A/N: That's right - there's two new chapters up. *grins* Hopefully I've got the medical garble right because there's lots of it. The joys of google.

Sorry if the fluff between Dean and Lisa is slightly OOC - Before I went into the OR to have my leg pinned I ended up winding myself up so much that I couldn't stop my hands and legs shaking so I thought I'd project that onto Lisa and let them have a wee "moment" because, in my opinion, there just aren't enough of them in series 6.


Dean reluctantly hands over his amulet and ring when the stretcher stops outside a set of grey double doors and he feels naked and vulnerable without them. The doors swing open and a petite brunette in bright blue scrubs comes to stand at the side of the bed. "Thanks, Charlie," she says to the orderly and he nods and starts back the way they came. "My name's Elizabeth," she introduced herself. "I'm an anesthetic nurse and I'll be helping Dr. Jessop look after you during your surgery." She looks up and smiles at Lisa. "We're just about ready so I'll give you a minute and then we can get started," she says and she pushes back through the swinging doors.

Dean looks up at Lisa and reaches for her wrist, pulling her down so that her face is level with his. She leans forwards and presses her lips to his, letting her eyes close just for a moment before she pulls back and brings a hand up to cup his face. "I'll see you as soon as you wake up," she promises, leaning forward again to kiss his forehead and his mouth twitches as he tries to smile back at her. "I'm sorry, Lise," he starts, breaking off when the dreaded doors swing open once more and Elizabeth appears with a blonde nurse dressed in the same bright blue scrubs. "All right, we're all set. This is Lindsay," she says to Lisa. "She'll show you to the waiting area. Okay, Dean, let's get this show on the road." She grabs the guardrail on the bed and presses a button to the left of the doors, causing them to swing inwards. "I'll see you soon, baby," Lisa tells him as the doors close behind him and she's left standing in the hallway with Lindsey.


Elizabeth reaches for Dean's left wrist and turns the wristband so she can see what's written on it. "I need to make sure you're who you say you are," she says and he snorts at the irony of the situation. "Can you tell me your name and your date of birth?" He turns to look at her. "Dean Winchester, 24th January 1979," and she smiles at him. "Good. And you're allergic to Penicillin?" He nods as Dr. Jessop pushes his way into the prep room, brushing his hair off his face. "Hello again," he says before directing his attention to Dean's chart, which had been tucked under his left arm.

Dean jumps slightly as Elizabeth tugs his gown down to expose his chest. "Sorry," she says, sticking a yellow electrode to the skin on his left shoulder. She attaches a red one to his right before pulling the gown down further and pressing the final one (green) under his left pec. She reaches for the pressure cuff and wraps it around his left bicep pulling it tight, and clips the pulse ox to his right index finger. "We're ready," she informs the doctor, who stands and reaches for a kidney dish containing three syringes. He pulls a fresh pair of gloves from the box on the wall and manipulates Dean's left hand so that it's hanging over the side of the bed.

He presses the first syringe to the IV port. "This is a muscle relaxant," he says and Elizabeth places an oxygen mask over Dean's face as they wait for it to work. "I'm going to start the Propofol and the Fentanyl. Just breathe normally, okay?" he says and Dean nods, concentrating on drawing in steady breaths as the room grows dark and he drifts off to sleep.


He thinks he can hear someone talking. There's a high-pitched monotonous beeping coming from somewhere over his right shoulder and he strains, trying to locate it through the haze that's currently engulfing him.

"Open your eyes, Dean. Your operation is over and you're in the recovery room," a soothing voice tells him and he struggles to pinpoint where it's coming from as the mist swirls and contorts around him.

"It's time to wake up, sweetheart. Open your eyes, Dean."

The fog is beginning to drift away, inching him higher and higher and his flutter eyes open as he breeches the surface. There's someone leaning over him and it takes him a moment to register his or her presence. He's groggy and disorientated, and he allows his eyes to slide shut and turns his head into the pillow. He feels something digging into his cheek and he tries to swat at it, failing miserably as his arm barely rises from the bed. "It's time to wake up, Dean," the voice repeats and he feels pressure on his sternum, causing his eyes to snap open. The voice belongs to a plump woman in her early thirties with short, dark blonde curls and a kind, heart-shaped face and he eyes her lethargically as she fussed with his blanket, tucking it around his chest.

"You're in recovery, sweetheart," she tells him and she reaches over him to adjust his oxygen mask. "The operation is over and you came through it with flying colors."

He winces at the pain in his throat. "Lise," he croaks, and he reaches shakily for the mask on his face as a wave of nausea washes over him and makes him shiver violently. "That needs to stay on," the nurse says, gently pulling his arm down. "Just until you're a bit more alert. Are you cold?" She asks, reaching over to palm his forehead. "I can get another blanket if you are," she offers and he's forced to swallow hard as his stomach twists. "Feel sick," he mumbles, feeling the cool plastic of the thermometer in his ear and the nurse clucks sympathetically. "It's a side-effect from the anesthetic and the antibiotics," she informs him as she lifts the oxygen mask from where it's dangling around his neck and pulls it over his head. An emesis basin is positioned under his chin as he coughs and spits bile until the exertion leaves him slumped again his pillow, eyes shut and chest heaving as he shivers and struggles to catch his breath. He flinches as something wet wipes at his mouth and it's quickly replaced with a plastic cup of water that the nurse presses to his lips. "Rinse and spit, okay?" she instructs, holding a basin to his mouth.

"I want to check your incision and then we'll see about getting your partner in to sit with you." The oxygen mask is fitted over his mouth and nose again and the nurse reaches for his blanket. She folds it back until it sits below his hips and lifts his gown to reveal the gauze-covered incision that runs along the imaginary line between the top of his hip and his belly button. "Your incision looks fine," she tells him as she layers a second blanket over the first. "Katie?" she calls and an older woman with glasses and a graying plait looks up from the nurse's station which sits opposite the line of cubicles. "Could you ask Lisa Braeden to come through?"


A/N: I haven't named the nurse who's looking after Dean in recovery because I'm pretty sure that he wouldn't remember if she told him.

Please let me know what you think. J