Just A Bit Closer (Book Two)

In Which Dean Blames It On The Morphine

{Dean's POV}

I woke up groggily. Ugh. My head hurt like hell. I put my hand to my forehead and winced.

"Don't touch it, Dean. You don't want to pull your stitches out."

I turned to the voice. Cas. "Thank God. Are you okay?" He nodded, but I noticed the thread laced through his temple and the bruises littering the right hand side of his face. "Cas, what happened to you?"

"We were in a car wreck," he stated simply.

I laughed, which turned into coughing. "I know that. I mean, why aren't you all perfect? Not all banged up." I mentally slapped myself. Seriously. Perfect?

"I'm fine. I just lost a good deal of blood and that weakened my powers. It seems like a waste to use the dwindling supply of 'angel mojo', as you put it," he did air quotes, like, literal air quotes, "on myself."

"Cas, you're not a waste." Alright, this is getting too close to a 'chick flick moment' for my taste. "Wait, what do you mean 'dwindling supply'? Cas, what's wrong with your grace?"

"I'm using borrowed grace, since Metatron stole mine." Appearently, the bleach- white tiles are very interesting.

"And what happens when you run out?" He met my eyes and shrugged.

We were quiet for a moment, until he asked, "What were you going to say earlier? What Sam said about me?"

Huh. Those tiles are pretty fascinating.

"Uh, nothing, Cas. It was nothing. It wasn't important, so don't worry about it."

We lapses back into silence before I gasped. "Cas, where is my baby? She's okay, isn't she?"

He bit his lip and turned away. My eyes grew to the size of quarters. "No," I exhaled.

Cas turned back to me. "I already called Sam. He's already got her back at the bunker. He said she's in rough shape, though." He called baby she. No one ever calls her she. Cas just got, like, a thousand times hotter.

Dear Lord. Did I just think that? I'm just going to blame it on the morphine.

Cas cleared his throat. "The nurse is going to be here in a second to tell you that you can go home, but go easy on your head. She'll say you can get your stitches out in about three weeks. She's going to give me the same advice. Then, we can go."

Sure enough, a nurse came in and said exactly that. When she left, I smiled at Cas and shook my head.

Angels.