Sam jumped back, flicking the light up to illuminate the face of Crowley looming over him, grinning maliciously.

"Trying to run away again, are we?" His words were soft but dangerous. Sam gulped and bit down on the inside of his lip to keep it from trembling. Nevertheless, he turned around and bent over slightly, bracing his hands on his knees in preparation for the abuse he was worried was coming. "What the hell are you doing?" asked Crowley, sounding confused.

Sam rolled his eyes before looking back at the man over his shoulder. "Aren't you gonna beat the crap outta me?" Words like that were often heard from the man whenever one of the orphans did something wrong.

Crowley placed his hand over his chest, feigning offense. "Have I ever hit any of you?"

"No, but you've threatened," Sam said, straightening up and turning around. "That's worse."

Crowley laughed, looking very pleased with himself. "I know," he said proudly, before re-locking the door. "Trust me, little moose," he said. "If you think you've got it bad in here, its downright awful out there. I'm doing you a favor by keeping you in." Grabbing Sam by the collar of his shirt, he began dragging the kid back towards the stairs. "Now, what do you say?"

"I love you, Mr. Crowley," Sam muttered unhappily. Somehow, the man had gotten it into his head that he deserved love but never got any, and several times a day had the children in the orphanage declare their love for him. Sam resented it.

Crowley stopped, letting go of Sam's collar and spinning him around to face him. "What was that? I couldn't hear you."

"I love you, Mr. Crowley," Sam repeated, unnecessarily loud, trying to sound as insincere as he possibly could.

Crowley sneered, pushing him towards the stairs and following him up as he started to climb. "Rotten orphan."

"I'm not an orphan! My parents are coming back for me and you know it!"

Crowley snorted. "They left you here eleven years ago. Don't you think that if they were coming back for you, they would have already? Face it, kid. You're an orphan."

Sam remained silent as Crowley propelled him back into the orphans' room, switching on the lights. "Rise and shine, kiddies!"

The boys woke slowly, groaning and rubbing at their eyes in an attempt to clear the sleep from them.

"Its in the middle of the night," Gabriel wined to Crowley, purposefully irritating.

"No," Crowley retorted sarcastically, rolling his eyes as the orphans got out of bed. He grabbed Sam's shirt again and pulled him out in front all of the kids. "Our dear little Sammy here has been trying to run away, again." Sam sneered at the nickname, glaring at Michael as he viciously muttered "Nice one, dumbass."

"Luckily," Crowley continued, "once he realized how much he would have missed us, he decided to come right back. So, as a little welcome home party, all of you are going to clean this junk pile until I can see my face shining on every flat surface in this dump. Do I make myself clear?" he asked, pulling a stack of buckets out from where they stood in the corner.

"Yes, sir," the boys replied in gloomy unison.

"Good. Now, I think you all know what I want to hear..." he turned his head and placed a hand behind the ear that was know facing the group of kids.

"We love you, Mr. Crowley."

"Perfect. Now get to work! And don't forget to strip your beds for the laundry man." With that, Crowley was back in the hall, heading down to his room to go back to sleep.

The boys all picked up their buckets, filling them with soap and water before retrieving their scrub brushes. They dropped their buckets on the floor, wetting their brushes before attacking the floor with them, getting out their anger at the unfairness of their lives. No one said a word as they did so, which reminded Sam of a rumor he had heard from their laundry man, Mr. Singer, or Bobby, as he told some of the kids to call him.

Bobby said that one of his colleagues, Mr. Bundles, did the deliveries in the girl's orphanage across town. He said that one day, when he was running a bit early, Bundles came in while the girls were cleaning and heard them singing as they worked. Sam had rolled his eyes at the story. Girls, he thought, even though he had never met one.

Lost in thought, Sam almost didn't notice when Garth grabbed his sleeve, tugging on it a little. Sam turned his head to see what he wanted. "Do you think we'll get any presents for Christmas this year?" he asked.

Sam sighed. "Do we ever?"

Garth looked upset at that, but what else could Sam tell him? He didn't want to give him any false hope. He would have bought presents for all of them, but A) he didn't have any money and B) he wasn't even allowed to leave the orphanage. Garth lapsed back into silence as they finished cleaning, rolling in the laundry basket and quickly filling it with their old sheets and pillows.

When Crowley came back in, all of the boys snapped to attention, standing straight as a line at the foot of their beds. "Good morning, boys," he said, voice so full of fake sweetness Sam thought he might hurl.

"Good morning, sir," he said instead, as did the rest of the orphans.

Crowley let a small, satisfied smile grace his lips before he stepped to the side of the door, allowing Bobby to come in with their new sheets. "Morning, ya idgits," he called out, but they were the most affectionate words any of the orphans had ever heard from a grown up.

"Morning, Mr. Singer!" they began to cry out.

Bobby laughed. "Morning, Crowley," he said with a smile as the two of them moved towards the center of the room. "Alright, guys. I got your clean sheets right here, as promised." The orphans' faces lit up, but it looked like Crowley was going to stay, which meant that they wouldn't be able to actually talk to Bobby. Instead, they formed a line, one by one grabbing fresh sheets off the top of the stack.

"You know, Crowley," Bobby said, "It wouldn't kill ya to loosen up every once and a while." Crowley shot him a look and Bobby shrugged. "I'm just sayin'. Why don't we go out for a beer or somethin'? I'm sure the boys'll be just fine on their own for one night."

"Then you clearly don't know the rotten trouble makers. Now just take the laundry and get out of here; there's no use in hanging around."

After putting his clean sheets on his bed, Sam looked up to find Crowley's back turned as he talk to Bobby. Seeing his window of opportunity, he rushed over to the laundry bin and pushed aside a few pillows. The other boys were a little confused at first, but quickly caught onto his plan when he whispered to Ash "Give me a boost," and hopped into the bin. They covered his form with the pillows, and it became impossible to tell that someone was hiding in there.

After being shot down by Crowley, Bobby turned back to the laundry bin, grabbing its rim and wheeling it towards the door. "Until the next time, boys! Oh, and Merry Christmas!" he called as he left.

"Bye, Mr. Singer!" came the excited response, and Sam knew that they weren't only saying goodbye to Bobby.

"Alright, kids," Crowley said before they could get too excited, "You've got a lot of work to do today. Best get started early."

"But what about our breakfast?" Raphael said, trying to remind Crowley that they hadn't eaten yet.

"After you're done," he said dismissively. "Well, if you've done a good job, anyway. Now, then. Roll call!"

All of the boys scrambled back to the foot of their beds as Crowley made his way down the aisle. He looked at each boy as they individually chanted "I love you, Mr. Crowley," yet again. He started with Gabriel, then Uriel, then Ash, then Victor, then Raphael, then Michael, then Zachariah, then Garth, then...

There was silence from the foot of Sam's bed, the kid himself being nowhere to be seen. "Sam? Get your little ass back out here!"

The boys started snickering. "Mr. Crowley, Sam's not here," Ash said with a smile that quickly disappeared under the ferocious look Crowley shot him.

"He's not? So where is he?"

Gabriel, the real troublemaker in the group, wasn't at all afraid of getting on the wrong side of Crowley. "Bobby Singer rolled him out with the dirty laundry."

"WHAT?!"