July 9th excerpt:

Cupping his hands around his mouth, Dean practiced one of his least-used abilities due to living most of his life in hiding, and threw his voice to the right. “Who ya gonna call?!”

Stan was practically flattened to the floor, one eye squinted closed to peer under the couch. He regretted allowing himself to get sidetracked long enough to let Dean find cover down there. It was much darker under there than it was under the chair, and nearly impossible to distinguish the shadows toward the back. He was hesitant to reach in when he couldn’t see Dean, but he also didn’t want to let him get away that easily.