Summary: The loneliest part of Dean's day is the night, and it makes him reflect on what makes home, home.
Disclaimer: Sadly I do not own any part of supernatural.
A/N: I have not slept and its five in the morning, this came to me because of the things that fly though my mind on nights like this. But as I said i have not slept so forgive me if it's a bit off.
Warnings: None
Home
For Dean Winchester the loneliest part of his day is night.
Not just any night, but nights like this one where they have finished a hunt and he's so tired that he can't sleep. And his mind flies to a million different things, but always settle on one thing. What home is.
At night there isn't anything to distract you form your worries, from your emotions.
There's little to no sound in the crumby hotel room, one his particular night. The only sounds to be heard to be heard were Sam's breathing and the occasional sound of a car going past.
It's times like this that his mind wanders to better times and he's left with a bittersweet feeling.
Dean sighed, rolling onto his side facing Sam.
The clock on the side table read 3:47 am, Dean sighed again peering through the darkness at his brother.
Sam was lying on his stomach, one leg kicked up, a look of peace that rarely crossed his face these days. Sam was stilll have nightmares of jessica's death again.
It reminded him of when they were kids, the times when their dad was of hunting the things that go bump in the night. Back when Sam was blissfully unaware that there might be some truth to the monster under his bed.
It reminded him of the times Sam would crawl into bed with him looking for comfort.
And it's night like this that Dean would lie awake thinking about the comfort that he can no longer get because it's not exactly normal for a twenty-six year old man to want to cuddle with his brother.
Not that Dean would ever admit to wanting to cuddle.
No, because Dean is a man. And men don't want to cuddle, and especialy not with their brothers.
Men don't care that the feel of Sam is the feel of home.
That the smell of Sam is the smell that pops to mind when he thinks of home.
Beause Sam is the only thing thats always been a constant.
Even his dad couldn't be considered home because he was never there.
When Dean thinks of home he thinks of arguments about how AC/DC was no longer considered "good music" and how he really needed to update his casset collection. Home is kicking supernatural ass and patching each other back up after a particularly rough hunt. It's watching each other backs and ending a fight with a play "bitch", or "Jerk"
So maybe he doesn't get to curl up with Sam like they did when they were kids and drift into a peaceful sleep, but as long as he had Sam he wasn't as alone as these nights lead him to believe, because as long as he has Sam he has home.
