Hell is Made of Mirrors (Because Hindsight is 20/20)
"What do you believe in Dean?" The demon asked, trailing her hand over his chest.
He shivered with the touch but remained silent. "Tell me what you believe," She continued to taunt him, "In your precious Sammy? In that angel you love? You don't believe in either, do you Dean?"
"Get out of my head." Dean countered. He knew he was dreaming, because this particular demon was dead. He'd killed her long ago.
"You wish you could," she didn't pause, whispering the obscenities into Dean's ears, "but you don't. After all, your brother's a freak. That's why you went with the angel in the first place after all. You left him to me because you couldn't face the fact that maybe Sammy was stronger than you after all.
"The angel though..." She cackled gleefully, "where do I begin? You pushed him away Dean. You pushed him into this new hell he's facing. It's all your fault again, don't you see? You couldn't bring yourself to believe in him despite all that you've been through together. How could a being with millenniums more experience than you possibly know what to do?"
The sarcasm wasn't flattering, and neither was her face as she sneered at Dean. "Got tired of taking daddy's orders did we? Sick of praying to a god that never answers back? You found the one thing you could rely on Dean, and you pushed everyone else away because you always think you know better. How's that working out for you now? Don't you know what happened to Lucifer - what happens when you think you know better than god?
"Tell me what gods you believe in Dean. Where are your idols now? I'll build you a temple of mirrors so you can see them."
Her voice echoed across miles and miles of broken glass, as far as Dean could see. He knew then, staring into his own reflection, grotesquely shattered a million times over, that he'd done this to himself. He'd created his own hell, been cast down into his own creation, the mirrors a constant reflection of the pride that necessitated his fall.
They shimmered and sparkled in the light, coldly playing it all back for him. There he was going behind Sam's back over and over, giving up his faith in the best friend he'd ever had, and there was so much more blood on his hands in hindsight than Dean could have ever imagined.
A million eyes winked at him in tandem when Dean began to scream.