August 11th excerpt:
The prisoner finally looked to Dean, the only one who he had a mite of respect for, if only because of his fighting skill. He still regarded the other hunter like he was garbage in the gutter. “I see the little vermin have you both good and trained,” he spat.
Dean coolly arched an eyebrow at Logan. “Trained?” He glanced down at Sam, sitting calmly on a shoulder, then back at Logan. “He can’t be talking about me, can he?”
Sam wrinkled his nose. “He wouldn’t say that if he ever saw the socks you leave in the sink,” he complained loudly, not showing any of the pain that he still felt in his arm. “I mean, really. Who leaves socks in the sink, of all places?”