The challenge word is Space and a shackled Dean is suffering from a distinct lack of it! Thanks Kripke for your lovely boys to play with.

Dean woke with a start, surprised that he had slept, shackled as he was to his brother and suspended from the rusty hook in the dingy cellar's low ceiling.

Every part of him ached, the bindings biting into him and his shoulders strained to the limit as he struggled to keep contact with the ground.

He started again as he felt a cold hand wriggling into the back pocket of his jeans, brushing his butt.

"Hey! Personal space, dude!" Dean growled.

"Don't flatter yourself, Dean. I'm just trying to get your pocket knife."

"Ah, but Sammy, they all say that!"

Hope it made ya giggle!