Nightmare Dean: I mean, you're going to hell and you won't lift a finger to stop it? Talk about low self-esteem. Then again, it's not much of a life worth saving.

Dean Winchester: Wake up, Dean. Wake up.

Nightmare Dean: After all, you've got nothing, outside of Sam. You are nothing. You're as mindless and obedient as an attack dog.

Dean Winchester: That's not true.

Nightmare Dean: No? What are the things that you want? What are the things that you dream? I mean, your car, that's Dad's. Your favorite leather jacket, Dad's. Your music, Dad's. Do you even have an original thought? No. No, all there is is, "Watch out for Sammy. Look after your little brother, boy!" You can still hear your Dad's voice in your head, can't you? Clear as a bell.

Dean Winchester: Just shut up.

Nightmare Dean: When you think about it... all he ever did was train you, boss you around. But Sam... Sam, he doted on. Sam, he loved.

Dean Winchester: I mean it. I'm getting angry.

Nightmare Dean: Dad knew who you really were. A good soldier and nothing else. Daddy's blunt little instrument. Your father didn't care whether you lived or died. Why should you?

Dean Winchester: Son of a b*tch! My father was an obsessed b*stard! All that crap he dumped on me, about protecting Sam, that was his crap. He's the one who couldn't protect his family. He's the one who let Mom die. Who wasn't there for Sam. I always was. He wasn't fair! I didn't deserve what he put on me. And I don't deserve to go to hell!

Nightmare Dean (now with demon eyes): You can't escape me, Dean. You're gonna die. And this, this is what you're gonna become.