Not again, not now.

Sam sat in the kitchen, bottle of beer on the table between his hands, head lowered as he fought for dominance over his fractured mind. He warred between shaking every last bit of truth of out Suzie, leaving to go after whoever had taken his brother and accepting the truth. The truth being that Dean needed him more than Sam needed to go hunt down the people who were responsible for the condition his brother was in. Dean needed care and comfort and stability. Sam needed to kick the shit out of someone, Suzie not being an option.

He thumped his head repeatedly against the beer bottle, wrestling to rein in his outrage. He needed to calm down, stay where he was and take Suzie up on her offer to help him take care of his brother. And after one look at the damage done to Dean's wrist, he couldn't deny the injury wasn't serious. He'd yet to even see the other wrist or the damage under the dirt and grime on his back

Every time he felt he'd reached a decision, a flash of memory, a recalled word caused him to start rethinking. He'd collected himself enough to admit Suzie was no threat to them. Despite his confusion upon awakening and not always recognizing her, Dean trusted her enough to remain with her and that was good enough for Sam, even if he had no intention of admitting it to her.

He needed to get on top of this, bury his anger, his feelings, his emotions and be there for Dean. What he wanted to do and what he would do might not be the same thing, but the outcome was the same, would always be the same. He might not always go about it the right way, but he would always see his brother safe and well before leaving him to exact revenge. And get revenge he would.

Dean might be safe, at least Sam believed him to be but he was far from well and hell would move to earth before he would leave him until he was.

He had to cap his anger; it was no longer an option. Allowing anger to have its way had resulted in his brother being hurt by his own hands. He couldn't chance that happening again, couldn't trust that Dean would be there to stop him from hurting Suzie who was only trying to stop him from hurting Dean, who he would never really hurt and oh, Christ, his life was messed up.

Dean had been getting better, drinking less, eating more, sleeping at night, in a bed like a person was supposed to, able to interact with the public. Sam had struggled for months to hold it together so he wouldn't be another burden to his overtaxed brother and it was harder and harder to do so but he couldn't break, couldn't fall, couldn't give in, couldn't let go, not now, not yet.

He'd been so sure he'd be able to hold himself together and remain sane and he had, right up until someone had stepped in and taken his brother. Until he'd come across strangers in a screwed up town who'd all wanted to keep his but hadn't and he'd ended up….what, kidnapped and tortured? Or rescued?

"Sam?' Suzie tentatively took the bottle of beer from his lax grip and replaced it with a mug. "Just sip, ok? Don't go gulping."

He didn't look up, didn't acknowledge her, he didn't know what to say so he ignored her.

"Dean, um…..passed out…his wrist is really bleeding Sam, his left one has now bled through the bandage…do you want me to…?"

"I told him not to go back to bed." his fingers curled around the mug and he raised it to take a sniff; hot tea with lemon, splash of brandy, and a touch of milk. "Where are the cuffs?"

"What cuffs?"

"The ones you removed."

She didn't question him, just walked from the room and returned with the requested handcuffs which she laid on the table when Sam didn't reach to take them from her.

"You have a key to handcuffs?" he stared at the offending object on the table in hate.

"Yes." she said simply.

"You had everything here I needed to tend to his hands, knew to buy what you didn't. He knows you, asked if I had brought you here to treat his boo-boos. You know something about first aid." he brought his head up. "Don't you?"

"You seem more than capable of taking care of him yourself."

"Just once, give me a straight answer!" he flared, liquid splashing in the mug and he forced himself to relax.

"Yes." she said. "Yes, I do."

"Were his hands in front or behind him when you found him?"

"In front, why?"

"They told me at county lock up he was taken from the Sheriff's car with his hands cuffed behind him." he finally reached for the cuffs, pulling them across the table by the length of chain.

"Sam, he seems able to tolerate a lot of pain, but you can't continue to ignore his hands."

"There are signs of infection." Sam said absently, attention on the chain he held between his fingers. "How much blood do you think he's lost?"

"You mean, still losing? Sam, look, he doesn't always recognize me when he regains consciousness. When that happens, he doesn't let me near him. Hell, he fought you at first but you were strong enough to wear him down, I'm not. Let's get him cleaned up, take a good look at those wrists and then make any decisions, okay?"

"You were in Somersville." Sam took a sip of the toddy. "You followed the Sheriff's car when it left town. You knew everything that happened." he tugged on the links of the chain. "Told me Mooch didn't cause the accident, didn't flinch when I said it was Doris I had a problem with. Dean came to town because you called him." the chain held steady, there was no way Dean had broken it free from the bolt securing it in the car. It had been cut. With that proof, as well as the different position in which his hands had been found, any lingering hope Sam had that Dean had escaped the car on his own was extinguished. He had been taken, forcefully and by no one he called friend.

"I intended to confront Sheriff Dobbin before he turned Dean over to lock up. The Sheriff's a good guy and would have listened to me."

"Right, the Sheriff."

"We never made it there Sam. I was ten minutes behind them when I came upon the accident. I then spent three hours looking for Dean. I found him just walking down the road."

"While I wasted my time in Somersville looking for him."

"I didn't know you had come to town."

"You knew to call me."

"Dean said you were never far from him."

"Why didn't you want Dean in county lock up?"

"I don't trust anyone there."

"Is that why you called Dean? Or did you call him for a weekend of fun?" the look he gave her told her he wasn't in any mood for teasing. "Would whoever you don't trust know you were following the Sheriff?"

"You mean, would they have prevented Dean from getting there?" she shook her head. "No."

"Can Weeble be trusted?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Trying to figure a few things out. Was the bar scene a set-up?"

"For what?"

"There's only one person I encountered while in Somersville that wanted to keep Dean whom I never actually met." Sam pushed back from the table. "Does anyone else call you Suzie besides Dean or does everyone else call you Glitter?"

"Dean always did brag you were the smart one." even though Sam continued to sit calmly at the table, sipping the hot toddy, she felt better putting the table between herself and Sam. "It's not what you think Sam. Everything I've told you has been the truth. I didn't set him up. I didn't know he'd been in a fight at the bar or been hurt until he showed up in the ER with Weeble."

"I can't care about that right now." he stood up, tossing the cuffs into a corner on the floor. "I'm going to wake him up and make him take a shower. We'll continue this conversation while I do everything I can to prevent having to take him to a doctor."

"Do you think he needs one?"

"I'm hoping to hell he doesn't"

"But if he does, will you take him to one?"

"Not if I can help it."

"Sam, you asked him who dragged him, what did you mean by that?"

"From what I've seen, his injuries are consistent with being forcefully dragged on his back by his hands."

"While cuffed?"

"Would explain his wrists."

"Just how bad are they Sam?"

"Could be worse."