The word this week is Pry and I felt like hurting Dean! Thanks Kripke for your beautiful boys. 100 on the nose!
"Okay, I got it, Dean."
Urgency spiked in Sam's voice as he folded his long legs and knelt on the bare wooden boards, the pry-bar held loosely in his strong hands.
Dean's head rose slowly from its rest atop his knees, relief and trepidation written on his pale face.
"Get me loose, Sammy."
He whispered shakily, nodding toward his right foot and the protruding 6-inch nail that speared from the old floor-board, through his sole and out the boot-top.
Sam nodded, wedged the bar under Dean's boot and braced to lean his weight onto the cold metal.
"Ready?"
Dean shuddered.
Sorry if I put you off your dinner!