Sam was fixated on the relentless drip of the IV that was helping keep Dean alive.
He'd spent hours now, staring at the walls - the floor. Anywhere but at the frighteningly pale, still form of his brother.
"If he wakes up." The doctor's words rolled around, unendingly, in his head.
So he stared at the drip – hoping his mind would eventually go numb.
Because what if Dean didn't wake up?
After all they'd been through, and when he was just now starting to know his brother again. It was unthinkable – unbearable.
So he stared at the drip – and waited.