Dean looked at him incredulously, not really buying a single word of his story. Well, aside from the fact that it felt real and the words he had said. "Sammy?" He cleared his throat and stood taller, no longer slumping against the wall. "Did you really-" his hand reached up with a sigh and he scratched over his bearded jaw. Picking up on lies and bullshit was something that Dean excelled at, especially when it came to his brother. There was no way in hell that Sam one and two had engaged in a shootout between one another. Something like that, he was sure Sam could have brushed it off easily enough. Not to mention the fact that he, his hotel version, had just stood by and watched the two attempt to murder each other. It didn't add up or jive with what Sam had already told him, that Dean was going to kill him in the future.
"We go through a lot of shit, Sam. It doesn't get any easier for us, the garbage just keeps piling up and we never get a break. But, yeah, sure, I don't care if you drive one of the cars. None of them mean the same to me as baby and aside from the bikes, the cars are grandpa style." Dean snorted at that, never having been too interested in driving any of them around.
"What do I owe you exactly, Sam?" He questioned, still trying to figure out if he should call Sam on his bullshit or not.