Hey guys, hope you're all well! I couldn't get this out of my head so thought i'd trap it on paper instead. I really wanted more H/C from WIAWSNB so i figured there could easily be a good 12 hours between Sam finding Dean and them having their heart to heart in the motel room.

So here is that missing scene that i really wish they had filmed. Maybe if i find my own Djinn that wish can come true?

Disclaimer : As always , i don't own a damn thing, but again i'm looking for a Djinn to remedy that.

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"I got you, we're gonna get you out of here ok. I got you. I got you."

Dean held the young woman close, faltering slightly but gaining strength from Sam's steady hand on the small of his back. He'd made it, he'd survived. All thanks to this woman showing him the truth, forcing him away from the false reality he craved as his. He'd made the right choice, saved another life. All at the sacrifice of his own happiness.

Once again.

Sam kept his hand against Dean's back, frowning at the heat he felt through his older brothers shirt. He could feel the tremors of exhaustion, could see the strength in his grasp faltering. But this was his big brother, one who refused to allow Sam to carry his burdens. One who refused to weigh his brother down with a weight he was convinced wasn't his to share.

"Dean? We gotta go man. Come on."

Dean closed his eyes, stealing himself for the test of his physical strength he was about to subject his already exhausted and battered body to. Bending carefully he hooked his right arm beneath the young girls legs and lifted her into his arms. Stumbling back but thankful for Sam's guiding hand against his body. Together they made their way toward the car outside. Together they helped each other escape. The young woman who had revealed herself and the lie to him. His brother. His Sammy, not some false version of what could have been, what Dean would never want to have been, what never should have been.

They were each other's strengths and weaknesses. No matter what came along, no matter what force tried to pull them apart they always found their own way home to each other.

Dean watched as Sam disappeared into the hospital entrance with the frail, dirt covered young woman held carefully in his arms. Her eyes had closed once in Dean's arms from the factory to the car. She knew she was safe. Knew she was found. The two sets of arms that had carried her on two occasions had been so full of promise, so full of hope and aching with the weight of the freedom they'd allowed her. The way her late father had made her feel. That ever encompassing 'safe' that only certain men possessed. Most without even knowing it. With one look, one word, one touch; you knew you were alright. You were safe.

Sam found the first nurse he could and called for help, transferring the girl from his arms to a gurney, her eyes opening slightly, she gave a small smileas she was wheeled away from him.

"Sir? Sir can you tell me what happened?"

Sam tore his eyes from the retreating form of the girl and smiled at the Nurse who stood beside him.

"I honestly don't know. We found her wandering in the street like that."

"Well it's a good thing you did. Poor girl looks like she's been through hell."

"Will you let me know how she is?"

"Of course we will Sir."

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Dean allowed his head to rest against the cool glass of the passenger window. He ached all over, but the worst ache of all was in his heart. His broken heart.

He'd had it all. Everything. But Sam.

His Sam.

Closing his eyes against the onslaught of memories caused only the image of his mother to force her way to the forefront. Yet this false image of her brought comfort, brought warmth. Along with those feelings came a wave of overwhelming grief for the life that was ripped from him at such a young age. As the emotion began to pour deep inside his soul, deep inside the wishing well he kept only for indulgent thoughts of what could have been and what might be, he began to slowly rock side to side, each time knocking his head against the glass in an attempt to dislodge the image of the soft flowing blonde hair. The eyes so full of kindness and love, that smile that promised everything would be ok.

Sam quickened his steps at the sight of his unravelling brother, quickly opening the drivers side door and closing his hand around Dean's arm to keep him from hurting himself further. He looked broken, he looked tired and he looked scared. His face leached of colour and his body quivering with the exhaustion that was soon to claim it's victim.

"Hey, Dean? It's ok. Man you're ok."

"She ok?" Eyes down, face caught in a frown. Don't look at Sam. Don't dare to breathe. Blame the break in your voice on the tiredness slowly making it's way from head to toe.

"She's ok Dean, she's with the Doctors now. Are you ok?"

"She's ok?"

"Dean? Look at me man, she's with help." Sam kept the frustration at bay when Dean's eyes refused to meet his own. "Why don't we get you cleaned up hey? Let's go back home."

At that Dean did look up, the look in his eyes devastated Sam. The shock of the emotion within the green depths threatening to knock him out of the car and onto his ass in the dirt below.

"I am home."

His brother had never looked so broken.

By the time Sam pulled into the motel Dean was fast asleep, his head against the leather seat, facing Sam. His face was dirty and pale. The dark circles under his eyes reminding Sam of another time, of another incident where he had almost lost his big brother. Of another time when he was too exhausted to do anything but allow Sam to drive him across the county in hopes of salvation. There was no faith healer around the corner now, there was no greater power to close the open wounds and cure the broken heart.

From his research he knew Djinn could grant wishes, could see deep inside a persons soul and bring to life the unspoken wish. It was the cost of this wish that scared Sam. He knew what Dean wanted, even if his brother had never said it out loud. The force of hindsight and missed chances something that drove people to the edge. Yet to have that second chance, to have the object of their desire given to them? Could that be the push a person needed to leap from the edge and plummet into the darkness beyond?

Not his brother.

Not his Dean.

Not on his watch.

Reaching over carefully Sam ran his hand across his brother's brow. He was warm to the touch and stirred slightly. Mumbling something over and over. Knowing it wasn't his to hear Sam leaned forward anyway, rested his head against the back of the seat and stilled his breath to listen to the words. Three words that ceased the beat of his heart, three words that told him everything he needed to know about the ordeal Dean had survived.

"Missed you mum."

Whispered repeatedly until Sam could take no more. Quietly he slipped from the car, opened the door to the motel and gently prised the passenger side door away from his sleeping brother.

"Dean? We're here man."

"Sam?"

"Right here man, come on, let's get you inside."

Sam gave no option to his brother, instead he pulled his arm around his shoulders and heaved him from the car before he could even attempt to suggest he could walk on his own unaided. The temptation to scoop him up into his arms was hard to resist.

"I can walk."

"You can barely stand so shut up and let me help."

As they reached the threshold of the room Dean's legs gave way and Sam gave into the temptation through necessity and carried his brother in, placing him onto the furthest bed from the door.

Dean began to slump backwards but Sam's strong hands held him upright. He knelt in front of him, hands on Dean's knees. Searching for the eye contact that was being avoided.

"Dean please, look at me." When dealing with a stubborn older brother, the direct approach was sometimes the best way to go.

The tired green eyes that met his concerned ones caused Sam to grip Dean's knees harder. So much so that the older man smirked a little.

"What?" Questioned Sam, his head quirked to the side like a puppy searching for it's owner.

"I'm not gonna disappear."

Sam eased his hold but didn't remove his hands.

"I know you're not, but I want you to know that I won't either."

Dean blamed the exhaustion for the tears that welled in his eyes. He pressed the heals of his hands to his face and tried to will the emotions and the pain away. He wanted to will everything away and go back to the warm embrace of his mother. It wasn't real. It wasn't real. Could have been though. For a little while.

"Dean?"

"Mmm?"

"You're zoning out on me man." Sam pulled Dean's hands away from his face. "Stay with me ok?"

Reaching his hands to Dean's jacket collar he began to slowly pull the denim away. Dean frowned but allowed his little brother to undress him. Continually telling himself that this was Sam. This was his Sam. He closed his eyes again, trying to ward off the memories that assaulted his every fibre. So distant. Two brothers who barely knew each other. Was that why his mother had died? Was there some other reason to his life being ripped from his four year old hands before it had ever truly began? He could tell the other Sam hadn't liked him, hadn't held him up on a pedestal like his Sam did. Even so the other Sam had followed him, wanted him to be safe. Could they have been more than they were? Was it worth the risk of all those lives being lost, just so that he could have his mother? His brother could have Jess?

Yet still Dad was dead.

What did that say about Dean's perfect life wish?

His wishing well began to reach critical level again when something cool and wet ran across his face and down his neck. He leaned into the touch, eyes still closed tightly shut. Missing the smile that grew over his younger brother's face as Dean savoured the relief of the cloth against his skin. Savoured the relief of feeling his brother so close.

Sam ran the cloth over Dean's forehead and down his face, holding the cold rag against Dean's eyes for a second, one hand on the back of his head, before continuing to wipe his face and down his neck.

Without a word from either man, Sam pulled the t-shirt from Dean and wrapped an arm around his waist, standing and leading him toward the bathroom. Undressing him completely he helped Dean into the shower.

"Ok?" Sam questioned.

Dean nodded and let his head fall under the spray. Sam let go of his arm, once satisfied he would manage to shower without falling on his ass he grabbed the first aid kit, placing it on the table next to Dean's bed.

The water flowed across his scalp and made it's way down his face, falling gracefully to the porcelain beneath. Closing his eyes he focused on the water that made it's way from his head down his neck and across his back. Soothing the dirt away with caressing hands and a purity rarely found in anything else obtainable in everyday life. He stood that way for minutes uncounted, the warmth of the water receding to a luke warm reminder that nothing perfect lasts forever.

"Sam?"

"Right here. You done?"

"Mmm mm."

Sam wrapped the biggest towel he could find around his brother and helped him out of the shower and onto the closed toilet seat. He smiled as Dean batted away his helping hands.

"There's a clean t-shirt and boxers on the side. Ok?"

"Yeah, thanks man."

With a squeeze of Dean's shoulder Sam left him to dry himself. He switched on the kettle and made two large cups of coffee, the smell wafting around the small room and instantly making things seem right. No matter where they had stayed, the back wood cabins, the dirt cheap motels and the run down buildings, there was always a smell of coffee to make the place home. John may have developed his own caffeine addiction long before his sons knew what coffee was, but thanks to the warm and comforting smell that always signalled that they were safe and home, he'd ignited a need and addiction in his sons that no amount of will power would ever break.

Dean breathed deep as the smell made it's way into the small bathroom. He couldn't help but smile. This was something that only his Sam would know, only his Sam would remember.

His Sammy.

Standing to make his way into the main room Dean's world tilted and he reached out blindly for the sink, the wall, anything to hold onto. His hands found warmth, found strength and held on tight as Sam kept him upright, kept talking to him. Assuring him he was ok. He was ok.

Was he?

He'd tasted something he'd barely allowed his minds eye to see.

Would he ever be ok?

Forcing his mind away from the disabling reverie that was sure to knock him over if the exhaustion didn't first, he focused on Sam's voice. That sound that had been there throughout the ages, been there throughout his real childhood. Not the false one in the pictures at his mothers house.

Not her. Not his mother.

It was too much to try to separate the memories. Instead he allowed Sam to take more of his weight. His brothers voice becoming insistent. Was there something he had forgotten? Something he was supposed to do? What is it Sammy? Speak up bro! Dammit I can't hear you!

"…eathe, man come on please, don't do this to me. You gotta breathe."

Oh yeah.

Dean inhaled so suddenly that his vision swam with the sudden onslaught of oxygen to his brain. Sam's arms finding their way around his waist and pulling him close, practically carrying him once again into the main room of the motel, laying him gently onto the comfort of the bed, the covers already pulled down, ready and waiting to envelop him in their warmth and protection.

" No man, not yet, stay awake just a bit longer. Please."

Sam piled the pillows behind Dean to keep him relatively upright. Heavily lidded eyes tracked his every movement as he pulled up Dean's t-shirt.

"No broken bones." Mumbled the older man.

"I know, I just wanted to double check."

"Anal retentive squirt."

Sam had to bite back his laughter but not before a snort had escaped his control. He gave Dean a look that said 'not a word' and carried on re-checking for hidden injuries. His brother's attempt at levity something that made Sam love him all the more. His Dean. His brother who he'd almost lost. Again. Too many times had he flirted with death. How many times was he going to get lucky?

Shaking that thought from his mind and satisfied there was no wound bleeding out that Dean had tried to hide, he turned his attention to the one source of pain he could treat. Gently cupping Dean's chin he moved his head so that it was fully facing Sam's body, leaning over he carefully prodded the wound on his neck. No infection and no residual bleeding. At least that was something.

Carefully opening a sterile wipe Sam ignored the way Dean's throat worked to swallow down the emotion that his exhausted body was trying to fight. He soothed the wound, holding the cool wipe against his brother's skin for a few minutes more than necessary. The touch soothing them both.

By the time Sam put away the first aid kit Dean's eyes were closed and his breathing even and deep. With no need to stay awake any longer he'd allowed his mind to wander the road of nothingness toward blessed oblivion, hoping against hopes that no dreams would plague his fragile mind tonight. Unaware of the little brother that pulled the covers close around him, who pulled out a pillow so that he was laying more comfortably and able to roll slightly to the side to ease the ache in his back from being hung from a ceiling. Unaware yet so certain in the feeling and belief that he was safe and being watched over by the only true family he ever had.

His Sam.

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The first thing he knew as his mind made it's way toward waking was that he was home. Truly home. Not some made up place his mind tricked him to believe was real. The second thing he knew was that Sam had made another mug of coffee. The smell awakening his senses and bringing him further from the embrace of sleep.

Sam watched as Dean slowly opened his eyes. He'd stood guard over his brother all night, keeping a watchful eye out for nightmares and any discomfort. Kept watch until his own body had given in to it's need for sleep. Praying that he would awaken should his older brother become caught up in the arms of the nightmare recreated. But Dean had been too tired to dream, too tired to relive the nightmare of losing his mother again. That would come later, on another night when his mind had energy to rebel.

"Hey. You want coffee?"

Dean nodded as he slowly sat up, Sam's hand beneath his arm pit helping him into a sitting position which his shoulders and back protested.

Sam gave him time to sip his coffee, to become more aware before he sat forward on his own bed, arms braced on his knees. He needed to know what had happened. He needed to hear it from Dean instead of piecing it together from his own fears.

Dean glanced at Sam and quirked his eyebrow. Taking a deep breath he rested his mug of coffee on the side table and made a move to get out of bed.

"Dean.."

"Sam, let me take a shower first. Then I'll tell you. I promise."

"Ok man."

Half an hour later both brothers sat on the edge of Dean's bed, side by side, their knees and shoulders touching. Sam sat straight upright, waiting patiently. While Dean rested his arms on his legs. Allowing the stretch to ease the ache in his back that the second shower couldn't reach.

"She was alive Sam."

Sam stayed quiet, moved slightly to his left so that he was pressed further into Dean's side.

"She was alive and living in the same house in Lawrence. I had this killer chick and great apartment. But Dad was dead still. He….he'd died of a stroke. You though, you were at school in Stanford. You drove this really expensive looking car. Nothing like my baby of course."

"You had the impala?" Sam couldn't help but smirk. Dean looked up and matched his smile.

"Yeah I had her. Of course." His smile faltered as his eyes fell back down to the floor. "Had the car but not Dad."

"How did you get out?"

"That girl, she kept…appearing…to me. Everything there wanted me to stay, I wanted to stay so bad. But I couldn't. It wasn't right." The lack of conviction in Dean's voice betrayed his sentiment. "I only knew of one way to wake up from a dream."

Sam's face frowned as the realisation of what Dean must have done to escape hit him.

"Dean…you didn't…you killed…yours…"

"That's it Sam. That's how it was." Dean forced down the emotion that threatened to spill and walked over to the small table by the door, the rain outside pelted against the window, causing the early morning to appear darker and less hopeful than a new dawn should. He leafed through the books strewn across the top and pulled out a magazine nestled near the bottom of the piles of paper. One left by a previous occupant of the room.

So much for maid service.

Sam made a move to join his brother, walked to the table and was about to stop Dean walking away from him when his phone rang shrilly from the bedside table. He frowned at the unknown number but answered anyway as Dean sat back down on his bed, magazine in hand, attempting to ignore Sam and the need to retell the nightmare he'd lived through.

"Hello? Yes this is he."

Dean flicked through the pages, trying to decide what to tell Sam and what not too. Over and over in his head he heard the same words. It's not fair. It's not fair. Why do I have to be the hero, why can't I be happy? Why do I have to sacrifice everything? He'd tried to find answers at a graveside inhabited by only a memory of his father. If he told Sam, if he asked Sam, would he get the answers he so desperately needed to hear? Or would the fact that it was the right thing to do still echo across the room mirroring his own belief, his fathers ingrained lesson. Would telling Sam about Jess just hurt his brother more? Would reminding him of a life he could never have just push the knife in deeper?

He paused as a familiar face stared back up at him from the pages of the magazine. A beautiful face against the back drop of a serene beach lit by clear skies and the promise of infinite happiness.

Go someplace better.

Where was that?

Suddenly his love of the beer seemed to evaporate. He just wished the ache in his heart would do the same.

"Ok, thank you so much for the update, ok, thank you, bye."

Sam closed his phone and turned to his brother. Watched the emotions play across his face and prayed that Dean didn't shut down and shut him out. He needed to talk, he needed to assure his little brother that he was ok . Sam needed to be able to help. He'd felt useless, unable to reach into his brother's heart to repair the damage done.

"That was the hospital, the girl's been stabilised. Good chance she's gonna pull through."

Dean cleared his throat before he spoke. "That's good."

"Yeah." Said Sam, his head nodding and his eyes searching. "How about you? You alright?"

"Yeah I'm alright."

Sam's eyes fell to the floor, his heart sunk and he didn't know how to make Dean talk if he didn't want to, but then a gentle voice reached his ears and he looked up as his brother began to speak.

"You should of seen it Sam, our lives. You were such a wussy."

They spoke for an hour, Sam taking the lead role for once in the reassurance his brother so desperately needed. Whatever world they lived in, whichever Sam Dean had as a brother, he realised one constant, one unshakeable fact. They were brothers, ready to stand by each other whenever they needed each other. It wasn't easy, it wouldn't pass quickly but the pain would eventually recede. Yet they both knew that no matter what was said or what happened, the memories would forever remain.

Fin.

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