Dean stood there, stunned, hand still in a fist. He was glowering at this Jason asshole.
"You know this guy?" he asked. He'd forgotten that some of the supernatural shit could be local. He'd just assumed that Balto here had shown up when he did, like everyone else.
Deans eyebrows drew together but he nodded at Jason. The guy clearly had no memory of being an actual zombie, there wasn't a need to torture him about it or get him in trouble. He looked like a frat guy, now that he was alive again and all the right colors. He was probably doing this for a girl or beer money.
Dean could respect both of those things.
He turned his attention to the kid, then. Was he okay? "Now that I don't have to ask you to shoot me? Peachy."
He was glad that all his weapons were hidden, now that everyone was cognizant again. A horde of people asking about his guns was something he'd like to pass on, thanks very much. The scratch on his forearm was still there and very real.
"Look, don't tell anybody, but... I hate zombies," Dean said.