The holy water was for both of their sakes. Sam might have had all those demon abilities nestled inside him, but he wasn't all that able to use them unless he was pumping chock full of demon blood. He was running dry now, which meant that Sam really wasn't sure if he was going to be able to do much of anything with his powers right now. It didn't used to work that way; before, when he didn't rely so heavily on the blood, Sam could easily go on for a weeks without a fix. He'd be able to use his powers, he wouldn't get all weak, sweaty, and exhausted. Now that he was addicted to the substance, there really wasn't much that Sam could do without being supplied with it on a regular basis. It was never supposed to be this way. He was supposed to be better than some demon blood reliant, useless mess that couldn't keep it together when his source was gone. But the truth was that he wasn't. And now he had to deal with the consequences...until either Ruby got back or he found something else to drink off of. God, did he really want to even go there? Sam ran a palm across his face, stifling a groan of frustration. I'm better than this, a voice argued. Another voice, much different than his own, shot back at him just as quickly: no, you're not.
"Right. Good." Sam straightened up, attention shooting back to his brother. "We should probably get moving. Don't know if they're going to stick around here much longer." He shouldered his shotgun, shot Dean a look of caution, then took to the side path that led around to the back of the building. Sam didn't want to come bursting through the front. They'd be better off surprising them.
Feet quietly pacing along the ground, Sam dropped his shotgun in front of himself again and took to a more careful stance. He didn't want to talk to Dean. It wasn't just that he was losing it - no, that was just the highlight of his wariness - but it was also because he knew that everything wasn't quite right with Dean either. Pressing him about it wasn't going to ever get either of them anywhere though, so Sam didn't bother saying anything. They weren't as close as they used to be. As tempted as he was to pry, a small part of him constantly told Sam that he didn't have the right. Which was kind of weird, since Sam had used to feel like he always had the right to ask if his brother was okay in a sincere, not in passing kind of way.
But that had been a long time ago. And things had really changed since then on both their parts.