A/N: Crack!fic for Richard Castle's birthday. Enjoy

Sitting up in the barn's loft with his feet propped up on a bale of hay, Richard Castle stared out across the rolling, grassy landscape of the farm on which he resided. Though he'd lived there his entire life, the farm was beginning to feel less and less like home. He had no family remaining there—at least, no one he chose to consider family—but yet he was stuck. With no money and no title, he had very few choices other than to stay and work as a servant on the farm his family once owned while watching those who were unworthy squander away his father's hard-earned money.

With a sigh, Castle turned back to the weathered edge notebook cradled in his lap. The leather-bound book with soot-stained pages was his prized possession. It contained all of his notes, musings, and thoughts for the novel he would write one day. That was his ultimate dream—to be published—but with his life the way it was he was lucky just to be literate. Someday, though; someday his luck would change.

"Castle! Castle! Where the hell is that insufferable boy!"

The brown haired man cursed under his breath as he scrambled off the hay bale. He tucked his notebook between the bales at the top of the loft stairs and hurried down them as quickly as he could. If his step father caught him daydreaming again…He shuddered. His back still hurt from the lashings he'd received. Twenty years old—the same age as his step-brother—but they still treated him like the eleven year old child he'd been when their families were joined by marriage.

After sprinting across the back garden up to the main house, Castle huffed out a breath when he stumbled into the kitchen coming face to face with the dark-skinned man. Though he had a good four inches of height on Mr. Esposito the man's dark eyes and heavy brow line made him quite intimidating. That and how accurate he was with a whip.

"I'm sorry, Sir; I got caught up in the barn. Was there something you needed?"

The elder man eyed him suspiciously before saying, "My boys need to get ready for the ball tonight, Castle. Do you expect them to do that for themselves?"

"No, Sir. Of course not, Sir. I'll go help them at once."

"Castle!" The man stopped him before he took two steps away. With a disapproving head shake he said, "Make sure you wash up first; I don't want you soiling my sons' good clothing."

"Yes sir." The writer responded, his tone clipped. Of course his hands weren't dirty; he would never write in his notebook with dirty hands. Nor were they stained with splotches of ink (this time). They were weathered and callused from hard labor on the farm, but that didn't make them dirty. Still, he did as he was asked so as not to upset his step-father; there would be enough tension in the house that night.

After washing up, he ascended the stairs to find his step-brothers, Kevin and Javier, both in Kevin's room staring contemplatively into the wardrobe. Castle fought to keep himself from rolling his eyes. Honestly, with the way those two cared about what they looked like, they may as well have been his step-sisters.

Castle had first been introduced to Kevin when he was eight and Kevin was seven. They met on the day their parents got married. Having lived alone with his mother since his father died while he was still in infancy, Castle was excited at the prospect of having a brother—especially one with a hearty Irish brogue. Unfortunately, Kevin, who sorely missed his homeland, had no interest in having a brother. And while Kevin's father, Mr. Ryan, was nice enough to Castle, their family didn't last long; Mr. Ryan died six months after the marriage began.

Two years later his mother brought home Mr. Esposito and his son Javier. Though Castle never understood why, the elder Esposito took an instant dislike to him and the younger soon followed suit. A mere week later his mother married again and their patchwork family was complete.

For two years Castle thought things would be fine from then on. His two step-brothers preferred to hang out with each other and not with him, but he was fine with that; he had his stories. He didn't even mind going to school, because it was a distraction from the disapproving eyes of his step-father. Just as he was beginning to plan his future, his mother was taken ill and died within a week. Then, things really changed.

Castle was forced out of his room and into the cellar where he was treated no differently than the kitchen maid and farmhands. As he grew older, he was not permitted to carry on his education, but instead took over the physical labor as the farmhands dwindled due to lack of funds to pay their meager wages. The Esposito's lived a life far too lavish for their means and soon both the farm and house fell into disrepair, but there was nothing Castle could do; he had no control over the situation. He only could sit back, watch and, as his step-father put it, be glad he was fed and clothed—like that was some sort of charitable gesture.

Entering Kevin's bedroom, Castle cleared his throat. "Your father said you might need some help?"

"Finally!" Javier proclaimed with a groan. "Where have you been?"

"Sorry I was…busy."

"Busy wasting time." Kevin snipped. Then he walked over to Castle with a white dress shirt draped over his arm. "This needs pressing. Don't wrinkle the collar." Just before he passed it over he asked, "Are your hands clean?"

Fighting the urge to reply with sarcasm he instead grunted, "Just washed."

Kevin gave them a skeptical look before passing the shirt over.

"And my pants need the button sewed back on." Javier said before using his hand to beckon Castle to follow him across the hall to his bedroom. He did so and accepted the pair of black trousers.

"Do you have the button?"

"Why would I have the button? Find a new button!" Javier snapped.

Castle took a deep breath. "Anything else I can do for you gentlemen?"

He clicked his tongue with annoyance. "Nothing other than iron and sew—quickly. We have to leave for the ball by six!"

"There, I think that looks straight. What about you?" Castle stepped away from Kevin and allowed him to adjust his tie—emerald green to match the undertones in his vest—in the mirror that once belonged to his mother.

As Kevin made his own adjustments, Javier entered wearing his freshly mended pants and nodded. "Lookin' good bro."

"You think?" Kevin asked. When Javier confirmed, he turned so Castle could help him with his jacket. "It's a shame you're not coming, Castle. Might be your only chance to experience something nice."

Javier let out a bark of laughter. "You kidding me? He'd disgust Princess Kate with his straggly beard and filthy clothes."

"Don't forget the smell." Kevin laughed as he followed his elder step-brother out of the room.

Castle grumbled and shot a rude hand gesture in the direction they had gone. Once he heard them reach the echoing foyer, he walked over to the front-facing windows in Kevin's—his former—bedroom. Down below in the courtyard he could see the carriage waiting to take them to the ball. Watching them climb inside with their father made him sick. He balled his fists and turned away from the window, shaking his head.

When the invitation had been sent around three weeks earlier, it had been unprecedented. The King was inviting every man in the land—no matter his station—to a party celebrating their daughter's eighteenth birthday. Rumors in the marketplace said that the King was desperate to marry off his daughter now that she was of legal age. Evidently she had turned down many of the princes and lords that had already asked for her hand. Castle wasn't sure if that made her smart or stubborn, but he looked forward to his chance to find out.

The few days after the invitation arrived Castle worked diligently at his chores and was extra polite to his step-father and step-brothers in hopes they would agree to bring him along to the ball, but all his work was for naught. When he asked his step- father if he could attend, the elder man laughed. He laughed. He said the invitation was for the free men in the land, not the servants. Castle immediately wished to question when he had become a servant in his own home, but thought better of it, not wanting the lashings.

The next week he thought he would just go—screw their permission—but then he'd thought better of it, not wanting to lose his home on the off chance the Esposito's would find out. He was just…stuck.

Deciding to spend the evening throwing himself a pity party, Castle trudged down to the kitchen, grabbed a hunk of bread and some cheese and wandered out into the back garden. The sun was beginning to sink low on the horizon, painting the sky's canvass with deep hues of lavender. This wasn't so bad, he decided; at least he had the evening to himself.

After finishing his meal, Castle began to walk towards the barn to retrieve his notebook when he saw a man standing on the other side of the garden. He blinked thinking his eyes had tricked him but no, there was a man there—a tall man wearing a large black hat and brown overcoat. Why was there a man in his garden? That didn't make any sense.

"Excuse me, sir? What are you doing here? This is our garden."

"Don't you think I know that?" Came the man's gruff reply. "But I can be anywhere I damn well please."

Surprised by this aggressive response, Castle slowed his walk and came to a stop about a foot from the man. It was then he turned around to reveal a weathered face beneath a heavy red beard. "Wha—I don't understand. Who are you?"

"You mean, you don't recognize me?"

Perplexed, Castle's brow wrinkled. "No…?"

"What's the matter with you, boy? You should know your own Fairy God-Chuck Norris!"

Castle blinked. "My—what!?"

"Never mind that Richard. I made a very special trip here to see you tonight and we don't have time to waste, so are you ready?"

Castle had never been so confused in his life. The red-haired stranger seemed to know him though he had no idea who he was. And what was he getting ready for? "For…what…?"

The hat-wearing man shook his head disapprovingly. "I think your mother made you sound smarter than you actually are."

"M-my mother?" he stammered. "You know her?"

"'course I know her. Who do you think sent me?"

"So…you're an angel?" he guessed.

"NO! I'm your Fairy God-Chuck Norris! Now, what kind of suit are you thinking? Three piece? Tails? Fancy bow tie?"

Castle blinked at the man and then shook his head, taking a half step back and holding up his hands. "I'm sorry—what in the world are you talking about?"

"The ball!"

"The ball?"

"Yes the ball! You still want to go, don't you?"

"Um, yeah." Castle responded dumbly. "But how am I going to-"

"Don't ask questions while I work my magic. Now, let me see…" The red-haired man adjusted his hat on his head, straightened his coat and held out his hands in front of him, wiggling his fingers in random patterns.

Great, Castle thought. The man who had randomly shown up in his back yard had escaped form some sort of asylum for the insane. Now, he was stuck was stuck getting rid of him before the Esposito's returned or he would surely be blamed. "Um, listen sir I—whoa! What's happening!" He proclaimed when he felt a tingling sensation beginning at his feet and traveling all the way up his spine. Gazing down at himself he saw his worn, brown trousers begin to darken and fill in, his torn and rumpled shirt return to its original pure white, and, somewhat alarmingly, a noose begin to form around his neck.

Oh. It wasn't a noose; it was a tie.

"What's…what's happening?"

"Hold on, hold on." The finger waggling man said. "Just a few more touches…"

Castle yelped when he felt the skin on his face grow hot. Shooting his hands up, he felt smooth skin on the underside of his chin for the first time in half a decade. He'd never bothered to shave off what his step-father had called a pathetic excuse for a beard. Good lord—what was going on?

Scurrying towards the house, he found the basket with their gardening tools including a spade for digging holes for seeds; he picked it up. The spade was certainly not as good as the mirror inside the mansion, but it had enough of a reflective surface for him to see his face and confirm it was indeed beard-free. How was this possible?

Whipping around, he saw the hat wearing man approaching, skimming his index finger and thumb over his beard and observing Castle as though he was deciding If his work was complete or if it needed one or two more touches. "You're looking good, son."

"H-how…" was all Castle could stammer out.

"All part of a days' work. Now, if you'll follow me out front, I believe there's a carriage waiting for you."

"A carriage."

"Yes."

"To take me to the ball…"

"Yes."

"I….'ll be right back."

Castle took off running towards the barn which he found immediately difficult now that his work boots had morphed into fancy leather dress shoes. He soon found his stride and flung open the doors to the barn, leaving several startled chickens in his wake. Springing up the stairs, he plucked his notebook from its position before jumping down and sprinting out again into the night. By the time he reached the front of the house, he was breathless. Tucking the notebook into the jacket's inner-pocket he apologized to his Fairy God—whatever.

"Remember, Richard, you only have until midnight."

Stepping up into the carriage, Castle genuinely wasn't sure if he was dreaming or having some sort of mental breakdown, but he decided not to question it—especially if it meant a chance to go to the ball. He turned back to the red-haired man and questioned, "Midnight?"

"Yes. That's when the magic wears off and you will return to your regular clothes. More importantly, this carriage will disappear and you will be stranded. Remember: midnight."

"Midnight." He repeated. "Got it."

The man picked up his hat and tipped it towards Castle. With that, the carriage driver cracked his whip and the horses took off towards the palace on the hill.

TBC?