Dean hissed at the feeling of the needle piercing the back of his head for the second stitch, glad that it was the last one.  If not for the impact, the skin trauma hadn’t been so bad.  He had definitely had worse, as far as stitch count to the head.  He listened to her respond to his inappropriate bringing up of her former life, and was a bit relieved that she didn’t seem angry, only concerned.

“I know you’re not that person, anymore.  I just don’t like for you to see me all beaten down.  Hell, I don’t even like Sammy seeing me like this.  It makes me feel weak.”, he muttered sleepily.

As she placed the bandage against the back of his head, and tapped him on the shoulder, he sighed in relief, slowly turning over toward her as she grabbed her food.  He was indeed happy to see her willing to eat, considering how messed up the night had been.

“I um…I love…”, he whispered, “You too…”

He could barely get the words out, between the delirium and his aversion to saying the three words together.  So, he did the best he could.  Rolling his eyes at the idea of calling Bobby at all, he half agreed with her that Bobby would be easier to force into an apology, and possibly a bribe if he was in his right mind.

“You’re right.  What should we do while we rest, hmm?  I need to stay awake for a couple of hours.  Sam says it’s in case I have a seizure or something.”, he muttered, his stomach hurting at saying his brother’s name again.  In this emotionally heightened state, he missed him more than ever.