"What haven't you done, you raging dickhead?" Dean refused to second guess himself. Not when he knew a demon was standing in front of him. He didn't bother trying to figure out what a demon would be driving a Bentley, a very nice and very old Bentley. Dean's thumb moved slightly, releasing the safety.
"You mighta changed the body and the accent, maybe even had a little work done on your eyes, but I know a demon when I see one. Especially you." Dean didn't look scared; he knew a gun wouldn't do much, but he had the exorcism on the tip of his tongue, pretty much, that would send the bastard straight to Hell. Dean didn't know how it happened, but he'd make sure Azazel stayed dead this time. "Answer a few questions, and I might go easy on you."
"What did you do to Sam? To my car? Where the fuck am I?" Dean had seen and done a few things that he wished he hadn't. Imagining Hell really wasn't that hard; it was not remembering it that was the problem.