No place like home

Sorry, cliché title, I know. Ah well. Kind of a tag to 9.04 Slumber Party, I guess?


Maybe it's something to do with barely having had a proper home before, but Sam doesn't want to decorate his room. Because he knows how that ends.

Maybe it's something to do with barely knowing anything different to motel rooms, but Sam doesn't want to unpack his duffel. Because he knows how that ends too.

And he doesn't want to put up pictures or put books on a bookshelf or make the room – his room, Dean says – seem like 'home'. Because he knows how that ends.

It's easier to think of the place as "where we work" because maybe he won't miss it as much when it all goes up in flames. Or maybe – just maybe – if he doesn't label it as "home" in his head, fate won't take it away from him. Again.

Because he has had a home, he's had homes before now and he can't remember the first but he remembers the second and it's been eight years but it hurts. And Dean- Dean can't understand because he's had a Lisa but he's never had a Jess.

He knows he's an idiot for holding on to these small superstitions, because really, they are little more than that, but he's lost so much and he really doesn't think he can stand losing a home again. Not this one.

And in all honestly, is it the building or the people that make it a home? Sam knows he would pick the latter, so it follows that Dean's the one who would be sacrificed if this home were to be destroyed.

So no, he refuses to let himself think of this building as a home. It's not it's not it's not, and it will never be, if he has anything to do about it.

Because he knows the ending and it's never happily ever after.