Notes: Hello everyone! I know this is very late, and far too short, but I just wanted you to get a little sense of what happened with our boys after the big battle. I'm not much of a smut writing I'm afraid, so this is just a little hint at what their happily every after might look like. It should have been part of the previous chapter as a big final one, but real life happened. Apologies.



The door shut with a dull smack, and for a moment none of them knew what to do. As the only one who was technically home, Bobby eventually trudged off to the kitchen. The brothers heard him pottering about, hopefully making sure they had beer.

'Dibs on the shower,' Dean muttered. Sam took one look at the rock dust and blood - Granger's blood - and nodded, disappearing into the living room. Dean heard the couch groan as he pulled himself up the stairs.

During his life, Dean had gone through hell, figurtively and literally, but nothing had been quite as exhausting as this last adventure. Something about the Disney-ness of it all. He felt like he had traveled further than every before, only to come all the way round to the beginning. The truth was, it didn't matter if they waved wands or spoke better Latin than he did, people were people, and war was war.

Having Sam survive left him oddly drained. But he didn't want to crash. Despite their losses, this had to be considered a win. They were alive, after all, and hadn't they fucking deserved that? Feeling gittery, he finished his shower quickly, got some clean clothes, and headed downstairs to get that beer. He stopped short when he found a gathering in the hallway.

Sam was hugging Harry, clutching him so he was off the ground by a good foot. Boddy leaned against the doorframe to the kitchen, some sort of fond/surprised look on his face.

Sam put Harry down eventually, both of them glancing at him, and Dean was pretty sure this was awkward. Harry ran a hand through his bird's nest and Sam put his in his pockets.

'Are you…' Sam began.

'Are you staying?' Dean helped him. Both of them shot him such annoyed looks he decided to stay out of it, following Bobby's lead.

'I've already left England,' Harry said, glancing towards the front door. 'I really didn't have any intention of going back. I mean- I will… for the funerals…' He closed his eyes, Sam reached out, hesitated, and then placed a hand on his shoulder.

'He's outside waiting,' Harry said suddenly, looking at Dean.

'Who is?'


He should probably respond to that.

He went outside.

Draco was leaning against one of Bobby's wrecks. He was holding his wand, twiddling it round and round rather expertly. He looked up when he heard the gravel crunch, pocketing the wand.

Dean stopped a good distance from him.

'You ok?'

'I'm alive.'

'Yeah,' Dean huffed, 'I've heard that line before, hell, I've given it.'

'What do you want me to say?' Draco challenged. 'I was possessed by Death himself to win back his wand because apparently I was Master of it for months during the war? How about the fact that I was hit with the Killing Curse and didn't die - and I had the Stone in my pocket. I'm not scared of it anymore, though, because Death and I had a nice little conversation about it, which I'll probably have nightmares about for the rest of my life. Or, to top it all off, how about the fact that we're all - inexplicably - alive after all this, and you just bugger off across the pond without so much as a by your leave?'

Dean let him blow off the steam. He was used to Sam's lung power, so this was nothing. When Draco quieted down, Dean nodded thoughtfully.

'How 'bout you start with what you're doing here?' He had meant to say "what do you want" but for some reason, his mouth hadn't wanted to say it.

'I'm sorry to have bothered you,' Draco snapped, pushing off the car, 'I'll leave immediately.'

Dean was by him in three long strides, grabbing the first thing he reached - his arm.

'Don't you dare,' he warned, squeezing. Draco stared at him in confusion. He was still dirty from the fight, even though it had taken them hours and hours to help with clean-up. Dean hadn't been paying much attention to where Draco had been at the time. When the only work left had to be done by magic, Castiel had dropped them back home. No one had tried to stop them.

Suddenly, Draco's free hand cupped the back of Dean's head and forced it down to meet his lips. It was a hard kiss, not very pleasant. Dean immediately let go, so Draco used both hands to keep him in place, though there was no need. As he opened his mouth to try and soften the experience, Dean slid his arms around Draco's waist, who responded to the embrace by making things infinitely better, slower, deeper. A snog, Dean's mind supplied abruptly, was a very apt word.

Draco tasted slightly metallic, but he felt warm and breathing, every twitch and movement of his body intoxicating. He gasped Dean's air into himself, so close now they were touching head to toe. Dean was getting slightly dizzy, turning them so he could brace himself on the car, then slowly leaned Draco against it.

He tried to breathe a few times, maybe get a few words in, but Draco wasn't letting go. Finally, Dean had to pry Draco's hands off his neck, although they immediately grabbed his collar.

'We should… we should probably talk,' Dean tried. He was braced against the car, with Draco snug between his arms.

'Yes, there's lots to discuss,' Draco whispered. 'I prefer bottoming from the top.'

'Right,' Dean swallowed. Draco kissed his neck and he lost his train of thought. 'Yeah, that's- I meant, other… things, ah.'

'This is a much more pressing matter,' Draco protested with a purr, unbuttoning Dean's top button. 'Where's you bedroom?'

'Corner bedroom upstairs-… but listen, we should- fuck, why am I talking?'

Draco looked up from his task.

'I have no idea.'

Dean kissed him. He didn't really know what he was doing. He didn't know where he was going. The squeezing sensation was familiar now, and in a way he kind of liked it. For a moment, he and Draco were squeezed together through a gap in the universe, created by Draco. The gap led to Dean's bedroom, which as far as magical travel went, wasn't very impressive. Draco's sucking on his collarbone was.

'Does this mean, you're sticking around? Or is this a one-night only deal?' Usually, it was the other person asking that question, and the answer was always "let's just see what happens" and then sneak out in the morning. Draco glanced up at him, sliding his cool hands up Dean's shirt for a moment, then withdrawing. Dean frowned.

'I'd like to shower first, I think,' Draco said.

Dean pointed the way, and was left alone. He sat down on the bed, wondering what the hell was going on inside that blond head. Wouldn't Snape insist he go back? Dean didn't fancy standing between that guy and whatever he wanted. And now with Harry staying, how about four's a crowd? Dean sighed and rubbed at his face, the euphoria of being back and alive slipping away.

There was a knock on the door – Sam's unmistakable "are you having a moment, do I dare interrupt?" knock. He stood in the open doorway.

'Yeah,' Dean answered.

'Draco's in the shower?'

'Yeah, sorry, you know how he is.'

'Not sure I do, but it's fine. I'm alright with just a change of clothes for now. Me, Harry and Bobby were thinking of getting a bite.'

'So, this is how it's gonna be?' Dean asked, not judging, just curious.

'I don't know,' Sam shrugged, brows furrowed. 'Seems like it's pretty useful having a wizard around.'

'And two?'

'We could work in pairs, meet-up whenever, do the big jobs together.'

'Think that could really work?'

'Why not?' He repeated the shrug. 'Why can't we just, for once, do it by our book, instead of anyone else's.'

'I don't know...' It seemed too good to even consider it.

'You want Draco to stick around?' Sam prodded. Dean shifted, feeling a heat crawl up his neck. What the hell?

'I feel responsible for the guy... I-' For some reason he was having trouble getting his head around the fact that he had just been making out with the guy not two minutes ago. Sam was getting that crooked smile on his face that said he suspected exactly what was going on in Dean's head. This was too much. He got up and paced to the window.

'Why don't we just... see where the road takes us?' Sam suggested. If there was a metaphor Dean could get behind, it was definitely that one. He looked out over Bobby's lot, then glanced back at Sam.

'We get the Impala.' Sam rolled his eyes and left, but he was smiling.

And so was Dean.