A/N: This is an extension of Dean's dream from chapter 11A. Originally, the dream was going to be a huge metaphor and Dean was going to have an epic epiphany, but it was just too complicated. I'll explain it all at the end.
"You gonna hit me too, Timmy?" Dean's bravado does little to cover up his fear.
"No," Tim's hoarse voice replies. He's right in Dean's face and he leans closer, almost pressing his dry mouth to Dean's ear, "I'm just gonna make you watch."
Then Tim's next to Sam again, like he never moved at all. Dean pulls and twists but the ropes around him don't give. Tim smiles; the twist of his lips is sinister and reveals blood stained teeth. Then he starts beating Sam with the pipe, and he doesn't stop until Sam doesn't have enough oxygen to scream any more. And then, Tim wraps a rope around Sam's neck and pulls.
Dean threatens, yells, struggles, and cries, but Sam still dies. Afterwards, Tim collapses to the ground in a pile of rotting flesh and bone. Dean's left in the chair, unable to do anything but stare at the corpses.
Sam's skin is still pink with life; blood is still dripping and running from various lacerations and breaks in his flesh. Dean stares at the rope coiled around his brother's neck with blurry eyes, and feels the overwhelming urge to just get it off.
He leans forward and pulls at his own ropes with a grunt, which soon escalates into a frustrated yell when the knots refuse to give. He pulls, tugs, and twists until he's sweating and panting, but he's still trapped. Worn out, Dean lets his restraints hold his weight as he hangs his head.
Footsteps have him back on red alert in two seconds flat. His head snaps up, senses narrowing in on the sound like an animal. He doesn't have to look far for the source. Walking up behind Sam's slack body is…himself. The Dean coming up behind Sam is covered in blood, and holding the pipe that Tim used to beat Sam. Dean – the real Dean – recognizes his doppelganger as a mirror image of how he looked after he killed the hunters; soaked in blood and still feeling like Alastair's best student. Dean stares warily as his alter ego comes to a halt next to Sam. Bloody Dean smirks as he props himself up on the chair, right behind Sam's head, "I can start over, if you want."
The smirk on Bloody Dean's face twists into something darker, and he leans in closer to Sam, "C'mon, Dean-o. We've been here before: we rip em' apart and they make themselves whole again. The fun never ends."
"Get the hell away from my brother," Dean replies fiercely, "It isn't like that."
"It isn't?" Bloody Dean retorts with a twirl of the pipe, "It'd be so easy. We could keep him here locked up, just reliving this over, and over, and over. God knows he deserves it."
"Shut the hell up!" Dean yells so hard that saliva flies from his mouth, "Not Sam, not ever Sam. He doesn't deserve this!"
"Then why are we here?"
Dean blinks, taken back by the seriousness of the question, "What?"
"Why. Are. We. Here, Dean?" The question is patronizing, methodical, as if it were being directed towards a child.
Dean glares, "You tell me. See, I've been down this rabbit hole before. The whole "I'm you and you're me" thing wrapped up in one terrible metaphor for being my own worst enemy is getting pretty old."
"That's funny, cause it still rings just as true as it did when you were a hell hound chew toy, doesn't it? Except now, it's not daddy issues so much as it is that dark pit inside you. See cause deep down you know that you're nothing but a murderer; a torturer. A real Berkowitz. Had to keep the demons quiet, right?"
"You don't know what you're talking about," Dean replies evenly.
"I think we both know exactly what I'm talking about." Bloody Dean grins, dark and sarcastic, "It's just one big metaphor, remember?"
"Wake up, Dean, wake up. Wake the fuck up," Dean mutters to himself, scrunching his eyes shut tight. When he opens them, Bloody Dean is closer.
"Alcohol's a depressant, Dean, can be a real bitch. It doesn't always drown things out." The smugness there makes Dean want to deck himself.
"So," Bloody Dean announces loudly and walks backwards until he's next to Sam again. He twirls the pipe. "Should we get this show on the road?" He reaches for Sam as if to shake him awake.
"No!" Dean shouts, panic and fear hitting his chest hard, "God, no. Don't."
Bloody Dean pauses, cocks his head, "Why are we here, Dean?"
"I don't know, God damnit, stop asking me that!" Dean yells.
Bloody Dean throws the pipe; Dean hears it clang and clatter somewhere in the room. His alter ego marches forward and get's close enough so that Dean can smell the coppery tang of blood on his doppelganger.
"Yes, you do. You know," Bloody Dean crouches down and now they're nearly nose to nose. Staring into his twin's eyes, Dean sees the same thing he saw in his future self: pure anger and a lot of loneliness, the kind that wriggles its way into your soul and doesn't let go.
Bloody Dean smirks knowingly and leans in to whisper, "Wake up, Dean."
A/N: The idea of this was Dean vs. Dean. The Dean in the chair is the Dean who doesn't want his brother hurt, and Bloody Dean is the Dean who wants to punish Sam for everything he's done. It's literally Dean's two feelings on the Ruby situation manifested. I was going to have Dean realize that the dream was trying to tell him that by not forgiving Sam, he was emotionally torturing him, and that he couldn't have it both ways. Either he forgives him or he doesn't. In the end, I felt it was too hard to get Dean to logically come to this conclusion from the dream, so I cut it.