Laughing, Billy grins, looking younger than he did a moment before.

"Yeah. Yup. That'd be the one. Can't believe a goddamn Chupacabra nearly did me in, too."

Sam can imagine Dean making fun of him. Throwing an arm over his shoulder and saying he'd do better next time. Calling him a loser, but a pretty awesome one. Those days don't exist anymore, though.

"Sounds like a deal," Billy says, "We got a full tank — don't worry 'bout us eyeballing your treasure there. We're gonna be up at the camp just down the road a few miles up; you stop by, we'll get you guys a meal free of charge. Any after the first, I'll have to get compensation through some work, but still. Free meal's an offer anyway."

Billy nods, tips his hat, and climbs back into the truck, and it pulls away without any other trouble. Sam can't help but think he sees a familiar, solemn face in the bed of the truck, but it's dark out and his eyes are playing games with him.

"... Free meal sounds pretty good. I'm guessing you're about half-starved anyway."

Pot, kettle, black.

Not that Sam cares if Dean eats.

Or maybe he fucking does, he doesn't know.