"Jimmy? Jimmy Novak?" Dean's gun lowered.
Jimmy nodded his head slowly once. "It's nice to see you again, Dean." His voice stripped away all happiness stored in the words. Jimmy glared at Dean, the way a vengeful spirit usually stared, though Dean didn't catch it. He was too busy trying to get over the fact that Jimmy Novak's soul was still somewhat intact.
"How-how are you?" Dean said stupidly, trying to piece together what to say.
"How am I? I'm dead, chucklehead! How do you think I am?" Jimmy's voice filled the room, and Dean felt the temperature drop some more. He regretted making Sam go out for pie. Quickly, he tried to recover.
"Sorry, didn't think tha-"
"Yeah, you didn't! Neither did that jerk-off, Castiel. And now look where I am," another temperature drop.
"Calm down, Jimmy," Dean said, trying to make sure nothing else whizzed past his head, though his words were too late. A knife this time flew past him, cutting his left sleeve. He moved quickly to his right, and narrowly missed another knife, aimed at his head. Reluctantly, Dean aimed for Jimmy, and took the shot. Jimmy vanished. Dean was ready for another attack when the door opened. He shot at it, hitting the doorframe.
"Whoa, whoa!" yelled Sam, who had fell to the floor, dodging his older brother's wild fire.