The days following were difficult. It was too much like after Hell. Every dream was a nightmare. No rest for the wicked, Dean thought to himself. He stayed awake for days, pushing his damaged body to its limits before passing out and screaming himself awake. Food had no taste. There was no satisfaction in drinking. And there was nothing but a cold feeling in his chest.

Most of all, he hated the looks people gave him. The sort of sad, pitiful eyes that made Dean want to punch everyone. Sam was the worst. He wanted to talk, wanted Dean to pour out his soul or something, and the only thing Dean wanted was to be left alone.

Then there was Castiel, who had burned up his Grace to save him. The more the angel insisted it was his choice, the more Dean hated himself. If he wasn't so weak and useless, this wouldn't have happened. If he was better, his friends wouldn't have to sacrifice themselves to save him over and over.

There were others who came by, too. Logan invited him out for a beer once the doctors decided he was rehydrated enough. Natasha and Bucky stopped in to tell him they retrieved the Impala from Kansas, which managed to make Dean smile, though he couldn't figure out why they would. All the kindness made him uneasy, made him feel like he owed them all something.

Wade, on the other hand, acted like nothing had changed. He showed up in the room with sacks of food, belched loudly when the doctor came by, and made elaborate plans to break Dean out if they didn't discharge him by the end of the third day. One of the best involved chopsticks, some dental floss, and a stuffed Buffalo head. Despite everything, Dean laughed.

None of those plans were necessary. In fact, the staff seemed very eager to get him out of S.H.I.E.L.D. Medical. Probably because of Wade always asking for sponges. Either way, Dean was glad to depart. He dressed in the clothes Wade brought him, put on his S.H.I.E.L.D. issued boots, and was about to leave when Tony Stark appeared at the door. He had a black eye and split lip, and generally looked like he didn't want to be there.

For a moment, the billionaire just stared at Dean, a scrutinizing look that made Dean's blood boil. Tony flickered a smile, crossing his arms and looking around the room. "God, I hate being in medical. Too confining. And annoying."

Dean just stared at him. "Is there something I can help you with, Stark?"

"Right. So..." Tony steepled his fingers under his scruffy chin. "I really like your brother. Smart. Super smart. I want to keep him. Everyone wants to keep him. But I really, really want Sam." He paused a moment, giving Dean his best beggar's eyes, and asked, "Can I keep him?"

"Shouldn't you be talking to Sam?" Dean said, his brow scrunched.

"I did, actually." Tony rubbed his jaw, a bubble of nervous laughter popping out of him. "He wasn't very receptive, you could say. Maybe it was my approach. I'm not good. With people. Like, at all. He's...He's very sensitive. About you, particularly. And strangely, about Deadpool..."

"He give you the black eye?" Dean asked with a smirk.

Tony shrugged. "I wouldn't call it a gift. But, yes. Yes he did. And I don't really care, because I still want to keep him. And the angel." He winced, adding, "Even if it means keeping you too. Which, don't get me wrong, you're great. I read the mission briefs and all. But you seem to be a package deal, you know?"

Dean understood. "You don't want Wade around."

"He's a problem," Tony said flatly. "He's been a problem for so long I don't remember what it's like to not have a Deadpool shaped thorn in my side.

"To be honest, I'm not interested in being part of your little boy band," Dean all but growled.

Tony frowned. "Okay… Um… What about your brother? Any chance you could talk some sense into him? I mean, I'm offering him a hell of a benefits package. And I'll treat him right. No coffee fetching or robot cleaning. Nothing but good food in his dish."

Dean squared his shoulders. "Did you just ask for another black eye? My brother's not a goddamn dog."

"Bad with people? That's me. Remember that," Tony said, backing up a step.

"It's kind of obvious," Dean said with a heavy sigh. "Look, dude. I don't know you. I don't give a fuck if you are some kind of genius billionaire..."

"I am."

Dean glared, and continued, "But the decision is Sammy's. I'm not going to tell him to do a damn thing. Fact is, the kid probably should take the job with you. And you're not the first person to tell me I'm holding him back, but thanks for the reminder, douche bag."

"It's not you, Dean," Tony said by way of apology. "It's Deadpool. Deadpool is a problem."

"You said. I heard. Fuck you." Dean put his bag on his shoulder, taking a step into Tony's personal space, his eyes flickering black. "Fact is, Wade is my friend. He's family to me. And that may not mean dick to you, but it means something to me. So fuck you, Stark."

Dean pushed past the billionaire, and found Wade waiting out in the hall, wearing jeans and a hoodie, and a baseball cap pulled low, hiding most of his face, but he couldn't hide the sort of stunned way his mouth hung open. He took Dean's bag of personal items, and left without a word-though he had the presence of mind to give Tony the finger as they walked away.

In the elevator, both were silent as they descended, Wade surreptitiously glancing at the hunter, a small smile on his face. There was a cab waiting for them out front that drove them to Wade's warehouse. Dean propped his arm against the window, resting his chin on his hand. As they drove through the city, going towards Queens at a snail's pace in the rush hour traffic, Dean wished they were anywhere but New York. He felt confined in a way that had nothing to do with being in the car. He needed the open road. He needed an interstate and bad diner food. He needed clean air.

As if reading his mind, Wade said, "I figure we can head out whenever you want. Got Baby at the warehouse, all gassed up and polished to a shine."

"Why'd they bring her here?" Dean asked. He'd wondered since Natasha told him about it.

"I asked them to," Wade answered.

Dean's brow scrunched. "And she just did it out of the goodness of her heart?"

"Nah. I had to trade her one of my favorite swords, but it was worth it." Wade smiled. "I knew you'd want to get some road therapy after all this shit."

Dean didn't know what to say to that. He just stared for a minute, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. Part of him wanted to say something really corny and sappy about how amazing it is to have a friend like Wade, but when he opened his mouth, nothing came out. Wade just kept smiling.

When they arrived at the Warehouse, Dean saw another car parked in a line with Baby. A skinny man with round glasses appeared out from where he was polishing the chrome on Baby's wheels. He had a smudge of grease on his cheek, and looked for all the world like some kind of ferret.

"Hey, Weas!" Wade said with a big grin.

"Hey, Pool," the man said as he approached. He smiled at Dean, and said, "You must be Chester?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah. Or Dean. Whatever."

"Jack, but uh, Deadpool calls me Weasel." He shrugged. "So, whatever."

"Weasel is my weapons guy. He's the genius who built my teleporter," Wade said with almost fatherly pride, though Jack looked to be in his later 40's. "Uh, is Al here?"

"Yes. I brought the old crab with me," he said with a hint of fondness. "I don't… She's mean."

Wade shrugged. "It happens. You about finished here?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Just about."

"Awesome. Get inside," Wade ordered.

The three men walked to the door of the office section, and Dean was amazed to see that the place had been cleaned up. All the trash was gone from the floor. There were new coverlets on the makeshift couch and chairs. The ammo box table was topped with a tablecloth, and spread with a variety of foods, including a pizza, tacos, and a couple boxes of chinese.

Sitting in the living room was an old lady wearing blackout sunglasses and holding a cane. She stood up, scowling in the direction of the door, as she said, "Didn't you ever learn not to stop around like a damned gorilla?"

Wade grinned wider than Dean had ever seen as he walked over to the woman, and said, "Good to see you're still just as bitchy as ever."

"You bring it out in me, you overgrown zit," she grumbled, before throwing her arms around him. Wade lifted her up in the air, giving her a squeeze before putting her back on the ground. She sniffled, cleared her throat, and said, "I know I heard someone else in here, and judging by the scent, it's not Weasel."

Wade motioned Dean over, and said, "Al, this is Chester. Chester, this is Blind Al."

Dean took her hand, giving it a gentle shake. "Nice to meet you, ma'am."

She cocked an eyebrow, and said, "You don't have to kiss my ass, boy. He ain't my kid or nothin'."

Dean laughed. "Uh… Okay?"

"You two must be made for each other," Al said with a groan. "Put your brains together, and you might have half a functional adult."

"She's actually being nice, compared to the ride here," Weasel said with a nervous laugh.

Al's mouth pinched and she planted a slender hand on her hip. "It's not my fault you drive like a drunk nun at Burning Man. Let's eat."

The four of them ate, with Al telling as many embarrassing stories as she could between bites. Wade made several attempts to poke her with his chopsticks, but Blind Al was a ninja and flicked him in the middle of the forehead with a dumpling. Weasel couldn't stop talking about the Impala and all the things he could do with it to make it even better. Dean just smiled and declined the offer. She's a classic, not to be tampered with. He did, however, offer him the Imposter Impala to do whatever he wanted.

By the end of dinner, Dean was a little more relaxed. The easy banter, the small food fights, and car talk was something he could handle. There was no pitiful stares, no awkward looks. And after a couple hours of talking and an hour of Matlock, Al and Weasel got up to leave.

Wade and Dean walked with them to the warehouse floor, and Wade promised he would visit next time he was in New York.

Al just shrugged. "Just keep the pension checks comin', and you can visit any time you want."

"Yeah, go choke on your teeth," Wade said with a laugh and wave, smiling fondly as the car drove out of the warehouse.

Dean found that he was smiling too, even as he asked, "What was that all about?"

"I called in a favor," Wade said, handing Dean a small device.

Dean looked the thing over. It was a metal circle, wrapped with a durable rubber strip, with tiny etching on the surface. "Uh, thanks. But what is it?"

"It's a multi-dimensional tracking thing-a-ma-jigger," Wade said with a smile. He shrugged. "It has a signal that I can track with my teleport control. No matter where you are in Space-Time, that little thing will send a signal to me, so I'll always know where you are." Wade raised his hands. "Not that I'm going to just track your every movement or anything, but…" His face sobered, and his voice pinched a little as he softly said, "I, uh...I lost you once. I don't really want to do it again, okay?"

Dean wrapped his fingers around the small device and nodded. "Thanks."

Wade took a deep breath, and cleared his throat, before asking, "So, you ready to get on the road, Chester?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah. I think so."

"I'll go grab the bags," Wade said, backing towards the door.

While Wade was inside, Dean pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed Sam's number. He answered on the first ring, angry and worried because he went by Medical and Dean wasn't there.

"I left this afternoon," Dean explained. "Sorry I didn't call you, I just… I needed to be alone."

"With Wade." He didn't say it like a tease. He sounded genuinely pissed. "Why do you always push me away? I'm your brother!"

"It's not about you, Sam," Dean practically shouted. "This is not about you, okay? This has nothing to do with brothers or family or whatever the fuck. Right now, I need to be away, okay? I'm leaving. Tonight. Heading back to the bunker. After that, I don't know. Might not even make it there."

Sam was silent, before saying, "Tony Stark offered me a job as a consultant for the Avengers. I wasn't going to take it, but…"

"Do it," Dean said, completely encouraging. "You should take the job. You shouldn't pass it up."

"But, Dean, I-"

Dean took a deep breath, and said, "Look, man. We've been together our whole lives. Literally. Maybe it's time we do our own things for a while. You deserve to have your chance at the life you wanted. You deserve to do something big and important that doesn't have to do with demons and angels and bullshit. And they need you."

Sam was quiet for a moment. "What if you get taken again?"

Dean looked at the little device in his palm, and said, "I got that covered too."

"You sure?"

Dean heard Wade open the door of the Impala, singing, "All my bags are packed, I'm ready to go, I'm standing here outside your door..."

"Yeah," he said with a smile. "I'm sure."