"Say it."

"The boy king?"

Dean questions the Demons answer with a snarky grin, but then again, why would the Demon lie if Dean has got the Demon killing knife pressed right to his sweaty throat? The Demon nervously swallowed his dismay and felt a small bead of sweat begin uptop his eyebrow, then run down his cheek steadily. He nodded calmly at the half-deranged, sleep deprived man, commonly known as Dean Winchester, grilling him for info.

"Yes, he's our leader, tells us what to do."

The Demon says quietly, slowly and steadily building up the suspense for his soon to be murderer. If he was going to die, he may as well have fun with it. Sounded low, but that's what Demons do. Dean slowly lowered down the knife, but kept it close to the meat suit of the Demons throat. Poor mailman, he didn't know a thing, and he never will.

"So you're his bitch?"

Dean said loudly, with a smirk of course. The Demon rolled his eyes lazily and nodded.

"We're all his bitch, we don't really have a choice."

He muttered, slightly embarrassed. Dean let out a short laugh and backed up a few steps from the man tied to a breaking chair, in Bobby Singers living room. Casual.

"Ok, tell me about him then."

Dean demanded. The Demon sighed heavily, glancing around the dank room, accepting his impending doom.

"Alright, what the hell right. When I tell you, you kill me, and If you don't, he will. Either way I'm dead."

The Demon said, Dean held back a laugh as he heard Bobby's hoarse voice call out for him as he entered the ancient house.

"We're in here Bobby!"

Dean said. Bobby was soon standing beside Dean to his left, staring at the man, or Demon really, sitting in the chair.

"Howdy."

Bobby mumbled through his beard. Dean huffed and pulled up a chair so he could sit down and listen to the magical story that was about to spill from the little bitches mouth. He plunked down in the chair with a cocky smile.

"Buddy here was just going to tell me about this so called 'boy king', wanna listen in?"

Dean asked Bobby. Bobby nodded as he left the room to get some whiskey for them both. A couple minutes later, they were sipping at the wonderful whiskey, finally ready for the story.

"So, the boy king?"

Dean coughed, signaling the Demon to continue. The Demon rolled his eyes, for about the millionth time, and begun his story.

"He's a scary son of a bitch let me just say that."

The Demon started off with, letting out a huff of stress in the form of a heavy breath.

"He just, popped out of nowhere, demanding all Demons follow him."

He said, sounding defeated. Dean scoffed and folded his arms, waiting for him to continue.

"He, uh, was human. Apparently he was a pretty good person too, before he found out who he really was. Who he was meant to be."

He said, quieter this time, but Dean heard him loud and clear.

"One day he learned his fate, his horrible fate, and he wanted to fight it. He truly did want to fight it, but hell, you can't fight destiny, right?"

The Demon lifted his chin, sweat dripping from it. Dean held his breath, cautiously, not moving too much to let the Demon know he was interested.

"This kid fought hard, really hard, until the day he died. Lucky for him, he had connections. A powerful Demon favorited him, so he brought him back. Except…"

The Demon trailed his voice off, once he realized how he had Dean wrapped around his little finger. He smirked and looked at Bobby, who too, was stunned.

"Ah, I'm sorry this story might be a little boring, why don't you kill me now, before he does."

The Demon said, having way too much fun.

"Sure thing, after you finish your boring story."

Bobby said as he gestured towards the tied up man. The Demon willingly listened to Bobby, mainly because he didn't want Deans face to change, it was priceless.

"When this powerful Demon brought this, kid back, he changed a little something about him."

The Demon said, with a long pause, that felt like a year, but was only ten seconds.

"Azazel made this kid strong and incredibly powerful, almost like himself."

Dean felt it deep down inside him, that dreaded gut wrenching pain, the needle pricking your stomach over and over and over again feeling. It was not a good feeling, which meant it signaled bad things to come.

"This kid can do amazing things, you have no idea Dean."

Dean wanted to scream, to hack the head of this Demon clean off, but he held back, eager to hear more of the story.

"He's going to lead us all, to take down you all. Goodbye human race, hello Demon army."

The Demon bursted out laughing, that evil laugh all Demons do. They all sound the same, but hits Deans gut different each time. Once he finished, Dean thought it was finally appropriate to ask the question, he already knew the answer to.

"What's his name?"

Dean mumbled, angry and anxious as ever.

"You already know"

The Demon said with a devilish smirk. Dean pressed the knife against the meat suits throat and bit the inside of his own cheek gently.

"Say it."

Dean demanded. Accepting his death, the Demon answered absolutely.

"Sam Winchester."

Was all he got out before he throat was slit and he was gone in a yellow flash.