"Hau, auhs, aaachoootszzz! Owwww, dabb id."

"Dean, hold still...ok, got it." Sam adjusts the steri-strips over the gash in his brother's head. Dean's staring over Sam's shoulder, again. Sam ignores him.. Dean coughs, red faced and shaking, blankets pulled up to his chin, one finger pointing at the door.

"There's nothing there." Sam shakes his head. "Really, dude, I promise. Sleep." Dean frowns, lower lip protruding. Sam sighs.

"You fell out of bed, now you're sick and concussed." Sam holds out his hand. "How many fingers?"

Dean smiles, nodding and sneezes all over Sam's hand.