So, this is an AU where Sam and Dean are the Kings of Hell and Bobby made a deal ten years ago and now's the time to collect. Also, the Angels are still storming Hell, looking for a Righteous Man who, incidentally, they don't know is one of the Kings Down Under. Heh, heh.

I'm probably going to do a next chapter where they meet Castiel, but I dunno. Eh, we'll see.

Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own them. If I did, there'd be way more bro-hugs, a lot more chick-flicks, and Sam and Dean and Cas would be besties forever after. Also, Hallucination Lucifer would be immensely more helpful and less sadistic, and they'd go to a lot more different universes, maybe one where they're sent into the bodies of a Dean and Sam who are demons on the run from John and Bobby (but they wouldn't know that until later) or one where they lose their memories of everything, even each other, and yet are still as bro-tastic as ever. And then there'd be one where they're sent into the bodies of a Dean and Sam who are Angels and Castiel is a Demon . . . If anyone wants to write these things, I want to read them.

Warnings: Swearing, because it's Dean and we love him for being the pie-coveting badass that he is.

Bobby Singer sighed as the eerie sound of Hellhounds howling echoed in the night. He stood up and stepped off the porch, shoving his hands into his pockets.

It had been a good ten years, but it looked like his time was finally up. Least it was for a good cause. Karen would live a normal life, never knowing she'd been possessed by a demon.

Another howl cracked the air.

"Oh, come on," Bobby said, exasperated. "Enough with the dramatics."

The howling paused, as if hurt. Then a wet nose snuffled his leg.

"Ugh."

A rough tongue licked his shoe.

"Stop that, you mangy mutt."

The Hellhound whimpered, wounded by Bobby's cruel words.

"All right, all right, I'm sorry."

The Hound panted in forgiveness.

"What're you waiting for, anyway? Just kill me already. You're drooling on my shoes."

And then there was Hell.

"Where're we goin'?" Bobby asked the demons who'd taken hold of his arms.

"To see the Kings," one of the demons, the one with shaggy blond hair said.

"What, the Kings of Hell?"

"You got it," the other demon said, this one with black hair and a bored expression.

"Why're we goin' to see them?"

"They found you interesting. You're going."

"Whatever you say, fellas."

They stopped at two big, elegant doors, which opened by themselves. Shaggy Hair shoved Bobby. "Walk."

Bobby straightened and glared at the demon, curling his lip before turning sharply and striding forward. The doors shut behind him, locking everyone else out, including the demons who'd led him there.

Two golden, bejeweled thrones sat in front of him. In one was a demon with light brown hair in a crew cut, a scepter in his hand and a crown on his head, looking very comfortable in his chair fit for, well, a king.

In the other was another demon, one without a crown or a scepter, a book in his hand while he pushed messy dark-brown hair out of his eyes. He looked strangely innocent and sympathetic.

The one with the crown waved at Bobby. "Yo. I'm King Dean." He smirked when he said it, and gestured to the other demon. "This is King Sam."

King Sam glared at King Dean, then turned to Bobby. "Just Sam, please."

"Just Sam," King Dean muttered. "Where's the style? Where's the flair?"

"Dean," Sam said, exasperated.

"King Dean."

"I'm not going to call you King Dean."

"What? Why not?"

"We've been over this."

"No reason we can't go over it again."

"Yes, Dean. Yes, there is."

Bobby cleared his throat. The demons looked at him. "What am I doin' here?"

"Mr. Singer," Sam began.

"Bobby."

"Bobby," Sam echoed dutifully.

"Now what'm I doin' here?"

Sam opened his mouth, but King Dean got there before he did.

"You're being useful. What's your résumé?"

"My what?"

"Your résumé," King Dean repeated.

"I don't have a damned résumé. Idjit," Bobby said beneath his breath.

King Dean's lips cracked into a smile. "I like you." He turned to the other demon. "What do you say, Sam?"

"I don't make you call me King Sam."

"Are we back to that? C'mon, Sammy, that's over with."

"Until they bring in the next one."

"Dude," King Dean said, hurt. "I don't go at you for calling yourself Just Sam."

"Dean," Sam began.

"No." King Dean turned away with a sniff. "You've hurt my feelings now. I'm not talking to you anymore."

Sam laughed. "Jerk."

King Dean made a satisfied noise. "Bitch."

"I need a drink," Bobby mumbled.

King Dean pointed at him. "That's the best idea I've heard so far." He snapped his fingers.

Nothing happened.

"Hey," he shouted. "Need some booze over here! Dudes, what have I told you about ignoring the finger-snapping?"

One of the doors opened slightly, and a demon intoned, "You don't ignore the finger-snapping."

"That's right. Now shoo."

The demon grimaced.

"Hey! I saw that, Azazel! Service with a smile man, service with a smile!"

Azazel groaned and shut the door, presumably to get the beer.

"Do you have to taunt them?" Sam asked.

"Only the ones I don't like. Remember Alastair?"

Sam sighed. "Yes, Dean, I remember Alastair."

"Smarmy bastard. He got what he deserved."

"You gave him bathroom duty, Dean."

"See? What he deserved."

"The bathrooms are worse than that battlefield we visited in Vietnam."

"Oh yeah. What was it? 1964?"

"1963."

"Right. But you know, Sammy, not even you like Alistair."

"No one likes Alistair."

"So you admit that he deserves bathroom duty."

Sam rolled his eyes. "I give up."

"Quitter."

He chuckled. Bobby glanced from him to the fond smile on King Dean's face as he watched Sam.

These were the Kings of Hell? He'd met crueler ER nurses.

The doors opened, and the earlier demon walked back in with three bottles of Jack Daniels on a silver platter. His expression was pained as he handed the bottles to the Kings and Bobby.

"Yo," King Dean said. "Send Meg in."

Azazel cursed beneath his breath and trudged out.

"That's King Damned Bastard Scum of Hell to you," King Dean called after him.

"Dean," Sam said, voice stern.

King Dean rolled his eyes. "Alright, alright. I'll go easy on him."

Bobby took a gulp of his Jack Daniels and waited to see what scene would play out next.

A female demon walked into the throne room, one with dark hair that tumbled to her shoulders in waves and a face that would have seemed childish if not for the cynical smile at her lips. "Something you wanted, Majesties?"

"How long until the Angels get to the throne room?"

"Two hours, five days."

"Oh." King Dean looked disappointed. "Really? I thought they'd get here faster than that." He paused. "Wait, don't tell me. They sent someone to go through the dungeons. Sneaky bastards. Can you find out who?"

"You know me," Meg murmured. "Always happy to help."

King Dean winked at her. "Good. Now go buy yourself something nice. My treat."

"Oh, joy." She gave him a sarcastic salute, and strode out.

King Dean watched her leave, grimacing. "Does she have to smile like that?"

"But you're so charming, Dean," Sam said, deadpan. "How can she resist you?"

Bobby snorted.

King Dean gave Sam a scowl, but Bobby could tell he didn't mean it. "Yeah? Why don't you try getting laid one of these days, Sammy? Maybe it'll bring out your inner coolness."

"I have inner coolness?" Sam exclaimed. "Wow!"

King Dean started to laugh. Sam smiled serenely, pleased with the outcome of his words.

"You boys brothers or somethin'?" Bobby asked once the laughter had died down.

"How could you tell?" King Dean asked.

"Well, you sure as hell don't look like sisters."

"Aw, Sam, all your hard work finally paid off," King Dean said.

Sam's lips twitched. "Shut up, Dean."

King Dean pretended hurt. "What? I thought you'd be proud. I know how often you've been mistaken for a girl-"

Sam threw his book at him.

King Dean caught it, snickering as he tossed it back at Sam.

Bobby shook his head. "I've seen convicts with better manners than you two."

Sam looked apologetic. King Dean looked satisfied.

A demon screamed. "Alastair set the bathrooms on fire again!'

King Dean stood up and shouted, "Godammit, Alastair, back to Time Out with you!"

A nasal voice whined, "Aw, Majesty, you know how boring it gets . . ."

"No."

"Okay, okay, just don't make me wear the-"

King Dean pointed at the demon Alastair. "You're wearing the Dunce Cap."

"I'm not wearing the Dunce Cap."

"You're wearing it."

"No."

"Are too."

"Not."

"Too."

"Not."

"T-"

"Shut up, Dean," Sam said, exasperated. "Forget about the Dunce Cap. Just send him to Time Out with Ruby."

"Not Time Out!" Alastair cried nasally as two more demons grabbed his arms. "No! Noooooo!"

The doors slammed shut.

Sam sighed. "Dean . . . Maybe we should change Time Out?"

"It's Arts and Crafts, Sam. Glitter and colored paper. It's not like it'll hurt them." King Dean paused. "Well, not physically, at least. Not so sure about mentally."

"That's it," Bobby declared. "You two are certified lunatics."

They both looked at him.

"I'm stayin'."

"Really?" Dean asked, looking interested. "Why?"

"Hell can't survive you two, so I'm gonna be here to make sure it does."

"We don't need a keeper," Dean argued.

"Uh, yeah, ya do."

"But-"

"Bobby," Sam began.

"Shut it."

They subsided, Dean pouting and Sam looking sadly puppyish.

"I don't wanna hear a word outta you two until we get this sorted out."

"But Bobby-"

"Shuddup."

Dean closed his mouth.

"Not one word, y'hear me? Don't answer." Bobby turned away, muttering, "Idjits."