Dean Winchester's mind had called to him that night. As vulnerable, angry, and loud as Dean's soul felt at the moment, it was very hard for Lucifer to look away. What better time to personally speak with the man than during the moments in which he appeared to be at his weakest? The spell that his demons had played around with had changed everyone in Lawrence. Their abilities were not their own and, by association, that meant that their minds were not their own either. To a certain degree, Lucifer found that beneficial, but beyond that the result of their actions had served to be nothing short of inconvenient. His demons had acted out on their desires to obtain the powers that they seemed incapable of stealing away through possession and, because of that, Lucifer had personally ensured that the demons responsible were punished for their foolishness (how could they have been so naive as to think that he would stand by and do nothing when they were tampering with his and Michael's vessels?). If they wanted the power, they would retrieve it the old fashioned way. Magic tricks gone wrong were not acceptable in his book, nor were they necessary. But, Lucifer supposed, that was what he got for entrusting such a responsibility to creatures who were made of anger, greed, and stupidity. Like the human race. Like Dean Winchester, who had been tampered with enough through the spell that Lucifer knew he couldn't resist dropping in to make matters all the more worse. After all, if he was going to get his vessel, Sam was going to have to willingly let go. If that meant pushing every little piece of Sam's life at him in all the wrong ways, then Lucifer was more than happy to oblige. Breaking Dean in half was, without a doubt, one of the best ways to handle the situation. No one knew Sam better than Dean. More importantly, no one looked up to Dean more than Sam. If Lucifer were to destroy that bond, that would give Sam all the more reason to break when the time came for him to do so. And, oh, it would come. Lucifer was more than certain of that.
That didn't mean that he wasn't allowed to throw in a bit of leverage to spice up his odds a bit. For security purposes, of course. Lucifer had spent far too long cowering away inside the cage to leave anything to chance. He may well have had his confidence, but Lucifer had far from lost his wits. If he had to push at the hairless apes to get what he wanted, then so be it.
Dean's dreams weren't of the pleasant kind. Nothing quite as simple as relaxing in bed with his wife, like his brother had experienced during Lucifer's past visit to Sam. No, Dean's dream was far more complicated. The images riddling his mind were chaotic and dark. In fact, if anyone else were to describe the scene, they would suggest that it was more of a nightmare than a dream in itself. Lucifer believed that, on some level, Dean felt differently about the definition. Some parts may well have been a nightmare, but certain aspects - like picking out his next tool for his turn at playing with some twisted soul on the rack - were appealing. Ripping flesh from bone, spilling bucket after bucket of blood. Every little bit of getting to play the role of the monster, rather than the poor victim, was something that Lucifer knew some dark part of Dean enjoyed. That was why Lucifer had decided to stick to this moment. To intrude upon Dean's mind here, rather than elsewhere. Because as much as Dean may have enjoyed the thrill of becoming his own monster, Lucifer knew well enough that he was ashamed of what his time in the pit had turned him into.
It only seemed right that Lucifer shove that shameful side of himself into his face.
Appearing behind him, Lucifer spoke calmly, yet matter-of-factly, as if he were entirely certain of himself. Which, for the record, he very much was. "You have nightmares of this place often, don't you?" Nightmares. For the moment, he would call them that.