6. The Deep End

I Wish I Was Your Brother

A/N: Thanks, as always to the World's Best Beta, Ericka Jane.

This is for all of you who have been reading, reviewing, alerting and recommending this series. The feedback and encouragement means more than I can express and it always inspires me to continue.

-Six-

The Deep End

In my dreams I'm married to Dean Winchester and his little brother Sam is our beautiful, beloved son.

I met them when I had run from my shattered life and found a small apartment right beside theirs. It wasn't much, just a room in a slightly shabby but completely comfortable old building, in a sleepy backwoods town.

I would see them coming and going, Dean to work and Sam to school, and I don't think I'd ever seen two people more at ease with each other. They were always talking, laughing, or teasing, but even when they were silent they still seemed to be communicating.

Instantly attracted to this fraternal chemistry, I quickly introduced myself as their new neighbour and gave them an open invitation to drop by. At first they seemed to be keeping their distance, but I wore them down quickly with little neighbourly gestures like a cup of coffee here, and a tuna casserole there.

Eventually we started to have conversations and I think they both concluded that Hayley next door was O.K. The more I spoke to them, the more I put the pieces of the Winchester puzzle together. Dean had just turned nineteen - although he came across as much older - and he was responsible for his 14 year old brother. I found it fascinating to see Dean move seamlessly from parent to big brother to best friend as he interacted with Sam.

In contrast to his brash, outgoing big brother, Sam was sensitive and initially came across as shy. But once you passed his personal tests – and I got the feeling there were many of those on several levels –, he was charming, engaging, and a lot of fun to be around.

Strangely, although I liked them both as individuals, I absolutely loved them together. I was drawn to their easy familiarity and the way that practically everything about them telegraphed the wonders of a close bond between family. And nowhere was that bond more evident than in their conversations.

Sam in particular loved to talk. Since my bedroom bordered his, and neither he nor his brother was particularly soft spoken, I heard almost everything they said through the paper-thin walls. Sometimes I'd lay in bed for hours just listening to them talk to one another. And as I listened, I gradually got to know them.

Dean was cheeky and facetious but Sam was a by-the-book kinda guy. That became clear to me when they spoke about the brownies.

"These brownies are excellent," Dean said sounding like his mouth was full. "I think you should go out with – what did you say her name was again?"

"Marcie," Sam supplied without much enthusiasm.

"I think you should take Marcie out and see what else she can bake."

"I don't care how well she bakes Dean, she's not my type."

"Why?"

"Because it's like she's on this mission to go through every guy in the entire class."

"You're kidding?" Dean didn't sound like he necessarily thought that was a bad thing.

"No. Apparently it's my turn this week, hence the brownies. I only took them because I figured you'd like them but when it came to her other 'offerings,' it was thanks but no thanks."

"OK, Mr. Pure-As-Snow, you don't have to actually date her, but can't you at least string her along a little and get some more brownies?"

"Dean, I suggest you savour this batch."

Sometimes they'd fight. Like the night Dean came in just before dawn and Sam blew a gasket. No one was more than surprised than me when I jolted awake just after 5AM to hear the normally composed Sam Winchester yelling.

"Where the hell have you been Dean? I've been worried sick."

"Sorry, I kinda got caught up," Dean sounded so guilty that it didn't take a genius to figure out what had caught him.

"Couldn't you at least have called?" Sam wasn't letting up.

"Sorry, I was pretty busy," Dean sounded sheepish.

"Whoever she was she could have waited five damn minutes while you called to tell me you weren't coming home."

"Come on Sammy we were..."

"Look, I'm not trying to cramp your style, but if you're going to be out half the night with god knows who, then at least call so I'm not up worrying while you're off having a good time."

Was he jealous? I wondered. Did it upset him that his brother found someone else's company as compelling as his?

"You do realise," Dean said philosophically. "That I should have you on a curfew and not the other way around, right?"

"Dean!" Sam sounded like he was trying to make an effort to keep the annoyance in his voice but his brother was wearing him down.

"Tell you what," Dean seemed to be turning on the charm. "I'll make it up to you. We can spend the whole day at the library on Saturday, and then after that we can go to the book store. Whatever you want to do, geek-boy."

"Shut up you jerk," Sam's parting shot was punctuated with what sounded like a pillow connecting with Dean's head.

I loved the fights and always welcomed them since the boys generally tended to blow off stream pretty quickly, and didn't stay mad at each other too long. I also liked to hear all the different ways Sam would say his brother's name.

Sometimes it was "Dean!" clipped and stern when he was annoyed.

Other times he yelled, "DEAN!" sounding serious and demanding when he was outraged or angry.

There was also the exasperated and quizzical "Dean?"when his brother left him confused or exasperated.

Then there was the soft affectionate, "Dean," reflecting boundless trust and complete security.

But the absolute best talks were the ones they had whenever Sam had a bad dream. Sadly, Sam was afflicted by awful night terrors that often had him waking up gasping for breath or bursting into tears.

"Another nightmare?" Dean asked one night when Sam screamed himself awake, coughing and gasping.

"Yeah," Sam choked, trying to catch his breath.

"What was it about this time?" Dean asked, his voice was gentle with concern.

"I can't remember."

"Don't lie to me, Sammy. Was it about Mom?"

"No."

"Was it about the fire?"

"As usual."

"Who this time?"

There was a brief hesitation before Sam said, "You." He sounded so scared and sad. "It seemed so real Dean. God, it seemed so real."

The next sound was muffled sobbing quickly followed by Dean's voice, soft and soothing: "It's OK Sammy, I'm right here. You're not going to get rid of me that easy."

Next came soothing, hushing words until the sobbing stopped.

Then Dean said, "Lie down Sammy, see if you can go back to sleep."

I heard a long tired yawn, followed by an even more tired "Stay, please."

"Not going anywhere," Dean sounded like he was getting pretty sleepy himself.

"S'always better when you're here," Sam said and I'm pretty sure he was asleep before the words were out of his mouth.

"Always will be." No doubt, Dean joined him in dreamland in short order.

For months I listened, falling in love with both of them and wanting to be with each of them in entirely different ways. Soon, I started to imagine myself encased in that cocoon of closeness they shared.

All I ever wanted was a husband and a family. That's why I had gotten married just a few years after high school, but it had been such a bitterly disappointing experience. My husband, Roger, communicated most fluently with his fists. But each time he hurt me he would tearfully beg me to forgive him, and foolishly, I would. It wasn't until a particularly severe beating which caused me to lose our unborn child, that I realised he couldn't help himself, and the agony would never stop.

That's when I left and although Roger called often weeping and begging for yet another chance, I held my ground, refusing to go back.

And living beside the Winchesters, I started to dream about love and family again. I spent long hours contemplating the situation and it became clear that it was no co-incidence that I had moved in beside them.

Sam was still young in so many ways and he badly needed a mother's care and affection. And Dean may have thought it was cool to be busy sowing his wild oats, but what he really needed was a faithful, loving relationship with the right woman. Dean needed a wife, Sam needed a mother, and I needed a family. Obviously, it was ordained that our three lives become entwined.

And my resolve to bring us all together became even stronger after Sam got sick. I knew something was wrong when Dean came to my door with a very worried look on his face, asking if I had anything for a fever. It turned out Sam had a bad flu and Dean was worried sick because he had to go off to work. I could tell instantly that Dean was completely torn about leaving his little brother when he wasn't well, so I quickly volunteered to keep an eye on Sam, and insisted that Dean go to work.

"Don't worry about it," I reassured, shutting Dean up when he started to protest. "I'll come right over and stay so I'll be there if he needs anything."

"It's not just that," I could tell Dean wasn't totally comfortable with the idea. "I'm the only one he'll really let take care of him when he's feeling this bad. He gets kinda clingy."

"Trust me, I can handle a sick teenager," I said relishing the idea of a weak and feeble Sam needing me to comfort him.

I was sorely disappointed.

Just as I'd figure, Sam was absolutely adorable sick. He looked so helpless and vulnerable that it was all I could do to keep myself from taking him in my arms, and rocking him gently until he fell asleep. As he lay in bed with his damp bangs covering his closed eyes and obscuring his flushed face; it took everything out of me not to lean over, kiss his cheek and gently move the hair away.

But as bad as he was obviously feeling, he was still so polite and careful not to put me out of my way. I checked up on him, literally every hour and even if he was awake when I peaked in he didn't ask for anything unless I offered. So instead of really being with Sam, I ended up spending most of my time just sitting in the Winchester's living room reading.

To make matters worse, when Dean returned Sam abandoned all composure and clung to his brother like a needy child. In full Daddy mode, Dean got him to sit up and take his medicine and drink some juice. And then Sam seemed to liquefy in his brother's arms. He leaned his head against Dean's chest mumbling about how awful he felt. Without a second of hesitation, Dean coddled and babied him until the complaining stopped.

Couldn't Sam even have paid me the courtesy of collapsing in my arms so I could have held and soothed him? Was his big brother the only one he'd let love him through his illness and pain?

Watching them from just outside the room, I gripped the door handle to anchor myself. I knew if I let go I'd walk over and beg to be included in the circle of affection. But the circle had closed, leaving me beyond its boundary.

Eventually I stepped away from the door, not wanting them to catch me watching. Several minutes later Dean came out of the room and immediately went to the kitchen saying Sam wanted soup.

"I can make it," I volunteered hoping that would earn me a little more time with them.

"Thanks," Dean said appreciatively. "But it's tomato rice soup. He'll only eat it if I make it. It's a special recipe."

"Well, I'll leave you two alone then." I tried to sound casual but I knew they had no further use for me. Once again, big brother was the only one who could meet Sam's needs. "Tell Sam I hope he feels better."

"Hayley, thank you so much for watching him for me," Dean said and I could tell his gratitude was heartfelt.

"That's what neighbours are for, Dean." I said and left graciously.

But back in my own apartment I was forced to admit to myself that I didn't want to be a damn neighbour, I wanted to be more. There was no doubt that Dean was an incredible father to Sam but I also had something to offer to both of them, if only they could see it. I should have been there even now helping to nurse Sam back to health. With both Dean and I at his side, I'm sure he would get better faster. And what's more, I should have been there for Dean, ensuring that while he was busy being the caregiver, he too got looked after.

I thought long and hard about how much those two needed me and decided I just had to systematically ingratiate myself into their lives. I called everyday for almost a week to find out how Sam's recovery was progressing and then on the first Sunday after his illness, I paid them a late afternoon visit. I went armed with a thermos filled with hot coffee and a store bought apple pie, which I heated in the microwave and claimed was freshly baked.

When I dropped in Dean was heading out, but Sam was sitting at their small dining table with a pile of text books and a scattering of notepaper.

"I brought pie and coffee," I said trying to entice Dean to stay.

"Oh, you're such a sweetheart," he said pulling on his jacket. "I gotta go though, leave mine on the counter." Just before he sailed out he called back to Sam, "It's your turn to make dinner, surprise me."

Sam and I ended up having coffee and pie and then I listened while he read the history essay he had been working on. That led to a fascinating discussion about his favourite academic subjects and I sat there thinking how nice it would be if we spent every Sunday afternoon like this.

Looking to extend my visit, I asked him what he was planning to cook for Dean.

"The usual," he shrugged in a non-committal, fourteen-year-old way. "I'll just open a jar of sauce and do some spaghetti."

"Just like that?" I asked horrified. "That's not special. And your brother took such good care of you while you were sick. Let's make him a nice meal."

I went to back to my apartment for ingredients and supplies and taught Sam how to make spaghetti bolognaise from scratch. He was a quick study and we kept up an easy, pleasant conversation while we worked.

I deliberately dragged out the cooking because I just loved doing something fun with Sam. But, I also wanted Dan to come back and find us in the kitchen. I wanted to experience the thrill of having my husband walk in and see his wife and son cooking a special meal for him.

When Dean did appear, just as I was taking a final taste of the sauce, I felt like someone had handed me the keys to the kingdom of heaven. My heartbeat quickened and I could feel the heat rising in my face. A blew out hard trying not to be too overwhelmed by the powerful sense of elation that flooded my body.

Dean sniffed the air appreciatively, inhaling the fragrant aroma of Italian seasonings floating through the small apartment.

"Either Sammy learned to do something more than heat up sauce in the microwave or I have a new guardian angel," he said smiling at me.

Undone by his captivating smile, I struggled to catch my breath and barely managed to keep my voice steady as I said, "Spaghetti bolognaise, my mother's recipe."

"And," Sam chimed in mischievously. "She taught me how to make it, so you better be nice to me or you're back to microwave pasta sauce next time."

"Is that a threat?" Dean advanced on his brother, playfully shoving his shoulder.

"Yeah," Sam rejoined, shoving him right back. "And my pasta beats your mystery concoctions any day."

"Ungrateful brat," Dean grabbed Sam in a chokehold but rubbed his hair affectionately instead of strangling him. Sam laughed loudly and tried to elbow his way out of his brother's grasp.

They continued to tease each other effectively deflating my fantasy. The familiarity, the banter, the compelling sense of closeness, was still just between the two of them. In spite of my efforts, I was still outside that warm ring of affection.

I was invited to stay for dinner and after spending that evening with them, I knew that being on the fringes, watching the Winchesters was never going to be enough. Listening through the wall and wishing would no longer satisfy my needs. I wanted to be enveloped in that strong web of love. I had to be a part of that extraordinary bond they shared.

For several days I contemplated how to move things to another level. Eventually, I fell back on the world's oldest female strategy. The way to a man's heart wasn't really through his stomach and late one night, I knocked on Dean's door, determined to take the more direct route.

I wore a silky black dress not much more substantial than a nightgown and held two bottles of beer in my hand.

"In the mood for a drink?" I asked holding up the beer and smiling sweetly when a yawning Dean opened the door.

"Hayley," he rubbed his head tiredly and looked at his watch. "It's almost midnight."

"Yes," I tried to make my voice sound sultry. "But I feel like having a 'nightcap,' and I wondered if you'd like to join me."

Dean sized up the scene and appeared to shake off his drowsiness.

"Hey," he raised his hands as if to apprehend me. "This looks like you've got more than a drink in mind."

Buoyed that he was the one to cut to the chase, I stepped into the apartment, quickly rested the beer bottles on the nearby kitchen counter and then moved towards him.

"Well," I whispered in the seductive tones I heard women use on television. "Since we're both grownups, they're plenty things we can do at midnight."

I ran my fingers up the side of his neck, and then gently held his chin so I could bring my lips to his. Instinctively, he responded to the kiss but quickly pulled away.

"I don't fool around with married women, Hayley," he said stepping back from me.

"Well as far as I'm concerned I'm not one," I moved towards him, put both hands behind his neck and pulled his lips to mine again.

This time, it took less than a second for him yank his head away. Then he reached for my left hand and held it up in front of my face. "Then maybe you should stop wearing that."

I looked at the cheap gold overlay wedding band in disgust. At one time it had been the symbol of hope and promise. So much so that even when I fled, I couldn't bring myself to take it off. Now, it was hindering my progress as I pursued the destiny that awaited.

"Fine," I yanked the ring off and tossed it carelessly across the room. "Now, where were we?"

"I think you were leaving."

He walked to the still open door, giving me my cue to exit.

"Dean, I've been separated for months. My marriage is over."

"Then get a divorce."

"Give me a good reason to," I said slowly pulling down the flimsy left strap of my dress and tossing my hair in what I'm sure was an alluring way.

"Am I interrupting something?"

I spun around to see Sam coming into the living room, fixing me with a questioning look.

"Nothing at all," Dean said firmly. "Hayley was just leaving."

"Sam," I cringed inwardly, quickly trying to adjust my dress strap. "Dean and I were just..."

Sam folded his arms and hardened his eyes. "Goodbye, Hayley."

They may have been ten feet apart but the Winchesters were standing together and they wanted me out of their space. I turned and hurried back to my apartment leaving the beer and the failed seduction in my wake.

Safe in my own home I went straight to my room, flung myself face down the bed and pounded the lumpy mattress with my fists. But the tantrum was short lived as my attention was quickly diverted by the Winchesters who came into Sam's room to have a full review of the incident.

"That wasn't what it looked like, Sammy," Dean was trying to explain.

"I know," Sam said calmly. "I could hear your protests from in here so I came to rescue you."

That had Dean snickering, much to my complete mortification.

"Take my advice little brother; never get involved with a married woman."

"Speaking from experience?" Now Sam was giggling as well.

"No. The one thing no one can ever accuse Dean Winchester of is messing with anything that belongs to someone else."

"So what are you trying to say that even you have your standards?"

"Shut up," I could hear the smile in Dean's voice but he quickly got serious. "I mean it though, Sammy. No matter if they say they're married in name only or their husbands don't understand them, if they really feel that badly about it, they can get a divorce."

"I don't really have to worry about that at my age. But I hear you," Sam assured.

Dean exhaled loudly.

"Man," he breathed. "That so came out of left field. What the hell was Hayley thinking?"

"Dude, I can't believe she took you completely by surprise. Have you seen the way she's been looking at you lately? It's like she wants to jump your bones. She's getting a little creepy if you ask me."

"No, Sam, what's creepy is the way she's been looking at you."

"Me?"

"Yeah," Dean said it as if it was the most obvious thing. "It's like if she had her way you'd be wearing diapers and she's be feeding you from a nipple bottle."

"Oh god, Dean. That image is gonna give me nightmares, man."

"You better quit with those bangs and those sad puppy eyes, because all you're getting are the old girls wanting to mother you."

"And I'm still doing better than you, Don Juan."

"Shut up."

I stormed out of my room, not wanting to hear anymore. It was bad enough to be left out but I couldn't stomach being the butt of their jokes. I couldn't get past Dean's disdain for married women. That was obviously what was coming between me and him and I decided, quickly, to remedy that situation.

Early the next morning I called Roger and said I had to see him. He willingly accepted the invitation to come to my new home so we could talk. The whole day, I was buzzing with excitement knowing that in a matter hours my marriage would be over, and then Dean, Sammy, and I could finally be together.

I dressed very carefully for the occasion selecting an almost sheer white cotton and lace dress that was reminiscent of a bride at a low budget, but sincere, wedding. When I opened the door for Roger he immediately assumed reconciliation was what I had in mind, and he advanced greedily. I managed to hold him off with an offer of whiskey and predictably, given the choice between alcohol and me, his beloved liquor won the day.

I poured him several glasses of his one true love, secretly adding a generous helping of night time cough syrup to each serving. It didn't take long for my potion to have the desired effect and soon he was feeling drowsy so I lovingly suggested he lie down on the couch. Once he was down for the count I went to kitchen, selected the appropriate implement and quickly did the deed.

Freedom was heady. So much so that I forgot to dispose of my weapon before I ran next door to Dean to tell him that the way was clear for us to be together.

"It's over, baby," I said tears of joy filling my eyes. "I'm finally free."

Dean looked me up and down, and his expression seemed to move from confusion to horror.

"Is that blood on your dress," he looked and sounded more appalled than pleased. "Hayley, what the hell have you done?"

"He's gone," I was so happy, I could hardly get the words out. "Now you, me, and Sammy can finally be a family."

A blood curdling scream rudely interrupted our romantic interlude. I turned around to see Roger at the Winchester's door, on his knees, clutching his stomach. He was injured, bloodied but stubbornly alive.

"Help," he gasped desperately. "Please."

"Damn it!" Dean swore and ran to grab a wash cloth out of the kitchen before rushing over to Roger. "What the hell happened?"

"Crazy witch tried to kill me," Roger puffed and panted sounding like he was at death's door.

As always, he was ruining everything. First he had the damn nerve to survive and now he had taken Dean's attention away from me, ruining the consummation of my declaration of love.

"Bastard," I screamed adjusting my grip on the knife. I raised the blade and lunged towards Roger determined to do a more efficient job this time. Dean dropped the towel and quickly grabbed my arms effectively preventing the knife from reaching its intended target.

Then two hands grab my waist and someone's foot connected hard with the back of my legs, trying to knock me off balance. Momentarily distracted from my struggle with Dean, I turned my head to see Sam behind me, holding me in complicated embrace.

At last I was between the Winchesters and not on the outside looking in. Finally, the both of them had their arms wrapped around me and I would no longer have to wish and want and imagine.

Savouring the moment, I closed my eyes and sighed. Dean managed to wrench the knife from me and tossed it across the room while Sammy wrestled my hands behind me to restrain my movement.

In the distance I could hear sirens and realised that spiteful ogre I had married must have called for help instead of staying on the floor, and dying like he was supposed to. Soon there was blaring noise and confusion as police officers entered the apartment with guns drawn.

To my eternal disappointment, Roger was bundled out of the house and I managed to hear something about an ambulance and paramedics. Sammy was still holding me when two police officers accosted me demanding to know my name, and loudly asking all kinds of questions.

Sammy released me and I immediately faced him, gently bringing my hands to his face. At last I was able to run my fingers through his wonderful hair and push the unruly bangs out of his eyes.

"Sweetheart," I pleaded. "Tell these men who I am."

"Don't touch him," Dean pulled me from Sammy, and when I turned on Dean I saw the fire in his eyes.

Daddy was clearly jealous that our son was getting all the attention. I had some making up to do to keep the peace in my home.

"Darling," this time I reached for Dean, only to find Sam stepping protectively between us; his expression wavering between pity and disgust.

"What exactly is going on here?" One of the officers was asking.

"That man attacked me," I shrilled pointing to where Roger had lain on the floor. "I had to defend myself or he would have hurt me, my husband, and my son. Dean," I begged in exasperation. "Please just tell them the truth."

Instinctively, Dean reached out and ushered Sam to his side and out of my reach. Then, he addressed the policemen.

"Officers," he said stoically. "I'm Dean Winchester and this is my little brother Sam. This woman is Hayley Miller, our neighbour."

"She's not your wife?" the policeman sounded confused.

"No sir," Dean shook his head.

"Dean?" I screamed bursting into tears at his denial. "That's a lie and you know it."

"Is she your mother?" the other police officer asked Sam.

"No," Sam said emphatically.

"Sam!" I screamed, weeping in devastation. "Sam, honey, please tell them the truth."

Dean stepped up again. "Officers, the truth is, she's our neighbour. And honestly? I think she's gone off the deep end."

THE END

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