ULTIMATE DISCLAIMER IN PROFILE AND CHAPTER 1! (Except Gerald Winchester... You'll see soon.)

ULTIMATE WARNING IN PROFILE AND CHAPTER 1!

AU, OOC. Mildly minor SLASH. :D (Very, very, VERY minor, but it's there.)

FINALLY! -wipes sweat off forehead, Sadie snoring and purring beside the computer- I just can't believe how hard it was to write this chapter.

Hey, everyone! I'm so sorry for keeping you waiting so long. Hope I didn't (and won't) lose any of my dear Readers!

I hope you will like this chapter. It has some of its top moments, but I'm scared that I may have let loose a little bit with its usual level. Can you tell me? I'm really hoping this chappy is as good as the previous ones are.

I spent all this time to think up the argument in here. It was TORTURE! But then I finally got it. Hope it's okay and as usual, if you don't understand something, ask/tell me and I'll explain. Okay? Good.

Onto the chappy! Enjoy!

Chapter 10: Forgive Me

Sam quickly threw his sweatpants and shirt on then hurried to the supply closet to get the broom and the dustpan. As he was thoroughly sweeping up the front porch, he saw Mark examining the hedge but he kept his eyes lowered in shame. He didn't know how the young man was feeling about him getting Alex into trouble. He'd noticed the connection between the two for a while now, and he would understand if Mark didn't speak to him.

After finishing the porch, Sam almost ran back to the closet to get the vacuum cleaner, ignoring the delicious scents of breakfast wafting through the air and his stomach seeking attention. He dragged the surprisingly heavy vacuum cleaner up the stairs and to the Master's bedroom. He knocked on the door hesitantly, a bit scared of his Master, but no answer came.

When he cautiously stepped in, he heard the rush of water in the bathroom. The Master was probably having a shower. Sam neatly made the bed then turned to the vacuum cleaner to put it together. Soon the machine's engine came on, filling the whole room with its slightly deafening roar and leaking out to the other parts of the mansion. As he pushed and pulled on the head, he let himself be drifted away by the monotone movements and forget about his surroundings. However, he was finished with the room too quickly for his liking.

As he turned the machine off, he heard the bathroom door close. Before he could look up, footsteps stomped over to the bedroom door and after opening and closing it, they died away, leaving Sam in the suffocating silence. Before he could be overwhelmed by the Master's distant behavior, the memory of that afternoon still too vivid in his mind, he walked into the bathroom and collected the laundry.

As he walked through the kitchen with the basket, he noticed Alex's absence and wondered where he could be. When he walked through the kitchen to go back upstairs, he caught sight of the young man through the window, talking with Mark quietly in the backyard. He felt a smile tug at his lips at the scene, instantly finding the golden thread of the connection between them. He ascended the stairs with a higher spirit, happy for his – hopefully – friend.

Sam slowly went over the bedrooms upstairs, losing himself in the motions and forgetting about his troubles and surroundings. He ignored the slight pounding in his head, chalking it up to lack of sleep since he was rudely woken up this morning. One moment he straightened up from his work, thinking he heard something through the roar of the vacuum cleaner but after a shrug he returned to his task.

As he was working, his mind drifted away from his thoughts of guilt and causing disappointment, only paying attention to the way he was pushing the head, avoiding any unnecessary meetings with the furniture. The constant hum of the machine drowned out every noise outside the room and inside his mind. He almost began humming a song, his brain making out the melody from the zooming.

Finally he reached the last room and he shut the vacuum cleaner off. His shirt stuck to his torso from sweat, but he was breathing easier, feeling the workout affecting his muscles. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, swiping his sticky bangs into their place. He unplugged the machine then started dragging it out of the bedroom with more effort than he'd begun, which surprised him a little. He decided to go down the main staircase instead of taking a detour in the back hallways.

As he closed the door and started down the corridor, the world spun around him quite fast. The vacuum cleaner landed from quivering fingers on the floor with a muffled crash, but Sam didn't hear it from the ringing in his ears. He lifted a hand to his forehead, the other reaching to the side for banister. With that move the world spun faster and tilted to the side.

The next thing he knew he was on the ground, leaning against the wall with his side, the corridor still spinning around him like crazy. He felt his whole body shiver from the sweat breaking out on him and from the exhaustion of his muscles. His vision blurred, causing his stomach to churn from the whirling haze. He tried to call out for help, but his mouth was so dry and stuffy, he couldn't get himself to speak. He was sure now that he was cursed: he screws up everyone's life and manages to get himself sick at the same time. This could only happen to him…

His head began pounding as his thoughts ran wild, breaking a broken, hoarse whimper out of him. He hadn't even noticed how thirsty he was: his throat was killing him. He wanted to close his eyes against the spinning in front of him, but he was afraid that the darkness would pull him under. He was already feeling the force of it, trying to fight against it.

"Sam?" he heard a deep, concerned voice then a hand landed on his shoulder and steadied him. The spinning slowed down somewhat and he could make out dark brown irises, olive skin and dark hair. Ramon came to save him. "Did you fall?"

"'M'zzy…" Sam slurred, feeling like his mouth was stuffed with cotton. "'El…"

"Sam, try to focus!" Ramon ordered, raising his voice a little. His warm hands cradled the boy's impossibly white face. He gazed into glazed hazel eyes that were trying to see him. "What happened?" Sam blinked at the man owlishly then began sliding forwards. Ramon quickly gathered the boy in his arms, shifting him so he could look him in the eye again. "Hey!" he tapped at Sam's sweaty cheeks, worried when he met with shut eyelids, but luckily they fluttered open. "Let's get you downstairs, okay buddy?"

Not expecting an answer, Ramon heaved the limp body up, draping an arm around his shoulders, while keeping his own on Sam's back. He sighed with relief when he noticed Sam trying to get his legs under himself. They slowly started towards the stairs, Sam stumbling on his own two feet. If Ramon didn't know any better he would think the boy was drunk. Reaching the stairs the man realized that Sam won't be able to make that trip in one piece, so he lifted him up into his arms bridal style and carried him downstairs into the kitchen, hoping Alex would know what was wrong.

"Bloody hell!" Ramon's mind eased up a little, when he heard Alex's soft voice and the young man ran to them. "What happened?" Alex asked, laying a hand on Sam's sweaty cheek. The boy didn't react to the touch, scaring the others more.

"I found him upstairs" Ramon explained as he sat Sam into a chair at the kitchen table. Alex quickly kneeled before the boy, worried azures taking in the pale features. "He's really out of it, but I don't know why."

"Get a blanket!" Alex ordered rubbing at Sam's shaking limbs. The boy's glazed look into nothingness scared him. The older man hurried away. "Sam, can you tell me what's wrong?" he asked concerned. Instead of a reply, Sam's upper-body tilted forward with a tired sigh, straight into Alex's arms. "It's okay, I've got you" the young man whispered, straining to keep Sam's weight up.

"'M't'red" Sam slurred. His eyelids felt heavy and his head was still pounding from the wavering haze in front of him.

"Try to stay awake!" Alex ordered firmly, just as Ramon returned with a blanket. "Just for a little longer, alright?" Together they covered the shivering boy and leaned him back against the chair. Alex jumped up and hurried to the cupboards, while Ramon held Sam up by his shoulders. He smirked when he heard the usually calm young man behind him cursing the stars down from the skies.

After a few moments Alex kneeled back to Sam with a glass of water in his hand.

"Drink this" Alex coached Sam, lifting the glass to the boy's lips. Sam, feeling the cool liquid on his tongue, began gulping the water down greedily. The strangely sweet water washed his parched throat down, the stuffy feeling in his mouth disappearing without a trace. The glass was soon emptied, but when Alex pulled it away, Sam strained to reach for it, wanting more. Ramon's hands on his shoulders held him back.

"Why don't we get you into bed?" Alex asked softly, stroking the boy's still too pale cheek. "I'm sure you'd feel better lying on a soft mattress than sitting on a hard chair, wouldn't you?" Between the two of them Alex and Ramon helped the boy up and escorted him to his bed. Ramon helped Sam into it, leaning him against the headboard, propping up the pillows behind the boy's back. Meanwhile, Alex returned to the kitchen, piling food onto a plate. Soon he was sitting on the edge of Sam's bed, feeding the boy slowly, who groggily accepted every bite, a loud grumble indicating how hungry he was.

"Before you ask" Alex muttered to Ramon, his tone still a little angry, "his blood-sugar level hit a bloody hole in the floor." Ramon sighed in understanding. He never thought the kid would be this stupid. A little while later, Alex stood up and stroked Sam's face again, his touch and movements screaming of mothering. "Have some rest" he whispered, pressing a concerned, but soothing kiss onto Sam's still clammy forehead. The boy closed his eyes with a soft sigh and soon drifted away into a light sleep, not hearing the quiet footsteps floating away or the tiny creak of the closing bedroom-door.

The next time Sam woke up, it was still mid-afternoon, he was still groggy, but his head was much clearer. He carefully straightened up, feeling the pressure of a dizzy spell or headache at the back of his skull. He shakily got out of bed, feeling hunger and thirst gnawing at his stomach and throat. As he rubbed his eyes, trying to get the sleep out of them, he winced at the stinging rearing its head up in his cheek, when his hand brushed against the injury. At that, anger filled him towards the Master.

How did that arrogant prick dare to do this to him? He had no right to treat him this harshly for a simple stick of cigarette! There is no excuse for his behavior! He can't abuse a human being like this without a reason- no, he can't abuse a human being, period. He didn't know which alternative reality that egotistical, self-absorbed… asshole was living, but Sam wasn't going to take his crap without a word, obediently like a dog! With those thoughts in his mind he walked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen.

The other slaves were in there, as well, apparently on a break from their tasks. When Sam stepped into the room, every head snapped to his way, watching him attentively. Sam felt ashamed at the obvious worry in the eyes: they waited for him to collapse any moment either from exhaustion or emotional trauma. Sam felt a scowl slip onto his features as he plopped down into a chair boneless, weakly holding himself up with trembling arms. Alright, maybe they had a right to be concerned, but, honestly…

"How are you feeling, Sam?" Alex asked, trying for a cheerful tone to distract the others. He was preparing dinner for the Master, seemingly making the finishing touches on the food. Sam guessed he hadn't been sleeping for so long.

"Crappy" he snapped back, feeling his anger return with full force. "Thanks to that dick of a Master…"

He missed the hardening of dark brown eyes and ignored the slight flinch from Mark. Alex's cheerfulness flew out the window so fast like a bird being let out of a cage.

"Sam…" Alex sighed, turning towards the boy. "He just did what he had to. A Master has to have control over the slaves, punishing them if they step out of line…"

"Just because a group of 'civilized' people labeled us as slaves and degraded us 'cause they were scared from the abnormal, doesn't mean they have a right to treat us this way and to take our rights away. We are just as much of human beings as them" Sam replied heatedly, his fist landing on the tabletop with a weak thud. He hid the wince of pain that the move caused, not letting the others know how this exhausted him more.

Alex rubbed a hand down his face exasperatedly. Mark kept his eye on Ramon wearily, finally noticing the dark look burning through the table. The tightly clenched fists were shaking almost unnoticeably, as the man tried to gather and hold his self-control together.

"Look" Alex continued a little frustration seeping into his voice. "There was a rule in this house-"

"Which I didn't even know about!" Sam cut him off in a raised voice.

"Regardless, you broke it!" Alex cried out, stunning Sam for a moment. He never witnessed the peaceful young man losing it. "And it's the Master's duty to take matters in his own hands and punish you as you deserve."

"I didn't deserve this!" Sam shouted, jumping onto his feet but falling back with a sway. His anger turned into rage at the betrayal of his own body to appear strong. "I know my rights and I know he has no right to raise a hand against me for any reason! And his reason for hitting me was unjust! It was one cigarette and he blew it out of proportion! He should be arrested for physical abuse!"

Alex just glared at Sam, seemingly calmer after his outcry. He waited for Sam to finish his tirade before speaking softly up:

"This is the way things are here. If you can't accept that, don't come crying to us, when you get punishment after punishment-"

"I'm not gonna let dicks like this self-centered douchebag treat me this unjustly for something as trivial as smoking!" Sam exploded again, angered by the uncaring reply he got. "What does he care if I smoke one cigarette? He doesn't have any right to tell me what I can do to myself. I don't give a shit about him being the Master. He can shove his title up next to that stick in his ass-" He was cut off by a pair of hands grabbing onto his collar and shoving him up against the wall. The chair he was sitting in clattered onto the ground, cutting through the tense silence like a knife through butter.

Sam looked up, his face contorted in pain: his back hit the concrete hard, ripping the air out of his lungs. When he opened his eyes, he met with flashing, furious dark-brown eyes an inch from his own frightened hazel ones.

"Ramon!" Alex shouted, breaking out of his stupor and running to the enraged man. He tried to pull Ramon away from Sam, his azure irises filled with terror at the look on Ramon's face. Sam clawed at the hands holding him against the wall, shaking from fear, even slightly afraid for his life. Despite the height difference, Sam felt small in the blaze of the fury shooting out of the man's eyes. Ramon's lips were trembling, low growls escaping from him and the boy knew he was a second away from snarling like a rabid dog.

"Ramon!" Mark's voice broke through the staring contest of the two, as the young man gripped Ramon's fists and gently tugged. "Let him go!" Mark ordered with quiet firmness. Long seconds passed until the hold on Sam's collar loosened then let up. When Ramon was a safe distance away from Sam, Mark turned him away, but Ramon snatched his arms out of the young man's hold and stormed out of the kitchen and the servants' quarter.

Sam was still leaning against the wall, staring at the place where Ramon's fierce glare was a moment ago. He was gasping for breath, trying to slow his hammering heart down in his chest. His brain wasn't able to process what just happened. Why would Ramon attack him? Why would he want to… hurt him?

"You want a proper reason?" came Mark's cold voice, snapping his mind back from the daze. Sam turned his wide eyes to the young man, listening. "Then here's what happened." Sam felt himself crumble from the stabbing glare Mark sent him.

"Dean's father, John Winchester died when Dean was a boy" Mark started, surprising Sam and even Alex with him addressing the Master by his name. "It was a stroke. Dean was twelve years old. He had to become the head of the mansion and the family. Only his mother stood by his side, helping him through thick and thin, but it was too much for either of them. One day, when Dean was fourteen, his uncle arrived to the mansion. He was searching for a place to stay for quite a while. Of course, they accepted him.

"After a few months, Dean found out that his uncle was smoking. He was going through packs and packs of cigarettes 24/7. Dean and his mother tried to reason with him to stop before it's too late. They tried to get him to rehab, they tried different doctors, anything, but nothing was working. His uncle was just lighting up stick after stick, barely any break between them.

"Then, they found out that his uncle had cancer in his lung and stomach." Sam gulped at that, feeling a sudden pain in his heart, pretty sure where this was going. "Dean and his mother took him in, obviously, since he was family after all. They treated him, cared for him, once Dean tried to steal the old man's cigarette. He hasn't ever received such a harsh verbal abuse in his life. They couldn't do anything for him, though, just helping him through the pain and sickness from the chemotherapy. Eventually, however, he passed away. In this house."

"What does that have to do with me?" Sam asked softly.

"You don't get it, do you?" Mark bristled slightly. "He had to watch his uncle die. You know what his name was?" Sam shook his head a little. "Gerald Winchester." The name made Sam's eyes widen in understanding. "Dean had to watch his uncle, the only brother of John Winchester, the only link to the father he devoted on, loved with his whole heart, looked up to, slowly wither away by the torture of cancer and chemotherapy. Which was caused and started by a simple stick of cigarette. 'Something as trivial as smoking', right?"

Sam gulped at that, hearing the venom in his own words break his strong façade. He couldn't even imagine what Dean could have gone through emotionally by that. Sam didn't even know what he would do if he had to go through this. He probably couldn't have looked at a cigarette, could've felt sick just from the thought of it.

"If you haven't noticed yet" Mark spoke again, his tone now softer, "Dean cares about you. Isn't this a good enough reason for the punishment you deserved? … Maybe you didn't deserve it, since we forgot to tell you" Mark said after a brief pause. "But now you can see why he did what he did."

The injury on Sam's cheek began aching as he remembered the slap he'd gotten from Dean. Now that he thought about it, he had seen something in Dean's eyes just before lowering his head in submission: fear had been peeking out behind the fury in those jade-green irises. Dean was afraid of losing him… But why? Why was Sam so important for the Master that he'd gotten so harsh and cruel with him? Maybe he'd been acting on his fear, trying to intimidate Sam to stop his unhealthy habit.

Suddenly every moment of his weaknesses and sick times he'd had in this place came back to him. The gentle touches, the worried looks, the care… Dean had even stayed with him and calmed him down when he'd had that injection. He was always there beside him, helping and comforting him through his fits… Then a fresher memory floated into his mind: a sunlit room, a piano, a light touch on his cheek, turning his face towards that piercing pair of eyes, full of care and…

Sam startled himself out of his thoughts: he found himself alone in the kitchen. Alex and Mark must have left the room, leaving him alone to process everything he heard. Sam felt the now familiar pain in his chest and he recognized it: it was the same pain he felt this morning, the same pain Alex was talking about last night and in the morning…

It was his heart breaking.

Sam slowly left the servants' quarter to retrieve the vacuum cleaner from the upstairs hallway. As he was ascending the steps, he heard a soft knock from the right. Turning that way, he caught a glimpse of Ramon, stepping into the… Master's Bedroom?

Confused, Sam crept up the stairs and to the door that was left open, barely registering the fact that the vacuum cleaner has already vanished. As he reached the door, he heard Ramon's soft voice:

"Sir, you alright?"

And then…

Soft sniffs.

A hiccup.

Sam couldn't believe it. The Master was…

Crying.

Sam crept closer to the door, realizing that only one wing was left open. He peeked around the closed wing and saw Dean sitting curled up on the couch, Ramon standing next to him. Sam felt his broken heart shatter into more pieces at the sight of the damp face, the beautiful jades glinting from tears… Beautiful? He shouldn't think about his Master like that.

Sam thought that Dean hadn't heard Ramon's question, but then the man took a shaky breath and choked out:

"I miss him…"

Sam saw Ramon's shoulders droop then after a few silent seconds he sat down next to his Master. The next moment halted Sam's mind so hard that he thought his brain would smash through the top of his skull.

"C'mere" Ramon said softly and pulled Dean into his arms, the man snuggling into the man's chest, seeking comfort. "Shhshshshhh, Dean, it's okay…"

Sam just couldn't believe it: Ramon was hugging his Master and calling him by his name! And Dean was letting him! He watched as Ramon stroked the blond tresses comfortingly, rubbing his other hand down the trembling back and across the hitching shoulders.

"I d… didn't mean…" Dean sobbed out silently.

"I know" Ramon rocked his Master slowly. "They know. It's alright…"

"H-Heard 'im… I miss h-him…"

It went like this the whole time: Dean sobbing his feelings out in quiet, broken words and Ramon soothing them away gently and softly. Sam looked at the once strong and dangerous Master and saw a terrified, lost little boy, needing the comfort and love, needing an adult to get the weight off his shoulders. He had a feeling that this will be the only time he would see the raw person behind the hard shell and walls. He felt his own tears glide down his cheeks, not able to bear witnessing the ruins of a destroyed past and childhood. He pressed a hand onto his mouth to push back the sobs attempting to explode out of him and took deep, silent breaths to calm himself down. Finally, Dean pulled away from Ramon's arms.

"Th-this stays between us, right?" he asked drying his eyes. As Dean spoke, Sam felt his sobs retreating back into his lungs from shock: Ramon turned to the door, pinning his dark eyes into Sam's hazel ones.

"Yes, sir" he answered softly, eyes narrowing slightly. Sam understood: he nodded then disappeared from the door. As he walked back to the servants' quarter, he wiped his face down, removing any evidence of being witness to the scene from before.

Sam was sitting in his room, still recovering from his newest stupidity. He still felt shaky and weak and if he turned his head one way, the room would wave in front of him. Alex had already been here, promising him food, leaving some juice on the bedside table. Sam shifted against the pillows propped up behind him, leaning his head against the wall above the headboard. He was tired but he couldn't fall asleep from the loud growling in his stomach.

Sam closed his eyes with a small groan. What had he been thinking? He should've known not to overexert himself on an empty stomach. He cursed his idiotic mind that had urged him to finish his task without a break. He knew he'd heard it right that one time: he'd been called to lunch.

Suddenly, he started rubbing at his chest. He just couldn't steer his mind away from the scene he'd watched earlier. He didn't know someone so strong can reduce to someone that weak and small. He knew his Master was entitled to have a breakdown, and ever since he heard his background, he wished he could've been the one to comfort him. All those horrible things he said about him… He was so sure he was right about the slavery, that his anger was just and righteous, but, as always, his pride deceived him, hid the truth away from him. His father had always told him that his temper will get him in trouble one day. And it did.

He just couldn't forget the sight of his Master broken down. His heart was still breaking from the sight, almost causing him physical pain. After a while he stopped rubbing his chest, accepting defeat against lessening the pain in there. With a sigh he made another attempt to fall into a light slumber.

This time a knock interrupted his efforts.

As Sam slowly opened his eyes, surprised by how hard it was to do, he heard the door open and close. Looking that way, expecting Alex to stand at the door, he was in for a surprise.

"Master?" the title slipped out, before Sam could kick-start his brain at the sight of the man in the room. He quickly got out of bed – or as quickly as he could with his shaky limbs – and turned to his Master, lowering his head obediently. There was no response to his actions for a short while then Dean stepped cautiously closer.

"I heard what happened" the man spoke a bit hoarsely. If Sam hadn't known any better, he would've thought the man had a cold, judging by his voice. "I… I realized how harsh I've been with you this morning. You didn't know about the rule… I just thought the others have told you."

"No, sir" Sam commented softly. "They didn't."

"Yeah" Dean breathed awkwardly. "Um, I'm… I'm sorry for being so cruel to you. I just… have a hard time with… smoking…" Sam heard the shudder in Dean's voice, but the man quickly cleared his throat to cover it up. "I just want to say that I'm sorry. And…" he began searching in his pockets. "I don't want you to feel like I want to control everything you do, so… Here."

Sam lifted his head slightly and saw in Dean's outstretched hand a new pack of cigarettes. His heart took up a faster rhythm at the meaning he saw in this small gesture. He felt warmth spreading throughout his body and butterflies in his stomach. He slowly reached out and took the small packet from Dean. The man lowered his hand and turned to leave.

As Dean reached for the doorknob, he heard a small crack behind him. He turned back and his eyes widened: Sam was holding out the pack of cigarettes he bought for him, the small box bent in half.

"I promise to pay it back, sir" Sam remarked quietly, his stance strong despite the aura of exhaustion around him. Dean slowly walked back in front of Sam and took the ruined pack back with wonder. They stood in silence for a few seconds, Sam waiting for the master's next move, while Dean was gazing at the little pack in his hands.

He knew a gesture for what it was: Sam just promised him to stop smoking. Why, he couldn't understand. But the fact he would do this, made Dean feel kind of warm inside. What was this boy doing to him? Why was he pulled towards this shy, withdrawn, beautiful person so much? Dean blinked at his thoughts. Maybe he found the answer for his question?

He took a good look at the boy in front of him. He heard how Sam collapsed in the afternoon and the toll of it was still too visible for his own liking. The boy's young features were pale, almost as white as the wall, and he saw some shade of purple under the lowered eyes. The boy's whole body was trembling with the effort to stay upright, but Sam did it, using his sheer will to hold himself up, and Dean felt the respect sent towards him.

Then he remembered the afternoon at the piano. How his anger vanished in a moment when he saw the graceful movements of Sam's fingers. How he felt the need to open up to him about his father, even just a little bit. How he was overwhelmed with the urge to see the hazel crystals again, not for just a fleeting moment, but for longer, for ever… How he felt the strong longing to taste the thin lips, to feel the soft skin…

Pocketing the ruined packet, Dean stepped closer to his servant. He saw a small flinch of fear run through Sam's body, so he moved slowly, not to frighten the boy. He lifted his hand and caressed the dear face with his fingertips. He felt the skin under them warm up and saw a little pink flooding it with a shy blush. Dean gently grasped the boy's chin and lifted Sam's head up. Sam instantly raised his eyes to Dean's, just gazing into them in awe, wonder and… something else Dean couldn't make out.

"Thank you" he breathed gratefully. A small, timid smile spread onto Sam's face in response, the blush deepening in color as Dean caressed the boy's cheek again. Sam turned his head away shyly, Dean marveling in the adorable sight in front of him. Oh, how he longed to just press his lips against Sam's cheek right now, to pull him in his arms…

His thoughts were interrupted by the boy's whimper, and then he found himself with an armful of a trembling Sam, who tried to stay conscious. Dean pulled him closer to hold him up, holding the boy's head in the crook of neck, soothingly caressing the brown tresses that already grown a little bit, curling slightly as they lengthened.

"Sir?" Dean looked over his shoulder to find Alex in the doorway of the bedroom. The young man had a tray of food in his hands. Dean lifted Sam into his arms and put him into bed. He let Alex feed Sam, keeping an attentive watch over them then he stayed with the boy until he fell asleep. Breathing a little easier, Dean left the servants' quarter, throwing the ruined pack of cigarettes into the trash in the kitchen.

TBC

So, how was it? Wasn't that bad, right? I think the two took a TINY step forwards. Don't worry, I'll speed it up soon. I already have some ideas.

Speaking of ideas, can you help me with a little naming? I don't know how to name Newbie. Do you have any ideas to share? (Not Ryan, please. It's too obvious. :))

Thanks and Read and Review! See you soon!