It was a sign of how really crappy Sam felt when he let Dean help him from the car to the bunker without fighting him on it.
Dean got his wobbly brother into the bathroom, treated the wounds on his throat, bandaged them, and got him into clean sleeping clothes.
Shower was put off. Food was refused. Painkillers were not.
By then, Sam's eyelids were drooping.
Steered down the hall into his bedroom and blessed bed, the last thing Sam heard before he spiraled down into sleep was Dean's murmur.
"Why do these bastards always go for his freaking neck?"