When Meg picked him up by the throat and hauled him up against the truck, the force of the impact knocked the wind out of his lungs, and with the secure grip on his airway, he was having a hard time getting air back in. He tried to suck in a gasping breath, but that was about as desperate as he was willing to look. After another second or two, however, his hand reached up involuntarily grabbing at hers. He held her gaze, trying to get her to see he wasn't going to kill her, not today. If anyone was going to kill her, it would be Sam.
"Life's full of wonderful surprises," he commented, voice slightly hoarse. As she searched him fro the knife he didn't have, Dean tried to see what kind of leverage he could get to weasel his way out of her grip. Meg hovered just a step too far into his personal space bubble and he couldn't help the fact that it bothered him a little. Dean knew that it was only seconds that were ticking by, but with the hand on his throat hindering his breathing just enough, it felt like hours. Even with the more pressing issue of possibly suffocating hovering over his head, Meg's comment of working for Crowley -because no one worked with that asshat- earned her the most not impressed look he could manage under the circumstances. "Because I'm the first person you'd think of as working for him."
Over Meg's shoulder he saw Sam, and he knew it was going to get serious quick if he couldn't get out of this. He shifted his weight against the truck. His plan wasn't that great, and if he screwed this up, there was a great chance of breaking that bone in his neck, the bone that broke when you hung a person. He learned that once in a TV show and never forgot it. Hyoid bone. When Sam skipped all the damn bases and went right for the kill, Dean had to adjust the plan a little.
He could already feel the slight cut off of air starting to affect him badly so he grabbed her arm with both of his and pushed forward as far as he could and used his height and the side of the truck to push them all forward. When he'd pushed far enough away from the truck, he kept pushing her arm away and started pulling back. He could already breathe better and one last jerk backwards got his neck free.
"How about we all take a damn second here to get this straight," Dean barked, annoyed. He raised a hand to his neck to feel the heat coming off of it. If it started bruising, someone was going to get business. Looking between Meg and Sam he added, "We're not here to kill you. Right Sam?" He looked pointedly at his brother for a second. "As cathartic as that would be." Dean took a second or two to orient himself before he continued. "Let's see if we can get through one conversation without trying to kill each other."