It seemed like a strange thing for Sam to like, considering his job. You'd think he'd be tired of them, or at least a little leery, but no. Sam liked cemeteries.
He liked the quiet. Lord knows he loved his brother, more than anything, but Dean was just so loud. Loud talk, loud music, loud car. It was overwhelming sometimes, so much noise coming from one person, and the only person Sam spent his days with to boot, so it was nice- necessary, even- to get away from that sometimes.
Cemeteries were the perfect place. Quiet, like he needed, with the fresh smell of grass and trees a welcome break from the inevitable stuffiness of a motel room.
They were solitary and peaceful, so unlike the rest of his life.
There were always moments, though. Moments when he was feeling weak and miserable that he wanted nothing more than to lay down and let the graves swallow him up. Let them pull him under to lay beside Jess and Mom and just finally rest.
Until that heavy weight of his phone in his pocket would pull him back. The rhythmic buzzing of Dean, Where the hell are you, man? You can't just disappear on me in the middle of the night, reminding him that he can't rest, not yet.
They still have work to do.