Sam looks at him, really looks at him, and then his eyelids flutter with quiet exasperation. "What do you want me to say? Started after we parted ways. He visits me pretty much every night with a sob story or some way to torture me without putting a literal finger on me. Sometimes he's you, or sometimes he's Jess. Mom. Dad. Either way, at this point he's just static."

Static that pisses him off.

"I don't know what else to tell you. If you don't like it, you can shoot me with the Colt, make sure he doesn't get his vessel while you're figuring out how to deal with him." It's practical. Sam wouldn't care. Other than him getting let off easy for what happened.