[ Sam can't blame him for being uncomfortable with it. He's not a fan either, obviously, but all he's got at this point is wild conjectures that may or may not be true, and honestly it's been pretty far down on his list of things to worry about. Most days he's way more concerned about just getting everyone he cares about through the day without getting eaten by xenomorphs or killer clowns (ugh) or swarms of bloodthirsty rats. It's never boring, he'll give it that, and it's keeping him sharp, to say the least.

He'll bump his shoulder into Dean's on the way toward the stairs, not so subtly reminding him that he's not actually walking into a trap. As he might expect, the house is warded and shielded with as many protective elements as Sam can feasibly work into it, some of which he had help with, and while it would be hard to call any place perfectly safe here, this is about as close as it gets. ]

This is just kind of what I ended up with and it stuck.

[ The white picket fence would be a bit much. Even though it's occurred to him that he could have a house like the one he's always wanted. In a town that's half dream and half nightmare. There's probably something ironic about that. ]

So, uh, there's something else I should tell you about this place. [ Before Dean gets as far as the room that's his, but also not his. Sam's already unlocking and pushing the door open as he's talking. ] You know how you just woke up here? Sometimes that happens to people more than once. And they don't always remember being here.

[ Do you see where he's going with this? ]