"I'm freaking ravenous!" Sam staggered to the kitchen and rooted through the cupboard .
"Sam, come on." Dean tugged his brother back to the bed, pushed him down. "Lie still."
Sam blinked up at him out of watery eyes. "Why?"
Dean covered him with a blanket. "Cause you're sick, dummy."
"It's just a cold." Sam sneezed. "Besides, we gotta take care of that ghost."
"Later."
"Dean, it's a haunted sym – sym - symphony!"
"Later. Lie still, I'll make some soup."
"Don't want soup." Sam gazed pleadingly up at Dean. "Can I have a cookie?"
"Soup first," Dean said firmly. "Oreos later."