Dean didn't say anything. He pulled out the gun and shot twice to the head. He didn't pick up the money, the shiny. He didn't want it anymore; even the hunter so many thought so little of had some sort of morals. He had respect for the creatures he had to off, more so than some humans he knew. He understood the bumps, the bads, the creepies. He understood them a whole hell of a lot better, and wondered sometimes if he wasn't indeed one of them, specially times like these.
With the changeling down, he turned and walked away. It was easy, or so it seemed. He let the muzzle of the gun cool off before tucking it away again. "I need what information you got on these things. I'll get Sam." If he could. "And take care of the rest."