I know. I spoke to him about it too.

[ Which doesn't do any good considering how stubborn a Winchester is. He hadn't outright said talking would be good, but neither would trying to fight them head-on as Dean had apparently wanted to do. There's the slightest shake of his head at the thought; poorly thought-out ideas always ended like this, and his fingers curl around the box they've stashed medical supplies in, hesitating for a moment before turning back to him. ]

It still isn't smart. [ A pointed look. ] But at least both of you are alive.

[ Small miracles, right? He drops the box on the table beside Dean's gun and blatantly ignores his last comment. Whether or not he can handle it, It's always easier with an extra set of hands. Castiel moves in closer, gently picking at the edges of the bloodied shirt in an attempt to roll it away from the wound. He could cut it, but it seems to be cooperating on its own. Which... gives him a better view of it, and he frowns, tilting his head to stare at Dean. ]

It might need stitches. I'll do it. [ So don't argue with him. ]