August 2nd excerpt:

The tines of the fork nudged at Sam’s arm, who barely even looked up at the threatening cutlery that could scoop him up into the air. “What, Dean?” he asked tiredly, a put-on air about him as he studiously focused on the shreds of hot dog and bread he had pushed into a facsimile of a hot dog on a bun.

“You gonna eat that?” Dean asked, jabbing his fork at the remainder of Sam’s portion of the meal.