"Come out of the closet, Dean!"
"No!"
"You'll be fine." Sam's voice was shaking with the effort not to laugh. "Bobby said the tail should fall off in about a week . . . "
The closet door burst open and Dean stomped out, his green–tufted ears and whiskers making him look a little bilious. "A week?"
Sam bit the inside of his mouth hard, but Dean saw right through him and his tail lashed angrily. "Laugh it up, ass hat!"
Sam broke. "Well, shit, Dean," he sputtered. "How many times have I warned you about mouthing off to witches!"