Some Sweet Gravity 

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Dean gets nearer to the bed and one of the tentacles hanging off the mattress curls swiftly around his ankles. Yelling, Dean stomps and pins the length under his boot and leans down to hack it into little pieces, but he feels another one grab his wrist, cold and wet and fucking disgusting. He lets out a savage growl and slices it.

The tentacle drops, blood spritzing from its severed body as it darts back. Dean’s ears don’t hear the scream, but he gets the impression of one. Good. He’s going to make calamari out of these fuckers.