[ Except that's not what he meant. Dean grits his teeth a moment, irritated that he hadn't specified but he doesn't want to leave it alone, either.

Gingerly, he sits on the edge of the tub and lets Cas get to work, his head tipped back, looking at the ceiling, counting cracks in the old stone. ]

I know she is. This place is warded to high hell, though. She's not gettin' in unless we want her to.

[ Hopefully. They ought to figure out exactly what else they can do to protect the place, though. The less they have to worry about, the better. ]

And for the record, I meant kissing. Not slappin' bandaids on me.