Thank you for the wonderful reviews. Here is the next chapter, hope you will enjoy this one as well. Thanks to Gabi who wrote the awesome scene at the end where I was having trouble :)

John and Dean sat at the bar; trying to pick out which people Greg hung out with. They had dropped Sam off earlier at the old teacher's house and Dean's mood showed no sign of improving as he downed his second beer. John couldn't take it anymore.

"Son, do you mind telling me what's wrong?"

Dean looked startled, but then squinted his eyes and looked down at his empty beer glass. "Nothin's wrong."

"Don't give me that crap. You've been in a nasty mood ever since Mrs. Mendel's place."

"She just aggravated me, is all." Dean sighed, tracing the condensation on the glass away with his finger.

"And you're still moping about some weird lady you don't even know?" John huffed out a laugh. "That's a load bullshit and you know it."

Dean stared at John with wide eyes but still didn't fess up so John decided to come all out.

"Dean, you can't get upset at Sam because he's a smart kid."

"What?"

"You heard me. Sam can't help that he's smart and people like him. Would you rather him be stupid and hated?"

Now Dean was looking taken back. "No Dad, of course not! What the hell!"

"It sure seems to me that you're jealous of your brother. Doesn't that seem a little childish Dean?"

John could tell he got it wrong the moment the words left his lips. Dean looked furious. "It's not about being jealous of Sam, Dad! I love the kid to death and I am super proud of him. It's not being jealous of him but just so frustrated with myself that no matter what, I can't be like him!"

"Dean, you can't be exactly like Sam..."

"Of course not! If I was I'd have one hell of an ugly haircut and be sitting in a wheelchair. What I'm trying to say is that I'm mad at myself for not being able to do a quarter of the things Sam can. You have so much to be proud of him; he's the shining example of the perfect son. And then you have me. Not only am I incredibly stupid, but I'm annoying, I get in the way constantly, I eat all of our food, I'm a public embarrassment, and I don't listen, especially by smoking for ten straight years. Sometimes I wonder why you two don't get me out at the side of the road."

John shook his head as he stared at disbelief at his eldest son. He thought he had washed away those first 18 years by being a better father, but obviously those years were still affecting Dean in the worst ways.

"First of all Dean you can do just as many things as Sam can, and you can do many more things than him."

"I'm not talking about walking Dad." Dean grunted.

"And neither am I. Come on Dean, why are you doing this? You can't compare yourself to Sam. You're so totally different, yet you complement one another. But if you want to know you have better aim than Sam and you're the better con man."

Dean grinned lopsidedly. "You telling me being able to lie is a good thing?"

"It's vital for our job."

"So what, I'm a better hunter, big fuckin' deal."

"No Dean, that's not it. You don't get it, all those things you said are ridiculous. I'm glad you eat our food, that's what it's there for, maybe Sam should try it sometime. And the smoking...Dean that was all my fault. I practically abandoned you and left you with no one to look up to. I screwed that part of you up and I'm so sorry. I'm lucky you turned out to be the person you are, even without my help. What does it matter that you smoked? You were a kind and good-hearted kid Dean and you still are, you aren't afraid to step up for what you think is right and just that shows me how smart you are, not to mention brave."

"I'm not as smart as Sammy..."

"Yes you are." John sighed and put a hand on his boy's shoulder. "Both of my boys are smart. So what, Sammy's book smart and you're more street smart. All I'm saying is that I have two equally intelligent boys. Just because someone's not good at one area of something doesn't make them stupid. I'm proud of both of you, you're both good boys. I don't give a damn if one can't walk and the other has a hard time reading and writing, alright?"

John watched as Dean swallowed past the lump in his throat and nodded, passing his glass back and forth between his hands. Talks like these made them both sort of uncomfortable but it was long overdue and the least John could do for ruining Dean's entire childhood.

"Dad?"

"Yeah Dean?"

"I wish I could have recorded that. I could have sent it in and you could've been in the running to be the next Oprah."

Sam took a deep breath as he approached Mr. Culler who was working in his garden, not having a clue about how this meeting with his former teacher was going to go down. Sam didn't necessarily have a problem with the guy, other than how he treated Dean...but he never really liked him. When Sam called out Mr. Culler looked up at Sam from his crouched position in confusion.

"Can I...help you?" He asked awkwardly, obviously not understanding what a young adult in a wheelchair was doing at his door.

"Ah, yes. Mr. Culler, my name's Sam..." Sam hesitated for a brief moment. Of course Mr. Culler never heard of the name Winchester, so Sam decided to introduce himself with the last name he was given by his foster family. „Duncan", he added reluctantly. He couldn't help but wince at the sound of his foster family's last name. When he had been back in the orphanage he never had a last name until he was taken in by the Duncan family. At the time he thought it was so cool to finally have a last name, to feel like he belonged somewhere. But soon enough those feelings changed, he knew he didn't belong in that house and the Duncan's weren't family, they hadn't even adopted him. When he saw the teacher's blank expression, he stopped the train of thoughts that was running through his head and hurried to explain: „I was one of your former students."

Mr. Culler narrowed his eyes at Sam, as if trying to decide if he was lying or not. Sam didn't think it should be that hard, how many students in wheelchairs could he have possibly had?

But then the man nodded. „Yeah, I remember. You were in my class back when I taught American history. What can I do for you, Mr. Duncan?"

Sam would have just blown it off, but he really didn't want to be known as a Duncan anymore. Even though this man probably cared less, he felt a need to speak out. "Actually, that's not my name anymore, never really was. I'm Sam Winchester."

Mr. Culler nodded again, looking a bit surprised. "I never knew that foster family of yours, but I heard stuff here and there. Kids didn't usually get adopted from that home, glad to see your luck was different."

Sam was about to argue with the adoption thing, but he really saw no point. He never even really knew Mr. Culler, so it wouldn't matter if he knew the complete truth. "Yeah, I was adopted." Sam lied. "And I moved away with my family. I'm actually with them and I asked if we could stop by my old town to visit. I couldn't help but hear news of your wife. I just wanted to stop by to say I'm sorry and see if you were doing okay."

Mr. Culler sighed and shrugged. "I'm fine, all things considered. There's all this news going around that this Greg guy was in the bar at the time of her death, but I saw him kill her. She was weeding the vegetable patch and I just came around the corner when he strangled her." Tears sprang into his eyes. "I couldn't help her. I was so shocked I couldn't move. When I started yelling it was already too late." Furtively, Mr. Culler wiped his eyes and pulled himself together. "But I'm beginning to wonder if my perceptions were off. I swear it was him but maybe it was someone that just looked similar to him..."

"Mr. Culler, I personally know the Mendel's and I know Greg would never do anything like this to anyone. He would have no reason to." Sam informed the man.

The teacher shook his head and began pulling weeds out of the garden. "It just doesn't make any sense. Me and my wife didn't even know the man."

"She didn't have any problems with him? Maybe she might have worked with him?"

"No, not with this man." Mr. Culler grunted. "And she worked at home."

The way the man said that made Sam stop and think. "So she had problems with someone?"

Mr. Culler turned his head to glare at Sam. "Why does it even matter? She's dead isn't she?"

"Oh, I...I was just thinking that maybe the person she had problems with had something to do with her murder. I'm just trying to help." Sam started to backtrack and began remembering that his old teacher did have a short temper.

"It couldn't possibly be. The person was a young girl, a rich man's daughter. She always used to be a spoiled girl but we never knew her to be mean and violent. She has changed a lot during the last few weeks. Must be puberty or something like that." Mr. Culler grimaced in disgust. "My wife caught her torturing a few kittens. My wife is...was...a big animal lover and this really upset her. She yelled at the kid and threatened her to tell her parents if she didn't stop. And then…" Mr. Cullers voice trailed off.

"Then what?" Sam decided to press for more, not sure how much information Mr. Culler would be willing to give out.

The man sighed and looked at Sam. "She started swearing and threatening my wife and then she said she would kill her." Absent-mindedly he looked over the garden before he directed his gaze on Sam again. "But I'm sure that has nothing to do with my wife being killed. I mean Brooke was upset, but it's not that a fifteen year old girl can just go to this man and ask him to murder my wife for her." He sighed deeply. "Listen kid, I don't even know why I'm telling you this stuff you don't need to know. I need to finish this garden. My wife was working on it and in a way I feel responsible for her death... I was about to mention I wanted to get a divorce...I should have been happy with what I had..." Mr. Culler trailed off, looking at the roses blooming in his garden.

"I'm sorry Mr. Culler. I'll get going now, take care." Sam told him and at the teacher's nod Sam started down the sidewalk, his mind going a mile a minute. Had it even been Greg who had killed Mrs. Mendel? What was up with the mysterious young girl? Could maybe she had been possessed? He should call Dean and ask him to pick him up, let his family know what was going on...

Sam was forced to stop thinking when his phone rang. Sam didn't even look at the number, thinking it to be either Dean or John. But it was Mrs. Mendel. She was ecstatic, telling Sam that Greg had made it home, the police had just kept him a while longer and that everything was okay. She had to go because she was making her husband dinner but she ordered him and his family to come back and visit soon.

Sam let out a breath of relief. He had been worried about Mr. Mendel and was glad that he was fine. But then that nearly threw out Dean's theory of whatever this was being a shape shifter because they never let their victims live to tell what happened to them. They really had to talk to Mr. Mendel. This case was just getting stranger and stranger.

A little boy trudged along the sidewalk and Sam wheeled back a few inches to give him space to pass. The boy flashed him a small smile and Sam smiled back, watching the boy shuffling along. His smile fell when he looked at the phone that he had still in his hands. He should call Dean, telling him to pick him up. But he was reluctant to do so. He had no idea why Dean was in such a bad mood but he didn't want his brother to snap at him again. He had sworn to himself that he would cope with Dean's mood swings as long as his brother stopped smoking, but every now and then Sam just ached to shove a cigarette straight into Dean's face and get over with the crap. He had to admit, though, that Dean had done fairly well. It had been a while that he last had craved for a cigarette. Sam frowned. Maybe Dean's foul mood had other reasons than his smoke deprivation. Maybe his big brother had real problems and Sam just failed to see them.

Sighing, Sam was about to hit speed dial to reach his brother when his attention was diverted. With screeching tires a sport car came to a halt beside the boy and a man in his late twenties blocked the kid's way. The boy backed away but the man grabbed his arm and held him tight. When the boy cried out in pain Sam stuffed away his cell phone and gave the handrims of his wheelchair a hard push. The boy was sobbing in pain and fear by now, but he still tried to wiggle his arm out of the strong grip. He kicked the man's shin but that only earned him a hard slap into the face.

"Hey," Sam shouted, "leave that kid alone." He skidded to a halt, grabbed the man's arm, and yanked the boy free. "Do you feel great now?" he sneered. "It's really heroic to hit and scare a kid." Sam looked up and his blood froze. Thousands of bad memories flooded his brain when he recognized the guy's face. He was older and there was a scar on his cheek that gave him an even meaner look but there was no doubt about who he was. Within an instant Sam blocked out the painful memories and felt his features harden with contempt. "But then again, you always used to hit those who can't defend themselves, don't you, Jack?" Unconsciously, his hands curled into fists and Sam ached to add another scar on the once rather handsome face.

Jack looked at him, bewildered, but then he began to smirk. "Look, who crawled out of his hole," he smirked. "Cripple Sammy is back in the land of the living. I always knew you weren't dead. How are you brother?"

"Don't call me that," Sam snarled. He narrowed his eyes in anger. He was used to people calling him a cripple but there were only two persons in the world who were allowed to call him Sammy and Jack certainly wasn't one of them. "You have exactly one chance to shove off," he hissed. "Leave that kid alone and look for someone your own size to pick on."

Jack laughed out loud. "You really want to tell me what to do, Sammy? And if I don't obey? Are you going to hit me? Geez, I'm so scared."

And then Jack made a mistake. He thought leaning down threateningly over the gimp would intimidate him like it did when they were kids but this time it only earned him a hard fist in his face. With a cry of pain and surprise Jack staggered back, holding a hand to his bloody nose. "Damn," he cursed. "You're so gonna pay for that, you fucking cripple"

"Really?" Sam smiled. He wasn't afraid of Jack anymore. The feeling had something extremely liberating as if all the demons of his past finally left him alone.

Jack was even more aggravated by San's derisive smile. He swung his fist against Sam's head but Sam easily blocked the punch and delivered one himself. Jack was four years older than him and always had more strength than Sam, but those days were long gone. And Jack started to realize it. But still Sam had one big disadvantage. He played fair. And Jack had no intention to do so. He raised his hands in defense and muttered an almost inaudible "yeah, okay, I go". Sam kept a watchful eye on his former foster brother as Jack walked by, but although his reflexes were fast he stood no chance. Jack knew perfectly well how to overthrow a wheelchair; he had brought this skill to perfection in his youth. He turned to the kid that was still sitting on the sidewalk and acting as he would hit him again, he diverted Sam's attention just long enough to grab the frame of the wheelchair. Sam had almost suspected it, but although he reacted fast he couldn't prevent himself from flying headfirst onto the pavement. He skinned his elbows, but barely took the time to register the pain, knowing that Jack would be over him within an instant. He turned around just in time to see Jack lifting his foot. Jack knew that he stood his best chances when he remained standing and he had no problem with crushing Sam's bones with his booted foot. But Sam grabbed his ankle and twisted it around. Jack lost his footing and fell down on top of Sam who greeted him with a fist to his side. With both of them down, Sam easily got the upper hand. He shoved Jack to the side and hauled himself on him before his opponent even had a chance to react. Jack fought him tooth and nail but he stood no chance. Sam now was at least five inches taller than his foster brother and the dead weight of his legs alone trapped Jack effectively. Sam managed to grab Jack's wrists and pinned them down against the pavement, leaning on them with his entire weight. He heard distinct voices from behind and suspected that their little fight had attracted the neighbors. He heard muttered words like wheelchair and disabled and allowed himself a grim smile.

"Get off of me," Jack growled. "You're breaking my wrists."

"I'm awfully sorry, brother," Sam sneered. "You know I can't help it. And you should know that I can't get up."

Jack buckled under him, but Sam stood his ground. Right until a hand grabbed his shoulder and tries to push him away.

"Leave the guy alone," a male voice yelled into his ear. "You should be ashamed of yourself. Attacking a disabled man is scandalous. He can't even defend himself." The grip on his shoulder intensified and Sam was so surprised that he gave into the shove and rolled off of Jack.

Without a second thought Jack leaped to his feet and made a run for his car. Sam stared up to the bewildered face of the man that had hauled him off of Jack. It was a corpulent man in his fifties whose chin almost hit the ground when he looked after Jack who sped away with screeching tires. A woman of his age was crouching down beside the boy and comforted him.

When Sam pushed himself into a sitting position, the man turned to him, confusion still written all over his face. "I'm awfully sorry," he stuttered. "I was under the impression that…"

"That the cripple has to be the one underneath?" Sam finished the sentence for him.

"I guess," the man answered and his face turned red. "What happened here?" He offered Sam a hand, but Sam shook his head.

"Thanks, I'll be fine." With a sigh, Sam looked over to his wheelchair that was lying on its side a few feet away. He hated displaying his disability so openly, but he hated even more to accept help from strangers when he was able to do things himself. While he listened to the boy who was telling how Jack had hit him and Sam came to his rescue, he shoved himself over to his chair and put it back on its wheels. That done, he heaved himself into it and put his feet on the footrest. Grimacing, he noticed the holes in his jeans where his knees had scraped over the pavement. Maybe it was stylish but not with the red edges around the holes. He wheeled over to where the couple still listened to the boy who talked a mile a minute and made Sam look like Superman himself.

"Hey," he said, interrupting the kid's flow of words. "I'm Sam. What's your name?"

"Jason." The kid beamed at Sam. "You beat Jack. That was so cool."

Sam smiled and thanked the couple. "I'll bring him home," he reassured them.

"Okay." The man cast him a shy glance. "Look, I'm sorry about that."

"It's okay." A bright smile flashed over Sam's face. "It's nice to be mistaken for the bad guy for a change."

The man allowed himself a reluctant smile and grabbed his wife's arm. Together they went to the other side of the street where a small crowd has gathered to undoubtedly tell them the story of the disabled hero.

Sam watched them with a smile. He felt good. In fact, he felt awesome. The boy was right. He had beaten Jack, for the very first time in his life. Turning around, he grabbed Jason and put him down on his thighs. "Where do you live?" he asked.

Jason pointed ahead. "Down the street."

With the boy on his lap Sam rolled along the sidewalk. "Are you even allowed to be here on your own?"

Jason ducked his head. "Momma told me that I had to stay with Alan until she or Daddy come and get me. But Alan is a stupid little baby. His mum said I could play with his cars, but he started bawling when I took them."

"So you decided you wouldn't stay there any longer?"

"Yeah, I'm almost five years old, y'know? I don't need anyone to bring me home."

"But Jack would have never dared to hit you if there was an adult with you."

"Maybe. But Jack is an asshole." Jason shrugged apologetically when he saw Sam's face. "Momma tells me all the time I'm not allowed to say these words but it's what Dad says. Jack is an asshole."

Sam couldn't help but laugh. "You're absolutely right. What did he want from you by the way?"

"He always comes and wants money. He says Daddy owes it to him because he's his brother."

Sam forgot to push forward and the wheelchair came to a halt. "What's your dad's name?" he enquired.

"Alex. He's not Jack's real brother, y'know. It's called foster brother, and it's because my daddy had no real parents."

"I know. Jack was my foster brother, too."

"Your's too?" Jason gaped at him. "Does it mean you're my daddy's brother?"

"Guess so."

"Wow. That's so cool." Jason started babbling, but Sam only listened with half an ear. With mixed feelings he resumed a steady pace. So this was Alex' son. He seemed to be doomed to run into all the acquaintances of his former life. He didn't know if he wanted to meet Alex. Sure thing, Cara had told him that he had changed, but Sam wasn't so sure. He tried to remember Alex. Jack always had him under his thumb and told him what to do, but Alex never seemed very reluctant to follow his lead. When Jack wasn't at home Alex left Sam alone but he never ever had helped him or took his side.

Sam startled when Jason hopped off his lap. "Do you want to come in? Daddy's already at home. That's his car." His thumb pointed to an old pick-up in the driveway.

Sam shook his head. "Sorry pal, not today. I have to go. Take care of yourself, you hear?"

"Will do. Bye Sam." Jason ran into the house.

Sam smiled when the boy disappeared. He wasn't keen on meeting Alex. At first he had to find out if he still held any grudges against his former foster brother and even if Alex had changed, Sam was pretty sure he still did.