Gareth was fussing over Tristan, leaning over him and fastening a metal chain with a small engraved plaque around his neck. Dean sauntered over, beer in one hand, sausage in the other, to investigate. Tristan arched his neck, angling his head downward to eyeball the plaque. When that didn't work, he snaked his neck to the side and downward, twisting his head almost upside down to focus his beady eyes on it.

"Now, now, bird," Gareth muttered. "Don't make a big fuss over it." He darted a glance toward the king and Galavant, seated at the table with the breakfast food.

Dean crouched down to peer at the engraving. It ready, in fancy calligraphy, "Killer". Dean snorted. Tristan - "Killer" - hissed and reared his head back, crest flaring. "Don't get your panties in a wad," Dean told him. "Gareth seems set that you're gonna be named 'Killer', is all." The cockatrice twisted its head down and to the side again. Dean flipped the plaque slightly upward. "Says 'Killer'. Enjoy it."

The cockatrice puffed its chest out and began strutting back and forth before the two men. Dean pointed at him. "Don't you start that damned chanting again!" he warned him. He got up from his crouch and strolled back to the table. Sam and Dr. Sporin had joined the group. Dean ended up beside his brother, who surveyed the breakfast fare with a dismal expression. Dean snickered and elbowed him. "Beer and sausage for breakfast - what's not to like?"

Sam sighed. "Vegetables. Fruit. Smoothies," he said mournfully, pushing his hair out of his face. "I miss them."

Dean washed a bite of sausage down with his beer. "Welp. We'll be back to your rabbit food in no time. Assuming Sporin's spell works."

The plan was to return to where they had first emerged into the Seven Realms after breakfast. The healer would do his thing, and then they'd be back home. Dean found himself feeling wistful about vamps and werewolves and demons, which was a first for him. And his fingers itched to be wrapped around Baby's steering wheel again - no more horses!

They all saddled up, and the crew trotted out the castle gates. Somehow, Killer ended up perched on Gareth's horse, which earned the soldier a small glare from Richard. It seemed that Tad Cooper's "pet" was being co-opted. Dean thought it was actually a good pairing, though he made sure to edge his horse up to Gareth and mutter, "You make sure your friend here doesn't go petrifying anyone, now!" Gareth favored him with a tight grin.

"Arrr. He won't be getting any ideas, now, will you, Killer?" He ruffled the cockatrice's feathers. Killer squawked and pecked at him, then shot an evil glance at Dean.

Dean returned it and pointed a finger at him. "Don't make me come back to this madhouse!" he grumbled. He rode back over to Sam, who was doing his best centaur imitation.

"I'll miss this," Sam said, with a dreamy, faraway look in his eyes. "The riding."

"Yeah, well, not me. My balls are beginning to get callouses!" Sam just flashed a smile at him, bent down, and urged his horse into a gallop across the rolling hills toward the forest. Dean shook his head, and stayed with the main group.

At the edge of the forest, King Richard pulled up. Sam came galloping back to join them, and slid off his horse, handing the reins off to Sid, who started staking all the horses down. Neo, after taking his time getting down, set his spell making equipment up on a small folding table Sid magically produced, put on a pair of circular glasses, and began consulting his notes. As he read, he pulled herbs out, examined them, and either shook his head or tossed a pinch into his spell bowl.

"Now, then, Dean," Richard called out. Dean, who had been watching Sporin's halting process with narrowed eyes, jerked, and turned his head. Richard gestured him forward. "And Sammy, too." Sam, resigned by now to the name mix-up, just rolled his eyes. They both moved toward the king, Dean giving Sam a quizzical look. Sam shrugged.

"Gal and I realized there was a problem with your membership in the AHK - " Dean started to wave it off, but Richard gave him a kingly frown. "So we decided to remedy that first. Kneel, Dean." Dean blinked at him.

Galavant's eyes danced with glee, and he grinned. "Go on, kneel!" he urged. Dean slid a look at Sam, who grimaced and shrugged again. He slowly knelt. Richard drew his sword. Dean eyed it nervously; seeing it up close and personal made him realize that it was both very big and very, very sharp. Richard smiled at him, flipped the sword in his hand, and tapped him on his right shoulder with the flat side, then his left.

"Rise, Sir Dean!" Richard commanded. Dean stood up slowly, mouth opening and closing like a fish. "Your turn, Sammy!" Richard continued, motioning Sam forward. Sam hesitated, then stepped forward and knelt, and Richard repeated the process, concluding with, "Rise, Sir Sammy!" Sam stood up and reeled over to Dean, who clapped him on the shoulder.

"Knights. Dude, we're knights now!" he chortled.

"Sir Sammy!" Sam hissed at him in agony.

"Eh, relax. It's not like anyone back home'll know, y'know?" Dean muttered back.

"So now, when we get the certificates, we'll have Neo here shoot 'em off to you," Galavant crowed. Dean and Sam nodded, both still somewhat dazed.

"Ahem." Neo cleared his throat and peered over the top of his glasses at them. "Are we quite done with this detour?" Richard looked abashed, and nodded. "Well, then! I have everything prepared here. So. Are you ready?" He asked the boys. They both nodded agreement. The healer lifted a hand and began chanting, then threw a lit match into the bowl, which flared up and singed his mustache. He batted at it, waved the smoke away, and peered at the brothers.

"Dean...?" Sam said, his voice wavering.

Dean stared back at Sporin. "Uh. Dude. Nothing happened. We're still here." He began to panic: what if they were stuck here?

Neo folded his arms and snorted. "Of course." He waved to the forest. "Off you go, then!" Dean turned to look at the thick trees, then turned back to the healer. "Tsk. Go, go, go!" Sporin flapped his hands at them.

"Uh. Okay? I guess?" He exchanged a glance with Sam, then headed toward the trees.

"Oi!" Gareth called out. "So long!" Dean twisted back to see him waving.

"Farewell!" King Richard and Galavant sang out, also waving.

"Auf weidersehen!" Sid piped up, craning his head around the horses.

"Aaarrrrrrrghhhhh!" Dean yelped. "Goodbye, goddammit!" He strode into the forest, breaking into a run as if demons were after him, Sam at his heels, laughing. He slowed down as they got further down the path, holding his hands over his ears to muffle the sound of the song echoing after them. They stopped for a moment to get their bearings when they reached the clearing with the "Forest of Coincidence" sign. Dean scanned the clearing, then pointed to what he thought was the path out.

"That one?" he asked.

"Think so," Sam responded.

Dean chewed his lips, considering. "Think that last vamp'll still be there?"

"Dunno," Sam said. He reached down for his machete. "Best we just assume it is, right?"

"Right." Dean nodded, pulled his own machete, and they started down the path, which dwindled away to a faint deer trail. The farewell song stopped as if a switch had been flipped, and the woods around them felt different somehow. It was still light, though, and Dean, after thinking, re-sheathed his machete. He pointed. "Too light for vamps. I think we left Baby over there." They strode through the woods, which thinned out before them, and found themselves at the dilapidated house where it had all started, Baby parked in front.

Dean started toward the car, then turned and walked backward for a moment, looking at Sam and shaking a finger at him. "If I never hear another Broadway song again, I'll be a happy camper!"

A week later, Dean wandered into the common room of the bunker to find two scrolls, fastened with thin, elegant golden cords and deep red wax seals, on one of the tables. He yelled for Sam, and waited. When Sam got there, they unwrapped and unsealed them, rolling them open.

Sam read his and winced. "Sir Sammy of Winchester, dammit!" he groaned.

In flowing calligraphy, the one Dean held proclaimed Sir Dean of Winchester a Certified Hero of the Association Of Heroic Knights, and was signed "Ricardus, Rex Regna Septum".

.oO END Oo.

A/N: I probably have the Latin wrong. Anyone studied Latin?