As it turns out, Dean and Sam had chosen the same hotel. Sam's room was three doors away. And that economy car that made Dean's Demon Sense tingle of course belonged to his brother. That bit of information made him feel a little sick, because why wasn't he driving Baby? Sam assured him that Baby was locked up safely in the Men of Letters' garage and was in perfect working order, then spouted off something about gas guzzling antiques and the Mark on Dean's arm started to itch.

There was a certain amount of relief when Dean saw Deadpool standing by the Coke machine. When he disappeared, Dean worried that the merc would leave entirely. While at first he was kind of a nuisance (or at least unwelcomed company), over the last few days he'd started to really like Wade. To consider him something close to being a friend. At least a kindred spirit.

Dean ran-walked to the merc, and tried to keep the anxiety out of his voice as he said, "I was worried you wouldn't be here."

Deadpool looked over Dean's shoulder at Sam, who seemed to be struggling to decide if he should come closer or retreat. The merc sighed, and said, "Don't worry, Chester. Just because I disappear doesn't mean I've disappeared."

"Good," Dean said with a nod. "Cuz I really don't want you to disappear, okay?"

There was a mischievous glint in his white eyes as he said, "If you wanted a kiss goodnight, all you had to do is ask."

Dean just shook his head.

"Chester's cute when he's all flustered," Yellow purred.

"I'm not flustered," Dean said with a laugh. "Just, come on. I want you to actually meet my brother."

"I usually don't meet the family until we've been going steady for..."

"Shut up, Wade," Dean said with a laugh.

Sam was in fan-girl mode as he gripped Wade's hand, and said, "Seriously, you have no idea how amazing it is to meet you, Mr. Deadpool."

Wade laughed. "'Mr. Deadpool' was a douche wad in another dimension. You can just call me Wade. Or Deadpool. Or you may come up with some other variant. Just not 'mister'. Makes me feel icky."

"Okay. Uh, Deadpool." Sam grinned, all starry eyes and unable to contain himself.

"He's going to hump our leg," Yellow said.

Dean snorted a laugh, and put a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Calm down, Samsquatch. Let's go somewhere private to talk."

The three went to Dean's room, which was the midway point. Sam took the chair by the window, and Dean sat on the bed. Wade sat on the floor with his legs crossed and chin propped on his hands.

"This is going to be good," White said as Deadpool looked from Winchester to Winchester.

"If blood starts flying, we're on Chester's side," Yellow said.

"No killing the Sammy, though," White warned, as Dean looked down at Wade.

"Just maiming," Yellow said with finality.

Dean was about to comment, but Sam was the first to speak.

"So," he started, completely oblivious to the conversation happening inside the merc's mind. "What do you guys know about the case?"

"Straight to business. Nice and safe." Yellow said with approval. "Good boy."

Dean cleared his throat, and said, "All we know is there's a demigod in the area."

"A weapon's master," Wade added. "The guy who made Thor's Hammer and Zeus' lightning bolts. Hephaestus. The Heph."

"How do you know this?" Sam asked, eyebrow quirked. "I've been here three days and haven't found any leads. All the research is pointed towards a pagan, yeah, but I've never heard of a cult of Hephaestus."

"I know what I know," Wade answered, offering nothing else and brooking no disagreement.

Feeling the tension in the room getting a little thick, Dean said, "Wade has a lot of contacts. That's how he heard about the case."

Sam's demeanor shifted as he turned towards his brother. "Yeah, I've been meaning to ask…"

Yellow was in bold. "Here it comes!"

"...Why are you hunting again?" Sam said.

"I never stopped," Dean said defensively. "What the hell do you mean, 'again'?"

Sam gave a shrug. "You've been doing nothing but killing demons for months. Why stop now? Why are you really here?"

"I have to have some ulterior motive to want to help people?" Dean was on the verge of shouting. The Mark was starting to tingle. "The fuck, Sam. You really think I'm just some black eyed evil bastard? Like I just woke up one day and…"

"All you did for months before you died, was kill." Sam's voice was harsh. "It didn't matter who it was. You enjoy killing, Dean. You've enjoyed it since before the Mark. Since before all of this bullshit with Abbadon. You have always got off on killing, and you know it!"

Dean's jaw tensed as his eyes turned black, and Wade was suddenly on his feet between the two brothers, who were about to start throwing punches.

"Children!" he shouted, a hand against both of their chests, pushnig them apart. "I'm certain that you both have your reasons for this impending cock fight, but we're not here to fight each other. Right?"

Dean and Sam just glared. It hadn't escaped anyone's attention that Sam had Ruby's knife in his hand the moment he stood. Dean had also drawn his blade.

Sam was the first to back down. He took a shuddering breath, and said, "I'm outta here. Fuck this."

Dean started to follow him, but Deadpool had his arm in a vice grip.

"You're not going anywhere, Chester," Wade said in a soothing voice. Then he leaned close to Dean's ear and said, "I know what you're feeling right now. It's that burning under your skin. You want to see blood. You want to hurt someone, hear the sound of death and dying. You want to hurt something because it's the only thing that makes you feel alive."

With a guttural growl, Dean shoved the blade into Wade's stomach. The merc let out a groan as the blade twisted, his body falling against Dean. His white eyes looked almost hopeful as the strength left him, his hand falling away from Dean's arm as the blade was wrenched out of his body.

Dean blinked, and the blackness vanished. The rage dissipated as well, and he caught Deadpool before he could completely fall away from him.

"I'm a monster," Dean mumbled, hearing Wade start to stir. He had carefully laid the unconscious mercenary on the bed, tarp in place to catch the blood that continued to flow for the first few minutes before he started to regenerate.

Wade sighed. "You know something, Chester. I've been called a monster my whole life. Sometimes for my looks, but usually because of the fact that I kill people for money."

"People?" Dean asked, looking up from his study of the floor.

"Yeah." Wade coughed out a laugh, pushing himself upright. "You and your baby brother, you get all starry eyed talking about the vampires and zombies, but you leave out the hundreds-no-thousands of regular old, 100% human beings I've killed. Sometimes just because I didn't like the way they looked at me. Sometimes because they didn't agree with my taste in movies. Sometimes for no other reason than I felt like killing something because I was fuckin' bored."

He paused, letting that information sink into the hunter's brain before he added, "I'm the monster, Dean. I've probably always been a monster. I don't care who I hurt or why, so long as I get paid. Here and there, I do good things, and somehow that justifies it all. But I'm a monster in every sense of the word."

Dean was about to say something, probably some kind of retort, but Wade didn't let him get out a syllable.

"Sometimes I think being alive is my Hell," Deadpool said, looking down at his hands. "It's my punishment. Death is just too easy, too quick. Hell would actually be a vacation for something like me. I'd excel in the Pit." He laughed, looking back at the hunter. "But not you, Chester. You feel too damn much to be a monster. You actually give a fuck. You have that sad look in your eyes like a man carrying the cross. You don't want to kill, you just want to do the right thing. Save Sammy. Save everybody. Hell, you probably think you can save me…"

Cain's words came back to him. How he said there was something 'incorruptible' inside of Dean. He didn't feel incorruptible. The blood on the front of the mercenary's shirt was proof of that.

"I've tried to kill you twice now," Dean said, defensive. "If I was really trying to save you, why would I do that?" He stood up, flinging his arm towards the door. "I wanted to kill my own brother, man. In the last few months, I've killed angels. I killed people who didn't deserve to die, who shouldn't have died. Before, I would have exorcised them. That is what I should have done. But I don't do it. Fuck, you exorcised a demon the night I met you. You actually saved that woman's…"

Deadpool cut him off. "Correction. I saved one out of seven, and the only reason I did that was so that demon could go to Hell and deliver a message. See Chapter 2 if you need a refresher."

"The point is," Dean growled, "I'm getting worse. Not better. I used to actually save people. Now, all I can think about is the next kill. That is the only thing I think about. Day and night. When I sleep, I dream about death and Hell. I can't even claim to not want to kill, because I do want to kill."

The merc laughed. "Well, Chester, I guess that means we're soulmates."

Silence settled in for a few minutes. Dean looked at the blade, at the blood that caked the surface and settled between the teeth of it.

"How do you control it?" Dean finally asked.

Deadpool gestured to the bloody mess of his shirt, and said, "You feed your urges."

"I can't keep stabbing you," Dean said, shaking his head. "It's not going to fix the problem."

He shrugged. "We hunt. We find the bad guys. We take out the evil things in the world."

Dean laughed bitterly. "Okay. So we kill every evil thing on Earth. What then? There's still us, right?"

Deadpool stood and walked to Dean, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder as he said, "Hopefully, by then, the good people of this world will have figured out how to kill us both."

While it wasn't the most cheerful of thoughts, Dean nodded. "Hopefully, you're right."