November 18th excerpt:
Up. Down. Up again. Why does everything require climbing.
Resigned, Dean started his climb down, griping all the way.
“Y’know, I have half a mind to go back and grab one of Sam’s pencil tips,” Dean complained to the open air of the flat. “He’d notice in a second that it was gone, but it would be worth the look on your face when you either have to use a scrap of pencil to write with or get up and get your own damn pen that’s like five feet away.”
November 16th excerpt:
The group was silent as they climbed down from the nightstand one after the other. Sam’s hook was the one that was lodged into the top, the sturdiest hook in the motel. Dean had once suggested replacing it now that Sam had access to more supplies than he could ever dream of back when he’d lived at Trails West, but nothing they found could equal the three prongs. It was sturdy, it was versatile, and it was lightweight enough for Sam to haul it around day in and day out, dangling from his satchel. If he was to come up against an enemy one-on-one with nothing more than his hook on hand, he would be a force to be reckoned with. That hook was nasty.
Sam was the only one able to wield it so easily. Lightweight to him was hefty to Walt, and tossing it up several feet in the air took effort. All in all, the perfect tool for Sam Winchester.
Brothers Apart 