29.

Dean lurched forward, away from the Trickster's side, and spun around, taking in their new location. They were in a forest clearing, newly widened. The trees around them were completely flattened, radiating outward from the rough cross planted in the overgrown grass.

"The fuck are we?" he demanded.

"Don't you recognize it?" the Trickster asked innocently, his golden eyes wide. "It's your grave."

Dean turned in place again. "Last time I saw it, it didn't look like this," he insisted, taking the chance to move further away from the Trickster. The guy might look like a little twerp, but Dean knew from painful experience how scary he could be.

"That's because this is a different version," the Trickster explained. "An...alternate reality, I guess you could say. How things could have gone. If."

Dean narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "If what?"

The playful expression vanished from the Trickster's face. "If the angels had got to you in time," he said grimly. He snapped his fingers again. Dean jerked. Now they were in a barn, dilapidated and covered with wards of all shapes and sizes. Dean recognized most of them, and realized that he should be anywhere near this place.

"Oh, I'm protecting you, don't worry," the Trickster assured him. He gestured. "Observe."

Dean turned around. Standing not five feet away was...himself, actually. Except human. Dean could smell it on the other him, reeking from his skin. And not too far away was Bobby, looking significantly better than Dean remembered. "The fuck?" he asked again, his eyes wide.

"Told you, alternate reality," the Trickster said, stepping up beside him. "Now shut up and watch."

So Dean watched while the doors swung open, while the lights exploded and Castiel the angel strode right up to the other Dean—the human Dean—and spoke the words that sent a shock down demon Dean's spine.

"Because God commanded it. Because we have work for you."