Dean grumbled when she lifted her head back up. Taking care of her was just the sort of distraction he could have used, and, though he refused to admit it to himself, it would make him feel good to see her healed. The idea of her hurt made him feel panicked in a way that only Sam had been able to before, and he couldn't explain it.
"That's not what I asked." He said firmly, getting up to go fetch a bottle of pain pills from the cabinet. He handed them to her, and got her a glass of water as well. He wasn't going to be a mother hen and insist that she put the alcohol away, because he knew he sure as hell needed it and figured that she did too, and he wasn't going to make her take the medicine, because he knew she wasn't a child. He was just worried, about Sam, about her, hell, even about himself if he had no option other than to make some deal. "I don't want him hurting you again, Jo."
It was the closest thing he would say about her not coming with him next time, because while he didn't want to fight, he couldn't imagine what he would do if Sam did something more damaging to her.