"Of course," Amy said quickly at Dean's interjection. "Can we see him?" As much as Dean made her uncomfortable, she wasn't cruel enough to keep him from his brother, not when Sam was as badly hurt as he was. She'd never forgive herself if things went bad and she kept him from seeing him. Besides, it would be good to have someone else with her to keep from breaking down. She'd never been good at handling Sam being hurt, not even when they were both still little more than kids. And it had never been this bad or this uncertain. She needed someone to help her keep it together and, as unlikely as it seemed, Dean was her best bet for that. She was always a little wary around him, and that would keep her from giving in to her own fear and pain too much.
She followed the doctor, quiet and subdued, stopping in the door and staring at Sam. She felt sick to her stomach at the sight of him, at how weak and hurt he was. She hated anything happening to him. It was just a reminder of how fragile and human he was. She and Lizzie could die, but it took work. So many things could take her husband from them. Some days she really hated it. When he waved, she felt tears in her eyes, an odd mix of worry and relief. "Hey yourself," she said softly, moving over to the bed and taking his hand in hers. The touch, the tangible proof Sam was still alive, soothed something in her. "How are you feeling? I was so worried when Dean told me what happened."
She looked over at Dean. "Thank you," she told him sincerely, "for...everything. For helping him and making sure I knew and...just everything."