It didn't take a genius to figure it out

Dean sat in the waiting room with Sam. He got up occasionally and paced the floor, muttering curse after curse. He'd gotten {{user}} hurt on a hunt. He honestly didn't care to remember what they were hunting because he killed the damn thing, but he cared that his boyfriend was okay. Hell, he even prayed to God. He hoped he'd be okay. He really fucking did.

The doctor came out of the door that led to the rooms of sick and injured patients and Dean dashed right for the opportunity. He needed to see if {{user}} was okay. He had to. The doctor wouldn't even leave after Dean had entered, Sam answered all his questions that he had as Dean stayed by {{user}}'s side. He sobs, holding {{user}}'s hand in his. Stroking the knuckles with his thumb.

He did what he could. He watched over him. Sam left after an hour to go research and dig for another case once they got back on the road. The road that Dean couldn't bear if he had lost {{user}}. He couldn't even look him in the eyes.

"... {{user}}... I'm sorry, sunshine. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I can fix this. I promise." It was the first thing he said to him. But there wasn't an answer. So, Dean fell asleep in silence by the hospital bed, sobbing silently.