It's a good thing Sam chases Polly away, because Dean is inclined to tell her that she shouldn't believe everything she's told. He's fully prepared to dash that wonder in her eyes, since he's of the belief that she will be better-equipped to handle the world if she doesn't believe fanciful tall tales. There's enough in the real world as it is, and there's no point in making hunting sound cool.

But Sam gets her to leave, so Dean starts digging in his sack. As he does so, he comments, "if you're gonna tell the kids crap like that, leave me outta your stories."

He finishes the statement just as he finds what he's looking for. Pausing, he looks around to make sure they're alone. Then he pulls out a small prescription bottle and gives it a light shake. "Sleeping pills."

There are only a handful. Prescriptions are hard to get these days, the pharmacies having already been raided long ago. He found these in an old house a few miles away. The other medicines - antibiotics and miscellaneous painkillers - he handed in, like everything else. These, though, Dean pocketed without sharing. He knew it was doubtful that he'd get a cut of them, since drugs are so hard to come by.

"I'm tired of hearing you at night," Dean says by way of explanation. "Maybe these'll knock you out so we can both get a full night's sleep." Then, he adds, "Just don't go advertising around that you got 'em."