Dean hovered at the door when Amy went inside. He glanced at the doctor, but the man wasn't paying him any mind. Dean sighed, watched as Amy took Sam's hand in her own. Mostly he waited Sam's reaction to the woman, his wife.
Amy looked back at him, and Dean felt something inside him shift. It wasn't anything he could ever put in words, even if he had any kind of mastery of words and emotions. He looked down, breaking the eye contact, and tried to sort through it in his mind.
He wasn't entirely successful. He felt like he was balanced on a precarious edge, and he wasn't sure if he should turn back, or push forward. Either way, he faced a treacherous road ahead.
He wasn't consciously aware of the decision to move into Sam's room. It seemed to him that he was at the door one moment, watching from a distance, and then he was there, on the other side of the bed, holding on to his brother's other hand, actively involved.
He looked across the bed at Amy. He wasn't struck by her physical beauty so much as by the love that poured out of her, for Sam. After a moment, Dean dropped his gaze and felt oddly like he was intruding on a private moment between a husband and a wife.