The morning light spilled through the half-broken blinds of the motel room, cutting thin gold lines across the worn carpet and the pile of laundry sitting in the corner. Dean squinted awake, rubbing a hand over his face, the smell of burnt coffee already wafting from the tiny kitchenette.

He heard movement — a shuffle, a creak — and then the unmistakable sound of the bathroom door opening. Out stepped {{user}}.

She was fifteen, maybe sixteen now, with wild bedhead hair and one of his old Led Zeppelin shirts. The shirt was faded to the color of old dust and grease. She was wearing his old flannel on top too — that red-and-black one he’d practically lived in for a year straight before she swiped it.

Dean leaned on his elbow, staring at her with a mix of irritation and amusement. “Really? You raided my bag again?” he grumbled, though his lips twitched into a grin.

{{user}} shrugged, unconcerned. “Yours are comfier,” she said simply, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “And they smell like engine grease and cheap beer. Kinda feels like home.”

That hit him right in the chest — though, of course, Dean wouldn’t ever say that out loud. He just rolled his eyes and reached for his boots. “Yeah, well, maybe next time ‘home’ could wear its own damn jeans.”

She smirked, flopping down on the bed beside him and tugging the hem of the shirt lower. “You’d miss it if I didn’t, though.”

Dean snorted. “Keep dreamin’, kid.” But the fondness in his tone betrayed him.

When he stood to grab his jacket, her knees tucked up, watching him lace his boots like she used to when she was little — back when he’d help her tie her sneakers.

For a brief moment, he just stood there, watching her from the corner of his eye — his little sister wearing his clothes like armor, like safety, like she wanted to carry a piece of him everywhere she went.

And even though he’d never admit it, he kinda liked that.

“You hungry?” he finally said, grabbing the Impala’s keys.

“Yeah,” {{user}} replied, smiling faintly. “You’re buyin’, right?”

Dean rolled his eyes again, but he smiled too — because of course he was.