It was desperately hard for Dean to keep still in the early-morning predawn. He was a man of action, of movement, not built for patience and espionage. Still, his invisibility was crucial, and the information at stake might be useful for years to come.
He huddled back further into the dark bathroom, until he could just barely see Sam in the bed through the crack in the door. His brother had slept soundly the night before, and hadn’t stirred when Dean had come back from his prowl. Sam had no idea Dean was in the room.
Dean didn’t have long to wait. Sam stirred and sat up, looking around the room cagily and listening intently. Dean stifled his breath until it was uncomfortable, and was richly rewarded.
Reaching down into his duffel, Sam drew out a wooden ruler. He lay back and reached for the elastic of his boxers.
“I KNEW IT!” Dean howled as he leaped out of the bathroom, and Sam’s scream of shock and outrage hit a crystal-shattering pitch.