"What the – " Dean skipped back from the wildly flailing creature. "Skeletons don't freakin' leak."

"No shit, Sherlock." Sam swung his machete and hit the monster squarely on the shoulder, knocking its arm off. A gout of blood sprayed into the air.

Sam grimaced. "They don't bleed, either."

"No shit, Sherlock," Dean smirked.

Sam knocked off another of the thing's arms. Both limbs twitched reflexively, then skittered back up the skeleton's frame and reattached themselves.

"How the hell do we kill it?"

"I say we go with our old standby." Dean pulled a flare out of his jacket. "Flame on!"