February 21st excerpt:

Before they could drop back down into the pocket to get out of the way, Dean got a finger to tap against both of their heads, ruffling the messy bedheads of the smaller pair and generally messing them up more. Then, Dean patted his pocket, and that was the last straw that sent Sam tumbling down, off balance.

“I hate you,” drifted up at them from the bottom of the pocket.