This is an old story that somehow got overlooked and was never posted on the net. It was published in 2008 in the zine, Road Trip With My Brother, Vol. 6. I always shudder a little when revisiting my older stories, spotting the rookie mistakes and cringing at how inexperienced I truly was and yet somehow my readers still appreciated my efforts! Thank you to all the early reviewers, your confidence in my ability to tell a story encouraged me to keep going when I never had any intention of writing more than that very first story.

I hope I've learned a lot in the interim. I could spend time tidying it up but I'd rather focus on the new rather than linger in the old. It's new for the readers, so hopefully there is still something worthy to enjoy. For me, I most enjoy seeing a little Dean care, having Sam really express and then show his love to big brother. I've needed to see that for a while now and if I have to revisit S2 to experience it a little, I'm okay with that!

Thanks for reading and drop a line and tell me what you think. All reviews are greatly appreciated! Later, B.J.

xxx

2.20 What Is And What Should Never Be tag

Just a Wish

When you wish upon a star, makes no difference who you are, anything your heart desires will come to you.

The lilting melody filled the room with memories, vestiges of a happy contented time before the bad thoughts chased them away. Dean's eyes opened wide, a haunted cast to them as he solemnly stared at the Disney program on the motel TV.

I remember that song… Mom sang it to me. She sang it that night, right before she tucked me in. Right before she told me angels were watching over me. She said I was safe and all my wishes would come true. That all I need do was believe. Mom, I believed. I always believed… I believed everything you ever told me. I did… so WHY? Why did you leave me? Didn't I believe hard enough? Wasn't I good enough? Why, Mommy…why?

The melody and the memories melded together as all his emotions welled up, accosting the young boy with everything he'd tried to bury deep in that dark place within his heart. His eyes watered and his heart beat furiously in his chest and he wished he could just fall asleep like Dad and forget. All his thoughts and feelings building in a crescendo that was threatening to undo him until they abruptly halted as a new sound encroached upon him, a distant wail coming into focus, diverting all attention back to the present, rescuing him from his past.

Sammy's crying.

Shaking off his feelings of despair, Dean silently went to the makeshift crib and lifted his brother up into his arms. He was heavy, but not too heavy. Dean could handle him. He had to. Dad was sick…sick with grief and hurt and too much liquor. Dean knew about liquor, knew he didn't like it…knew it made his dad feel better for a little bit, or maybe it just helped him forget and Dad needed that. Dean wished he could forget.

Sammy needed changing. Dean could smell it. Dad couldn't smell it, he was lying face down on his bed sound asleep. Dean could do this, he had to; there wasn't anybody else, not since Mom… Someone had to change the diaper when it got messy and Dad didn't notice.

God, it smells. Dean held his breath and tried to hurry, tried to get the new diaper tight enough so it wouldn't fall down, so it kept all the mess inside instead of running down Sammy's legs. Sammy didn't like it when the diaper leaked. Dean had learned to make it snug, to keep the mess inside.

That's better, huh, Sammy? His little brother smiled up at him and that always made it better, at least as good as it was ever going to get. Sammy liked being held tight against the chest of his big brother and Dean liked having him close so he could protect him. Looking after his brother was the one thing that could help him forget; all focus on the tender charge entrusted to his care. Dean carried him over to the big chair in front of the TV and cradled him across his lap. Sammy was giggling now. Dean liked it when his brother was happy. Someone ought to be happy. Sammy didn't know, couldn't know, how messed up their lives were. He just knew Dean was holding him and all was right in his secure little world. Nothing will ever hurt you, Sammy. I'm going to hold on tight and never let you go. I promise.

Dean considered that's how he used to view the world back before… He always knew Mom and Dad would protect him and keep him safe and then look what happened. Maybe Mom and Dad didn't know. Maybe if they'd known they could have kept the evil away. Well, I know, Sammy, and I'm not going to let evil touch you. Whatever it takes, I'm going to keep you safe. I'll always be here to protect you.

xxx

Present Day

"I thought it was supposed to be this perfect fantasy?"

"It wasn't. It was just a wish. I wished for Mom to live," Dean whispered.

Concern filled Sam's soulful eyes as he stared at the still form of his brother. "So, we didn't get along then, huh?"

"No." Dean looked down, his face fixed behind a calm mask, his eyes the only glimpse of the lingering pain.

"Dean?"

Dean's eyes flickered towards his brother for a second before settling on staring straight ahead, his tone even and controlled, matter-of-fact. "If Mom never died, we never went hunting and you and me just never…uh…you know… "

"So we had nothing in common?" Sam questioned, trying to understand, trying to find a way inside his brother's head, trying to share this pain.

"Yeah."

"Dean, I'm glad we do. I'm glad we went hunting, and I'm glad I have you here in this life."

Slowly looking up, Dean hesitantly gazed into his brother's concerned eyes. He could feel his pain bubbling to the surface, simmering there, fresh and raw, and knew it had to be evident on his face. He no longer possessed the strength or will to hide the truth from his brother. He wanted Sam to understand. He needed him to. Somehow he needed to find the strength to let his brother into this tortured world the Djinn had manufactured. One thought wore on him, one loss too much to move past. "But you could have had Jess. You could have had normal."

"But I wouldn't have had you."

Dean simply stared at his brother, a slight smile, pensive but fleeting, flickering briefly before he sighed and continued, his voice laced with an undercurrent of contempt. "Well, the me you did have, you didn't really want in your life."

Replying with a low, reassuring tone, not knowing what else he could offer, Sam leaned forward, ready to fully engage his brother. Compassion and words of comfort his only ally; that is, if Dean stayed open like this, willing to talk and listen. His reply was heartfelt. "It's just 'cause I didn't know you."

"Maybe you knew me too well."

I want to know you, Dean. I want to know every secret you've ever buried. Please…tell me.

Sam swallowed, knowing they were on the brink of something. Knowing Dean was finally willing to share his thoughts and feelings; now more open than ever before to exposing his pain. He only hoped he was ready to hear the truth, that he could offer up more support then he had when Dean first revealed he knew Dad died so he could live. He needed to keep the conversation flowing and let Dean speak. When the reticent Dean Winchester is ready to talk, it behooves you to listen. Pressing onward he gently asked, "What does that mean?"

Shifting on the bed, staring at his clasped hands knotted over his knees, Dean seemed lost in thought, tentative before finally responding. "I wasn't exactly the model big brother."

Sam smiled. "Hey, I guess you couldn't be perfect in both worlds."

"Perfect?" Dean scoffed.

"Yeah. You've always been the perfect big brother, even when you were annoying the hell out of me." Sam smiled again, hoping his brother would listen for a change, hear and believe the truth, finally recognize his own worth.

"Uh-huh. Yeah, that definitely sounds like the perfect big brother. Bang up job you're doing here making me feel better, Sam."

Sam again captured his brother's gaze before earnestly replying, "Dean, I'm not trying to make you 'feel better', I'm being honest here."

Dean's eyes shifted away from his brother's intense scrutiny. He tenderly touched the rope burns on his wrists, absently running his fingers across the width, grimacing slightly from the ache, letting that pain steal his focus for just a moment before he returned to the pain of this conversation, locking his gaze to his brother's. "Well, if we're being honest then you know I'm not perfect. How many times have I let you down?"

Sam huffed his annoyance. Dean, what the hell is wrong with you? Why would you think that? His voice rose, his anger and frustration at his stubborn brother starting to take hold. "Are you serious?" he incredulously asked.

"Yeah, Sam. Think about it."

"I have. All those years at Stanford. I thought about it a lot and you know what I realized? Do you?"

Dean shook his head, his eyes steady on his brother, too weary to hide. "You're college boy, enlighten me."

"I realized you never let me down. You always took care of me and you never once complained about how goddamn unfair it all was. I missed you, man, but I was too stubborn to admit it. Even when you came to get me, I still wouldn't admit it." Sam paused, letting his words sink in, watching for Dean's reaction, gauging if his brother was truly listening before he continued. He had Dean's attention, but whether his brother was truly listening and open to believing was unknown. He continued on, hoping for the best as he revealed more. "It was like I saw you aligned with Dad and the truth is everything I ever fought was Dad and the job, never you. You just got stuck in the crossfire."

Raising his head, soft eyes watching, Dean finally smirked, sad eyes tender as he dismissed the notion. "You're looking at it with those rose-colored glasses again, Sammy. I let you down plenty. I could have stood up for you more with Dad. I could have made him see you needed this, you needed to get away."

The despair Dean was experiencing seemed to be overwhelming him. He barely reacted to the words, as if he simply couldn't hear them, much less take them to heart and believe. He was buried in grief, the loss of this other life hitting him hard in ways he had yet to understand.

Sam stared at the shell of his brother, cracking under the strain, the pain and loss evident. "Dean, I never expected you to… Look… what could you have said? It's not like he'd have listened. The man was a rock and between the two of us, we… we crushed you, Dean. Right there between us."

"So… what? You saying you're the hard spot?"

Sam briefly looked away before turning back to face his brother, the truth hard to admit. "Yeah, I guess I am," he replied.

All the painful confrontations and bitter arguments with Dad were still fresh in Sam's mind, the regret and lost opportunities harsh and unforgiving as he wondered what Dad's last thoughts were towards him. The bone-crushing realization that he'd squandered his final moments with his dad was brutal and debilitating, and only now did he realize he didn't want to waste another second of time with his brother.

The conversation seemed to stall there, both hurting and not knowing how to fix this. Sam sat and stared at his brother, trying to decide how he could help him, what words might bring comfort. How he could possibly get his brother past this obstacle, this overwhelming anguish that gutted him, leaving him more vulnerable than ever to the pain that consumed his life.

Dean was so tired and he just couldn't do this right now. He needed to rest and hopefully in the morning the pain would be dulled, back to the empty void that greeted him each morning as he faced another day of more Winchester scars and sacrifice. "Sammy, I need a shower. Man, my whole body aches. Then I need sleep. How about we finish this tomorrow?"

Sam felt guilty then for pushing the conversation while his brother looked so wasted. Dean had been strung up like a side of beef for over a day. Sam wasn't even sure he was still alive when he first saw him hanging there, gray and vacant, barely breathing. That Djinn sure did a number on him and from the way Dean dispatched it, with a cruel twist of his knife, his brother wasn't too kindly disposed to what the damn thing put him through. He only hoped Dean would continue with the open, honest conversation they had started here tonight. He needed to know the whole story, the complete truth, and he was hoping his brother would tell it, even the parts that truly hurt him, especially the parts he wanted to forget. "Sure, Dean. Anything else you need? Anything I can get you?"

"I'm good, Sammy." Dean smiled, trying to recover his confident air, but finding he no longer had the energy to pretend. He only wanted to ease the concern in his brother's eyes. "I'm all right… Don't worry."

Don't worry, he says. Right. This freak plays games with your head and you tell me not to worry?

xxx

At first the water was brutal, his sore body reacting as if daggers were assaulting him, slicing just deep enough to bleed him, the blood simply not visible. The water pounded him until the steady hot flow seemed to push past the initial pain and his muscles slowly started responding to the massaging action. His arms and shoulders ached from the precarious angle he'd been hung from, twisted with all his weight bearing down on them. As the cramps in his muscles slowly eased he relaxed into the spray, breathing deep and trying to wash away the false memories that lingered: the phantom touch of his mom's fingers along his cheek, her soft lips brushing against his forehead in a gentle kiss, the warm caress of her love as she smiled at him with a mother's pride… the welcome relief of finally breaking free from all the responsibility and stress of his real life. The total realization of all his hidden hopes and dreams over the past twenty-three years. His wish fulfilled.

"Make a wish and blow out your candles, honey."

"Any wish I make will come true?" Dean asked in wonder, staring at the bright blue tinge of flames consuming the four small candles on his birthday cake.

Dad's voice was deep, rumbling over the four-year-old and blanketing him with love. "That's the deal, kiddo. Make a wish and blow out all your candles."

Dean sucked in a deep breath and blew with all his might. The last candle flickered, faded and started to flare back before his breath hit it straight on and it extinguished like the others. The grin on his face at his accomplishment was brilliant, pride in completing the task before him, joy that his wish was guaranteed.

His mom looked like an angel standing there before him with her long flowing blond hair and her shimmering eyes. Her dazzling smile lit up their kitchen as she delighted in her son's small victory.

"Honey, what did you wish for?" she whispered as she gently tousled his silky blond hair, her fingers finding their way to his cheek to tenderly brush feather light touches across soft skin before she leaned down and pressed her lips against his forehead in a lingering kiss.

"Whoa," Dad scolded, "That's a secret, right, dude? It won't come true if you tell."

"Really? It's a secret?" Dean asked. Wonder filled his eyes, all the possibilities unfolding before him, the magic of the moment his. Keep your wishes secret, then they'll always come true. Daddy said so.

"That's right, son."

Just a wish, it was just a wish, but I believed it would come true. I believed what they told me. Why wouldn't I? Dean grimaced as the water started to run cold. He continued to let it wash over him, too absorbed in this memory to care if he was shivering. Actually, it echoed the chill he felt descending over him. They didn't know. They couldn't know. How could any of us have known what was coming?

Certainly not that four-year-old boy, his family by his side, all the love a kid could ever ask for embracing him, wrapped up tight in that perfect world… and even then, I knew it was enough. It was all I ever wanted, all I hoped for. One wish. I only got one wish and even at four years old I knew not to waste it. A lot of good it did me. I wished for a baby brother and for my family to always be together… Yeah, right, you get what you wish for. Maybe some do, but not me… Not the Winchesters, we only get our worst nightmares.

Dean grabbed hold of the shower control and turned off the water. He stood shaking as the cool water evaporating off his body caused goose bumps, his eyes starting to mist over as tears soon fell intermingling with the water dripping off his face. He leaned against the shower wall cradling his head in the crook of his arm, panting from exhaustion. He stood there lost in the memories and the pain. All the terror of what came after revisiting him, drawing him deeper into the dark of his life. He pulled his arm down over his eyes to wipe away the tears that were gathering there and his forehead gently rested against the cold tiles and it felt good. Too many thoughts were swimming through his mind, too many emotions and hurts, the crisp cool feel of the tile relieving the tension throbbing within his head. All the bad thoughts filling him to capacity, more anguish than he could bear, the loss overwhelming.

He stood there a moment more before a cold snap of air assaulted his body and he reluctantly stepped out, turning on the heat lamp overhead to bake his skin and help him relax, help him move past the bitter cold wafting through him accentuating the emptiness he now felt. He sucked down a deep breath and held it, slowly letting it out and bracing himself, preparing him to step back into the motel room to again face his brother. He needed to hide his true state of mind now. It was too late in the evening to be delving into this pain. For now he only hoped to sink into the comfort of his bed and drift off to oblivion and forget for just one night.

Tomorrow was soon enough to examine this twilight zone of an adventure. Right now he needed to sleep and steel his mind to the pain and again try to forget how it might have been. Hopefully with the passage of time he could again accept how it was, the reality of his life.

xxx

Sam wondered how long a shower Dean would take as the minutes turned upwards past a half hour. He was almost to the point of knocking on the door and checking on him, but he could sense Dean needed time. Time to sort out everything he'd experienced, time to move past the pain of what he'd sacrificed. Time to fall back into the familiar grind of what their lives had become.

He could give his brother that. He could wait until Dean was ready to talk and he knew he would. He could sense Dean was open and willing to reveal the truth; he just wasn't able to continue on right now. His brother had been through Hell and he needed to rest, he needed to recharge the energy that freaking Djinn had stolen from him.

The bathroom door finally cracked opened and Dean hesitantly stepped back into the room, warily glancing towards his brother. He was dressed in black boxers and a gray t-shirt, his short hair dripping wet and mussed, sticking out every which way, his eyes tired and downcast. He didn't seem as tense as he moved into the room, just the slightest bit more relaxed. At least Sam hoped he was.

"Hey, sorry, man, I used up all the hot water."

"No problem. I'll take a shower in the morning."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Sam had the first aid kit lying beside him on the bed, the antiseptic salve and the gauze pulled out. Dean quirked his eyebrows at his brother and walked over and sat down on the bed opposite him, offering his wrists across the aisle. "They're not that bad," he mumbled.

"I know," Sam softly replied as he started spreading the cream on the raw flesh. "It's just a precaution. Don't need you getting an infection."

Sam finished applying the salve and wrapped the gauze around several times before tying off the bandages with some medical tape. He held on to Dean's arms a tad longer then necessary as he studied his brother, noting he wished it was as easy to tend the inner wounds.

Pulling his bandaged wrists back, Dean examined the expert job, giving a nod of approval. "Almost as good as Nurse McMurphy… " He offered a slight grin, "but not as pretty."

"Yeah, right." Sam returned the grin, wanting to hold on to this light moment with his brother as long as possible, hoping to catch a glimpse of the familiar carefree spirit before the tragic reality resurfaced threatening to drag them under. "She's a tad old for you, don't you think? A bit May/December?"

Dean continued smiling, his eyes registering a lascivious thought as he cocked his head. "Sammy, you never forget your first love."

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Sam wondered if Dean had ever had a true first love or if Cassie was the closest he'd been allowed. It wasn't right that Dean never knew what he had with Jess, what Dean had with Carmen in that fantasy world his mind invented. A young man like him should have had someone real in his life, not the distant memory of a nurse on a TV show his dad sometimes watched. A television show about death and pain and the injustice of war. At least the soldiers in that war had a pretty nurse to tend their injuries and offer some relief. What did Dean have? Who was there to care for Dean? Who did Dean have to offer support when his life got too intense?

Well, at least it appeared Dean had all the one night stands and sexual escapades he seemed to crave. Random encounters with willing women who threw themselves at his attractive brother in each new town provided nights of 'good times' to help him escape the pain of his life. But that was simply sex, and while it might have been fun, it wasn't love. Was that all Dean wanted? All he desired? He sure acted the part, flashing that cocky smirk with each new phone number written on a cocktail napkin, delighting in the wild nights and frisky women, yet in his fantasy life his brash, devil-may-care brother had a steady girlfriend. Dean had someone.

Dean looked exhausted and no wonder after what that Djinn put him through. "You heading to bed?" Sam asked, "It's been a long day."

"Yeah, think so."

Dean didn't even try to offer his standard smirk or false front. He solemnly stood and turned down the covers, crawling in and turning over on his side, his back to his brother. His final act of hiding, turning away from his brother, not wanting to lie there knowing Sam's eyes were intently watching him, to feel them boring through him. He understood Sam was only watching out of concern and love, but he just couldn't bear it right now. Tonight he wanted to be lost in the dark with no thoughts, no sacrifice, no memories.

xxx

"Don't you want something for yourself, Dean? Don't you want something other than the hunt?" Sam yelled with obvious contempt.

Dean offered up his standard look of dismay, lips pursed, eyebrows arched. "What? Like a normal life? You really think you can run off to Stanford and just do normal, Sam?"

"I can try."

"Yeah? Well, good luck with that." Sarcasm reeked in Dean's voice, before turning into hard-edged cynicism. "You know what's out there."

"Yeah, I do, but I'm not going to stay a prisoner to this life. I want more," Sam defiantly stated.

"You can't run from who you are, Sammy."

"And who am I, Dean? What am I besides a soldier in Dad's war?" Sam's eyes were blazing with a fierce, determined edge, a frightening hostility. "I'm not a puppet like you. I have a mind of my own."

Sam couldn't believe how harsh his voice sounded. I don't remember being that mean to Dean. I was selfish…not like Dean. Dean's always sacrificed his own needs for the good of the family and I mocked him for it. How could I talk to him like that? I was just as unrelenting as Dad, just as unreasonable.

Sam tossed in his sleep, the dream vividly bringing back the pain of that time.

"Dean, are you listening to me? Don't you have dreams? Don't you have hopes and wishes? Can't you stand up for yourself and ask for what you want? Do you always have to be Dad's perfect little soldier?"

Dean shuddered from the memory. Man, when he gets like this there is no reasoning with him. He's just like Dad. Bet that would piss him off. Yeah, Dean, if you want to lose him forever, just tell him that. Tell him, he's no better than Dad. That he only cares about what he wants.

Sam grimaced from his cold words to his brother. I can't believe I said that. I was past the point of belligerent, definitely well on the way to cruel. Dean, I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you… I will. I'll make it right.

Dean turned over again in his sleep, this dream taking him back to another painful time. One of many. This one forcing him to face the bitter truth that Sammy wasn't his any longer. Sam was his own man and he no longer needed Dean.

He should have known better. Sam had already had a blowout fight with Dad and then Dean chose to mix into it. His brother always was pig-headed and damn if this hadn't set him off. Heaven help you if you ever defended John Winchester to his younger son. Hell…that was like defending O.J., the murderous bastard. It just wasn't gonna cut it. He was guilty, plain and simple, and no amount of evidence could clear him, regardless of what the courts or juries or Johnny Cochran had to say about it.

Sam was an opinionated son of a bitch. Yeah, Sammy, I have hopes and dreams and I have a wish. One wish. I don't want you to leave. I want us to stay together, to be a family. That's all I want, all I've ever wanted, but I guess you come first. You're leaving. Good for you. You get your wish.

Dean stood staring at his brother, wishing the little boy he'd raised, the kid brother who loved him unconditionally and would never hurt him, would look back at him with those tender Sammy eyes instead of the cruel gaze this giant unknown stranger named Sam cast over him as he ripped his heart out of his chest and stomped on it. Dean's voice was tight, choking on the words, "Good luck, Sammy. I'll miss you."

Then Dean simply walked away, no longer possessing the will to fight, resigned to the inevitable.

Sam stood flustered; shocked his brother would back down like that. Just turn and walk away from an argument. That was so not like Dean. What the hell is wrong with him? Sam considered going after him, pushing the point, but he was too furious, so sure of himself and he didn't want to risk coming to blows with his brother. As much as he resented Dean siding with their dad, as much as he detested how his brother submitted to Dad's authority, he was still his brother and he loved him. He didn't want to leave him, but he had no choice. Dean had made the choice for him; he'd asked his brother to come and he wouldn't.

It's out of my hands now, Dean. You and Dad, have at it.

Both brothers tossed in their sleep, quiet murmurs betraying their thoughts. Both felt the weight of their dreams, the memories again assaulting them with their differences, their opposing approaches to life and the hunt.

Dean regretted he could never be completely truthful with his brother, never expose his fears and hopes, but in his heart he knew it wouldn't have changed Sam's mind about leaving. As recently as Chicago, he had opened up and revealed his one wish, and Sam had turned away, left him dangling untethered, adrift and alone.

Sam most regretted how he'd treated his brother, how he'd failed to see the truth standing there before him. Dean sacrificed everything for his family, for him, and all Sam thought of was himself and his need for normal. Normal didn't exist for the Winchesters, not now, maybe not ever.

Sam had only recently come to realize what Dean had always known, but did he? Dean always claimed he didn't want normal, didn't want to leave the hunt and live a white-bread existence and yet he had… He had! In the warped reality the Djinn gave him he was a civilian. So how did Dean feel about that? How did he really feel?

xxx

The morning sun streamed in through the worn curtains and the early shadows on the wall seemed to taunt Dean as he tried to continue sleeping. He didn't want to greet a new day, couldn't bear to again face the truth. Once he stirred he knew exactly where the conversation would lead them, back into the shadows of normal to confront his darkest regrets.

Sam patiently waited while Dean devoured his morning cup of coffee, letting him soak up the beginnings of a new day before he again broached the subject they both knew consumed their thoughts.

"Dean, tell me about Carmen. What was she like?"

Dean softly, hesitantly smiled, even now it felt so familiar and right, but also strangely foreign. I guess I never let myself believe I could have someone in my life. "Well, you had Jessica and I had Carmen. We were living together. We seemed happy…I guess. It was strange to, you know, have someone. It makes sense though, right? That she was a babe in a beer ad?" Dean looked up with sad eyes.

"Dean, how did you feel about her?"

"You mean once I stopped freaking out about waking up in some strange chick's bed?"

"Yeah, once you knew she was your girlfriend."

Dean smiled, a contented, reflective smile, surprised himself by the feelings the memory inspired. "I got it."

"What's that mean?"

"I got why she was the one. She saw me."

Sam's eyebrows arched, his face thoughtful, trying to understand the meaning behind his brother's words. "She saw you?"

"Yeah, like when we took Mom out to this fancy restaurant. Carmen understood how uncomfortable I was." Dean laughed, his eyes glowing from the memory. "She offered to get me a cheeseburger after the waiter brought me this strange…uh, concoction…some tall, green thingy." Dean made a face as he remembered the frightful excuse for food.

Laughing, Sam pictured his brother turning up his nose at the potentially healthy entree. "A cheeseburger, huh? She did know you. But Dean, why were you uncomfortable?"

Dean sighed as he continued, "It was this ritzy place and everyone was so happy and you and Mom and Jess all seemed to fit right in. Carmen fit in. You were all dressed up in a suit and tie and the ladies, well, they were dressed to kill. I thought we were damn lucky to be out on the town with these beautiful women."

"And…?"

"I didn't even have a jacket," Dean said with a tinge of disgust, "Just some kinda, y'know, nice blue shirt." Dean looked lost again, before another attempt to diffuse his emotions as a small smile crossed his face. "Hey, at least the joint didn't kick me out."

"Dean, you've never been into fashion. Clothes don't make the man."

Dean looked up with his familiar cocky smirk, his dimples flashing. "Watch your mouth, young man, a good leather coat… " Sam laughed and Dean seemed to relax a little before he continued. "Sammy, it wasn't just the dress code."

"Then what?"

Shrugging his shoulders, Dean looked even more uncomfortable and lost. "I just felt out of place, like I didn't belong there, but I didn't care 'cause all that mattered was you were happy. My family was happy and we were together."

"But?"

"It's just…I didn't fit. I know you picked the restaurant 'cause hell, I'd have probably taken Mom to a rowdy steakhouse with pool tables in the back."

"There's nothing wrong with a good steakhouse, Dean."

Dean looked almost small, like a child trying to fit in but knowing he didn't belong, as he slowly shook his head from side to side, his eyes betraying the hurt. "I didn't fit, Sammy."

"You said you were with your family. You're a part of this family, Dean. Maybe the most important part."

Surprise registered on Dean's face. "No, Sammy. You were always the most important part of this family. Dad and I, if we hadn't had you to protect, we would have been lost. You're what kept us together."

"Dean, you're wrong." It was a simple statement of fact for Sam. "I may have been what the Demon was after, but you're the one who held this family together. You're the one who took care of me. You fed me and nursed my hurts. You read to me every night and let me crawl into your bed when I was too scared to sleep. Next to you, I felt safe. Dad trusted you to watch over me. Dad could do what he had to do 'cause he had you to hold down the home front. You're the reason we made it this far. Why can't you see that?" Sam was so earnest in his tone, so hopeful that his brother would see and accept that truth.

Looking up, Dean simply shrugged his shoulders, still lost and unsure.

Sam took a deep, steadying breath. He had his work cut out for him. Dean was nothing if not obstinate and this self-esteem issue was deep rooted, a lasting effect of the way they were raised. The uncertainty Dean was immersed in at such a tender, formative age molding his view of himself. "Dean, this wish you had, that Mom was alive. Everything else that came with that, it all came from you. This whole alternate reality came from your head. Why do you think so little of yourself? Why do you think you'd be a drunk? A thief? A womanizer?"

Dean's voice was strong but resigned. "Why? You're kidding me, right? That's what I am, always have been."

"No, Dean, you're not." Sam's voice was filled with disbelief that his strong, heroic brother would hold so tightly to this false image.

"Sammy, wishing don't make it so. You want me to be this terrific, great guy, but look at me. I drink too much…credit card theft, lying; it's all part of the job…and the women. Hell, you've always pointed that one out to me. I'm easy, always have been. No standards." Dean made a painful grimace, a half-hearted attempt at a smirk that failed miserably, his eyes sad and tormented, his voice low and broken, resigned to the truth as he saw it. "You know, that's what Carmen said to me when I wondered how I got so lucky to have a cool chick like her."

"She said what?" Sam gasped.

Dean casually rolled his shoulders, a forlorn cast to his eyes. "She said she had low standards." He again offered a feeble attempt at a smile. "I mean, she smiled when she said it, like it was a joke or something, but I knew. I knew how lucky I was to have someone like her. Someone respectable."

"You deserve that, Dean. You do," Sam earnestly replied, wracking his brain for some way to make Dean see that, to understand it and believe.

"Yeah, right," he huffed.

"Dean, do you realize that all you've talked about was how happy I was? How I had Jess again, how Mom was going to have grandkids? Never anything about how happy you were, how you finally got what you deserved?"

"Yeah? What do I deserve, Sammy? Huh? 'Cause I really don't know anymore." Dean silently shook his head, his hands again twisting and writhing over his knees. He looked up with such anguish within his eyes as he looked deep into his brother's eyes, trying to connect with him, trying to forge a stronger bond between them, trying to make him understand after all these years. "I don't. All I know is what I've always been given, the pain and fear and just the goddamn waiting, waiting for anything good to be taken away. For it all to just disappear. To finally be left all alone."

"You deserve everything you want for me. Dean, you do. Why can't you see that?"

Surprise registered on Dean's face. He was trying hard to comprehend the love he felt coming from his brother. Never before realizing the sincerity behind his brother's words, previously dismissing them as the false hope of a kid brother mired in his own little fantasy, his own personal dream world where his big brother could do no wrong. A world that didn't exist, not for the Winchesters. "I don't know, maybe 'cause it seemed like it was asking too much for you to be happy, for you to have everything you ever wanted. You only get so many wishes Sammy, and I guess I used them all up on you."

"Dean, you're allowed to wish for yourself."

Dean locked eyes with his brother. It looked like he was considering the words, mulling the thought over in his head before he quietly shrugged his shoulders. Then he furrowed his eyebrows and closed his eyes withdrawing back into himself with a barely audible sigh.

xxx

Lunch was a sandwich and a bag of chips from the sub shop down the street. Sam hated leaving Dean alone for the few minutes it took to run down and pick it up. He didn't worry about Dean being on his own, or doing something stupid to hurt himself or anything else ridiculous and out of character. He simply needed to be near his brother, to feel his steady presence beside him and know he was going to be there today and tomorrow and the day after.

That damn Djinn not only shook up Dean, but he'd rattled Sam too. Made all the sacrifices Dean had suffered come into sharper focus, made Sam realize just how much he'd always depended on his older brother, and how much he loved and needed him in his life, and just how easily it all could have been taken away. He'd always leaned on Dean and now for the first time he was seeing his brother in a new light and he wanted to be there to support him.

They were the last of the Winchesters and he didn't want to face losing his brother with him not knowing how he felt about him, and he couldn't bear Dean not seeing his own value and worth. He had enough regrets over losing Dad and all the words not spoken. If Dean was willing to communicate honestly with him now, he needed to know everything. After years of being brothers he was finally glimpsing the hidden Dean, buried too long in the depths of his pain.

"Dean, do you realize that even in the other reality, you still thought you could fix things, that you were responsible to fix things?" Sam ventured forth again, examining the truths Dean was slowly revealing. "It's not your responsibility to make everything all right for your family."

Startled back to the conversation, Dean looked up from his sandwich. "Yeah, Sammy, it is. Always has been. It's all I know."

"Dean, it's not right. It's not fair…not fair to you."

Dean offered up a faint glimmer of his standard smirk. "Sammy, get real. Who ever said life was fair? Huh? You see that written somewhere? That life's fair and bad things aren't ever gonna happen? We know better."

"I know it's not fair. Your life proves that. Dean, the way you grew up, responsible for taking care of me, for taking care of Dad, for keeping the family together… It was way past normal. It was too much for a kid to handle."

Shaking his head, Dean's eyes were steady and clear. "Sammy, it's all I've ever known. All I ever needed. You and Dad safe, that's all that mattered."

"It was too much responsibility for a child, Dean."

"Yeah? Well, that's life."

Sam bit his lower lip, Dean's pain so fresh and tender. He hated seeing his strong brother battered and bruised and struggling to get past this. Hated seeing him so resigned to the inequity of his life. Even now, refusing to acknowledge how unjust it was and how remarkable he was to have survived it. Dean, you are so strong, so heroic. Why can't you see yourself like I see you? Like everyone we've ever saved sees you?

Taking a deep breath, Sam ventured forth again, the truth showing him the way. "Dean, your mind made you see what would happen to all the people you saved if you weren't there to save them. You've always been responsible. You've always sacrificed your own happiness for the job. In this fantasy life, when you finally had everything you could wish for, you couldn't accept it because you knew the job was more important. You knew what you were supposed to be doing, what your duty was."

"Yeah? Maybe… maybe I just can't accept being happy. Maybe I don't deserve happy and a part of me looks to screw it up?"

"Dean, if anyone deserves to be happy, it's you. You've done more for others than anyone I've ever known. I wish you could believe that. I wish you could accept being happy."

Dean again shook his head no, almost as if words of kindness and praise were too unaccustomed to his ears. "Can't accept what you don't understand. Sam, face it, I don't know how to be happy. No experience."

"I know, Dean, and I'm sorry, because if anyone deserves to be happy it's you. And one day you'll have it. And you'll have someone who loves you and gets you. I have to believe that."

Dean was on edge, fighting an inner battle with himself, wondering just how much he was willing to reveal. He shifted on the bed, his elbows resting on his knees as the heels of his hands pressed into his eyes before he raised his head to face his brother. The words finally came, soft and low and sincere. "I was happy there."

"What?" Sam gently whispered.

"There, in that normal life. I was happy. I was so freakin' happy, Sam."

Silently watching his brother, Sam observed his body language as he sat there tense and uncertain. "Dean, please, tell me."

A slight smile was slowly drawing up Dean's lips as he remembered the fantasy life. Once he decided to divulge his secret he seemed to relax, his face opening up as his eyes glimmered with a hint of moisture. He proceeded to detail his short immersion into the normal, suburban life. "You should have seen it, Sammy. I was happy, really happy. Even though Dad was gone, I was happy he died in his sleep instead of…" Dean's voice trailed off, his eyes meeting his brother's and they both knew what he failed to voice. He quickly recovered and moved on. "I was happy he played on a stupid softball team. That he and Mom were together for all those years and he didn't have to hunt and fight his whole life."

"And you were happy mowing the lawn?"

"Yeah." Dean let out a small sigh and a nervous smile spread across his face, his eyes filling with a sad wonder. "I actually waved to the neighbor, with this huge freakin' grin on my face. Can you believe it? Man, I was such a …"

"What, Dean?" Sam's voice was filled with concern. His eyes a sad mix of love and hope and Please, Dean, let me help you.

"Oh, man, I was such a total regular guy. The trunk was empty and I was a civilian." Dean hesitated, staring at the ground before raising his eyes and looking deep into his brother's, revealing the truth at last. "And I liked it. I wanted it so bad, just to have a normal freaking life with a regular job and a nice girl and a beer after mowing the grass."

Sam nodded in understanding. "And waving to the neighbor."

Dean chuckled softly. "Yeah, waving to the neighbor in the freakin' suburbs. What an idiot."

"Dean, it's all right to want normal."

He responded too quickly, "Not for me. That was always your thing…not mine. It wasn't me, but I was happy. And now it's gone. And here I am back in this life and it hurts, Sammy. I don't know why, but it really hurts."

"It hurts because you let yourself believe. You let yourself hope for something other than the hunt and you had it. You had it right there in the palm of your hand and you gave it away. Dean, you did that. When it came right down to it, you didn't know it wasn't real, you didn't know it was all a trick and still you gave it back. You made the decision to leave everything you ever wanted, to sacrifice your own happiness and your family to do the right thing. To save lives. You're a hero, Dean…in the best sense of the word."

"Yeah, well, being a hero sucks. Big time." Dean hesitated and then he said it, "I wanted to stay."

Sam's voice was soft and low, "Dean, it wasn't real."

"I know, but I still wanted it. I wanted to stay so bad."

Sam sat and considered what his brother was revealing to him, the truth behind his words. It would have been so easy to stay, so easy to pretend and live in the fantasy, but that wasn't who his big brother was. Dean was brave and bold and always faced adversity head on and this was no different. As much as he may have wanted to stay, Dean did what he always did. He did what needed to be done.

"I'm glad you dug yourself out, Dean. I'm so glad you came back to me. Most people wouldn't have had the strength. They would have just stayed."

"Yeah, lucky me."

"I know it hurts and I'm sorry, but people are alive because of you. It's worth it, Dean. It's not fair and it hurts like hell, but it's worth it."

xxx

The quiet of the motel room was peaceful, serene, so unlike their lives. Since Dean's revelation the brothers had again fallen into a comfortable silence. Sam was on the computer looking for their next gig and Dean was resting, his energy still not fully restored. Sam didn't even notice Dean stir until he heard him speak, soft and low, another desire to share his thoughts.

"You know why I didn't stay? Why I couldn't?"

Sam's attention immediately shifted to his brother, hanging on every word. "No." Sam took a deep breath and whispered, "Why, Dean?"

"I had to come back for you."

Sam gazed at the sincere face of his brother and grimaced. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry? Why?" Dean's eyebrows quirked as he genuinely looked surprised.

"I'm so glad you came back, Dean. I am… I know it was hard and it would have been so easy to just pretend it was real and you'd have had everything you ever wanted…"

Dean sat up to face his brother shaking his head from side to side, his expressive eyes filling with tears, as his soft, but sure voice interrupted him, "No, I wouldn't have."

"What?"

"'Cause you would have been here…alone, in danger. I had to come back for you."

Sam eyes misted over, his leg started jiggling with nervous energy, the pain of being his brother's responsibility settling in his gut again. "Dean, I'm sorry you've always been burdened with me. You should have wanted to come back because your real life meant something. You should have wanted to come back because it wasn't real and you deserve real." Sam gasped from the weight of this truth, shuddering from the knowledge that he was the cause of another sacrifice. His voice was breaking from the deep emotion overcoming him. "You've always given up everything for me and this is just one more time. You gave up what you wanted, what you've always dreamed of to come back to this. A life of pain and sacrifice. Dean, you deserve so much more."

Dean sat there absorbing his brother's words, filtering through all the meanings and emotions and buried feelings. He had to make Sam understand; he had to make him see the truth of what he had now.., here.., with his brother. "Sammy, you are not a burden, you have never been a burden. If anything, you were what kept me going, a reason to keep going." Dean shifted on the bed, turning to face his brother with sincere eyes brimming with tears. "You're forgetting something here, Sammy. The most important thing."

"Yeah, what's that?"

"Our lives are far from perfect, Sam. In fact, most days they're kinda crappy, but that other life wasn't perfect either. I missed having you in my life, knowing you cared and you'd be there for me, and not just because you're my brother and you're supposed to and not just on holidays or birthdays." Dean raked his hand through his mussed hair, his intent eyes never leaving his brother as he bared his soul. "I missed you, Sammy. I hoped I could make it right, but deep down I knew it would never be like us. Even if you spoke to me at times other than holidays, it still wouldn't be what we have. And I wanted that back, I wanted you back."

Sam felt a huge sense of dread slough off his shoulders, relief at having his brother beside him all he could focus on now. "Well, you've got me, big brother."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"This life might not be what we both wanted, but it's all we have. You and me, we're all we've got…but it's worth it. Isn't it?" Dean asked hesitantly, hoping it was, trying hard to believe it himself.

Sam smiled quietly, the look on Dean's face tentative as he tried to make a connection, his brother's words so heartfelt, firm in their conviction but hesitant in how the words would be accepted. "Yeah, Dean, it is. And maybe someday we'll have more. Maybe someday you'll have someone like Carmen. Someone who gets you."

"You think?"

"I know, Dean."

The silence again settled over them, each sitting on their own beds, each immersed in their own thoughts and concerns, each trying to make sense of a senseless world. A world where they at least had each other.

"Sammy, thanks."

"For what?"

"For being here. For listening. For just, you know, being my brother."

Sam smiled, relieved to have his brother back. "I'll always be here."

"Good."

The End

bjxmas

July, 2007

All standard disclaimers apply.

Thanks for taking the time to read, take care and have a very Happy Holiday! ~ B.J.