Sam hesitates a moment before putting some weight on Dean. He knows his brother can handle it, but that years old stubbornness of how he can take care of himself always rears its head. It might not be something he gives in to often, but oftentimes it is his first reaction.

The mention of Meg earns a questioning look from Sam, but he doesn't have much to say on it right then. It takes too much concentration to move forward, careful not to topple over on his brother entirely no matter how badly he wants to. It would just be so much easier.

He makes a note to ask about it later, though. When he's conscious again, because he has a feeling he will be dropping into a coma state once he stops moving again.

"Living with a demon and an angel, huh?" His voice is strained, and he's not really concentrating so much on his words as he is the ground, making sure it sounds down there. "A demon, an angel and a hunter walk into a bar....and decide to shack up."

And he'll laugh at this, a bit obnoxiously. Because he's reached the point of no return - his brain is fried, his legs feel heavy and dammit he is tired. That's when he gets loopy, but right now he doesn't care.