"Yes, I do believe Crowley is my name." The man (who Dean now thought to be even stranger) replied with a certain degree of sass and sarcasm, yet not quite as much as the Crowley that the Winchesters were used to.

"You can't be Crowley…" Sam finally piped up, being awake enough to understand what the situation was about, yet his brain evidently hadn't kicked into gear, due to him still not fully explaining his fairly valid point. Noticing this, the older brother filled in for him.

"Yeah, you're not the King of freaking Hell. Plus, the actual limey mook roasted months ago." Dean maintained his omnipresent use of slang, which tended to increase when he spoke to new people, just to confuse them, really. It definitely worked, especially with the man's British dialect.

"Um, I'm not entirely sure what you're saying to me, however, I can assure you I'm not the King of Hell. In fact, I barely make the local council… You clearly have me confused with someone else." Although the demon appeared to be telling the truth, Dean still didn't trust him entirely; the Winchesters had had enough run-ins with demons previously in their lives to trust a new one on sight, especially if he was claiming to share a name with the dead King of Hell.

"So if you're saying you're not Crowley – well, at least the Crowley we know – then who are you?" Sam asked the most relevant question that could be asked at that moment as he also glared suspiciously at the demon.

"Sorry, but I'm just as wary of you as you are of me. You're going to have to answer a couple of my questions first…" Crowley replied, reluctant to submit to what he thought were barbarians. Naturally, Dean immediately refused, almost as an instant reflex.

"No way-"

"Hey, hey, let's hear what he has to say first, okay?" Sam interrupted his brother, extending a hand out that hovered a couple of centimetres away from Dean's chest, as a sort of restraining gesture. The older Winchester glared back at his brother, yet huffed in agreement. Turning to the demon and addressing him personally, Sam laid down the rules. "Alright, we'll trade questions and answers. We're not gonna tell you some things, obviously, but-"

"Try most things-" Dean muttered under his breath, clearly disapproving of his brother's plan, however remaining passive aggressive for now.

"Oh no, I understand completely." Crowley cut in before Sam could say any more, nodding his head in consonance to his terms in order to prove his complacency. "You'll likely find me all the more strange after I ask, but it had to be said – what year are we in?"

"Right, that's it-" Dean began to rise from his seat and violently hauled open the driver's door to the Impala, but before he could go anywhere or do anything rash, Sam grabbed a handful of his brother's jacket and dragged him back to his seat.

"DEAN! Quit acting up, will you? We said we'd hear him out, so we will, damnit!"

"Well, technically, you said we'll hear him out, not me…" Mumbling again, the older brother trailed off when he saw Sam pulling his infamous disapproving face at him. Sam then turned back around to face the demon and blatantly answered his question, partly to get somewhere in their conversation, but mostly just to spite Dean.

"It's 2010. Okay, our turn. How did you get here?"

"2010…" Crowley mouthed, looking extremely perplexed, yet as if he was reaching a conclusion; like when someone is trying to solve a jigsaw, and they only have a few pieces left, so they know they're almost there, but can't quite figure it out yet. Then, rather abruptly, he seemed to snap back to reality. "How did I get here? I honestly have no idea. Er… Tell me more about the Crowley you know. You say he's a demon?"

"Basically. He was a class-A douchebag and we killed him for it – Well, actually our friend did, but hey. Uh… I can't think of a question. Dean?"

"Yeah, I got one – what's with the sunglasses, Neo?"

"I thought I told you. My name is Anthony Crowley. And… I guess I like them. Okay, did your 'Crowley' happen to know an angel by the name of Aziraphale?"

"He never mentioned them, no."

"Alright, I think that's enough for our little Q&A. How about you get the hell out of my car and we take this elsewhere?"

"Fine by me." At those final words, Anthony J Crowley simply disappeared from the back seat of the Impala, leaving Dean all the more infuriated, and Sam all the more baffled.