Disclaimer: You'll know I own Nothing.

Warnings: Nada

My Notes: So this is it. I'm sorry you had o be exposed to this but I have good news - or bad i guess- I am going to write a series of oneshots linking to this story. eventually soonish. anyway i hope you enjoy the story.

It had been eight long months since the Winchesters first knocked on Harry's door. So much had happened and in such a badly written and severely misspelled way. Now after all this time it ends in a way that many great mysteries, and a few bad ones, seem end. Right back where it began.

Harry was sitting in the late morning sun on his front porch, desperately trying to absorb the rays before he had to re-enter his home and continue the tasks he had become so used to doing over time. It was a little bit repetitive at times bit he couldn't really complain. He had everything he had every really wanted after all.

"Harry!" he heard the shout from inside the house and sighed. He never knew that everything he ever wanted would have the downfall of being a damn personal assistant.

"What in god's name do you want Dean?" He shouted back, unwilling to give up his spot in the sun despite having the knowledge that his neighbours would skin him alive – magic or no – if he were to distract them from their mundane daily activities.

"We're out of milk."

"What do you want me to do about it?"

"Get milk?" Adams face appeared around the corner of the door as he took up his brothers' line of questioning.

"You three are going to be the death of me, I swear it." Harry muttered as he stood up and stepped inside, instantly missing the suns beams and more importantly the warmth they held. Stupid Winchesters, stupid cold, stupid milk or lack of, stupid stupid people who can't make their own damn breakfast. Despite his slight annoyance Harry was quick to conjure a fresh carton of milk for the youngest of the three men that all seemed to have taken up permanent residence in his small house.

The lounge had quickly turned into a common room/ library, complete with pool table, study area, floor to ceiling bookshelves and a huge TV of Deans choice. The kitchen and dining space had turned into a mess hall of a kind; dishes pilling up until either Harry or Gabe zapped them clean, a humungous wooden table big enough to fit them all around it and food everywhere much to Dean and Adams delight. The upstairs area had become a mismatched composition of bedrooms that more than one fight had broken out about the order of. And the basement? Well, Dean had always wanted his own dungeon.

It was dysfunctional, messy and mismatched. The neighbours despised them with every ounce of their beings and would be lying if they said that they hadn't seriously considered egging them, only to be stopped by the fact that any of them looked as though they would be able kick a kick boxers ass and still be home in time for an angel made dinner.

Harry smiled to himself as he walked into the kitchen and took in the sight that lay before him. Sam sitting on his laptop at the table, his toast forgotten next to him, Dean and Adam- the two really were alike as much as they denied it – were silently wrestling over the carton of milk Harry had given them; Adam leaning away and sneering at his older brother who just couldn't reach. Unfortunately for the younger, Dean switched tactics abruptly, choosing to just simply steal his brothers unguarded and already milked cereal from the bench and disappear of to the table before Adam could even really register what he had done. It was all so familiar to him by now.

"Oi, you dick." Adam spoke up even as he poured milk in the other bowl for himself. "That was mine."

"You should shut up and give that hole in your face a chance to heal." Dean spoke back quickly, a smug look on his face saying that he was obviously proud of himself.

"Brother dear, if you're going to be a smartass you need to be smart first. Otherwise you're just an ass."

"Yeah, well you're and ass." Dean got shot down so fast he was probably going to have altitude sickness the next time he stood.

"If I ever wanted to commit suicide," Adam, who was not quite finished, continued through mouthfuls of cereal. "I would climb to the level of your ego and jump off to the level of your IQ."

"You… you screw you, dumbass."

"It's kinda sad to watch you try and squeeze your entire vocabulary into one sentence."

"Okay, okay, okay." Harry finally cut in as he joined them at the table. "Adam we get you're intellectually superior to your brother but he is the one teaching you to fight so I wouldn't push it."

"Yeah." Sam added without looking up. "It's not bellow Dean to bring a knife to a fistfight."

"Or a gun." Dean mumbled glaring at the smug face across the table.

"Why did I even let you weirdos in my house?" Harry asked as he looked over them.

"Because you love us." Dean sprayed food across the table and Harry raised an eyebrow, starring sceptically at the somewhat outspoken man.

"Whatever you say Deano."

Yeah, life was pretty swell for Harry. Nothing was ever quiet, no moment was ever dull, heck, he had his very own set of hunters – the family addition- two angels and an informant at his disposal. So what if half the town hated him for bringing such 'rough around the edges' folk into their lovely white picket fence neighbourhood? He thought Dean's car, as loud as it was, was perfect, Adams bike was great, sort of nothing like Hagrids, and if Sam looked as though he ate glass shards for breakfast and Dean looked like he ate glass shards and kittens then that was fine. They simply added much needed character to an unbelievably dull place. The only thing that could possibly be better was something interesting for them to do.

"Hey guys." Sam cut in and Harry smirked like a crazy person, loving the way everything always seemed to fall into place. "There's something killing folk about two hours west of here. Want to check it out?"

THE END.