He has to admit, he wouldn’t trust himself, either. Dean waits until the door is closed until he looks around. There’s no way he’s going to sit around, chained, when the world is dead outside. He pats over the floor and spots a nail. Perfect. A tug, bites under his nails and there. It slides free and Dean works the point in the lock.
"Couldn’t leave the hell enough alone."
His voice, the darker, gruff tone, makes Dean jump. He didn’t hear the door. That’s how the monsters must feel, the silence, the break when Dean decides it’s time to attack.
"You’da done the same, buddy."
Dean watches his older mirror stalk forward. His hair is balled in a fist, tight enough to spot his eyelids. He hisses.
"This is your fuckin’ fault," the older Dean rasps. "We’re here, Sammy’s gone, all because of you."
"Goddamn smart mouth."
"Don’tcha know it."
"Angels are watchin’ over you," older Dean says. "And they’re gonna want me to teach you the same goddamn lesson."
"Badass and the angel’s bitch, huh?"
That earns a backhand. Dean spits blood. He’s shoved to the floor and wood creaks under the force.
"You wanna be a bitch? You’re gonna listen and do what the fuck you’re told."
"Oh yeah? Says who?"
Dean watches the zip in the other’s jeans, that free hand pulling a soft prick free.
"What the hell you doin’?"
"I fuckin’ know you. You gotta take shit until you see who’s boss? This ain’t fuckin’ Disneyland. It’s the end of the fuckin’ world and you wanna see how bad it gets, I’m gonna show you."