Hope you like it. It shows what happens between demon hunts and battling the forces of darkness.
Much fluff, and some not so much
Disclaimer :I SOOO want to own the boys, but unfortunately Kripke says its not legal. Something about 'human bondage'.

Also, in later chapters there will be wincest...if i can get up the guts to write it. just deal, okay, i dont like flamers...

Dean remembered waking up the day after Samuel was brought home from the hospital. He had done what he had always done; woken up and scrambled down the stairs to the kitchen, his feet making little-boy thuds against the wood on the stairs. On most mornings, Mommy and Daddy were at the table already, but this morning it was only Mommy, and she was standing at the counter, cooking.

"Mommy, where's…" She shushed him gently.

"Deano, you have to be quiet, okay? Sammy's sleeping." She looked up towards the stairs.

It was the first time Dean had ever heard anyone call Samuel 'Sammy,' and he said it twice, trying so hard to get it just right. His father came in just then, and Dean turned and put a finger over his mouth.

"Shhhhhh. Sammy's asleep." He said, in his almost loud whisper, and his Dad chuckled.

After everything, Dean still called Sam 'Sammy,' because that's who he was to him…beautiful, fragile Baby Sammy.

--

When Sam was about six years old, and Dean was ten, Dad had left them alone for the first time. Dean had decided that since their father wasn't there he would cook breakfast. There was a very rare package of Bacon in the freezer, and Dean remembered watching his Dad cook bacon for them a half dozen times.

After about an hour the strips had been reduced to nothing but black, charred chunks of wood pulp. But Sammy had shrugged and ate almost the whole pan, anyways, and grinned afterwards.

"See, Dean? Still good."

--

Sam was at the table, his hand playing idly with the edge of the placemat. Their father had been gone for three days, and Sam was getting sick of being cooped up in a tiny, cruddy motel room. The car lights streamed through the window, catching on the salt and making the lines look like strips of diamond. Dean was at the stove, making them instant macaroni and cheese. Sam didn't like this new Dean. Sam was eleven and a half, just as grown up as Dean was, but Dean didn't seem to want to hang around him anymore. He wanted to go out with girls. And he argued with Sam, he always took Dad's side, even on the little things. They had argued today, when Sam said that other kids didn't have to stay in a motel room alone.

"The kids at school say things about Dad." Dean froze, his hand stopped stirring. "They say he's a nobody. They say that he's a drunk, and if we're lucky, he'll leave us here and child services will come get us." Sam had added on that last part, almost unintentionally.

"They don't know anything, Sam. And if they're lucky, they never will." Dean went back to stirring, watching the yellow mush cake to the edges of the pan.

"Yeah, well I think they're right." Sam had never said anything directly against their Dad before, and Dean turned away from the stove, jaw clenched and his hands balled up.

"That's not true, Sammy, and you know it."

"It is to!" Sam yelled. "He just goes off and leaves us all the time, and when he does come back it's just to make us move somewhere else. He thinks just because Mom died we don't need him either." WHAP. Dean had been as fast as lightening, his palm lashing out against the side of Sam's face, toppling his chair over onto the linoleum. Dean seemed as shocked as Sam, and he moved to help him to his feet. Sam swatted his arm away.

"Sammy, I…"

"Don't call me that! You don't get to call me that."

Later, when midnight was approaching, Dean had gone to Sam's side of the room and tried to talk to him.

"Dad's not here as much as he should be, I know. But…he's helping someone who needs it. He's a hero."

"We need his help."

"Sammy, come on." There was silence for a moment.

"It's Sam." And then Sam turned his back on Dean, facing the wall and leaving his brother behind him.