His eyes are still wide, and he blinks at the question. Part of him still hasn't even accepted this as being real, but he needs to snap out of it too. Sam did, and now Dean needs to shake everything off and approach this situation like they have way too many goddamn times. Jesus, they've had to do this too much. But it's what they do, and it's important. The last time they did this, Sam thought it was dumb, but here he is, asking Dean to pass him a knife and he... okay, he can smile a little numbly, if only to himself.

He pulls out his knife and rolls his sleeve up, then drags the blade over his skin. He wipes it clean and passes the knife over to Sam.

He pulls out his flask; it's filled up with the holy water moonshine, and he takes a sip.

"Here," he says, offering it up to Sam. "Take a sip. It's spiked." He should probably warn him that it's mild-grade moonshine, but he's not thinking that far ahead.