"Not so cocky now, are you?" Eyes burning, the woman circled her chair-bound captive, claws itching to rip out his murderous throat.
Dean stared straight ahead, though his skin crawled with the heat of her fury.
"What, no more smart-ass remarks?" she snarled. "No pithy comebacks?"
Dean met her gaze but said nothing.
Swelling with fresh rage, the woman raised her clawed hand. Before she could strike, a single shot rang out and she slumped to the floor.
Sam came into the room. Looking from Dean to the dead woman on the floor, he said quietly, "How's that for pithy?"