Dean sat back a little bit, trying to process everything as quickly as he could so he could make some kind of action plan. This was his job. This is what he did. Solving problems, killing monsters, saving people. He may have been out of his element, but he'd never let that stop him from doing his job before, and he wasn't about to start now. Especially not with Lisa at stake.
"So... a bunch of people were pulled from all different places and put into this living horror movie, for... what? See if we can survive?" What had been a sort of overwhelming disconnect in his voice had become more sure of itself, questioning this reality the same way he'd questioned God's 'plan' almost a decade ago. With zero tolerance and even less patience for it.
"Well, we can do that. Survive? Hell, I'm a pro at that, I've been doing it my whole life." As he spoke, he began to act, swiftly moving to retrieve the iron rod he'd left in the doorway. "We need salt... and more crap like this," he went on, spinning towards Emma and motioning his chosen weapon in her direction. "You, Tinker Bell us some salt and iron from wherever those pants came from. That bitch ain't getting in here."