"If it ain't really yours, you won't mind me takin' it."

Snapping the chamber shut, I pocketed the gun. If I knew Clarence - and I knew him - he'd be antsy as Hell about somebody else getting their mitts on his Smith & Wesson. Sidling back around the counter, I holstered my Colt and sized him up.

"I'm tired of this monkey dance," I snapped. "Spill it, or somethin' of yours'll be spillin' all over the floor."

I didn't want to do it. Well, to some extent, I did. But knowing the why behind his scam after playing the sucker and getting nabbed by the feds...Dean Winchester wasn't anybody's patsy. I had him where I wanted him, and all that was left was the break.