Sam caught the raised arm bearing a cudgel as it descended towards his head. His fingers bit cruelly into the wrist of the man wielding the stout wooden club and twisted the arm until with a grunt of pain the man dropped his weapon and was driven to his knees. "I told you, warned you to just leave my brother alone."

"Ain't been nowhere near him." the man grinned up at him evilly. "Yet, 'sides, what's the big deal Sam? Everyone knows you don't care about Dean no more. Been back months, haven't called him, haven't gone anywhere near him, hell, betting he don't even know you're back breathing."

"Stay the fuck away from him."

"Oh yeah? And what you gonna do about it I don't?" the man lunged at Sam. "You took something that belongs to us, we asked you nicely to return it. You didn't see right to do so, so we did some digging, wasn't hard to do, word here, whisper there put us on to who and what you are. Wasn't all that hard from there to find out about big brother Dean." despite the constricting grip on his arm, he stabbed wildly with his opposite hand, aiming for Sam's thigh with its vulnerable femoral artery but willing to settle for drawing blood anywhere he could make contact.

Sam had had enough. First the asshole who had threatened Dean just two hours ago and now this dumb prick. No one was going to get in his face and use his brother against him. In fluid motion, no hesitation at all, Sam blocked the arc of the swinging hand, relieved the man of his knife, flung the captive left hand against the wall and stabbed the knife through the palm, nailing it to the wall.

"You wanna play that game?" he ignored the man's cries and whimpers and fought for his right hand. "Dean is mine, and no one is going to take him away from me. Your buddy, Carl's his name, right? He didn't wanna listen either." he slammed the heel of his hand into the man's chin. "SHUT UP!"

"What are…." the man gasped.

"Do the same for you I did for your pal, someone finds him in time, he might live." Sam pulled his own knife. "Course, can't make it too easy for you to get yourself free." he wrestled the man's right hand to the top of a nearby table, forcing him to bend forward awkwardly and pried his three middle fingers from his clenched fist.

Sam was brought back to the world of discomfort, not by pain or nausea nor the sensation of bleeding, but by the persistent ringing of his cell phone. Only moving his left hand, head remaining against the window and his eyes closed, he dug his cell out of his jacket pocket and blindly thumbed answer.

"Hello?" he could still hear the sickening plop of the knife cutting skin and layers of muscle and tendons, sawing on bone and he wiped the sweat from his face with the crook of his arm. God, had he seriously cut off a man's fingers and left him impaled to a wall?

"Agent Smith, yes?"

"Aah, mmm, who? Oh….yeah, yes." he didn't recognize the voice and he'd yet to open his eyes to look at the number on caller id. "What can I….do for….you?" he finished lamely, unable to pull himself out of the stupor the migraine meds had reduced him to.

"This is Nurse Jennigan. I'm calling for Dr. Tremble, he is treating your partner here at Gunnison Valley Hospital."

"Oh. Oh yeah, yeah, right. How did you get this num….?" he vaguely recalled leaving his number with the front desk at the ER before leaving to retrieve his computer from the car. "Oh, right. So uh, so what?"

"Are you still here at the hospital sir? The doctor would like to speak with you."

"Aah, oh yeah, yeah I'm….no, oh ugh, an hour, I'll be there in an hour or so." this couldn't be good. Not good at all. "I had some business to take care of, I'm on my way."

"ER." she advised and hung up.

Sam dropped the phone, pushed himself up and away from the support of the door, failed to gain his equilibrium and fell onto sideways across the seat, somehow managing to avoid smacking his head against the steering wheel. He gave up and closed his eyes, he needed at least another hour of sleep but would settle for the minimum time it took for the car to stop jouncing him around and set itself to rights.

Having been told he had no say as to the care or treatment Dean was to receive, he hadn't expected to hear from the doctor. A peek through slotted eyes at his watch revealed he'd been asleep a little over an hour. While he didn't feel better, he was quite confident he'd be able to function. He made a mental note to call Suzie and thank her for the prescription, without it he would have been discovered on the bathroom floor and undoubtedly committed to the psych ward.

Holding his head, he slowly sat up and dug around the backseat until he found a package of cookies and a bottle of water. Dean wasn't going anywhere, he needed to eat something and pull himself together. He took another five minutes to properly clean the blood from his hand then wrapped it up with gauze and bandages. Wasn't fancy but it would do until Bobby arrived and took a look at it.

***000***

"Drew, dammit man, I'm telling you, they are both here, both Winchesters, I…."

"Yeah, yeah, sure."

"One minute Dean was alone, the next we were surrounded by a crowd of people, Sam was there before I had a chance to grab Dean. Whatever Drew, they are both here and they are together."

"Together huh? What makes you say that?"

"Cause Sam came and got Dean and they left."

"Christ, you're serious." Drew said slowly, finally accepting Toby's words as truth. "I…want that bastard dead Toby, after what he did to Carl, leaving him to die like that…and what about Donald? Huh?"

"Look, all I'm saying is I was able to get close enough to Dean to knock his ass out but I wasn't able to get him away from Sam. They got in that car of theirs and left."

"Maybe finding Carl sooner would have saved his life, we'll never know. He managed to tell us who did that to him and we've been looking for Sam Winchester ever since." Donald joined the conversation. "If he went to ground with this brother, would explain why we haven't been able to find him."

"Yeah, so what the hell are they doing here?" Drew asked.

"You sure you wanna go up against both of them?" Toby asked uneasily. "I mean, we've learned a lot about them both while trying to find Sam, he's supposed to be the easier of the two to deal with, the calmer, kinder one, Dean….well…we recently found out he's no longer out of the game…and I…dunno how he can be worse than Sam, but..."

"You call what Sam did to Carl, to me, to the town of Aurora, kind?" Donald stood up. "What he took from us?"

"I'm saying what we've learned about them this whole time we were looking for him." Toby countered. "People said Sam wasn't himself when he wasn't with his brother, now that they're back together…."

"We had Dean back in Somersville and you let him get away." Drew pointed out. "That was our chance and you blew it."

"Let him get away? The man broke through a cast iron pipe Drew, who the hell ever thought he could've done that? Huh? With those wrists torn all to hell? Maybe you should look to yourself and admit he wasn't as weak and broken as you thought he was when you left him."

"Enough!" Donald barked. "People in this town, innocent people, died because of him. He killed Carl, left him to die a slow, painful, horrible death. Threatened his family, destroyed the well that kept the town prosperous and healthy. A human sacrifice or two a year was nothing, the townspeople chose someone no one would miss. The bastard burned this town to the ground with no thought or regard to the women and children in his way. I want him dead and the stone he took from the well returned and restored to its rightful place."

"It was hard enough when he was with the old man." Toby still felt the need to argue against what he considered a suicide mission. "You saw what he did…and Dean, outta the game or not, ain't no one I wanna tangle with."

"You find him, you get that stone and then you kill him." Donald ordered, swinging his coat around his shoulders and sliding one arm at a time through a sleeve. "And if Dean gets in the way, ain't gonna cry if you take him out too." his left hand bore two crippled fingers and matching scars on both the palm and the back of his hand. His right hand sported a thumb, three stumps and a pinky. "Seeing as how he wigged out every time Dean was brought up, maybe we should waste Dean just to do it in front of Sam, see how the hell he likes that."

***000***

Sam walked around the parking lot several times before heading towards the hospital, trying to clear his head and gain stability, not wanting to stagger into the ER. It was his desperate need to get to Dean that enabled him to contain the pain sloshing against his skull. He needed more time to sleep or at least lie down in a dark, quiet room but the driving need to know Dean was ok gave him the inner strength to push his misery aside and surge onward.

Knowing he would be getting no respite for some time yet, he checked for messages from Bobby but found none. He sent out a prayer that Bobby had made the flight and entered the ER. His slim hope he'd be able to sit down for a few minutes while he waited for the doctor were dashed before the door closed behind him. Two steps into the building and the doctor was coming out a door to greet him.

"Hello Agent Smith." the doctor greeted. "Were you able to contact your partner's uncle?"

"Yes, he's catching a flight into Salt Lake City, he'll have to drive from there." speak slowly, listen, avoid looking directly at the lights, concentrate, focus, no fast or abrupt moves; he coached himself and you'll be able to have a conversation

"Good, very good, however, Agent Smith, common enough last name, I suppose, shall we agree to call him Dean?" he waited for Sam's nod before continuing. "Dean remains groggy and disoriented. I do believe he has advised us that we have his consent to discuss his case with you. He keeps referring to you as his brother."

"Yeah, we're all, uh, good friends. So, he's awake?"

"Goes in and out but the important thing is he's mostly coherent when awake. Knows his name, where he is, why he's here, he keeps asking, no - demanding to see you."

"Yeah."

"He's back from the CT scan….."

"X-rays failed to reveal the extent of the injury, huh?"

"Correct, the CT scan revealed, despite the swelling, his jaw is merely dislocated."

"Thank God!" Sam breathed with a wince. "So, no wires and no surgery? Good."

"Still, it is a painful injury and we need to reset it, pop it back into place. We administered a muscle relaxant, Robaxin is fairly strong, should be strong enough for a man of his size but….not in his case."

"Doubt it would be." Sam sighed, rubbing his temples. "Aah, can try Ativan, it usually works, well, when he'll let it. He…..has a tendency to fight sedation."

"Well, I suggested sedation, I just want to help him relax and stay calm, but he….."

"Didn't like that idea either, huh?"

"Not at all." the doctor nodded. "So, I thought perhaps anesthesia was the best way to go. He does not want to be awake and tense and fighting me when I pop that jaw back in."

"Annnnd, that was a no-go as well." Sam guessed and the doctor nodded his agreement. "He'll fight going under. Will take something strong enough to take down a horse to get him out and you don't want to be around when he starts to come out of it." Sam gave the doctor a rueful grin, aware that the doctor had few options. "Fair warning, he won't stay under nearly as long as you think he will either. Nor will he go under as deep as you want him too."

"Do you think his uncle will be able to talk him into accepting at least the sedative?" the doctor sighed. "He insists he doesn't need anything, but I…."

Sam chewed on his lip, desperately wishing for toothpaste and mouthwash. He eyed the doctor, mentally weighing how much he should reveal about his relationship with Dean. "Aah, look, I've known him for years, been through more than one injury with him, I'd say I know him as well as his uncle does. Let me talk to him and I'll get him to agree to anesthesia. It's not like you're using general anesthesia, right? Just a local?"

"Yes, but I don't see how….."

"Trust me, the best alternative here is to put him under and you'll be able to do it easily if he doesn't fight it."

"And you're telling me he'll willingly take sedation if you talk to him first?"

"I can get him to agree to anesthesia if you prefer. He mostly dislikes it because of how he comes out of it. A local should be enough but if you find you have to go with a regional, you'll probably have to give him something for nausea."

"I can anyway. Alright then, right this way." the doctor began to walk down a hallway. "He's in a room and resting comfortably. We want to wait a period of at least four hours before attempting any form of sedation or anesthesia, better for him that way. But don't worry, he's in no pain or discomfort."

Dean did not want to do anything. He didn't want to move or talk or listen or think. He wanted everyone to go away and leave him alone. He knew where he was and he wasn't happy about it but he was too tired and felt so weak that he just couldn't get up the gumption to demand his clothes and order his release. Bed was comfy, pillow was soft and though he knew where he was, he was a little fuzzy on the reason why. He was in some discomfort, no outright pain but he knew he would feel a lot worse were he to get vertical and go gallivanting about.

"Hey Dean. You awake?"

Right. The doctor wanted him to do something. Wanted him to agree to…..to what? What the hell was it again? More tests? He'd already been to x-ray. He'd called Bobby before he'd been wheeled off for a CT scan, with the doctor talking about muscle relaxants and sedatives. Had been given a shot before he even knew a needle had been in the vicinity of his neck. That was when his patience had fled and he'd finally flipped out, demanding to see Sam. Looks like he'd gotten his wish.

"Get me outta here." Dean ordered drowsily. He thought he was giving his best patent, 'don't mess with me, just do as I say' look but apparently, if Sam's indulging smile was anything to go by, he hadn't pulled it off.

"Can't." Sam said coming closer to the bed. "And we're not arguing about this, I'm not up to this Dean, I'm just not, my head is killing me and Bobby's on his way but he'll be another couple of hours, so man up, shut up, take the sedative and give me some peace."

"Give you…? What the…..? Sam!…It's not broken you know, just have him pop it back where it belongs and get me outta here." he had to admit, he would sound a lot more authoritative if he wasn't breathlessly slurring his words.

"Don't want a sedative? Fine."

"Sam….." he warned. "Don't you dare…what're you doin'? Hey, no…no,no,no,no….." he batted at the mask that suddenly loomed over his face. "Oh no, no, no, no, no, did you agree to have me knocked out? You fucking prickkkkkk."

"Please?" he begged softly, eyes blinking rapidly that, when he wanted them to be, were moist. "Dean? I gotta lie down, so…do this for me, 'k?"

"NO!" he forcefully knocked the hand holding the mask away and started to sit out. "Jesus Christ! It's a fucking dislocated jaw Sam."

"You've never had one before." Sam reminded him. "And stop yelling at me."

"What the fuck difference does that make? What the hell's the matter with you? Since when are you a wuss about shit like this? You shudda just done it yourself."

"Ambulance ride Dean." Sam reached out, suddenly needing physical contact with the one person who kept him grounded. "You passed out, fainted, whatever…you never do that, you shake off everything…..broken leg, concussion, you never submit to pain and you did and…you were alone…..I wasn't with you and I've never…just please…I'm begging you…for me….just allow this, this once, okay?"

"Here?" he was momentarily distracted by Sam's unusual display of affection. "Since when do they administer anesthesia here in a room?"

"Since I'm five seconds away from hitting the floor. Just go with it, okay?"

"NO!" he swung his legs off the side of the bed. "Get outta my way, I'm leaving. Bobby's on his way, he can do what you don't have the balls to."

"Two months Dean." Sam whispered. "What I did to you, put you through...you don't have any idea how hard that was on me. I can't do that again...God, what I've had to do...what I've lost and overcome and still face...these headaches are fits I can't control...I can't take you home and go through...it again...I can't."

Dean teetered for a second then flopped sideways on the mattress, offering no resistance when Sam pushed him onto his back. His glare at his weepy-eyed brother promised retribution then the mask descended and his world went black.