The anger that Dean felt upon realizing that Lucifer had made his intrusion made the Devil inwardly beam with delight. It wasn't simply the look on the man's face that told him how furious Dean was. He could feel it, all around them. Raw anger, burning hungrily at a man who was struggling to keep his restraint. He would keep struggling. But for how long? How long until Dean Winchester broke? From what Lucifer knew, it hadn't taken him much time to crumble on the racks. All Alistair had to do was pick up his knives. Lucifer couldn't help but wonder how much more quickly the process would have gone if he had been the one torturing Dean instead.
"I thought we could talk," Lucifer confessed, shrugging. "Especially since your presence has grown much louder ever since you acquired these new abilities of yours."
Lucifer tilted his head to the side curiously. "All that power and you still can't shut these memories from your mind." Lucifer walked over to the table and examined the scatter of blades waiting to do their work. He smoothed his fingers over the surface of a particularly jagged looking knife, decorated with various hooks that looked as though they'd cut a person in all the wrong places. But the wrong places were right. They would rip anyone who was unfortunate enough to end up on their sharp end apart. Lucifer considered the blades for a moment, then he passed his attention back over to Dean all too calmly. "Do you want to shut them out, Dean?" He couldn't lie to Lucifer. He would know if Dean was, now that he was inside of his mind. Somehow, though, Lucifer thought that Dean wouldn't. He didn't seem like the type of person to deny something when his hands were obviously smeared with the blood of his crimes. "Because I think, especially lately, that you wish you could get away with doing this sort of thing more. Correct me if I'm wrong: are you not tempted?"