Sam fought and bucked, squirmed and anything he could do while that thing bit him, fed on him like he was a piece of meat. His already let Dean feed on him just the night before and there was just no way he could have recovered from that so fast... so having more taken, in a large amount? it had him feeling dizzy and light-headed, weak.

This was how he was going to die, huh? Before he could get revenge for Jess or Mom, before he could find out if Dad was even okay. Before helping his own brother out even.

Or that's what he thought until that thing was pulled off him, tossed a body. He let out a protesting, weak noise as he was dragged off. Didn't feel up for moving or... much of anything else besides maybe sleep. "Dean--"

There was another protest when he had Dean's wrist to his mouth, tasted his blood. No... no... that was definitely wrong and he hated that he was just weak enough to not be able to push it away, to have to swallow it down because it was dripping into his mouth and after a moment to adjust, it started to taste so much better anyway. One hand drew up to rest on the back of Dean's, keep his wrist there as he lapped tentatively at the wound, not sure how much to take exactly.