“Every night,” he responded, almost on automatic somehow, like it was a question he was asked again and again until he’d learned the best way to respond to break off the conversation, like how sometimes he had to respond to Sam with simple things like because I said so when they were kids, until Sam grew up and decided that Dean’s say-so wasn’t good enough anymore, poking holes in everything, but this was different, because this wasn’t Sam and this wasn’t someone he was familiar with.
This was Lucifer.
Dean didn’t recognize the voice, had never heard it before, but he didn’t have to turn around and look to know who stood behind him. He just knew. Here, who else would it be, making all of Hell fall silent in his presence?
All of Hell except for Dean, anyway.
“What’re you doing in here?”
In here, because here was clearly a dream, which meant they were in his head, which... he didn’t think was right. Why would Lucifer be coming after his dreams? He wasn’t anything to the Devil, was he? Michael, sure, he’d have understood the Archangel’s presence in his head, but Lucifer? They were at opposite end of the big Cosmic Showdown that was supposed to go down. Wasn’t saying ‘no’ to Michael only helping Lucifer along a little longer? So then why come bug him, and make him want to say ‘yes’ more than he already did?
It didn’t make sense, and if he’d trusted Lucifer at all in the first place (which, no; hello, he was the Father of Lies, right?), he wouldn’t, at this point. Not with him standing there in Dean’s head like he belonged there, all smug satisfied certainty and Dean wanted to hit him, beat his stolen face in.
Wanted to cut him open and watch him bleed. Hear him scream.
Deane turned around, arms staying at his sides - knife in one hand staying steady and still, even as his grip on the handle tightened, shifted; he was ready for action, but not initiating it. Not yet. He had no way of knowing whether or not Lucifer’s powers were strong enough to do him any damage, here. He knew the Devil standing before him wasn’t just a part of his dream, though - if he were, it wouldn’t feel wrong, here. Like Hell itself going still and silent for it’s lord. For now, he wasn’t going to test the Devil’s power.