(A/N) hey! so last chapter, you guys! sorry that this took me so long. i got distracted by school. and such. you know the drill. Anywho, so this is finally over. wow. what a ride, right? Thank all of you for sticking it out to the bitter end with this story! i appreciate it so much! (also it'd do you good to at least read the last three sentences of Ch. 4 before you dive into this. that is, if you're as forgetful as me. If you're not, then I applaud you).

Evidently a lot could go wrong.

They had, at least, managed to round up the imps (or at least attract them. They'd "rounded up" like, two, but more and more just kept coming, so Dean decided to count that as a victory) and were currently fighting them with minimal difficulty. Unfortunately, "minimal difficulty" was a bit of an understatement. The little buggers came in about a million different shapes and sizes and required just as many methods to kill them.

Dean, Sam, and Cas had decided to play it down before the fight started. You know, lay low, don't let anyone know you've been constantly fighting things since you were a kid and can kill practically anything the world throws at you. They had a few guns (standard ammunition, apparently the imps/gremlins/whatever the hell they were weren't affected by silver bullets any more than normal ones, so Sam decided they'd better be conservative and all), a few knives/daggers (Dean brought the demon-killing one, but Sam glared at him enough to convince him not to use it except as a last resort. And they had given Cas… well. He had an angel blade, they told him not to use too many angelic powers, and just hoped it wasn't too conspicuous.

Of course, Dave's friends had to go and one-up them. There was such a hodgepodge of weaponry, Dean didn't really know how to count it all up. Dave had a sword that should have (logically) been too heavy for him to wield, his sister had (heaven help her) a pair of knitting needles, there were a couple of nutjobs with rifles, the angry troll had a scythe, John had a hammer, that once again, probably was too big for normal physics to apply to it, and Rose's girlfriend had a chainsaw. That she'd pulled out of a lipstick case. (Dean had given up asking questions a long time ago).

Everything had started out relatively normal. Under control. Only two imps had shown up initially. It had been a little weird, because the twenty or so of them just stared at the two little black gremilins looking at each other and wondering who was going to off them. (Dean had finally just shot one and John had taken a hammer to the other one). But then more just kept coming. And Dean really didn't know how to cope with them. Because they were kind of squishy? But some of them were fluffy? And some were wearing really absurd harlequin clothes and some of them could fly, and some of them were dragons and honestly, this was one of the weirdest things he'd ever done.

He'd quickly discovered that most of them could be killed with a gun, except for a few. I mean, they could be killed with a gun but once you shot them you both phased out of this reality and to somewhere entirely different and that happened like, 8 times before the bastard finally died. So Dean started avoiding the ones with dog ears, and let the dog ear girl take care of them. Because she seemed reasonably able to.

...

The scene was a bloody mess. Like, there was blood everywhere. Blood and bodies and more and more imps just kept coming. Dean had the feeling that everyone had stopped trying to be discreet some time ago. Rose's girlfriend had gone to town with the chainsaw, fangs bared; Rose had her back and was casting spells with her knitting needles (wands?) like there was no tomorrow. Which, Dean realized, there might not be. (there's always a possibility that tomorrow won't come, regardless of the circumstances.) John, spider troll, and Jade (dog ears) were literally flying around killing things with god knows what. And nobody else was even trying to hide any of their supernatural abilities. Dean was just glad Sam and Cas hadn't turned on any of them yet.

Speaking of, the three of them had also given up the whole "normal" facade. Cas was practically glowing with angel juice, and every time the light caught is back just right, Dean could see his wings-his torn and fragile, but still powerful, wings. The sight of it made his heart lurch with sympathy. If only he could do something. Sam was just as ruthless as ever. Hair flowing in the wind (Dean really should just cut it. It was so inconvenient for people of their profession, he'd probably be so much happier if it was just short again), and that face that he always got when he was fighting.

As for Dean and Dave? The two of them were back to back (as they could be) fighting with all the ferocity of the power couple they were. Dean couldn't help but notice that somewhere between the beginning of the fight and now, Dave had gained a flowing crimson cape as well as a matching set of...pajamas? Honestly, he wasn't going to question it, because Dave looked hot, so really, what was there to complain about? He was also a master with that sword, as ridiculous as it looked (Dean would have to get him to show it to him after, you know, once they'd sorted this whole crapfest out). Dean himself, had resorted largely to the demon knife, as the blasted imps were a little too close range to effectively get them with the gun. And yes, the imps weren't exactly demons, but they did die and fizzle when stabbed, so he decided not to question good fortune and just went with it.

Dean had been in a lot of long fights before, but this thing was getting to be borderline marathon fighting. He was sweating buckets (he'd actually shed his plaid over shirt, tossing it aside when he had a half second respite from the gruelling battle. It had earned an eyebrow raise from Dave), and the end seemed nowhere near. And, as we mentioned earlier, there was no way this was methodical. Each imp, though most could be simply stabbed through their round, squishy faces, had to be sized up and analyzed for what it was and what he needed to do to off it (toss the dog-eared ones aside, there were a few that needed to be strangled, he tried to avoid the spider ones altogether, etc.). So basically there was no way to fall into a rhythm. It was just mayhem. Plain as that.

"Hey, darling, how you farin'?" Dave said after they had collided into each other back to back.

"Peachy," Dean said, kicking one away from him and using Dave as leverage. "You?"

"Never been better." Dean could practically hear the smile behind his voice. "You forget how much you miss this when the weight of the world isn't hanging on you, you know?"

"Yeah, I get that." more than you know, he finished in his head. "Bet I've got a higher kill count than you."

"Well shit! I haven't been counting, you bastard, you can't pull that kind of a thing on me," Dave exclaimed, spinning away from Dean, leaving a cold spot on his back, to decapitate a couple of crab-like imps that were getting a little too close.

"Tell you what, we start counting now." Dean wiped a drip of blood off his cheek (it was a bit counterproductive, as there was more on his hands).

Dave laughed. "And what do I get when I win?"

"Depends on what you want from me."

Dave through him a dirty smirk. "Depends on what you're offering."

"Oh baby," Dean paused to decapitate a small, tentacle cat imp, "I'm offering everything."

"You two are disgusting!" Rose yelled from across the rooftop.

"You know you love us!" Dave yelled back.

Dean chuckled to himself before spinning around to shoot a crabby imp that was getting a little too close. It actually looked like things were thinning out a bit, which was shocking. Nice too, but shocking. He'd been fighting for so long, it almost seemed like he'd be doing it for the rest of eternity. But lo, the end was in fact, in sight. Light at the end of the tunnel and all that.

He also decided that the shirt he was wearing was probably just going to have to go to the dumpster. It was so coated in blood, there was no saving it. He'd probably have to shower eight times to get it all out of the cracks of his skin and hair…

Somehow, in the chaos, he'd lost track of Dave. Not that he was worried, the guy could take care of himself (who are we kidding? He was totally worried). There were about enough imps to make a 2:1 ratio, so Dean took that as his chance to look around (after stabbing one through the head and discarding its body at his feet next to its fallen brethren). Suddenly, Dave's choice of attire was less hot and more bothersome. Coated in blood, everyone was wearing red, so he wasn't that easy to pick out. Dean cursed under his breath and spun around the other way. He was almost startled by the large dragon-like imp in his face. Almost. He stabbed it in the nose, which made it rear back and hiss in pain, giving him enough room to shoot it squarely in the chest. And head. It flopped over dead, at least.

"Dave?" he called out over the dying fray.

"I'm here!" cam the muffled reply. Dean ran toward the sound to find that Dave had fallen under one of the larger, fishy, tentacle-covered imps. "Help a pal out, would you?" he said, pushing one of his hands out from under the dying mess of a thing. Dean grabbed his hand with both of his, their fingers, wet with blood, sliding against each other. He pulled, and Dave clambered to freedom, falling against Dean's chest once he'd stood up.

"Are you alright?" Dean asked, hugging his (boyfriend?) closer to him and running a hand through his blood-soaked hair.

"Fine, yeah. You smell awful."

"I could say the same to you. You smell like organs."

Dave laughed. "And I assume you've had excessive experience smelling organs?"

"Yes, actually. I'm full of surprises."

Dave looked up and squished their noses against each other. "I know you are. You'll have to show me more of those surprises later." He pecked him lightly on the lips. "When you don't taste like rot."

"Oh shut up," Dean laughed, pushing Dave off of him. Dave stumbled backward, a stupid grin on his face, the setting sun glaring brightly off his aviators and glinting on what was still showing of his white hair. Dean couldn't help but feel lucky, even bathed in blood, Dave was beautiful when he was smiling. Especially when he was smiling like he didn't have a care in the world, smiling like he was the happiest man on earth.

"Shit! Dave! Turn around!" Dean yelled, noticing, too late, the imp sneaking up behind him.

There really was nothing he could have done. Dave spun around just in time for the imp to skewer him through the stomach. Dean could vaguely hear himself screaming. Yelling maybe? The imp still had the end of its long, spiny claw inside Dave, who was looking down in disbelief. Dean was moving. Too slowly, it felt like. He pushed past Dave, putting a hand on his shoulder to push him out of the way. The fabric of his shirt (cape?) was dry and crusted with blood, and scraped against his hand. He had his knife in his hand. He shoved into the imp's head. Its skin squished around the blade, and bright red blood spurted from the wound as Dean yanked his knife out and kicked the imp to the ground.

He turned back to Dave in time to see him crumple to the ground, his hands clasped over his abdomen. He lurched over and caught him between the shoulderblades before he hit the ground. Dave coughed, blood spurting from his mouth.

"Dave? Oh God Dave I'm so sorry." Dean said, laying Dave's head gently on the concrete. "Here, let me see it, maybe there's something I can do…" Dean cursed under his breath. There was nothing he could do, he didn't have anything to stitch the wound back together, it was all in the car. Even if Sam had something, it would probably be too late.

"No, Dean. It's fine. I'm fine," Dave spluttered through a mouthful of blood.

"I hate to break it to you, but you're really not. God, Dave, this is all my fault. I'm so sorry." Dean could feel a lump rising in his throat and fought to push it back. He hated crying. He looked away from Dave's face, hoping that would help. It really didn't.

"Dean. Darling. Sweetheart." Dave coughed again, spitting blood onto Dean's face. "It's okay. It's-" he coughed again. And again. And wheezed through his obviously quickly closing airway.

"Dave stay with me," Dean pleaded, putting his hand over Dave's and pressing them into his wound, hoping to stop the bleeding. It wouldn't help. Dave would choke on his own blood before he died of bloodloss. "Dave! Stay with me, please!"

It really was too late. Dave's breaths were ragged and wet-when he could take them at all. His coughing was weaker, and it eventually ended. He breathed out one last time. It wasn't poetic at all. The breath pushed its way through his clogged lungs and dribbled more blood out of his mouth. His head lolled to the side and his hand went limp in Dean's. Unfortunately, the lump in Dean's throat won the battle, and he choked out a sob.

He could hear footsteps splashing toward him, and John's voice yelling...something. He wished he could say that Dave looked peaceful in death, but he really didn't.

"Was it Heroic?" Oh. That's what John wanted to know. "His death, was it heroic?" he stopped at Dave's feet, and Dean looked up at him.

"What?"

"Did he die a heroic death?" John sounded frantic. "You know. Did he save you? Take a hit for you? For anyone else? Was his death heroic?"

Why on earth…? "No. he was practically stabbed in the back!" Dean spat. And it's all because of me…

Relief flooded John's face. "Oh thank gog. I was so worried. He really likes you, so I knew it was a possibility." John smiled. "Honestly, this is just like him. So dramatic."

Okay...what. "What? Dave just died." Dean spat, hoping John didn't hear the crack in his voice.

John waved his hand dismissively. "Just give him a minute."

Just then, Sam ran up. "The imps are all dead, what's going on-oh God, Dean, I'm so sorry."

"I said, just give him a minute," John said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Do you think we can get Cas to heal him? How long has he been dead?" Sam asked. Dean winced, Cas would probably be less-than-happy to play the role of healer here. He didn't like Dave so much for some reason or other.

"I said just give him a minute!" John said, throwing his arms in the air. "Honestly, what is wrong with you people? Can you not comprehend a simple request?"

"Just give him a minute? He's dead, John!" Dean said. He didn't notice how hard he was squeezing Dave's hand.

"Yes but," John held up a finger. "He didn't die a heroic death. Or a just death, for that matter."

"What the hell does that have to do with anything?" Sam asked.

"Is Dave dead again?" Rose called

"Yeah, it's okay though. We've got the situation under control!" John yelled back at her, giving her a thumbs up.

"Okay, what the hell-"

"Babe. you're cutting off the circulation to my fingers," Dave said, cutting Dean off.

"I-what? Sorry." Dean let go of his hand and stared in disbelief at Dave who was smirking something awful and trying to wipe blood off his face.

"Help me sit up, would you?" Dave asked.

Dean grabbed him behind the shoulder and propped him up. "Are you...what happened?"

Dave winced. "Right. Uh. I'm immortal?"

"Me too." John chimed in. "If we're coming clean, I mean. Are we coming clean."

"Yeah, we are," Sam said. "What do you mean immortal?"

"I mean you can kill me, but I won't stay dead unless my death is heroic or just. So don't expect me to take a bullet for any of you people." Dave said, smirking and slapping Dean's thigh. "It hurts like hell though. Did we win?"

"Yeah, we got them all." John grinned.

"A celebration is in order!" Rose called from across the rooftop, to the cheers of many.

"Good." Dave looked at Dean and hooked a few fingers in the collar of shirt. "You've got some explaining to do, boy. And we've got to get cleaned up. I refuse to celebrate in this mess."

Dean smiled back at him. "I was hoping you'd say that."

"You two are disgusting." Sam said, fighting a smile.

/\/\/\/

"So your friend is an angel, and you met satan, and the king of hell, and you kill things for a living? That's pretty intense." Dave said, pulling a shirt on over his bare (and newly cleaned) chest.

"Yeah. It's fine though. I mean, you were stuck in a videogame for years on end and died, how many times?"

"Frick man, I don't know. And I could say the same to you." Dave smiled at Dean, his red eyes shining in the artificial light. "We seem to have a lot in common."

Dean laughed. "More than I expected, certainly."

"Not that I'm disappointed or anything," Dave said, grabbing Dean by the back of the neck and kissing him lazily. "I think it's fantastic."

"I think you're fantastic," Dean said, planting a kiss on Dave's jawline as he looped his hands around his waist.

"I think you're a sap." Dave said, finding Dean's mouth again.

"And I think you two need to get out of the bathroom! There are other people in this house that need a shower!" Vriska yelled from outside.

"Chill! We're almost done!" Dave yelled before turning back to Dean and pecking him one last time on the lips. "Guess we're getting kicked out."

"I guess so." Dean smiled. "It's a pity though, I was having so much fun…"

Dave laughed and pushed himself off of Dean's chest. "Hey, we've got all the time in the world. We can certainly find time to pick this up again."

Right. Time. Now that the hunt was over, Sam would be itching to leave. It was the first time Dean really didn't want to. So he smiled and followed his albino boyfriend out of the bathroom and into the livingroom of the small apartment (which had been sort of cleaned up. The mess had been pushed to the corners of the room, at least). He found Sam deep in conversation with Rose about some nerdy intellectual stuff, he and Dave both rolled their eyes at that. Cas looked so out-of-place, though. Kanaya was kind of trying to comfort him (she seemed like the momish type) but it wasn't really working.

"Hold on, I've got to go comfort my angel. He's got his feathers all in a tussle," Dean said, letting go of Dave's hand and walking over to Cas. "Cas, buddy. What's up?"

"I…" Cas' eyes flitted around the room. "I'm not comfortable in social situations, Dean."

Dean almost laughed. He clapped Cas on the shoulder. "Hey, it's all okay. I'm here, right? You know me. You know Sam. We're not going to let anything happen to you." Cas looked at him like he'd just declared that the ground they were standing on was made of cake.

Dave walked up behind him and took his hand, intertwining their fingers. "It's okay if you want to leave," he shrugged. "Bro sure as hell won't be offended and neither will anyone here. You've probably got some important angel business, don't you. I won't hold you back."

"I, uh, yes." Cas' eyes locked with Dean's. Like he was trying to say something. "I'll see you two soon." he glanced at Dave. "You and Sam, that is."

Dean half-laughed. "Okay, Cas. See you soon." Cas nodded and flickered away.

"That's what happened that night…?"

"Yeah. He's flying, technically. Angel powers and all."

"Right." Dave nodded, before pulling Dean over to their beanbag in front of the TV where someone had started a movie. Some sapfest that Dean had never seen.

As they were passing the counter, Sam stopped him. "We're leaving tomorrow morning. Just warning you," He said, nodding.

"Yeah, right. Gotcha." Dean said, then followed Dave to the beanbag, where they collapsed, legs tangled and Dave's head on Dean's chest, tucked under his chin.

"You're leaving tomorrow?"

Dean sighed. "Yeah. we can't stay in one place for too long. Duty calls, you know?"

"Mmhmm." Dave went quiet, tracing patterns on the back of Dean's hand that had previously been intertwined with his own. This was so comfortable. And...safe. Dean loved the feeling of having Dave tucked into him. Having someone to hold and someone who would hold him back. For a long time the only sound was the movie and the sounds of light conversation from the kitchen. More than once, Dean was sure Dave had fallen asleep on his chest.

"Dean?"

"Yes, Dave?"

"I hate to say this, but maybe it's a good thing you're leaving. Because me and my friends, we can't stay in this dream-bubble forever. We have to go back soon. And you… I think you'll be really happy with Cas."

"Dave. Cas and I aren't-"

"Shoosh. I know. I've seen the way you two look at each other. Stay in denial all you want, lover boy, but there's something there."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Can I not live in the moment for more than ten minutes? I already know all this fatalistic stuff. I just want one night where I don't have to think about it."

"I still think you should consider it. You two would be great together."

"And we aren't?"

Dave scoffed. "No. we're bloody fantastic. And you're right, we should get one night to ourselves. So here's to not thinking about the fatalistic stuff."

"Here here." Dean said, smiling.

Dave snuggled closer against him, tucking the blanket he'd procured some minutes ago around their chins. And that's how they fell asleep. Content with each other's company, without a care in the world, and with the quiet noises of their friends to lull them asleep.

.

.

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Fin~