"You're going to put me in the goddamn hospital anyway!" The statement is much more human than it would have been before, he doesn't stumble over the minor blasphemy of saying his father's name in vain. It comes out determined and desperate, but he does stumble back, and lets go of Dean's wrists.

It's true. If Dean keeps it up, he hasn't really got any way to stop it. He can't fight. Most of his fighting skill came from the Host, with the combination of angelic strength and the ability to disappear and reappear, he'd been a worthy adversary. As a human, he's not particularly strong, not particularly agile. Not particularly sturdy. His lip is already swelling and bleeding, and a lovely bruise is spreading across his jaw. The same is likely true for that gut-punch from a second ago.

"You will kill me."

Then again... he probably should have taken that possibility into consideration. His eyes flick to the ground and back up again as the thought rolls through him- Dean may actually kill him, and be completely justified in his actions. He's not... afraid of death, he just didn't think he could be filled with any more sadness than he already is. Apparently he was wrong.

"If you chose that course of action, I only request that you do it with a gun rather than your fists."