"Sorry, Dean," Gordon allows, and if I cared enough about the character or his motivations, I'd go back and overanalyze that moment in an attempt to determine if he really meant that particular sentiment, but I don't, so I won't. Dean fights back sobs of agony through his gag as he manfully struggles once more against the ropes, but it's all for naught. Dean remains firmly strapped to the chair while Gordon carefully picks his way through the debris into the back room, his rifle at the ready. Through the haze, Gordon catches sight of Sam's impossibly large and now-smoking shoe. Not quite willing to believe that bit of evidence just yet, he continues to stalk through the ruins, turning a corner just as...Action Sammy emerges to press the business end of a cocked automatic against the back of Gordon's skull! "Drop the gun," Sam simmers. "Shouldn't take your shoes off around here," Gordon calmly advises. "You might get tetanus." "Put it down now!" Sam growls. Out in the Crack Shack's meticulously appointed parlor, Dean whips his head around at the sound of Sam's voice. Back at the action, Gordon finally complies, carefully placing the rifle on the floor. Gordon then eggs Sam on, taunting the "saint" to shoot a now-unarmed man, and for a moment, we think Sam might just do it, but Gordon eliminates whatever temptations Saint Sammy might have had by suddenly and unexpectedly spinning around to knock the automatic out of Sam's hand before pretty much kicking the ginormotron through a wall. I hate to say this, but Sam su-huuucks at the hand-to-hand. Well, at least until Gordon foolishly overplays his advantage by taunting the now prone and bleeding Sammy. "You're no better than the filthy things you hunt," Gordon asserts, and for some reason, this taunting reinvigorates Sam, who in short order flips Gordon to the floor, and then -- get this -- beats Gordon in the teeth with his cast. Awesome. Once Sam's managed to stun Gordon into some form of submission, he rises to his full height, pointing Gordon's own sniper rifle at the guy's head. And would you believe it? Gordon still will not stop talking already! Fortunately, Sam rams the rifle's butt against Gordon's head a couple of times, and Gordon finally shuts up. Hooray!
By the way, if you were wondering why Raoul did not insist I note the callback to the bar scene in "Bloodlust" that ended that exchange, it's because Raoul long ago drifted off to sleep in his overstuffed armchair, cuddling his Special Moments With My Special Agent scrapbook, with visions of a faaaaabulous Massachusetts wedding no doubt dancing through his head. Shhhhhhh! He's had a most exhausting night.