'You think?' Sam snaps, before he can quite stop himself. Because yeah, he just bets. And probably even more dangerous when you're not used to the dangers that come with being little. But no, right, the kid is at least doing as he asked-- and he is a kid, Sam sees, with his face now a little closer to his, maybe sixteen or seventeen years old. He's probably just as freaked as Sam is, and selfish, in the way all teenagers are selfish. Sam is going to have to reason with him, not shout.

'What's your name?' It's the same tone he uses on confused civilians or grieving relatives when he and Dean work a case, the tone that invites confidentiality, promising that Sam's harmless, that he understands. 'I'm Sam.'