Dean stood straighter. He crossed his arms over his chest. Okay. So the kid had some kind of idea.
"They're normal people," Dean said, correcting him. "Or they were. I don't know what went wrong."
Well, he did, but it wasn't something you shared with the normals. Hellmouth. Good times for all.
... how do you kill things like that?
"You don't," Dean said. "Unless you absolutely have to, and it's you or them. Those guys woke up last week thinking they were gonna dress up and work a Halloween event. They can't be real." He waited a second before adding the necessary afterthought, dropping his head. "Not all of them."
And he wasn't ready. Not nearly.
"I don't know what's in there. I can guess. So here's the rundown. Ghosts, you fend off with iron and salt." Dean opened the bag and handed the kid a fireplace poker. "Vampires you lop the heads off of. I hope. And don't get bit." He sighed. "Chainsaw freaks, you fucking run. And zombies, cause I'm goddamn sure they're in there.... destroy the brain. Don't get bit."