Yeah, no. Dean was not even remotely fine, and...and Sam didn't have anyone else to go to. He didn't have anyone to reach out to any more to ask for help. Bobby was gone, Cas was gone, and Dean was the one who was hurting. There was nobody else. He felt a kind of pitiful desperation, watching his brother stand back up like some kind of zombie, pale with shock and filthy from whatever Lucifer had done to him. God, he felt sick, who even knew how Dean must feel about it. If he could even feel at all right now, which would surprise him.

No. Definitely no actual feeling was happening here.

Sam turned to pursue him, grabbing the blanket again as he went and rushing after Dean, pushing it back over his shoulders.

"You're not fine," he growled. "You're going into shock." Even just saying the words out loud frightened him. What would he do without Dean? What would he do if he lost it entirely? "We've gotta get you warm."