Guilt ate into him. Some things never changed. Dean could hardly leave this man...whoever he was...to wander the halls like this. He hadn't attacked, that marked him as not a threat and also solidified Dean's conviction that this wasn't, somehow, an extension of purgatory. But his clothes were all wrong and that wolf? It was like something out of Lord of the Rings.
"Wait," he said, resignation fighting annoyance in his tone. "You're not from around here, I'm guessing? Where'd you come from?" He lowered his weapon, but did not relax his grip on it, just in case the wolf decided to spring.