The teacher didn't call on Dean to read again, just skipped him as he went down the rows. For the rest of the class Dean sat there in the same position with his head down. Sam heard some kids still snickering and whispering about Dean and it made him angry. Why did people have to make fun of others that were different? Sam was used to it but it made him angry seeing someone else getting made fun of. And Dean seemed like a nice guy. Sam liked him. Just because he couldn't read well didn't determine who he was.

When the bell rang Dean got out of the room as quickly as possible. Sam frowned and sighed. He had expected Dean to wait for him. He couldn't help but feel disappointed. But when he wheeled out of the class and down the hallway he saw that Dean was indeed waiting for him by their locker. He was just standing there, staring aimlessly ahead, hands twitching.

"You okay?" Sam decided to ask, not sure how Dean was going to react.

Dean looked down at Sam in shock, like he just realized he got there. "You're actually still talking to me? After what just happened?"

"What?" Sam asked in disbelief. "Why would I stop talking to you? Dean, those kids are jerks. Trust me, I know. Don't let them get to you."

Dean bit his lip and closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall. "It's hard to," he mumbled.

"I know how you feel. You're the only one that doesn't look at me like I'm a freak," Sam responded.

"Yeah well it looks like you're gonna be the only one who won't look at me like I'm a freak too. Now you know why I never had any friends. I'm dyslexic."

Sam was going to tell Dean that he could help with his reading if he wanted when Dean turned his head and watched a bunch of kids leave the school. "Hey, where are they going? It's only lunch."

"They're going out to eat at a fast food place or something in their cars. The school allows us to leave for lunch if we want," Sam informed him.

"Sweet," Dean said, a small smile appearing on his face.

Sam's face fell. He had thought Dean was going to sit with him at lunch. But now he was going to be all alone once again. "Oh, go ahead. I'll see you later," he said, trying not to sound upset as he turned his wheelchair around.

But then he felt Dean turning him back around and looked up to see a confused face. "Hey, where are you going? Don't you want to come with me? I mean, you don't have to of course, you probably wouldn't want to be seen with me."

Sam felt a smile spread over his face. "I thought you wanted to go without me," he confessed. "Of course I want to come, if that's okay with you."

"Why would I want to go without you? There's no fun in eating all alone." Dean smiled as they left the school. "Plus I need you to show me around," he joked. "My car's over here."

Sam was glad Dean had a sense of humor. "But how will I get into your car?"

"Don't worry about it. I'll help you." Dean waved his hand as they neared a long black car.

"Wow. That looks like a really cool car," Sam said in awe.

"Thanks. '67 Impala." Dean had a huge grin on his face. "She's my baby, aren't you sweetie?" he cooed while petting his car. After he was done he turned to Sam who had the most amused look on his face. "What?" he asked with a grunt.

"Wow, you're like obsessed with that thing." Sam let out a long laugh.

"She's not a thing! She's a she!" Dean growled but couldn't help to laugh when Sam rolled his eyes.

"I didn't know it was possible for someone to love an inanimate object so much," Sam said as Dean went to help him into the Impala. It was weird having someone pick him up, he wasn't used to help. But it was nice.

"Ya' know, I like you Sam. I have a feeling we could get along great even though we've only known each other for a few hours," Dean told him as he placed him in the seat.

"So are you saying we're friends?" Sam asked.

"Yeah. I guess we're each other's first real friend huh?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Sam replied.

Dean smirked and went to fold up the wheelchair. Sam instructed him how to do it and Dean with shaking hands finally managed to and put it in the back seat.

When he got into the car he immediately started rummaging through his coat pockets. Sam understood the reason for his shaking hands when Dean pulled out a pack of cigarettes.

Dean popped one out of the pack and looked at Sam before he lit it. "Uhh…you don't mind the smoke…do you?"

"Oh, no. It's not a problem. I'm used to it, my foster brothers smoke."

Dean nodded and Sam could tell he was unsure of what to say. He lit his cigarette and took a deep drag, rolling down his window a bit. Sam saw how he almost immediately calmed when he was smoking. With how Dean was treated back at the school, Sam didn't blame him at all for smoking.

Dean turned his head to the partially opened window to blow the smoke out of his mouth, not wanting to blow it on Sam. "So…where to?"

"I don't want to go in there." Sam shook his head when Dean pulled up at the local Burger King.

"Why not?" Dean asked but when he turned around he got the answer. The jocks were sitting in there, messing around. "Hey, it's alright. I don't want to go in either. We'll go through the drive-thru and we can eat in the car." He finished his second cigarette and ground it out in the ashtray in the Impala.

"But what about your car? I don't want to get it dirty."

Dean chuckled. "Trust me Sam, this car gets way dirtier than you'll ever guess. It's no problem; I eat in here all the time. Whataya want to eat?" He turned around to face Sam.

"Oh ummm…" Sam dug through his pockets and pulled out his spare change. His foster parents didn't give him any money. All the money he ever had was spare change that he found or was able to earn. And being in a wheelchair, there wasn't much Sam could do to earn money. "Umm I have seventy two cents. What can I get for that?"

"Your foster parents don't give you any money?" Dean asked with slight disgust.

"Uhh...no…" Sam mumbled and hung his head.

"Jerks," Dean muttered. "Don't worry about it Sam, I'll pay for it."

"What? No! Dean it's alright, you don't have to do that." Sam was shocked that Dean wanted to pay for his lunch.

"Sam. It's fine. I have enough money and there's nothing else I need to spend it on besides food and cigarettes really. And plus, you gotta get some food in you kid, you're as skinny as a twig. Now what do you want?" Dean left no room for argument.

"A couple Whoppers?" Sam asked shyly.

Dean smirked. "Now that's more like it."

The rest of the day went by a little bit better for Dean. He was nowhere near the smartest kid and did not get the best of grades, but most of the work he could do, as long as it didn't have to do with reading. Letters and words looked jumbled to Dean when he read a book and when he wrote he sometimes left out words or put them in the wrong place.

It was so frustrating for him and he had gone to numerous tutors or special classes but none seemed to work. The teachers were just helping him because it was their job, not because they wanted to.

Dean had even been sent to counselors at his other schools. He remembered that one of them told him that dyslexia could be caused because of problems at home. If a child did not receive proper attention and care from their parents then the disability could be triggered. They also said it could have been from Dean's ever changing environment. Since he moved around so much it was harder on him as a child and interfered with his learning abilities.

Dean understood the moving around part but the parent part he was confused about. His father did care for him and love him…he just…didn't become involved very much with Dean's life other than hunting. His father never helped him with his schoolwork or seemed interested in it. Since his father didn't seem to care, Dean just didn't bother much at all with school. There was no point if he didn't have anyone that would be proud of him.

Sam was in Dean's math class as well. Math was easier for Dean but he still had problems with it. Especially with note taking. It took him longer to copy things because of his dyslexia and he found himself behind quickly.

Sam was a pro at math and it amazed Dean at how quickly Sam was completing the problems. Kid must be a genius or something, it made him feel even more stupid.

"I'll see you tomorrow Dean!" Sam said as they were leaving after going to their locker.

"Hey, there's that stupid kid that can't read!" Dean heard someone snicker before they exited the building.

"He's hanging out with that crippled kid! No wonder! They're both losers!" someone else whispered but Dean with his sharp hearing had no problem understanding what was said and one look at Sam confirmed that neither had he.

Dean could just imagine how rude people probably were to Sam all the time and it made him sick to his stomach. The kid probably got bullied even more outside of school.

"Hey Sam, do you want me to give you a ride home?" he suggested.

"What? Oh no. It's fine Dean." Sam seemed surprised by the offer.

"Sam, it's no problem, and I'd like someone to talk to driving home," he told him honestly.

"Well I guess so. If you don't mind."

"Of course I don't mind!" Dean dismissed Sam's worry and got him seated in the Impala's passenger seat like he did before and they were on their way.

"This is where you live?" Dean questioned. He was trying hard not to gag in disgust and took a drag of his cigarette instead.

It was obvious Sam was ashamed. "Yeah."

"Hey, it's not your fault it looks like this." Dean tried to cheer him up. He didn't like it when the kid was upset.

"I try to clean up my room the best I can but…." He waved his hands at his skinny, immobile legs. "No one bothers to try to keep the house in shape."

"That's sickening," Dean muttered quietly while blowing out a long stream of smoke.

"Yeah but it gives me a roof over my head." Sam tried to act like it wasn't all that bad when it really was. "Thanks Dean for driving me here, and for lunch."

"Anytime Sam, and….thanks for….you know…not laughing at me in class…." Dean ran a hand over his face, slightly embarrassed.

"There was no reason to laugh," Sam said matter-of-factly.

Dean just slightly shook his head, he didn't believe it. He ground out his cigarette in the ashtray. "Yeah, well thanks, here I'll help you get out."

Dean went around and got Sam's wheelchair and after a few tries was successful in opening it. He then grabbed Sam under his knees and behind his back and lifted him from the seat into his wheelchair waiting a few feet away.

And as Dean was doing that, suddenly he was flashed back to that awful day fourteen years ago. Carrying his baby brother out of the house the same way he was carrying Sam now, running quickly, panting, and crying out for his father. Looking back when he heard footsteps and then….

He tripped over a toy that he and Sammy had been playing with earlier and fell. He had dropped Sammy out of reflex when he unavailingly tried to regain his footing. Sammy had hit the ground hard and gone sliding through the open door into the next room, his back slamming into the corner of the wall. Dean had watched in shock how the little body went still at the impact and he struggled to get up and go get him.

But then his father had come running and, in his panic, he grabbed Dean and ran out of the house, not realizing that Sam wasn't in his brother's arms anymore. The whole house ended up getting burned by the time the firemen came.

They never found Sammy's body. The firemen told them he probably burned to ashes and they got blown away.

Dean swallowed hard and felt like he was going to be sick. He remembered that night so clearly but usually it was pushed to the back of his mind. Why had carrying Sam triggered it?

He looked down at his new friend, who he was still holding, and had to watch his breathing. For some reason this kid was reminding him of his dead baby brother and he had no idea why. He knew they had the same name but that wasn't the reason…it was something else and he couldn't put his finger on it. It was then that he realized Sam was calling his name.

"Dean? Are you okay? You look like you're going to be sick." Sam's voice held a lot of concern in it. No one was ever concerned about him, not even his father really.

"Yeah." Dean shook his head a bit and finally placed Sam in the wheelchair. "I'm sorry, I just kinda….zoned out for a minute there, I guess I have to get more sleep. Maybe I am getting sick."

"It's okay," Sam said and it actually sounded like he meant it. "I'll see you tomorrow Dean." He smiled and waved.

"Yeah, see you then Sam," Dean told him and watched as Sam wheeled into the house. Dean took a deep breath and saw that his hands were shaking. What the hell? He quickly pulled out a cigarette and lit it only to find that it did nothing to relax him which was a first.

Man, what was going on? Sam just seemed so familiar or something, like he knew him once. But that was impossible because Dean was sure he never saw the kid before. He didn't have a clue why the boy was reminding him so much of his little brother. Gosh, he finally made a friend and now he probably scared him off.

Sam wheeled into the house, slightly confused on what had just happened with Dean. He had suddenly gained this far-away look in his eyes and then looked like he was going to throw up. But then Sam remembered that Dean had gotten that same sad look in his eyes when he'd first met him outside the school. He was curious to know what was bothering Dean but he didn't want to press. Sam wondered why he cared so much, he just met the guy! But he felt like he knew Dean for a long time already.

Sam felt bad for Dean. Those stupid jerks making fun of him because he couldn't read well. It wasn't his fault he was dyslexic! And Sam saw how slow Dean was in taking notes in Algebra class, he only got about a quarter of the notes done. Sam would offer Dean to copy his notes but he didn't want to seem like he was being nosy.

He looked out the window and saw that Dean was still standing there, smoking again. He looked distressed and Sam wondered why.

His foster parents were cooing to the young children and ignored Sam completely as he came in. This place wasn't a home, just somewhere where he could stay out of the cold.

He wheeled into the room he had to share with his foster brothers and gasped when he came in.

The two older boys were sitting around with a bunch of empty beer cans lying around. They were clearly drunk. But this wasn't what got Sam upset. What did was that the project he had been working on for history class had been ripped to shreds.

"What the hell! What have you done to my project?!" he gasped and made his way over to the remains of his hard work. The kids had always picked on him and pushed him around but never proceeded to rip up his stuff until now.

"We're bored! And we're tired of this fuckin' place," Alex slurred. "We wanted to do somethin' fun!"

"Ripping up my project is fun to you? I worked hard on that!" Sam yelled, tears in his eyes.

"Well then why don't ya' go fix it then!" Jack said and walked up behind Sam. Before he knew it he was violently pushed to the ground.

"Hey now this is fun!" He laughed out loud.

"Yeah, let's keep the chair away from him and watch him struggle!" They pushed the chair outside and closed the door, leaving Sam unable to get it.

The boy's laughter was loud and rowdy as Sam army-crawled to the door and tried to reach the doorknob. He pushed himself into a sitting position and his long arms were able to reach it….until Jack pushed him down again, making him smack his head into the wall.

Sam's good day was ruined as tears streamed down his face. He didn't want to start crying like a baby, but he couldn't help it. He didn't want to live here anymore! He wanted to be treated with respect instead of being pushed around all the time! Then Sam thought of Dean and prayed that tomorrow would get here quick so he could see his friend.