Sam would have been perfectly content with holing himself up at the Winchester home for the next week and a half. No mail checking, no stepping out of the house to pay bills, no nothing. One half of him found the idea to be ridiculous, the other half thought it was a perfectly wise decision. They couldn't wipe his mind again if he stayed home, could they? They had to find him first. Unless everyone already knew where he lived, in which case he was being stupid.
Nonetheless, Sam had promised Jack that he'd take him drinking. He was young, but he seemed like he really did need it. Sam had taken the time to warn him upon meeting him that this wouldn't be an every day thing; Jack and he would drink together tonight as a coping method to get away from all the crazy that they'd been through, then they'd go about their lives as best as they could from there out. Sam had sunken into the lows of alcohol and drug (or blood) abuse before, he wasn't about ready to get into it again.
"Trust me, I don't want anything injecting itself into my bloodstream ever again," Sam told him, reaching for his beer. "You go ahead with your crazy IV plan. I'm perfectly content with taking this straight outta the bottle."