The storage area wasn't exactly spacious, and though the two of them probably still could've fit inside, crowding into a small space was never a good plan, even without the prospect of getting jumped by something supernatural. With chemicals and glass around, the last thing he was interested in was knocking something over.
Sam lingered in the threshold of the doorway instead, eyes skimming through the shelves over Dean's shoulder. It definitely seemed like someone had grabbed a bunch of stuff, but—
"That syringe," he said, nodding at it. "And the alcohol pads."
Dean was probably gonna run out of space to hold stuff, but he didn't offer to help. There was no need; if Dean wanted him to carry anything, Sam knew Dean wouldn't wait for an invitation before going ahead and simply shoving things into his brother's hands.
Hard to tell what else might've been here, given a lot of it was missing, but place like this, there was always alcohol. And where there was alcohol, there could be explosives. Provided they had something to light it with. Which they didn't yet so they'd have to leave it for now.
Christ, they didn't even have a damn lighter on them. He'd always figured them for travelling light, and they did—you had to, if you were gonna live out of a car—but compared to their situation right now, it was starting to seem like the Impala was a mansion full of stuff.
He thought about asking what Dean had gotten from outside there, stopped and decided now wasn't the time for a lot of conversation. He wanted to get out of here and back to their rooms. Quicker they did that, the better he'd feel.
Of course, that did leave the issue of having to tattoo Dean on the fly. He'd...deal with that when they got down to it, though.
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The storage area wasn't exactly spacious, and though the two of them probably still could've fit inside, crowding into a small space was never a good plan, even without the prospect of getting jumped by something supernatural. With chemicals and glass around, the last thing he was interested in was knocking something over.
Sam lingered in the threshold of the doorway instead, eyes skimming through the shelves over Dean's shoulder. It definitely seemed like someone had grabbed a bunch of stuff, but—
"That syringe," he said, nodding at it. "And the alcohol pads."
Dean was probably gonna run out of space to hold stuff, but he didn't offer to help. There was no need; if Dean wanted him to carry anything, Sam knew Dean wouldn't wait for an invitation before going ahead and simply shoving things into his brother's hands.
Hard to tell what else might've been here, given a lot of it was missing, but place like this, there was always alcohol. And where there was alcohol, there could be explosives. Provided they had something to light it with. Which they didn't yet so they'd have to leave it for now.
Christ, they didn't even have a damn lighter on them. He'd always figured them for travelling light, and they did—you had to, if you were gonna live out of a car—but compared to their situation right now, it was starting to seem like the Impala was a mansion full of stuff.
He thought about asking what Dean had gotten from outside there, stopped and decided now wasn't the time for a lot of conversation. He wanted to get out of here and back to their rooms. Quicker they did that, the better he'd feel.
Of course, that did leave the issue of having to tattoo Dean on the fly. He'd...deal with that when they got down to it, though.