Moving around a lot in his second and third grade years had done more harm than good for Dean's education. He was in the fourth grade and he still couldn't read very well. He knew the small words but anything much bigger than "hat" puzzled him. He still read to Sammy every night, but it was more an interpretation of the pictures on the page rather than actual reading. Sam never cared. He just snuggled against Dean and fell asleep while his brother "read" to him. Dean loved that Sam would cuddle against him and listen, it made him feel special, needed, when most of the time he felt so lost and scared.

School was so hard for Dean. He was often distracted, looking out of the window when he should be paying attention to the teacher, other students made fun of him because his clothes were ratty and worn and because he was always the new kid and they thought he was strange. The first couple of schools that he had switched to he had attempted to make friends, he went up to them and asked if he could play, but they usually said no. Those who did say yes usually pelted him with balls, because suddenly he was in a dodge ball game and he was the one who was supposed to dodge the balls. What hurt more was going home to another ratty motel room and his father not noticing that he was upset. Once when he had come home crying his father had took him by the shoulders and said, "Dean you can't cry at every little thing. You need to be strong. You don't want Sammy seeing you crying like a little kid. Be strong." From that moment on Dean struggled to keep his emotions in check, which was very hard for a nine year old to do.

He said pretty much nothing when he changed schools again before starting his fourth grade year. He knew that nothing was going to be different. He was going to be put in the "special" classes and that he was going to spend recess inside, or sitting at the edge of the playground watching the other kids, kids who had friends, kids who had moms and dads, and grandparents to go home to, smile and laugh with other children like themselves.

Sam started Kindergarten, Dean packed his little book bag that Pastor Jim had sent to him. Sam was so excited to fill it with the crayons, pencils, pens, markers, safety scissors, glue and pencil box, that their father had managed to scrape the money together for. Dean on the other hand, had been very careful to keep his pens and pencils from the year before. Still had the colored pencils and the crayons that he had used the last year. This year it was more important that Sam had the new things. Dean didn't want Sam to be left out and teased the way he was. Dean had called Pastor Jim and asked him if he would please send some of the nicer clothes from the church rummage sale for his little brother, told Jim that when they swung by again he would scrub the church floor, and polish the pews and pulpit as repayment. Jim had been so touched by Dean's request that he went out and bought little Sammy clothes and bought an outfit for Dean, and sent him some jeans from the rummage sale. Dean would accept new clothes for Sammy but not for himself.

Their father had been sleeping off the alcohol that he had consumed the night before, and Dean got Sam ready for his first day of school. He helped Sam into the white shirt and jean shorts, helped him tie his little shoes. Sam slid his backpack onto his shoulders and smiled happily at his brother.

"I'm ready Dean. Can we go now?"

"The yellow bus has to pick us up."

"Like it did for you last year?"

"Yeah." Dean worried at his lip for a moment. "Sammy."

"Yeah Dean?"

"You can't tell people that Dad is gone a lot."

"Okay." Sam said with confusion.

"And be a nice boy, make friends. Don't let kids pick on you. If anyone hurts you because they are being mean you come tell me." Sam nodded.

Had Dean knew what would happen a couple of months later, he wouldn't have let anyone put Sammy into school. Dean was waiting for him to get onto the bus one afternoon and his little brother bounded on and sat down next to him.

"Guess what Dean?"

"What?" Dean asked sourly. It had been a particularly bad day for him.

"I knows how to read."

"Know, not knows." Dean corrected. Sam dug in his book bag and pulled out a copy of See Spot Run and proceeded to read the story to Dean.

"When did you learn to do that?" he asked.

"I've been practicing, with the special people. The people that come and take some of us for a while during the week. I've been practicing for you. I wanted to surprise you. I can read the story to you tonight." He said with special pride. Dean forced a smile and tucked his heart away. His brother could read. Dean was still struggling to read bigger words than "hat" and his brother could read an entire book. He praised his little brother. Told him how proud he was of him, how special he really was, because they only took the really smart kids into that little trailer next to the playground. Those kids usually made fun of Dean.

That night Sammy read A Cat and the Hat to Dean. Sam didn't need any help with the words. He knew them all, and the ones he wasn't familiar with he sounded out better than Dean ever had. When the book ended, Dean smiled, held back his humiliation and tears. "Good job Sammy!" he said and hugged his little brother to him. "Time for bed now." Dean said needing to be away from Sam just for a few minutes. Just needed to be able to burry his face in his pillow and cry.

Sam's face scrunched up. "No. I want a story." Sam said.

"You read your story." He said.

"No. That was for you. That was a present. Like a birthday present." Sam said with a grin that ate up his whole little face. "Read to me please." Dean nodded and picked up another book. Sam never made any sound regarding that the words on the page weren't the ones he was reading. Sam snuggled into Dean and fell asleep.

The next day, instead of going to recess he hung back. The teacher here was nice. She didn't seem mean like the last teacher who told him he was stupid and that he wasn't going to go anywhere in life because he was so stupid.

"Dean, sweetie?" Mrs. Ridgewood asked. She went to his desk and knelt down beside him. "Dean?"

"I don't read so good." He paused and she let him. He finally pulled the book that he had "read" to Sam the night before out of his desk and held it out to her. "Would you please help make me better? I got to read to my little brother at night, and he can read better than I can. I want to read to him. I don't want him to know that I can't read so good."