Dean tried to tighten his grip but found he could not. He wasn't even sure he was holding her arm. She was talking to him. All he heard was stop moving, he was making things worse.
Worse?
How could things get worse than they were? He was sick. Possibly could die. There was a demon out there and for all he knew could be in the room. He was unprotected. They were unprotected and he needed Sam.
Dean could only try and focus on her eyes. He felt her stroke his hair. It was too soothing that he closed his eyes a moment as if he was answering her. His grip loosen and his hand dropped as his eyes fluttered and he was fighting to stay conscious.