We all know what Dean thinks of them, don't we ...
Disclaimer: I own nothing except my poor addled mind.
The brothers stared into the dank vault, grimacing at the centuries-old stench of mildew. A soft gauze of cobwebs fluttered across their faces in the night breeze; Dean tore it down with the barrel of his shotgun, and peered into the shadows.
Sam stepped forward, but Dean put his arm out to stop him. The green eyes blazed at Sam.
"I'm goin' in. This fugly bastard is dangerous."
"Then we go in together," Sam argued angrily, "I'm sick of standin' around watchin' you put yourself in danger and not lettin' me help."
"Well, shut your eyes then; I'm goin' in!" The argument was over.
Sam scowled "Oh, great, I'll just hold the coats then shall I?"
"Whatever, just make sure you cover my ass while you're busy sulkin'." came Dean's gruff voice as he ducked under the flaking stone lintel.
Sam huffed and watched Dean, shoulders squared, shotgun in hand, as he disappeared into the murky, black void.
Within seconds, there came a sudden scuffling, a squeaky, high pitched chattering. Sam cocked his head, listening to the sound; he smiled when he realised what it was. As if to confirm, a small, grey body scuttled across the entrance to the vault and wriggled through a crack in the stone.
A moment later, Dean scampered rapidly from the darkness, wide eyed and panting, he dashed with stiff legs and flailing arms round behind Sam, shoving him towards the doorway.
"Oh, okay", he gasped, "just this once then, bitch!"
Anyone else want to give him a cuddle and make it all better?