[Preemptively, in defense of how Dean's about to handle the sitution, he's sure there are half a dozen people- future or otherwise- taking every possible approach to getting that damn sword from this bitch. He's sure there's pleading, there's asking nicely, there's beating around the bush. He's sure their bases are covered, except for one niche approach which he's probably the only person qualified to fill.

He's also very, very desperate man, who might still be a little drunk from the day before.

So he levels the camera with his hardest, scariest crazy eyes.]

Listen up, sweetheart. If you don't give me that sword,

I

will

kill you.

[It's enunciated very simply, very clearly.]

I don't know how the Queen hasn't found you, I don't know what you've done with it, I don't know why you haven't given it back, and I don't care. People are going to die without it. I will spend as many years as it takes looking for you, I will find you, I will shoot you, and I will take it from your cold, lifeless, headless corpse unless you give it to me.