Dean slept, on average, three hours a night. It was just enough to stay alive. He could sleep when he was dead.
When he'd crashed out this time, finally, his dreams weren't a surprise. They wouldn't have been to anyone who was unfortunate to wander into them, either. Dean's head was a busy place. What he was torturing himself about on any given night was a toss up, but it was all equally awful.
As it happened, tonight it was Sam.
It was Sam, and it was Sam becoming Lucifer. Sam stood there in his white suit, his eyes so devoid of anything as caring as what should be inside them, striding confidently toward Bobby to snap his neck.
The scene was a little different than it had been in reality, but not by much. Once Bobby dropped, Sam got rid of Cas.
And then it was just the two of them. And then the cage was open.