Home for Dean his mother's smile and hopping around inside of his father's car while he worked on it from the outside. It was dinners at the kitchen table, several cookies eaten beforehand leaving the plate half full. Mom's round belly and "You're going to be a big brother, Dean." Looking at his new brother sleeping in his crib like he was either an alien or a treasure from above, something he should be able to see. Christmas morning and cookie crumbs, Saturday morning cartoons. Tucked into bed at night. His bed.
Sam's home was dirty, musty hotel rooms; convenient stores and Uncle Bobby's. Rods of a pull-out sofa digging into his back. The world whipping by behind the window, traveling across America but never truly seeing any of it. The moments of hopelessness in his brother's eyes before he put on his brave face - the both of them would. Home was finally remembering the town's name only to move shortly after. Home is what was stolen whenever Dad left.
Home was above for Castiel. Where he turned from one of the youngest to one of the highest ranking. Fealty and piety. The murmurs, the songs about Father. The sanctimonious feeling of proving someone wrong or questioning his peers. The feeling of safety despite such provocative thoughts. A sense of purpose, of duty. Stars, planets, infinity.
How one perceives what a "home" is solidified in childhood and will always stay with a person. Cleanliness, a nurturing or less-than nurturing environment; rules, boundaries, security. The brothers never tasted this, the other loosing it. He never really "lost" it: he chose a different life, foolishly most angels would say, for the home of a different breed.
Tangled limbs whether the bed was just right or too small, warm breath on bare shoulders, fingers dancing against skin. The sleepy mutter of something raunchy; a sigh, a snicker. Sleep, actual sleep… or none at all. And Sam's hair in everybody's mouth. It wasn't ideal, but they knew it never would be. For all the good and bad they've done, there was simply no walking away from it all. These moments, just the three of them, appreciating, caring, adoring one another, to have them at all was like winning the lottery. They were lucky to be alive, all three of them at once. To have each other.
The scenery may change, the people come and go, but this was a constant. "I love you" would always mean that, a shared meal a small celebration. That cramped bed would always be cramped and the three men in it would never change. Home is a concept, a place you want to return to because there's no place that offers more comfort. Home is a bond shared between them, going wherever they do. The brothers finally found it, and the angel completed it.
