WOW: Ease. The boys' hunt for a black dog goes somewhat awry.

Disclaimer: I don't own them, and that just sucks.


"Sa-sa-saaaam, huh-huh-huh-help …"

"I'm on it, dude," Sam yelled; leafing frantically through the ancient volume he'd snatched from the Impala's trunk. He glanced up at Dean's face, it's expression hovering somewhere between shock and toe-curling embarrassment.

"Some-some-sometime this fr-fr-friggin' week plea-hea-hease!"

Plastered against the wall of the old barn, Dean's spreadeagled body jerked spasmodically, sawing up and down like cheese against a grater as he tried repeatedly to ease himself out from his assailant's enthusiastic grip.


"Sorry man," Sam gasped; "this book's great if a black dog chases you, or bites you, or terrorises your family; but crap if it's humping your leg ..."