Author's Note: This is a very plainly alternate universe and a pretty OOC story. It brings up some more serious stuff then anything I've ever done before. (Don't worry, it won't be solely serious! (:) As for reviews, I'd like honesty, (how can I improve my writing skills? Were there any unclear parts? ect, ect) but I'd also like to keep it fairly concise, and to the point. (I.E. if you hate me and my writing ;) then just say that and don't beat around the bush lol) Peace. V

Disclaimer: Hartman's original characters are not mine.

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Sam stared aimlessly into the abyss that her mind created in the dark corner of the carriage. She did NOT want to be here. Her father knew what she thought of this horrible process. And anyway, she didn't want to inherit her family's money. That meant lots of booking and thinking and generally being very tied down. Samantha Manson hated the idea of being tied down.

But Jeremy Manson was determined that his daughter be introduced to the process of buying slaves. His wife, Pamela, had protested saying that, "Samantha must be on the very high end of society! It is what our level of money commands, Jeremy! If she is seen at a slave market that will be destroyed!" But his mind was made up. She was going.

Sam had learned to not argue so much in the smaller things. And although she hated the slave trade with a passion, it was only one afternoon that she would have to spend at the dock market. The horrible market. She shivered.

The carriage bumped along, and the youth glanced out the window. They were here. The vehicle was slowly making its way by lines of slaves, who at this very moment were being bought like one of Samantha's mother's broaches. No more than one of Father's hunting dogs. Or my books. Why is this happening to them?

Lurching to a stop, Jeremy jumped out and helped his daughter out as well. "Keep your eyes open for hard workers, darling."

Huh, just like he was telling me to look into their minds and hearts and determine their level of work. Yeah, dream on, Dad.

Sam was never much of a religious. But something like this was prompting her heart. God, she asked, did they do something wrong? Did they offend You? Is that why they aren't being treated like the rest of us anymore? It was baffling. I guess You're real busy and can't help everyone though, huh? That last part was total sarcasm.

She wandered away from her father, scanning the faces, more like she was watching from a distance than up close. The buyers were generally cruelly unattached, while the buyees, (is that a word?) were either angry and defiant, or sad and withdrawn. Samantha bristled at the seller's words. It was like her mother buying jewelry. They all knew the values and didn't care for the soul that resided in the shell of a person in front of them.

One boy, however, did not look angry or withdrawn. Sam stood before him and stared, curiously, for a moment. He looked back, not irritably, but more contentedly. Wow, she thought, who could be content at a slave market – especially when YOU'RE the slave? Finally he asked, "What's up?"

She shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable with this shirtless, good looking, for sale, boy standing calmly ahead of her. "What's up with you?"

He laughed quietly, Sam noticing that his smile and eyes lit up at the small action. "I don't know. Just standing. About to go check out some new home. I'd say all the usual, but this isn't all that normal for me."

Sam bit her lip then blurted, "How can you be so… tranquil? Everyone else here is so messed up, with good reason, so how can you just stand and wait?"

The boy shifted. "I've got Someone really good on my side. Being upset would do nothing. Why not just check out this whole scene while I wait?" His screaming ocean-blue eyes peered into hers. "What about you?"

"I've never been here before. My father made me come." Sam felt her voice go small. It was humbling admitting to a future slave that she was here to, potentially, make him a slave.

Her eyes were downcast. "Hey," the boy said, drawing her eyes to his again with his strong, collected voice, "don't worry about it. I'll be fine." He jerked his head to the left. "That one down there – I'm sure you've noticed him, he's the studly one with the red beret – he's the one that needs the help. You seem nice. If you're going to buy anyone, it should be him."

Sam looked. The boy that he had pointed out looked angry and violent. "Him? My father wouldn't like him, I don't think."

He laughed again, just as soft as before. The slavers were watching and he knew the consequences of being 'out of line' during a sale. "Sometimes the ones that are the angriest are really just defending themselves because of something. That kid is really a great guy. You'd like him, I can tell. But that isn't the point. He needs a good place to sleep at night and earn some food at. Can you give him that?"

The girl felt like she was the one about to be sold or something. How did he end up grilling me on stuff? "Yeah, I could."

The boy nodded, his black hair falling around his eyes. "Cool. Will you talk to your Dad? I know Tuck would appreciate it."

"Alright, I will. What's going to happen to you?" Her unnaturally shy violet eyes flitted between her father and this mysterious boy. He stood strong, just like the slavers would have wanted him to. Sam suspected he wasn't looking to please them, though.

His eyes danced, depicting a carefree happiness most lose before their teen years. This dance was mixed, though, with the maturity of youth blended with years of seeing what the world could really be like. "I don't know." His head bobbed slightly to one side. "But I know I have Someone to count on, whatever does go down. And I hope I'll see you again."

Sam nodded, smiling a little. "Me too. Maybe sometime you can tell me about your Someone." She exaggerated Someone with air quotation marks.

"Anytime He brings us back together. I'm Danny, by the way."

Sam couldn't answer, however, because just then a seller was leading two obnoxiously old people up to Danny's stand. "This, Mr. and Mrs. Sanchez, is a good, strong young man." The man glanced sideways at the woman, and added, "and not only is he a hard worker, I'm sure he's a good kisser too."

Mr. Sanchez chuckled. Mrs. Sanchez stretched her at-least-90-year-old lips into what can only be described as attempted seduction, while Sam stood, horrified, a few feet away. Danny was looking over the old people's heads and, seemingly, up into the sky. Like he wasn't even there.

The elderly lady slinked, (kind of, to Sam it appeared that she had knee problems or something from the way she was carrying herself), up to Danny and ran her grizzled hand over his naked chest. "What do you think boy?" The hand grabbed at his chiseled chin. "Think you could make my husband and I happy?"

Danny's eyes finally settled on the lady. "Ma'am, not to sound rude, but I don't know if I could. What you would be asking me to do is wrong. You're married. Not that I'm saying you should ask someone else here to do that for you, but I wouldn't. I'm sorry." The blue orbs swept off her face and closed for a moment as the startled woman stepped back.

Wow, Sam mused, that was brave. With the seller right there! She knew she should go secure Danny's friend's sale to her family, but she wanted to see how this played out first.

Mr. Sanchez whistled. "Looks like that one still has a mouth, Harrington. Haven't you whipped it out of him by now?"

Harrington looked absolutely peeved. "He'll learn, Sir. Why don't I show you some of our other good merchandise?"

Sam crept back up to Danny, waving a little and grabbing his attention. He smiled. "Hi." Then he frowned. "Did you see that?"

"Yes."

"I wish you didn't have to."

"I know."

"But you did."

"Yes."

There was some mist in the boy's eyes. "I just hope I didn't send that woman off to some other boy to do what I would have been forced to do." He sighed slowly and closed his eyes. "I'd rather take it then any of these kids. They all have so much to offer the world, other then just physically. I wish I could help them."

Sam cocked her head. "Why did you tell her that then?"

Then the tear escaped. "Because I couldn't. She was asking me to do something I can't do. It's wrong."

"Your scruples? That's what made you potentially opt for beatings?" Sam didn't understand.

His eyes turned kind and caring. "Not just my scruples. I want to obey what I promised to obey. I have to keep my promises. He's always kept His promises to me."

"Your Someone?"

"Yeah."

Jeremy came then. "Samantha, we are leaving now." Sam noticed the angry glance that was thrown to Danny. "Now. Come."

Danny's submissive attitude was making Sam feel something. She skittered over to him and unfastened her necklace and attached it to his brown neck. "I hope I see you again. My name is Samantha Manson."

A smile etched its way across his lips again. "May God bless and keep you, Samantha Manson. I hope I see you again, too."

Jeremy was angry that Sam didn't help him more. She calmed him down by listening to his endless speech about who he had purchased. Miraculously, he had bought the boy with the red beret. But that's not where Samantha's mind was. It was on the black haired boy with a strange personality and a calm attitude and weird scruples. Her mind chewed on his name. Danny.

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Turns out I got sold to some young couple who barely have enough money to feed themselves. I know that there's a plan in my life, but I wish I could see it now instead of looking back. I'm scared. I wish I wasn't, but I am.

What about Tucker? Samantha seemed great. Why did You bring her into my life when I can't do anything to try pursue her? It doesn't make sense. At least now Tucker can get some time to calm himself, at the soul, down. He's been through so much in so little time. Ever since Anna…

I'm still nervous, God. What if this woman wants me to do what the last one did? I know I can't. Oh boy will I need some strength to hold my ground on whatever You are telling me to do.

But as I'm laying here, finally fully clothed and having at least a blanket now, I'm trusting You. I don't know what else to do.

Can I trust You?

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Sam sat in her picture window, up earlier than she had woken in, well, maybe ever. She had never watched her father's slaves go to work. It was just like one of the processes of life to her before.

"Before what?" She asked, rubbing her left shoulder with the palm of her hand. "Before I met a real live slave boy? I've met slaves before. Why is this any different?" She huffed. Sam HATED not knowing what to do. She was usually in charge.

"And what about Danny's 'Someone' that he kept talking about? Was he talking about God? His conscience? A friend? Family member? I wish he could have explained this to me better."

Feeling sporadic, Sam threw a cape around her little shoulders. She wanted to see what it was really like down there.

The girl was quickly out of the mansion and marching over to where the slaves were congregating. It was in the middle of the first field, and the place where they would get their assignments for the day. Mr. Hawkins, the overseer, was shouting out orders as Sam approached.

She slipped up next to the boy with the red beret. "Hello." She whispered, keeping her hood up. "I'm Sam. I met your friend, Danny."

Wow, she thought, that was a GREAT way to introduce myself.

He nodded slightly, looking confused, and then put a finger to his lips. "I hafta hear this." Sam nodded immediately, and then backed off a bit. Wow, I'm being real smooth here. She rolled her eyes to herself.

"…And for all you newbies," Hawkins was saying, "we're going to go easy on you today. The main crop we grow here is cotton. You need to get enough… well, enough to make me happy. Okay? Okay." His smile said it all. Sam looked at the man with a new disdain.

"Why doesn't he tell you how much to get?" She asked Tucker quietly.

He looked at her, sizing her up for a moment. "He wants to break us in." He murmured finally. "Whatever we do today, he'll tell us is wrong and beat us so we'll do better tomorrow."

Sam shuddered. "Really? I never knew Hawkins was like that."

Tucker was about to answer when Sam heard, "Mistress Samantha, what are you doing out here?" They both turned to see Arthur Hawkins, who was dropping steadily in Sam's respect-o-meter.

Removing the hood, Sam looked directly into Hawkins's face. "You slime." She spat. "You better start behaving like the civilized man you claim to be." She paused and took a breath, then continued before he could say anything, "And I require the assistance of this boy today. I will make sure he gets adequate food and work, and will return him when I am through. Good day."

She turned on her heel, grabbing Tucker's hand. The slightly overweight man behind her just stammered a confused, "O-okay, Miss Samantha. Whatever you wish."

When they were a safe distance away, Sam let go of the boy's wrist and proceded to plop down next to the little stream that lined the acres of property. Pulling the cape closer around her she asked, "What's it like? Being a… slave and all. Are people heinous to you?"

Tucker sat at an awkwardly comfortable distance from her, letting his toes dance on the top of the water. "Heinous? I'm not sure what that means, to be honest. But I sure don't understand this, Miss. You seem to be helping me, and you apparently take me for my word. Are you? Why would you?"

She shrugged a bit. "I guess I'm curious to see what Danny saw in you." She slanted her eyes to the boy. "He spoke very highly of you, by the way."

Shaking his head, Tucker laughed. "Why am I not surprised? And I bet he talked about God to you too?"

Sam nodded. "Is that a bad thing?"

"I guess not." He stared off into the blue-green depths. "But I never know where Danny ends and God begins anymore."

She watched his expressions. They were flirting back and forth through different emotions. "I do actually have a job for you, by the way." Sam stated finally.

He looked at her and ran his coffee-colored hand over the red beret. "Heh, I guess I forgot where I was for a second there. Sorry about that. What can I do for you ma'am?"

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Thanks for reading, all. =) I'll try to get more out soon if you guys want it.