A/N:still sort of setting the scene I guess, but I just had to put this up, I hope it's alright. more to come soon! thanks for the feedback.
Dean sat on the steps of the front porch hugging his knees to himself. The sun beat down on his face. Eyes at a slant. The crisp December air made him shiver. But he didn't move. He didn't want to be inside. It was Sammy's feeding time and Dean resented the closeness that he shared with their mother.
Dad wasn't there to play with him anymore. But being mad at his little brother made him feel bad on the inside, and he knew it wasn't Sammy's fault. He was just a baby. Not that that made him feel any better.
And staying at this stupid house made him feel worse. He didn't like how his mom's friend Carol treated him like he was a puppy, with her baby-talk. And he hated the way Carol's husband kept looking at his mom.
"Dean, honey. Come inside. It's too cold out here," he twisted round on the spot to look at her, framed in the doorway. Sammy in her arms. Love and tears in her voice. He didn't have to look in her eyes to know how sad she was, but he did anyway.
He sprung to his feet, his arms wrapping round her legs. Mary shifted Sam into one arm, letting her free hand rest at the nape of her eldest son's neck. The brush of her thumb as soft as his skin.
"We'll be alright," she whispered.