Sorry if it's a bit short, but it's quite a busy time right now. Anyway, enjoy!

"Let me get this straight" Dean-not-Draven said, looking between Crowley and Lilith. They were still in Dean... sorry... Draven's bedroom: Lilith had finally calmed down and was being comforted by a strangely nice Crowley while Alistair tried to explain to an incredulous Dean what was going on. He wasn't having much luck.

"Let me get this straight" Dean repeated "What you're saying here is that there is some bloke, who incidentally looks exactly like me and sort of has my same name, and that this guy is Lilith's nephew. Sorry, Lilith's and Crowley's nephew, because apparently they're married and madly in love with each other. And the idea of Crowley being married is already... But anyway, what else... Oh yeah, it seems that I've been de-aged, 'cause I'm sixteen years old again, and that's why when you saw me back at the warehouse you thought I was this Draven and you brought me... sorry, where did you say we are?".

"In our reality, where the whole human race has been exterminated and demons hold the power" Alistair answered coldly.

"Sure. How did that happen, again?".

"We – that is your father, me, Lilith and Crowley- were working to free our Lord from His cage to assist Him in the conquest of your miserable, defenceless world and things were going fairly well: we had all the hordes of Hell in our hands, a cunning plan to put into practice. We were ready to begin when Crowley asked why, since all the hordes of Hell were in our hands and Earth was defenceless, we didn't conquest it by ourself instead of waiting for an ambiguous angel".

Dean stared at him disbelievingly: "And you bought it?".

Alistair smirked evilly: " What can I say, he was very persuasive and we ended up rather liking the idea. If I recall correctly, your father was particularly enthusiastic...".

"Right" Dean interrupted him "My father! I almost forgot that bit, thank you for reminding me! 'Cause apparently my father's not only a demon but also officially the king of all demons".

"And Earth" Alistair added helpfully.

There was a brief silence during which Dean and Alistair looked at each other with fiery eyes; then the human draw in a long breath to calm him-self down and spoke.

"I don't know what you're playing at here" Dean said with a voice that dripped venom "But I surely won't be fooled by this ridiculous story. We should have never trusted you, it was crazy just to think about it! Now I want to talk to my father, the real one thank you very much. Or have you already put him back on your rack?".

Alistair merely arched an eyebrow as answer before smiling sickly.

"My rack?" he whispered "And what do you know about my rack, hmm?".

Dean flinched just a little as memories assaulted him, but even that tiny flick of emotion didn't escape the demon's expert eyes.

"Oh, I see" he murmured sweetly "All fond memories I hope...".

That was the last straw: Dean was so enraged he couldn't speak. Enraged and scared, even if he would never admit it. Here he was, at the mercy of Alistair, Lilith and Crowley who were famous for having no mercy at all. And they had a plan, evidently, and for the life of him he couldn't even start to understand what the hell it was...

He asked to talk to his father, but he knew perfectly that he was probably somewhere being tormented and he truly hoped that Sammy was safe as Castiel promised and what about the angel, was he even alive?

Dean realized with growing panic that he was all alone, utterly and completely alone, just like when he ended up in Hell the first time, and now Lilith was going to have her hell hounds pick him apart and Alistair was going to put him back on the rack and hurt him, hurt him, hurt him and he had nowhere to run and nowhere to hide and and and...

"Where is my father?" he asked again, raising his voice until he was almost shouting.

Alistair went rigid.

"Keep your voice down!" the demon hissed, looking at the door.

"NO!" and now Dean was screaming, completely in panic "I WANT TO SEE MY FATHER! NOW!".

Alistair glared at him in cold fury.

"Listen, you stupid brat, if he hears you...".

"Dean...".

The voice was little more than a whisper but it silenced Alistair, making him look again at the door. Dean followed his gaze, hopefully, but...

It was a man in his early forties, dressed in an elegant if slightly strange black suit that exalted his pale complexion. His hair was a faded blond edging on white.

His eyes were twin pools of yellow light.

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