A/N: Yeah I have like 3 fics that need writing. Instead I wrote this. Hope you enjoy. Please read and review.

Disclaimer: If Supernatural was mine then hope would be alive.

When Sam was growing up he also wanted a home. He wanted a home really badly. It took him a few years to realise that a 'home' wasn't some scummy motel room with mysterious stains and a bed he had to share with his brother. According to the other kids a home was a place where your mom made cookies and asked you how your day was. At first, Sam had thought that maybe you needed to have a mom to have a home. And he didn't have one of those.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, Sammy?"

"Why don't we have a mommy?"

"We do have a mom."

"Where is she?"

"Not here."

"Then where?

"She's dead. OK? Now go away!"

When Sam was a little older he met other kids that didn't have a mom but they still had a home. At least they said they did. What they definitely had was a house. A whole house. The kitchen and sitting area were separate rooms and there were two whole floors. So Sam thought you needed to have a house to have a home.

"Dean?"

"What, Sammy?"

"Why don't we have a house, Dean?"

"Because we can't stay in one place long because of Dad's job."

"Why does that mean we have to move so much?"

"Because he's a sale-man"

Later on, he was friends with some guys who lived in a one bedroom apartment. Yet, they still called it home. Sam guessed a home was somewhere you lived permanently. Somewhere you could call your own. Somewhere you didn't have to pack up and leave every few weeks to start over.

"Hey, Dean?"

"What's up?"

"Why do we move so much?"

"You know why, Sammy. We go where the hunt takes us.

"It's Sam."

In high school, Sam finally though he's figured it out. A home was where you felt safe. And he never felt safe. He went looking for things that most definitely wanted to end him. How was that safe?

"Dean?"

"What?"

"Why do we have to hunt?"

"To avenge mom. To save people. Because nobody else is going to."

Sam thought he'd finally got a home when he went to Stanford. But it didn't feel right. Something was missing. The dorm was, just, just a room. Like the many motel rooms, he had frequented. His roommate seemed to think that a home needed to have someone you loved living in it too.

"Zach, man?

"Yeah, Sam?

"What- what would you say a home was?"

"Jeez, Sam. I don't know. Somewhere people you love live. I guess."

However, when Sam moved in with Jess it still didn't feel like what he thought a home should. When Jess wasn't there it was just an apartment. It wasn't that he didn't love Jess. It just wasn't a home. Maybe there was something wrong with him.

"Jess?"

"What's wrong, baby?"

"Do you think this is your home?"

"Of course."

A year later he slid into the passenger seat of the impala and it just felt natural. Like he was seeing the sun after a long time in the dark. Like feeling warmth after being cold. Could it be, that after all these years of wanting a home, the impala was his? But the feeling didn't go away when they left the car. When they checked in to a motel. Sam finally, finally figured it out. And he'd had it all along

"Dean?"

"Yeah, Sammy?"

"Sam."

"Whatever."

"It's good to see you."

"You too, Sammy."

Home was where family was.