As it turns out, the hunt wasn't all that difficult once there were two Winchesters and a Deadpool on the case. Sam's research combined with the intel that Wade's S.H.I.E.L.D. associate provided-along with hacking into the local security cameras, a couple interviews, and a chance encounter with one of Hephaestus' cohorts-made finding the demigod pretty easy.

Finding being the operative word. Killing or apprehending him...Well, that was another story.

When one is a weapon's master of the gods and goddesses of several pantheons, it really was no surprised that the sonofabitch was well armed.

"Tell me again how we're supposed to stab him in the chest with a piece of willow?" Sam asked, looking to his brother.

Dean was still bleeding from the shard of rock that fragmented from Hephaestus' last volley of whatever the hell those little purple things were. He thought that maybe, with the three of them, two could set up a distraction while the third stabbed the demigod in the back. It sounded like it would be easy. But Wade's teleporter was malfunctioning, and Dean couldn't get close because the sonofabitch was warded out the ass against demons.

While the two brother's hid and tried to puzzle out a new plan, Deadpool was seeing just how many times he could be hit before bleeding into unconsciousness. At least, that's what it looked like to Dean. At last count, Wade was down two fingers, had a gaping hole in his side, and a leg that bent at an angle that was not natural to the human anatomy.

Still, the merc kept swinging at the demigod, flying through the air like an acrobat. The way he moved was impossibly fast, even with a broken leg. And while the man was somewhat of a crazy person, every movement in combat flowed like some kind of choreographed dance.

Dean was so wrapped up in watching the spectacle of the fight, he almost forgot he was in it until Sam grabbed him by the jacket and threw him aside just as another rain of purple destruction fell from the sky.

When the explosions stopped and Dean looked back, Deadpool was on the ground and not moving. There was something strange about the way his body was laying, and it wasn't until he saw Hephaestus raise the merc's severed head in the air that he realized why.

"No…" Dean gasped.

The demigod threw the head towards where Sam and Dean were hiding, and shouted, "It's been a pleasant battle, my friends. But I think it is time for you to join your friend in the Underworld."

Dean barely registered there was a voice speaking to him, telling him they needed to call Castiel. Because Dean's vision had turned to fire and his eyes were obsidian, and he left the cover of the rock. When his eyes settled on Hephaestus, he raised his hand and gripped the man in a telepathic vice and squeezed.

Sam watched in wide-eyed horror as the demigod's body warped and twisted, then flew apart. Blood and bone fragments splattered against the petrified stumps, a red mist of gore that made Sam's stomach twist and bile rise in his throat. Even more horrifying than the death of Hephaestus, was the fact that Sam had never seen a demon with that kind of mojo. Angels, yeah, but not a Demon. Not even Azazel. And for a moment, the younger Winchester worried that Dean's wrath would be turned on him.

In a blink, Dean's eyes were back to normal and he was kneeling beside Wade's body. At some point, he'd picked up Deadpool's head, which he was now trying to reattach. Sam went to him, his eyes flooded over with tears.

"He's gone, Dean," Sam whispered. "I'm so sorry, but he's…"

"He's not gone!" Dean shouted. He dug around in his pocket and found some duct tape, which was just as good as stitches when you were in a pinch. Sam would have thought it comical, watching Dean try to tape the merc's head on to his body, if the situation wasn't so desperate.

"Dean…" Sam said softly, putting a hand on his brother's shoulder.

Dean shrugged him off, and shouted, "He's not dead. It just takes time. You'll see." He ripped the end of the tape, shoving it back in his pocket and completely ignoring his own wounds that oozed thick and red.

After two hours with no change to Wade's life signs, Dean finally agreed to get out of the clearing. With Sam's help, they wrapped the merc in a blanket and carried it as stealthily as possible back to the Imposter Impala, carefully laying him in the back seat. The trunk was loaded up with what remained of Hephaestus' arsenal, which would be taken back to the bunker to be studied.

Dean didn't say a word, and his mind was blank in a way that it never was. This wasn't the first time he'd lost somebody. Hell, he'd barely known the guy, but for some reason he really, honestly thought that Wade was going to be around for a very long time. Maybe it's because he had eviscerated him twice, and the merc just kept going.

They drove back to town in complete silence, and stopped only for Sam to pick up his eco-friendly car before turning East. Dean had agreed, somewhat reluctantly, to return to the bunker. Sam promised that he would remove some of the warding so that Dean could move around freely without being trapped. Once they were there, they would give Wade a proper hunter's funeral.

As the night came on, Dean wondered who he should tell about the merc's death. He'd only mentioned two friends during their time together. Bob, and some S.H.I.E.L.D. agent that was never called by a proper name.

The hours and miles went by in a blur. They stopped for gas, bought food that Dean didn't eat, and just kept going.

Everyone dies, Dean thought miserably. And now, knowing that his life was going to continue on and on, always watching the people he cares about die, he wished again that he was the one who was dead. Eventually, Sam would grow old and die, but being a hunter, growing old might mean he makes it to 50 before he's finally killed for good. Never to return...

"Fuck me…"

"What the fucking fuck!" Dean shouted, as he hit the breaks and the car swerved onto the wide shoulder of the interstate.

Wade's voice was a rasp, as he said, "Did I scare you, Chester?"

Dean was practically crawling over the seat, dome light on. Deadpool's head was all that was visible outside the blanket. "You're alive!"

"I got my head cut off, didn't I?" he said with a wince.

"Uh, yeah. You did."

He wiggled a little more, then looked up at Dean, who was smiling like an idiot. "Are you going to drool on me, or help me out of this blanket death trap?"

With a little struggle, Dean wrestled Deadpool out of the car and unwrapped the merc-burrito. He was caught off guard when the merc's newly freed arms wrapped around his shoulders, giving him a squeeze and a peck on the cheek.

Wade laughed, a pained coughing noise. He stepped back, rubbing a hand on his duct taped neck, and he smiled under the mask. "Thanks for putting me back together. I've had to regrow a head before, and it...Well, it didn't work out great for anyone involved."

"I thought you were…" Dean started, but was cut off by a gloved finger pressed to his lips.

"It's okay, sweet prince." The merc gave Dean a light shove, and asked, "Are there any Twinkies left in the trunk?"

It took Dean a moment to get his brain back in the game. Then he nodded, and said, "Yeah. And a couple of those gas station sandwiches in the front seat."

Wade popped the trunk and grabbed two boxes of Twinkies, then got in the passenger's side front seat where he started methodically eating. It was barely noticeable, but he was shaking. He was weak, weaker than he ever liked to feel. He'd taken a serious whammy from Hephaestus, which reminded him…

"What happened with Heph?" he asked, starting on his second box of Twinkies and opening a sandwich.

"I killed him," Dean gritted out. "After...When you went down, I sort of hulked out. And, uh, well...I made him explode."

Deadpool nodded. "Nice one, Chester. Maybe you should try the whole 'hulk' thing before I get my head chopped off next time."

Dean huffed a laugh. "Yeah. That would be ideal."

They passed a sign, and Wade asked, "Where are we going?"

"To the Men of Letters bunker," Dean answered, adding, "Home."

"Home." The word tasted funny on Deadpool's tongue. "Didn't know you had a home, Chester."

Dean shrugged. "Yeah, well, guess you could say it's our legacy."

Wade was quiet, munching for a few minutes, before his eyes brightened. "Have you told Sam that I'm still alive?"

"No. He doesn't answer texts when he's driving."

"Probably good to have a shred of self-preseveration." Wade grinned. "Don't tell him."

They arrived at the Men of Letters bunker not long after the sun came up. Sam was waiting by the garage doors, still wearing the solemn expression he had when they loaded Wade into the Imposter Impala.

Dean parked and got out of the car. Sam walked to him, gave Dean a brotherly pat on the shoulder before pulling open the door.

Wade shouted.

Sam screamed and bolted upright, his head slamming into the door.

Dean just smirked and clicked "save video" before tucking his phone back in his pocket and heading to the door.