Disclaimer: I don't own them.
We're still with Dean. The poor boy is trying but he isn't doing so great...
After a month of staying at Lisa's, Dean had rented out a storage unit so he could store all of his and Sam's hunting gear as well as all of Sam's things. Lisa and Ben had offered to help out with moving things into the small, empty space that Dean had rented for the purpose. Dean refused. He had to do this by himself. Besides his dad's storage in Buffalo, everything that represented his life from the age of four went into the storage unit.
The very last thing that went into the storage unit was the Impala. As he left the storage unit, Dean gently caressed the Impala's black mental one last time and glanced longingly at the passenger's side. The Impala had been home to both of them and he couldn't face being at home without Sam. He locked the storage unit and kept the key in his pocket.
Working at the garage was satisfying, Dean supposed. It was refreshing earning a pay-check in his own name rather than an alias and getting some hard-earned cash. He insisted on helping Lisa out with rent and other routine things.
He went out on dates with Lisa. He went to Ben's sport activities, cheering him on as he played soccer all the while thinking of another 10 year old who had loved his big brother watching him play. He made friends with Al and Joe from work and on occasion they would invite him down to the local bar. Dean would go only after Lisa would push him out the door, insisting that he had a right to go and have fun with his friends.
But there were still the days, where the ache of not having Sam with him was a gnawing ache in his chest. Ben and Lisa knew that on those days, Dean was unavailable as he spent his day lovingly caressing the Impala's black mental and tearing up a little when he glanced at the little green army man still stashed in the ashtray from when a tiny Sam put it there.