"Sorry, Moose. I must ask you to wait your turn. At present, I am having a tete-a-tete with sleeping beauty.
'For in that sleep of death what dreams may come.'
You do know that I have dreamed of this day and of you. I've always felt that if Azazel had visited your nursery and not Sam's, I wouldn't be the King of Hell. I would be the King of bloody everything! And you, Dean Winchester, would be my...consort. No, too angelic, if you get my inference. No, you're more, much more brutal, the enforcer type.
I saw it with Alistair. You were the perfect student. A natural, a real master of pain and suffering. And you enjoyed it. You even enjoyed what you did to me.
You were perfect in Purgatory; I was told. It felt pure. Are those not your exact words? How do you think I knew you were worthy of Cain? You didn't need my help or anyone else's to kill. You barely needed encouragement. Was it all that self-loathing? We needn't analyze it; just use it.
You wanted to blame hell. All that remorse when your boyfriend rescued you. Of course, you still had your humanity and that jolly green albatross around your neck, holding you back.
But, not to worry, for each day, another bit of your humanity will fall away.
So, Dean, shall we dance?"