Dean was quiet. Unless he was asking a nurse or a doctor a question about you, not a word fell from his lips. His deep green eyes lock on you before quickly looking away. It was hard. All those wires and tubes. God, you'd hate the hell outta that shit if you were awake. But you weren't. It was past two in the morning and Dean's face was wet with tears after yelling at his dad. Sam had found out that John was trying to summon the demon to the hospital and it had sent Dean into a rage. Always trying to hunt, always thinking of no one but himself while Dean felt like his world was over.

"Hi, baby."

Dean murmurs, forcing a smile as he holds your cold hand. He'd always make a big deal about how cold your hands always were, using it as an excuse to lace his fingers through yours.

"Y'know, you're lucky they're feeding you through a tube. Don't have to taste the shit they're tryin' to pass off as chicken."

He whispers, stroking your inner wrist to feel that weak pulse. Dean was sick of the machines going off and having to wait by the door while doctors tried to bring you back. Three times it had happened. You were such a good fighter.

"M'so proud of you, baby."

Dean whispers, his eyes getting wet again as he kisses each of your chilled knuckles.

"Never seen someone fight so hard. My strong girl."

He lets out a shaky exhale, biting his lip as he lays his head on the bed next to your side.

"M'selfish for makin' you hold on. I know you're…"

Dean chokes, blinking hard.

"If it gets too hard, I'm not mad, okay? M'not. I love you more than anything else. Don't want you to leave me but I don't want you to hurt even more."