If it gets down to it, Dean assumes he's going to wind up having to struggle against Sam to take down any kind of threat. Which makes Sam a liability. But Dean's a quick shot, and now he knows better than to take his time to pull a trigger while Sam is around, so he thinks he can make quick business of their company if things go south.

He takes the gas from Sam and sets it on the ground, pistol in hand, as the truck pulls up, and is immediately on guard when he sees just how many men are in the truck. He has extra bullets, but not a whole lot of them.

Being recognized doesn't make Dean feel comfortable, exactly. There was a time when it would — back when Dean was still recruiting for his ragtag group, looking to take on anyone who would help him pursue his cause. Then it started getting more and more dangerous, people started fighting for resources, friends forgot their loyalty. Recognition doesn't count for much anymore.

But Dean needs to play it smart. He may be colder than he was before, but he hasn't grown stupid.

"Yeah, I'm Dean," he replies. "This is Sam," he adds, since the guy is referring to him as 'the short one.' "I remember that hunt. Chupacabra, right?"

He's conscious of the fact that he's still holding his gun, so Dean lowers it to his side — doesn't put it away, but tones down his threatening stance.

"We were just stopping for some gas — heading north, but we should be able to get ourselves there."

Normally Dean wouldn't advertise a coveted resource, but they saw Sam hand it over as they pulled up, so there's no point in trying to hide it.