Sam just grins like an asshole, dropping a bundle of first aid stuff on Dean's side of the bed before wandering toward his own. "There's some good stuff in there. Swiped pain killers, too." Let it be known, Sam is still a good thief when he needs to be. He winces as he sits down, the room wobbling a bit. Stupid headache. Stupid wall.

He closes his eyes, feet crossed, and lounges in the quiet of temporary home. "So no luck on the colt here. And no hunter group in sight. Are you leading us back to camp or is this another trek somewhere else?"