Home is Where You Are
Don't own 'em, just love 'em. Wished ta 'ell I'd worked for Kripke
They never had a "home" per-se but that never meant that they were homeless.
Since moving into the bunker as MoL legacies Dean had embraced the chance to have a place to call home and had tricked out his room with things that had special meaning to him. Weapons that had saved his life. Music he liked-real music, on vinyl not that tinny digital crap from some phone app. His favorite photo of their mom, the way he remembered her...would always remember her. And after years of sleeping on way too hard or way too soft motel beds he splurged on a memory foam mattress for the bed in his room that felt jusst right! His bed.
The closest thing he's had to his own bed was the guest bed that had seen better days at Bobby's. And as fond as he was of Bobby and that long standing arrangement the Winchester boys had of being able to use their old friends house as an emergency recoup center, it had never been exclusively his room or his bed.
So it hurt Dean more than a little that Sam hadn't thrown in with him on this windfall of having a well protected impenetrable fortress to call home. Hell, Bobby would have LOVED the place! Soooo...
"So what the hell Sam?" Dean thought as he closed and locked the door on the storage container their dad had at Castle Storage in upstate New York. "Maybe if you had a bit of your own personal history to decorate those empty shelves on your walls you'd see it as more of a home too." And Dean slipped the precious memento into the pocket of his coat.
Dean presented Sam with his trophy right after dinner the night he got back home.
Sam looked at the old school trophy and turned it over to read the inscription again.
The younger Winchester started to say, "I..."
But Dean interrupted with, " You know that place I got my memory foam mattress, I know for a fact they sell gigantor size beds...Wattaya say? Want to see if one fits in your room? You know, if you think you can sleep better without your feet hanging off the end."
"Shut up..." Sam said and shook his head with a small smile looking back down at the trophy he was holding with both hands, the corners of his mouth twitched holding back a laugh.
Then the smile faded and he looked at Dean and said, "I appreciate you took the time to go up there and get this, Thanks...but..."
Dean cut him off, his frustration to make Sam see the value of what they had making him change his voice to a serious tone, "I know you don't feel like this is a real home to you and that's why you haven't even really unpacked all your things, or put anything personal of yours in your room."
Sam sighed and looked away. His silent protest to the bunker as a home having been duly noted by both Dean and Charlie during movie night Sam had hosted in his spartan quarters.
Dean stepped closer and said, "I get that. There's no white picket fence around this place, there's no "other life" besides the hunting that we've done for years. But it feels like home to me." The older brother smirked and swept his arms wide, "It's like a bigger version of the Impala, man, just as cool with more stuff to fight evil with and real beds!"
Sam kept his head down but smiled a little.
Dean took a step back and ducked his head to blink the welling up out of his eyes. "But mostly it's because you're here Sammy."
And the break in Dean's voice made Sam snap his head up.
Dean reached out and squeezed his brothers shoulder. "Promise me you'll give this place a shot? You don't like it here and... we can always hit the road... again..."
Sam shook his head and sighed, "Dean..."
Dean couldn't hide the glistening in his eyes but with an unwavering stare matched Sam's as he told him, "Coz anyplace you are is home to me."