Decapitation of... who?

Dean’s POV

“You’ll have to stay in here over night for observation,” A nurse said in a cheery, kind voice, as she wheeled my bed from the plaster room, to the room I was to stay in.

“The hell I will.” I muttered. I waited till the nurse was gone. Then I got out of bed, ignoring the pounding in my head. I was still drowsy from the morphine they’d given me.

I grabbed my phone from my pocket and found Sam’s new number, under the name Matthew Wilson. He’d gotten the phone almost immediately after Ritchie had broken his old one.

“Hey Sam,” I said into it when my brother picked up. “The doctors said I’m good to go. Come pick me up outside will you?”

“Ok.” Sam’s voice was skeptic, doubtful. I snickered as he hung up. I chucked my sling in the trash can as I walked out. There wasn’t much I could do about the cast right now, but I promised the angle grinder a date when I got back to the hotel.

“Excuse me sir, but you are under observation, you are not supposed to leave yet.” A nurse said, as I exited.

I just gave her my cheeky smile as I waved. ‘I’d tap that.’ A voice in my brain said. 

“Call me,” I said to the nurse, making a phone shape with my hand. 

“Sir!” But I was already out the door. 

 “Dean, you’re an idiot,” Sam sighed as I got in the Impala.

I frowned. “Get out of the car Sammy.”

Sam looked confused, and shocked. “Why?”

“Just get out of the car.”

Sam stiffened, in his hunting mode now. “Why? Are we in trouble?”

“You are,” I replied. “I’m driving.”

“No you’re not. You can hardly move your arm,” Sam protested.

“Of course I can,” I snapped.

I made a face. Sam started the engine and drove off. Before I could kick him out of the car. 

Sam took me up to our hotel room. He’d obviously found our room key. 

“Get me some pie,” I said, almost as soon as we reached our room. “I feel like pie.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Fine. Don’t take that cast off.”

I laughed. 

 As soon as Sam had left, I found the angle grinder. 

“Alright baby.” I said to my cast. “I’m sick of you.”

I started the angle grinder, and pressed it into the cast. I drew it through. The hard white plaster came off onto the bed. I snickered triumphantly. I wiggled my arm, it still hurt, quite a bit. But I could deal with it.

 “What did you do Dean!” Sam exclaimed, with a sigh, as he came in. I saw him glance at my arm, and then the cast, and then the angle grinder. “Oh god.” He breathed, aspirated. 

“Dean you know, you aren’t supposed to take casts off before the time is up. Your arm won’t heal properly.”

“Do I look like I care?” I asked, tauntingly.

Sam laughed, an annoyed laugh, like he didn’t really find it funny. “You should.”

I gave him a murderous stare. Sam stared right back, emotionless. I wiggled my arm for him, just to show that it was fine. Though I did end up having to hide a wince.

“Where’s my pie anyway?” I demanded, changing the subject.

“I got cake. It’s close enough, right?”

I made a half angry, half disgusted face. “No, it’s not.” I muttered to myself.