He's not sure when it all became so habitual, when signing started coming so naturally to him that he asked hotel desk keeper for a single king without even opening his mouth. Of course, the man doesn't have these same habits, so he just stares at Sam with a mix of confusion and sympathy until Dean pipes up. He easily claps a hand over Sam's shoulder and makes the same request in an almost normal voice. Sam's not exactly sure when that voice started sounding so confident again either, but it almost takes away the pink tinge creeping into his cheeks at his screw up. In the end, Dean's soft, "C'mon, Sammy," is all it takes for the pink to fade away completely and for Sam to settle back into the present enough to follow after his brother.
The room is small, but clean enough and just the right distance from their nearest hunt. That's good enough for Sam. He won't say anything about the lone bed and neither will Dean, but that's become a habit somewhere along the way too. One Sam can't complain about either. If Dean needs Sam to reassure the only sense he has left when he closes his eyes, Sam knows how to be there for him and shut up about it.
"So what did Edwards say?" Dean's voice has slipped back into his hands by now, and Sam can't help but feel a bit disappointed at the loss.
"Not much, you find anything upstairs?"
"Dude, they have a Jacuzzi for a tub."
"I thought you were snooping, not actually using their bathroom."
"I had to take a leak."
"So what you're trying to say is you've got nothing?"
"No, I'm telling you they have a Jacuzzi for a tub."
"So? Since when are Jacuzzis an explanation for a mysterious death?"
"Have you seen the rest of the house?"
"You think they stirred up a spirit by remodeling?"
"Yahtzee."
"So now we just have to figure out who."
"No, now you just have to figure out who, I'm gonna watch Harrison Ford kick some Nazi ass."
"I thought you said subtitles were boring?"
"I know what Harrison Ford sounds like."
Sam just shakes his head and lets it go at that. If watching old Indiana Jones movies is what makes Dean happy, well that's a habit Sam is more than happy to support. So, Sam just settles next to him on the bed and opens his laptop, trying to find the cranky spirit that resides in 204 Willow Street.
Finding out that the ghost is just a scared little kid doesn't change the fact that Sam and Dean have to spend the night in the graveyard shoveling through packed earth. It doesn't change the fact that Sam spends all of Dean's digging shift terrified he won't be able to warn his brother if the spirit decides to make an appearance. It doesn't change the fact that no amount of badgering or puppy-dog eyes will ever get Dean to relinquish his shift. And it most certainly doesn't change how close that makes Sam stand to the shallow grave where his brother digs.
When the ghost does show up, it's far too later for her to really do much. Dean fills her with rock salt, Sam burns her bones, and she lights up. End of story. Another Salt and Burn behind them just like the hundreds they'd finished in the past. Somewhere along the line, a job that would terrify most has become just another habit they've fallen into.
Other hunters, well, they don't exactly get it. They've never really understood Winchesters or their habits, but they'd had a begrudging sort of respect for them. Say what you want about their methods, but they had saved the world a couple times over and that had to be worth at least a smidge of respect. Somehow though, Dean Winchester's abilities as a hunter were reduced to his hearing as soon as it was gone. It didn't matter that he was still just as physical fit and mentally sharp as he had been when he saved the world, he was deaf and there was no room for a deaf man in the hunting community. So when they get back to the hotel they're staying at and catch the first whiff of a new hunt across the country, they know they're in for a long drive in the morning.
"Boston, really? In the middle of winter? Man, I just took off Baby's snow tires." Sam can't help but be a little impressed with how whiny Dean has managed to get his hands to sound.
"Great, why don't you tell the ghost ship it's haunting the wrong ocean?"
"I'd give it a call, but I don't think it'd hear my middle finger very well." Sam smirks and rolls his eyes before disappearing into the bathroom. Later, Dean will probably complain about how Sam stole his shower and question him about what good there is to being an older brother if you don't get shower privileges, but Sam's dirty, tired, and willing to deal with later when it comes. For now, he's thinking about making shower stealing a new habit of his.
They say that old habits die hard. And maybe there's some truth there. Maybe they've picked up some habits that they'll never be able to shake. Maybe they'll never be able to stop hunting. Maybe they'll never find any more personal space than a rundown hotel room and a classic Chevy Impala can provide. However that can't be the whole truth. They've broken enough old habits already to know that. So maybe it's just the really good ones that can't be changed. Like how even after the world took away Dean's hearing, it couldn't stop their bantering habit. How no matter how hard the world tugs on them, tearing them apart, they always have this habit of finding their way back to one another. So yeah, maybe some of their old habits will never die, but when he settles in next to his brother for the night, Sam can't help but be a little grateful for some of those old habits.
"Goodnight, Sammy."
"Goodnight, Dean."