They betrayed each other, they forgave each other, then they died. Dean was starting to see a pattern here and was almost ready to just say 'let's stop forgiving each other, it jinxes us.' But at the very least, he did still have his brother beside him. Dean didn't have that sort of betrayal going on right at this very moment, the slight temptation to watch "their show" and find out if that was true or not existed. But he didn't even want Jo to watch that and now it was entirely banned from Sammy's existence (and if anyone mentioned it he would beat them with a stick). But if he was a good brother he would have told him everything...that was looming over him more than anything else.
It didn't matter all too much for Dean that his body was lying cold in his bedroom because by the time Sam got up to it -- the room would stink of sulfur and Dean would be gone. Off to go..."howl at the moon" with Crowley and make more horrible life choices than he had done before. Only, he'd done pretty questionable things in the past that what he had done while working with Crowley wasn't really all that bad when he thought about it. Sure, he killed people. But he was a demon. In his own mind, repeating that was how he slept through the night most of the time -- it didn't excuse what he did to Claire's "friends" but at least he'd shown restraint with the people Rowena had whammied at the bar.
It was the small day-to-day personal accomplishments that made things better.
The holy water was okay for like...five seconds before the sting crept over him. His mind zooming back to the bar and rinsing off his face just to remember black eyes staring back at him in the mirror when he looked back up. The wince was reflex but everything after that was all about how well he could play this off to Sam. "You're welcome," he winked before taking a swig of his beer. "Got in a bar fight the other night, moving still hurts a little. Asshole took a rib shot." Dean reached up and rubbed his side for a moment, giving an all too easy smile in his brother's direction. But he wasn't going to lie, his heart was pounding a little. He actually was sort of hoping it was a trick of the light.
Dean rolled up his sleeve and pulled out a silver knife, cutting into his arm. "Not a shapeshifter either, now c'mere. I've been here a damn week and all that's happened is I've been on a bender." He pulled Sam in for a hug, allowing the smile to fade into a grim expression when he didn't have eye contact with him before plastering it right back on.