Well, the plot bunnies are back again. Well, one is, at least. It was quite insistent. I'm pretty sure it was sent to me by one of the Denizens, Visitors, Lurkers or Casual Droppers-In of the Jimiverse. It hasn't given me a proper plot yet, just an idea, but sometimes if we humour the bunny, it keeps whispering.
DISCLAIMER: None of it is mine, I just make them cry so that others can hug them better.
TITLE: In Dog We Trust
SUMMARY: There's a sudden surfeit of surplus sinful spirits. And stray dogs looking for happy homes. The Winchesters don't know why, but they might just find themselves dragged into helping fix it. But first, let's all point and laugh at Crowley. Ha ha ha. And find Dean a nice cushion.
RATING: T. Don't let that pretty face and those big green eyes fool you, he has a foul mouth.
BLAME: Can't pin it down specifically, but the fault for this fic probably lies with the people who pestered me for another one. You people have no mercy.
Prologue
Grace Jenkinson clutched her grandmother's crucifix, and waited, one eye on the clock as it approached midnight. The small intricate cross was a beautiful piece of work. Her grandfather had carved it for her grandmother, when they were courting. It was delicately wrought, and inscribed on the back. Magister nos libera. Lord, deliver us.
She was about to be delivered, all right. But she would not regret what she had done. Bargain away her soul to save her children? After the horrific injuries her babies had sustained at the hands of a drunken truck driver, it had been a no-brainer. Their miraculous recoveries had amazed doctors, family, everyone except her. She stared hard at the photo above the mantel, memorising it, committing the picture to memory so she would have something to hold onto when... when...
The howl sounded. Distant, but clear.
She smiled to herself, as another fragment of Latin came back to her. Nullum desiderium. No regrets.
She left the house, and made her way into the back yard. Shiloh the bitzer rested in her kennel, eyes wide and watchful. She'd heard the howl too. Grace urged the dog inside. Since they'd rescued the extremely mixed breed animal from the shelter, she'd turned out to be ferociously protective of her new family. Grace didn't want to risk having the dog get between herself and...it, when it came for her. The kids and her husband would be upset enough when she died. She didn't want to make it any worse...
The howl sounded again, closer this time.
"Go on, missy," she instructed the dog, urging Shiloh inside through the dog door, "You can't help here. The kids will need you. Go be with them." Confused, but obedient, the animal popped inside through the door with a whine.
Bonggggg...bongggg...
The antique clock that had also been her grandmother's began its soft, sonorous chiming of midnight.
Bonggggg...bongggg...
The howling was just on the other side of the fence.
Bonggggg...bongggg...
The snarling was clearly audible, too.
Bonggggg...bongggg...
She looked around the yard. The detritus of a happy life surrounded her: two bicycles (hadn't she told the girls to put them away again?), a scattering of dog toys (Shiloh would look after them), a paddle pool (used as much by the dog as the kids), a tyre swing hanging from the old oak tree, right next to the dog's treat ball on an elastic. Worth it. Worth eternity.
Bonggggg...bongggg...
Nullum desiderium.
Bonggggg...bongggg...
No regrets. No regrets. Not one damned regret...
The monster was uglier than anything that had ever walked the Earth. Its rumbling growl travelled to her through the ground. Its eyes glowed red, its slavering knife-teeth dribbled with glutinous gunk that hissed and spat where it landed on the grass. She smiled to herself one last time – no regrets – and closed her eyes, preparing for Hell.
She waited.
And waited.
And waited.
She had assumed that when she next opened her eyes again, it would be to the soul-breaking horror of the Pit.
When she did finally open her eyes again, what she did see was the giant, stinking monster sniffing curiously at the dangling treat ball. The massive, gnarled head nosed at the small yellow globe carefully. A prehensile tongue emerged to explore the strange object...
Doingggg
The ball jiggled on the elastic. A couple of dog treats bounced out.
The sound of the dog door was followed by furious barking. Like many dogs, Shiloh could hear a dog treat hit the ground at a distance of a hundred feet – the noise of her treat ball being bounced by a total stranger was certainly going to get her attention.
Grace gaped as the massive misshapen creature studied the small dog that was woofing irritably at it. It reached down to nose at the small animal berating it...
They sniffed noses...
...oooooOOOOOooooo... ...oooooOOOOOooooo... ...oooooOOOOOooooo...
After about half an hour of waiting for the Hellhound to come and drag her off to Hell, as per the deal she'd made ten years earlier, Grace decided, somewhat irritably, to head back to bed. She left Shiloh demonstrating how to operate the treat ball effectively – leap, grab the end, bounce, let go, snuffle up treats – and went back to bed. If it did finally decide to come and get her, she decided, she might as well be comfortable; it was cold outdoors.
...oooooOOOOOooooo... ...oooooOOOOOooooo... ...oooooOOOOOooooo...
The next morning, when the family arose, the branch of the oak tree had been torn from the trunk. It must've been a freak wind gust that did it, reasoned Grace's husband. Which was kind of annoying, because it had landed on the fence and totally destroyed it. Presumably, that's how the other dog – the one that was now sharing the kennel with Shiloh – had gotten in. He was another bitzer, although much larger than Shiloh. Grace's husband suggested he might have a bit of wolfhound in him, which would explain his height. At any rate, he was a friendly thing, and both the kids took to him immediately. Shiloh seemed to enjoy his company, too.
They did try to find out whether he had an owner somewhere looking for him, but by the time the 'FOUND DOG' posters had been up for a week, the girls had named him Archie and he had mastered the trick of bringing her husband his slippers after the kids were in bed, a trick that endeared him to the Man Of The House no end. In fact, 'Fetch' was his absolute favourite game. He could retrieve things that had been thought lost for good. Her husband decided to try taking him along to a local dog obedience club on weekends. Archie had a decided talent for it. The instructors suggested that he might be a good tracker.
Grace was a little wary of him – she said it was because he was so big – until the day she was confronted in the driveway by a knife-wielding man intent on carjacking. He dared to wave his knife at one of her daughters; Archie came over a seven foot fence and bowled into the would-be thief, holding him until the police arrived.
At least, that's what she told the police. Because they'd never believe her if she said she'd seen him run through the fence to confront the intruder...
Her daughters were the envy of their schoolmates, for being allowed to go out by themselves when so many others their ages were not. Well, 'by themselves' meant 'take Archie', because the dog proved to be a flawless judge of character. He could smell dishonourable intentions a mile away, and his big happy smile and big soppy face and big floppy ears could give way to a snarling, slavering guardian if anyone dared threaten his charges. The teenager who tried to steal the girls' phones in the park one afternoon discovered that. In fact, he'd have sworn that the damned animal's eyes glowed red as it tore at his jeans...
He's just a good boy, Grace's husband said, smiling, patting the dog's head when his daughters breathlessly recounted Archie's behaviour, with a nose for evil shit.
She slipped the dog a large chunk of hamburger mince that evening as she prepared dinner.
"Thank you," she'd whispered to him, finally patting him, and smiling. "Thank you. I don't know why you're here, but you're welcome to stay for as long as you like."
Archie wagged his tail, and butted against her leg for more pats.