Dean never liked wearing wet clothes. It was simply not enjoyable. At all. The denim pinched in places he'd rather it not, and it made his skin feel clammy. While these physical sensations were greatly diminished, it didn't change the fact that Dean didn't like it.

What he liked even less was sitting in a diner in the middle of the night across from Deadpool, who was currently drawing a smiley face on his pancakes with syrup. Originally, Dean figured he would get dressed and spirit himself to a different location, completely losing the deranged mercenary. What he didn't count on was Deadpool being able to teleport to keep up with him.

This went on for longer than Dean wanted, to the point that he felt a headache coming on. It was clear that Deadpool wasn't going to go away easily. Something about him reminded Dean of a lost puppy.

So Dean drank his too hot coffee and watched Deadpool play with his food, resigned to keep in the masked man's company until it was convenient to depart.

The diner was like most diners he ate at during his travels across the country. The only problem was his eating companion wasn't Sam. He didn't know anything about Deadpool, except the few things he'd heard here and there about the merc. How he took out a nest of daywalking vampires with a modified X-ray machine, and how he took out a whole town of zombies somewhere in Eastern Europe. He was sort of a legend within the Hunter community, but it was well known he didn't lift a finger without getting paid.

"What are you doing here?" Dean finally asked, annoyed at the silence.

Deadpool shrugged. "Laying low. Taking a break from the life, ya know."

"He faked his death. Again," the voice Dean was recognizing now as Yellow Box said.

Ignoring the disembodied voices, Dean laced his fingers around his coffee cup and said, "If you are trying to lay low, what's with the outfit? I mean, doesn't head to toe spandex get a little attention?"

"Hell yes, it gets attention. It makes my ass look fabulous," Deadpool answered, waggling his eyebrows behind his mask.

Dean had to bite the inside of his lip to keep from laughing. He cleared his throat. "Seriously, though. People will see you and remember the guy in the red and black suit with the weird white eyes. Why not take the get-up off, and just be whoever you are?"

"Because we look like the lovechild of Ryan Reynolds and a Shar Pei," Yellow answered.

"More like ground up taco meat," White corrected.

Dean's brow scrunched, his eyes looking for something to glare at. "Those guys are kinda douche bags."

"But they have really good ideas sometimes," Deadpool said as he started slicing his pancakes. Never taking his eyes off his plate, he asked, "What about you? What brings you to this nick'o the woods? And what's with that bone you're carrying around?"

None of your damn business, was what Dean wanted to say. Instead, he said, "Taking care of a pest problem."

Deadpool put aside his silverware and leaned back in the booth. "Look, guy. I know who you are. You're the Winchester. You're the Dean. The Hunteri Heroici. Mr. Resurrection Supremo. You travel with your brother and an angel. If you were any more famous, you'd be me." He paused to flex his muscular arms, and said, "So cut the bullshit. Why are you here?"

"Taking out a group of demons," he answered, a slight blush creeping into his face. It was the first time someone had ever recognized him. Unlike Deadpool, he didn't fawn and giggle, though he sort of wanted to. He took a sip of coffee. "They were the King of Hell's entourage. Thought I'd get the King too, but the smarmy dick managed to vamos before I could get to him."

"Crowley's a cunt," Deadpool said with a nod.

Dean had to focus to not spit coffee. "You know about Crowley?"

"I've probably spent more time dead than you, Chester," Deadpool said with a smirk. "Death and me, we're sort of on a first name basis." Returning his attention to his pancakes, which were getting cut into ever smaller pieces, he asked, "So when did you learn the ol' vanishing trick? Not many people can teleport like that."

"That's a very long story," Dean said, his hand going down under the table to touch the First Blade. It was a habit he had now, like a security blanket that could kill everything in creation.

"Must be a tale of great woe," White said.

Yellow sounded bored. "Everything is a long story. Give the damned highlights!"

Deadpool just looked at him expectantly.

"Uh…" Dean scrunched his brow, still a little off put by the voices. He shrugged. "Took the Mark of Cain to kill a bitch named Abbadon, and kind of turned into a demon."

"Nice," was all Deadpool said in response, his head bobbing in slow appreciation.

The waitress came by at that moment with more coffee. She was young and pretty, and everything that Dean would love to flirt the pants off of, at least if he was still interested in anything outside of killing demons. She had beautiful brown eyes, long legs, and just the right amount of clevage.

She gave Deadpool a curious look, and asked, "Your pancakes alright...uh...sir?"

He nodded. "They're perfect, baby. My compliments to the chef!"

"Just let me know if you need anything," she said with a genuine smile.

After she walked away, Dean turned his attention back to the merc. "Why did you order pancakes if you're not going to eat them?"

"I'm going to eat them," he answered defensively. "Just waiting."

"For what?"

Deadpool gestured out the window, and said, "That."

Dean turned in his seat to see a group of seven demons standing in the parking lot. He hadn't noticed them with his Demon Senses, probably because he was too wrapped up with the Merc to notice. But now, he studied their true faces, and the Mark on his arm began to itch. They were high ranking demons, creatures that were out to impress their new King.

Turning back to Deadpool, a smirk on his face, Dean said, "This should be interesting."

"Interesting," Deadpool parroted, nodding. "Sure. As long as you mean bloody. Cuz that's where this is going, pretty boy."

Dean laughed. "Pretty boy?"

Deadpool put on his most seductive look. "You do have very delicate features. Nice symmetry. Pretty to look at."

"I'm really not into dudes," Dean said as gently as he could, reaching for his blade.

"That is just too bad," Deadpool said with an obvious grin. "I would have rocked your world, Chester."

Dean was about to stand up and say something snarky. He was damn good at snark, but he was rendered speechless when Deadpool went poof! and appeared again outside in the middle of the group of demons, a sword in each hand.

The Hellspeak came through the barrier of glass, as in unison the Seven shouted, "Vetis sends his regards!"

Dean barely had enough time to wonder who the hell Vetis is, before Deadpool whirled into action. With a few swift motions that could barely be seen by the naked eye, the demons were shredded, their black souls burning out in their human hosts with a flicker of hellfire. Only one remained by the time Dean got outside.

The demon opened it's mouth to smoke out of it's doomed meatsuit, but Dean stopped it with a wave of his hand.

"Betrayer!" it shouted at Dean. "You are the Knight of Hell! Bearer of the blade! Save me!"

"She-demon thinks Pretty Boy is on her side," White said with derision.

"I'm not on their side!" Dean shouted, his eyes going black just to confuse the White Box.

Deadpool nodded once, and crossed his swords against the demon's neck. With a voice too jaunty for the moment, the Merc said, "Tell Vetis he can kiss my rosy red ass, okay douche face?" Then, as if Dean needed another surprise, Deadpool started to recite the exorcism, "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus…"

Dean winced, and teleported to a safe distance, shaking his head to rid himself of the sensation of someone trying to pull him out of his body. Not exactly the way he anticipated his night going, though there was nothing about this night that was typical. In fact, as he stood, looking back at the diner, watching Deadpool calmly eat his pancakes, he wished he could just go back to the booth and finish his coffee and conversation with the merc.

But the guy knew that Dean was a Demon. Dean told him very plainly that was the case. And it was obvious that Deadpool had some history with demons that wasn't too pleasant. Vetis…

With a sigh, Dean started walking, suddenly feeling very lonely.