Those women weren't virgins. Trust me. Anyway, ya really want more of them black eyes up here? They talk too damn much for one thing."

Sam growls, deep in his throat. Dean's still mightily unimpressed.

"Look, I didn't tell you the Brotherhood called 'cause I really didn't wanna deal with your OCD and all."

"My…my OCD?"

"Yeah. These demon types ask you to do something, and you automatically say yes. No matter what. Don't know where in the hell you got that from, Samantha. You gotta start thinking for yourself, stop being a doormat. Quit giving your power away."

Sam quirks an eyebrow at his brother. "Been watching Dr. Phil again, huh?"

Dean blushes, actually gets a little pink around the edges. "Couldn't find the remote. And I didn't feel like getting up."

"Sure, Deanna."

"What the Brotherhood asked us to do was stupid anyway. If we destroy the entire world, who've we got left to play with? Huh?"

"Good point. Damn." Sam looks impressed. "That actually makes sense."

"See?" Dean settles back down again, but he keeps his eyes open as he leans back against the bench seat.

"Okay. I hate to break up this mutual admiration society here, but now I need character witnesses for you two. Names?"

Sam looks thoughtful. "Uh…Bobby Singer, Ellen Harvelle and Sarah Blake."

"Occupations?"

"Um…Bobby and Ellen are hunters. Sarah owns an antique auction house."

I nod. "Good. Dean?"

"Cassie Robinson and Lisa and Ben Braeden."

"And?"

"Cassie was the first love of my life. Lisa's second. Ben's my kid," Dean adds proudly.

I write the names down, look at the list and then sigh. If it's two good to be true it probably is. "I'm really hoping that these folks are actually alive and kicking, and not some zombies you two magicked up."

Dean snorts. "Zombies? Please. That's like school in summer. No class."

"All right then. Court date's in two weeks. Now I want you two to stay out of trouble until then. We got lucky with the judge. He's more liberal than most. As long as you two aren't sacrificing newborns at midnight we should do fine. I'll cite the Mutual Non-Destruction of Earth Pact as a precedent and a defense. Have to look it up when I get back to the office, but I believe the Brotherhood signed the original draft back in 1307." I take one of my business cards out and slide it across the tabletop. "There's my card. Call me if anything comes up."

"Okay." Sam looks at the business card wistfully. "You know, I went to Stanford."

"I know." I tell him warily. Dean rolls his eyes.

"I wanted to be a lawyer," Sam finishes. "I would have been a good one."

Dean snorts.

"It ain't what it's cracked up to be, Sam," I tell him. I push my glasses back up my nose. "What's five hundred lawyers at the bottom of the ocean?"

Sam looks blank. Dean and I say the punchline at the exact same time. "A damn good start."

Gets funnier each and every time I hear it.

I stand up, stuff the folders back into my briefcase. "All right, kidlings, you're on your own. Behave, okay? Lunch is on me. Most of the menu is good, but I'd stay away from the lasagna if I were you. There's a cat clinic right next door." I try not to shudder. "I've heard rumors."

Sam nods. "Thanks." Then he gently nudges his brother. "Hey, Dean. They got pie here."

"What kind?" Dean blinks lazily.

Sam shrugs as he eyes the menu over the lunch counter. "Just about every damn kind of pie you can imagine."

Another bright smile. "Told ya we shouldn't destroy the earth. Pie wins out every time."

I'm feeling pretty mellow as I walk to the door. Looks like this one is gonna be a slam dunk. These kids are both attractive and personable. Clean up real well in a suit and tie. Judges and juries love that sorta thing. I make a mental note to have my assistant, Leila, call them a week before, to get them prepped, and that's when I see Gordon Walker come through the front door, followed by his four of his hunter buddies.

I'm not a hunter but even I can tell Walker's packing some heavy artillery underneath that black overcoat of his.

Walker zeroes in on the Winchester brothers, and by the smirk on both Sam and Dean's faces I can tell they already know he's here.

Shit.

"Hey, Gordie," Dean drawls as his eyes flash a dangerous, murky golden color. "How they hanging?"

I don't miss a beat. I keep right on walking. When I hit the street I pull out my cell and make a call.

"Murphy's Law Office. This is Leila. How can I help you?"

"Hey, Leila. It's me, Del. Hey, do me a favor and pull up everything you got on this hunter mook by the name of Gordon Walker." I don't even flinch as a body comes crashing through the front door of Mel's Diner behind me. Walker's a psycho. Hell, every damn body knows that. We can plead self-defense.

"No problem, Del," Leila says breezily. She's a good kid. Ex-vengeance demon, got her degree as a paralegal.

The ground shakes underneath my feet and I swear I can hear Sam Winchester laugh, low and cheerful.

I keep right on walking. Got my two o'clock at the Bradbury building. Seems that an ancient chaos demon named Vaako wants to take up residence in this accountant's body. Only problem is, said accountant also happens to be the vessel for an angel.

Castiel, I think his name is.

Don't get your hopes up. The scumbag demon's my client.

Just another day at the office.

-30-

A/N: Vaako – one of the heavies from the Chronicles of Riddick, with Vin Diesel.

Mel's Diner – taken from the Linda Lavin tv show, Alice.

Lindsey, Britney, Miley, Megan, Vanessa, Jennifer and Halle – Do I really need to tell you the last names? Really?

On the advice of my lawyer, I'm pleading the fifth.