Dean's stomach gave another roll in concert with the boat's violent plunging through the powerful waves.

"You okay?" Sam shouted over the wind.

"We should've waited 'til after the storm," Dean yelled back.

"All the attacks have been in heavy weather!" Sam held tight to the tiller. "If we wait, we'll never –"

A huge wave suddenly hit the little craft broadside and Dean was swept overboard into the lake.

Cursing, Sam stopped the boat and scanned the water. Nothing. He started to kick off his boots, but then Dean popped to the surface, gasping for air and clutching at the side of the boat.

With a shout of relief Sam grabbed for him, but another wave swept in and boosted his brother high into the air, arms and legs flailing wildly until he fell back down with a bloodcurdling yodel and landed butt first in the boat.

After a string of heart-felt obscenities, Dean let out a groan which ended in a rusty cackle. "Ha! Still alive, you fucker!"

Sam, checking him over for injuries, paused. "Why're you calling me a fucker?"

"Not you!' Dean shot him a disgusted look. "Death!" He laughed, a little hysterical. "Try again, ASSHOLE!"