Dean jerked a little at the eyes. They'd offed that bastard. This, no. His hand went to his back where he kept his Colt, not the Colt but his. He would have loved to have the Colt right now. Yellow eyed fucking freak. His jaw was tight as he pulled the hand gun on the demon.
"What the fuck have you done?" Dean had such a way with words. "I shot you once already; I'm willing to do it again." He lifted the gun, and he had no problem shooting the thing in the head. He had no problem looking like a complete whack job, surrounded by a few people who were gathering as if this were some sort of street show, not a guy threatening a demon with a gun.
"I got no problem puttin' you down again." Unless he was hallucinating. He was pretty certain no one had touched him. He wasn't under the influence of anything other than a little drink or two; he guessed. No, this was real. He was talking to someone who had eyes like a demon, and they were yellow. They didn't look exactly like Old Yellow Eyes', but they were close enough. Demon was a demon was a dead demon, right? Right.