Sam fumbled with the room key as he simultaneously balanced the take-out bag and a six pack of beer. They'd just finished up a case involving another amateur coven that had gotten in way over their heads with some scary dark mojo.
Sam seriously hated witches.
After a few tries he managed to get the door open, stepping into the cheesy decor of their motel room, "Dean," he called tossing the car keys and the food onto the tiny formica table in the corner. "Food's here!"