"I'm gonna follow the hotel manager, Dr. Scowley-Scowl. He's like a villain from Scooby-Doo."

Sam slurs, dizzily getting up from his bed.

"No!"

You and Dean both urge him at the same time, your hands easily laying him back down.

"Am I in the car?"

Sam asks, smiling to himself and almost immediately falling back asleep. The trials had really started to make him sick, and you and Dean were worried. Could he even get through the last one?

"I made soup, the kind he likes that Dad used to make. It's in the fridge. Just nuke it for him when he gets up."

Dean rubs the back of his neck, giving you an apologetic glance before heading out the door to work on the case and finding Cas.

"Whoa…he is a villain."

Sam murmurs to himself, feeling your soft weight dipping the mattress next to him. He instinctively moves towards you, arms flying out needily.

"Who's a villain, Sammy?"

You ask softly, getting nothing but an agitated whine in response. You could already tell he was gonna be a mess later when you forced him to take medicine.

"D'you wanna eat some soup? Dean…made it."

You wince a bit. It was hard to imagine Dean cooking, let alone knowing how to turn on a stove. Sam huffs and pouts, shaking his head childishly.

"No. Not eating that crap. Want soup."

You make a face.

"Sammy, I just offered you soup."

Sam gives you a stern glare, prodding at your arm with his finger.

"Want good soup."