"You don't want it, you want to sell it," the woman nodded.
"And?" Bela asked innocently, the dagger outstretched.
"And I don't see why I should allow it. This has been in my family for centuries."
"Makes no difference to me, I have a buyer and that's all I need," Bela shrugged.
"Now will you give it to me, or do I need to take it from you?"
"Maybe I should call Bobby Singer and ask his opinion."
Bela hesitated, lowering the dagger.
"What would he care?" her eyes lowered with it.
"Oh, haven't you heard?" the old woman smiled suddenly, her cataract-covered eyes staring into grey, "he's been wanting it for some time now."
Bela's mouth curved into a smile of its own.
"That only means that I must assuredly have it."
She raised the dagger again to the woman's throat.
"Thank you for your hospitality."