Sam shifted a little, folding his legs up to avoid kicking Baby's rear window with a steel-toed work boot. He sighed and adjusted his make-shift pillow.
He knew that Dean, resting in the front, didn't have quite his height and bulk- but lying in her was still a tight fit.
"Not quite as comfortable as when we were, like, twelve and sixteen, huh?" Sam asked.
There was a long enough silence that Sam thought maybe Dean had immediately dropped off to sleep. Not like that didn't happen on occasion since he liked to habitually run himself into the ground and survive off coffee and alcohol fumes.
Then Dean's voice floated from the front seats. "She feels like home to me, Sammy."
Sam shifted himself again on the leather upholstery until his hip settled into the slight indentation it had made there over the years.
"Yeah. She does." He said.