ULTIMATE DISCLAIMER IN PROFILE AND CHAPTER 1!

ULTIMATE WARNING IN PROFILE AND CHAPTER 1!

AU, OOC.

Hey, guys! Here's the new chappy. YAY! :)

I'm pretty sure, everyone was worried about Sammy.

So, enjoy the chapter!

Chapter 6: Breakdown And Care

The melody of crickets filled the cool summer evening around the mansion. The sun was going down, letting the navy-blue darkness to overtake the sky, but its red glory was still decorating the horizon. This was the scene that greeted Sam when he woke up. His head was swimming with disorientation and confusion, as he looked out of the window from his bed. He felt cold, but everything was so hot that he wanted to shove the blanket from his body. He was too tired, though, to do it.

After a few minutes of resting and gazing into the red sky, Sam started to sit up. He had enough of lying in bed. His limbs were trembling from the effort it took to push himself up, his muscles tensing painfully. As the blanket slid down his torso, he jerked from the pain that accompanied the textile, as it brushed his skin. Finally, he was sitting up, so he looked around, but confusion filled his muddled brain: he didn't recognize the room.

There was a chair next to the bed. His Dad always sits with him, when he's sick. But why was he in a stranger's room? At least it has to be a stranger's. He saw other beds, as well. Was this some kind of a camp? Or his Dad took him to a vacation?

"Daddy" he tried to call out, but the word came out raspy, hurting his throat. Sam cleared his throat with a wince then began the slow, painful process of standing up. As his backside lifted up, his vision spun and he got a sudden head-rush. He quickly caught the nightstand next to his bed to keep himself upright. He waited a few seconds for the dizziness to pass then he continued to straighten up.

As he did that, he tilted to the side and everything that was on the nightstand, fell onto the floor with loud bangs. Sam whimpered and moaned from the pain it caused in his head and ears and he wished that his Dad would rush into the room to help him. No one came.

Sam waited another few minutes again then turned towards the entrance of the room. He began stumbling that way, his balance sometimes tipping dangerously to the side. However, he reached the door without problem. He needed a few seconds to figure out the door handle, but he soon got the door open.

Peeking out onto the corridor, he felt something tug on his brain, but his fever-ridden mind couldn't identify it. He sneaked out onto the hallway and tried to decide where to go, when he heard a big bang from his left, behind another door. Sam thought it was his Dad, probably coming home from work or doing errands or something, so he stumbled to the door and opened it.

He was greeted by a huge, unfamiliar room with a big staircase in the middle. This room was tugging on his mind, too, just like the hallway. But before he could think about that annoying tug, a voice interrupted his attention:

"Sam?"

Sam was confused; this wasn't his Dad! His Dad's voice was gruffer, not this smooth, calming voice that said his name! Sam turned towards the voice and his eyes landed on a man standing on the stairs, looking at him worried and confused.

"Sam?" the man spoke again. "Are you okay?"

Sam just stared at the stranger, not even acknowledging the tickling feeling starting from the corner of his mouth and going down his chin. The man stepped closer, the worry emphasized on his face by the red light coming through the windows. Then Sam caught a glint of the blond hair and the tug strengthened into a pull that yanked him back into his memories. He was at that mansion. He was a servant. A slave! His Dad…

Sam started panting from fear, as he remembered the last time he saw his Dad. His eyes snapped to the entrance, the big two-winged door.

"Daddy!" he cried out, his voice stronger and full of fear. He began running towards the big door, towards freedom, only stumbling a couple of times, but staying upright. He heard a shout behind him, but ignored it in favor of reaching freedom. Soon he got the big door open and he shot out onto the porch. By some miracle, he ran down the stairs without falling and dashed to the gate. His speed quickened, his heart hammered in his chest, because freedom was so close… He can see his Dad again soon…

But as his fingers wrapped around the bars and he pulled, the gate didn't budge.

"No…" he whimpered and pulled on it again. Besides a rattle, the result was the same. "NO!" he screamed and pulled on the gate again and again. He felt like a wild animal in a cage… "DADDY!" … his family out there and he can't go home… "NOO!"… freedom is in front of him just out of reach… "NOOO!"

Dean watched shocked the sight in front of him. He was scared when Sam ran out of the house and Dean took off after the boy. He shouted after him, but Sam either didn't hear it, or just ignored him. When the boy crashed into the gate, Dean sped up, frightened that Sam hurt himself, but then he was halted in his track: Sam tried to open the locked gate. Dean was glad for a moment that he himself had gone out to lock the gate, otherwise Sam could have escaped, his feverish mind and thoughts leading him towards anything, even danger. But then a scream tore through the evening air:

"NO!"

Dean's heart sank from the agony and misery in the boy's voice. He heard other footsteps behind him and turning back he saw Alex running towards them. Dean lifted his hand up to stop the young man, who slid into a halt a few feet away from his Master. Then another scream came:

"DADDY!"

Dean instantly knew what Alex was thinking, so he raised his hand up again to stop him. The young man's face showed the battle inside him: he wanted to gather the boy into his arms, no matter the height difference, but he had to obey to his Master's order.

"NOO!"

At that Mark came out of the house, hearing the screams in the backyard. He saw his Master a few feet away from the gate and Alex in the middle of the path. He quickly hurried down the steps and to Alex's side, wrapping an arm around the young man's shaking shoulders to hold him back.

"NOOO!"

Dean's heart shattered at the tormented scream and desperate rattling of the gate. But after that, it was just silence that pressed on his ears; even the crickets paused their concert. He turned to the gate, worried about Sam.

Sam had fallen on his knees, hands still wrapped around the bars above his head, which was leaned against the metal. His whole body was shaking, but the skin was flushed from the warmth inside the boy. Dean cautiously took a step closer, but Sam didn't react. He did it again with the same result. He made his way to the boy like that, until he got behind him. He crouched down to observe Sam's condition closely; that was when he heard the sound.

It was a long, breathy whimper like a dog's keening, panicked whine. It was so animalistic that Dean couldn't believe that it was coming from the broken boy in front of him. Dean felt pity for his servant: he couldn't imagine what it's like to be ripped out of your ordinary life, away from your family and be thrown into an unknown one. He laid a hand on the trembling shoulders giving whatever comfort he could.

Sam's shaking increased and the whimpers turned into soft crying. Dean practically felt the realization fall onto the boy's mind and body. Obeying to a strong urge, Dean pulled the boy away from the gate and cradled him in his arms. He tenderly caressed the chestnut-brown locks, holding Sam's head in the crook of his neck. The boy's sobs rose in volume.

"D-Dad-dy…" Sam moaned between gasps. "Wan'… home…"

"Shhshshshh" Dean shushed the distressed soul in his embrace. "You're alright. You're gonna be okay."

As Sam continued sobbing, Dean felt tears gather in his eyes. Even though he knew that the boy needed this, he couldn't help but feel guilty about how it was triggered by him. He tried to convince himself that it's better if Sam goes through this now before it's too late, but actually witnessing the boy's breakdown… it just tore his heart into pieces.

Suddenly Sam's body began jerking and the boy started coughing. Dean quickly pushed him away then forward. With another cough Sam gagged and everything Alex could get into his stomach, splattered on the ground, a few drops landing on Dean's pants. Dean tenderly brushed the boy's bangs back and comforted him with nonsense, sweet nothings. When Sam was done, he went limp and fell into the man's arms. As Dean looked at his servant, scared of what could've happened, he saw glassy, fever-ridden eyes gazing forward into the emptiness.

"It's okay, Sam" he whispered, combing his fingers through the boy's tresses. "Let's get you back into bed!" With that he lifted Sam up into his arms and turned towards the house. When Sam's head lolled back, he jostled the boy enough to lay it back on his shoulder again. Reaching the two servants still standing in their place, he spoke:

"Get Sam's bed ready and find the medicine for fever!"

Mark turned towards the house with Alex, who seemed to snap out of his stupor at the movement. Both of them hurried back into the mansion to do as they were told. Dean heard a moan in his arms and turned to Sam, who had a frown on his brow. Dean pressed an unnoticeably soft kiss on the forehead, smoothing the frown out with it. All the while he continued his way towards the mansion and the servants' quarter.

In the servants' bedroom, he saw the thick blanket on Sam's bed pulled back, so he laid his fragile cargo onto the mattress in a half-sitting position. He quickly got a bowl of cold water and a washcloth from the bathroom and perched himself on the side of the bed. Wetting the cloth, he began wiping the warm skin on Sam's face and neck. The coldness seemed to reach Sam's blank mind, because he moaned quietly and tried to shift away. Dean shushed him and continued his task.

After a few minutes, Alex returned with a pill and a glass of water.

"What should we do, sir?" he asked in a shaking voice, as he put his things down onto the nightstand. Dean noticed the shiny streaks on the young man's cheeks.

"We should check his temperature" Dean replied, not stopping in his task. Every time the cold water touched Sam's skin, the boy got more coherent of his surroundings. His shaking started, much to the others' relief: his body finally took up arms against the fever. Alex ran out of the door to get the thermometer. Soon he returned and Dean put the thermometer into Sam's mouth. After a few minutes he took it out and checked it.

"102.2" he sighed from relief. "It's not that high. Let's give him the medicine!"

Alex picked up the pill and the glass, while Dean leaned closer to Sam to get his attention.

"Hey, Sam" at his name, the boy rolled his eyes towards the voice. "You think you can stomach some water?" Dean smiled at the wide, innocent eyes, but inside he felt terrible for what's happening to his servant. Sam let out a short moan and Dean brushed the boy's bangs from his forehead. "Alright" Dean took the pill from Alex's hand. "Open up!" he ordered softly and noticed happily that Sam – though, slowly – did what he told. Dean put the pill onto Sam's tongue then reached back for the glass. He lifted it up to Sam's lips and tipped the water into the boy's mouth. Luckily, Sam swallowed the pill at the first try, but he spluttered on the second sip, surprised from the bitter taste in his mouth. Dean hushed him and made him drink the whole glass of water.

"There we go" Dean said with a gentle smile, when the boy finished. "What do you say about sleeping, huh?" he asked and got another short moan in response. Guessing it was a yes in Sam's condition, Dean stood up and arranged him, so the boy was lying flat on his bed. When he finished, he was greeted by Sam's tightly shut eyes and a couple of tears escaping from between the lids. "What's wrong, Sam?" he asked worriedly.

"Sir, I think he's dizzy" Alex spoke softly. Dean nodded at him in thanks and began stroking Sam's tresses to calm him down. Soon Sam's breathing evened out, but he didn't open his eyes.

"Alright, Alex" Dean turned to his servant. "Stay with him! If there's anything, inform me immediately, no matter what time it is, okay?"

"Yes, sir" Alex answered, tipping his head forward. With that arranged, Dean left the servants' quarter to go to sleep, hoping that Sam will have a peaceful night.

The rising sun woke Sam up the next time. He felt sweat covering his whole body and soon he found out the reason for it: a thick blanket was laid out on him. Sam slowly got up onto his elbows and looked around. He saw the other servants in their bed, still sleeping, and wondered what time it was.

The opening of the door broke him out of his musing and he saw Alex sneak into the room. When the young man turned towards his bed, he jumped, seeing Sam awake, but rushed to him.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, as he helped Sam to sit up.

"Confused" Sam replied, his voice hoarse. Alex gave him some water.

"Do you remember what happened yesterday?" he asked, as Sam sipped at the water.

"Yesterday?" Sam looked at him surprised. "What time is it?"

"It's almost seven in the morning" Alex answered. "We have to get up soon, anyway."

"I…" Sam thought about the previous day. "I washed the tiles in the Entrance Hall then… you asked me to set up the table in the Dining Room… I…" Sam shut his eyes to sort out his fuzzy memories. "I broke a plate… a bowl… and Ramon took me to the Master… then pain struck my face and everything went black." When Sam looked up, he saw the gentle, relieved smile on Alex's face.

"Yes" the young man nodded. "You got punished for it. It was a slap. You went into convulsions; that's why you blacked out." Sam's eyes widened at Alex's explanation.

"But why?" he asked confused. "I'm not epileptic…"

"We called the doctor" Alex continued. "He said it was a nervous breakdown." Sam lowered his head in shame. "It's perfectly understandable" Alex tried to comfort the boy, laying a hand on his shoulder. "With what happened to you and how you got into slavery, I was surprised you hadn't had a breakdown sooner."

"I remember…" Sam spoke up softly, "I looked for my Dad… I wanted to get out…"

"That was when you finally let everything out" Alex explained. "You had a fever, so you couldn't control yourself. But the Master helped you." Sam blushed slightly partly from shame, partly from something he refused to think about. "He calmed you down and brought you in here, he even stayed with you until you fell asleep."

"It's not usual from him?" Sam asked curiously.

"Well, sort of" Alex shrugged, trying to get the right words out. "Look, we all had some sort of a breakdown, while serving here, until we learned how the Master treats us. And he was always with us, taking care of us and helping to get through this. But he wasn't that… passionate, I think, as with you." Sam stared at Alex shocked. What made him so special to get this kind of a reaction from his Master? Their conversation was interrupted with a groan next to them and the other two servants sat up, waking slowly.

"Mornin'" Mark mumbled as he fell back into his pillow and burrowed himself into his blanket. Ramon just rolled his eyes as he stood up. Stepping to the bed, he gently shoved the younger man out of the bed, who fell onto the floor with a thump and a petulant grunt. Alex laughed at their antics and even Sam let loose a grin and a chuckle. Mark staggered up to his feet with a series of mumbles under his breath.

"Aye, aye, Captain" Alex exclaimed. When Mark hit the young man on his head, Sam understood what happened: it seemed Mark had a string of curses that would make a sailor blush. Ramon was already out of the room and probably having a shower.

"Hey, Sam, how do you feel?" Mark asked, sleepy eyes filled with a little worry trained on Sam.

"Still a bit weak, but better" Sam answered sincerely. "Thank you."

"No probs'" Mark mumbled then he stumbled out of the room with a grin and a leisure wave towards the others.

"Now I can't understand why I was so worried" Sam muttered softly, head lowered again from shame.

"Like I said" Alex spoke, "it's perfectly understandable. Not knowing what to expect, everyone would freak out and worry that everything will go bad. We understand it, you don't have to be ashamed about it!" Sam nodded and smiled at the young man gratefully. After Alex left and Sam carefully got out of bed, still not trusting his strength, Ramon stepped into the room, dressed in sweatpants and a shirt, his black hair and olive skin shining from water.

"How you holding up?" he asked, as he made his bed.

"I'm good, thank you…" Sam answered with a smile then shyly added: "Ramon…"

Ramon looked up surprised, since the boy always called him 'sir'. After a moment he smiled at the boy then turned back to his task. Not sure what should he do, Sam began making his bed, too. Just as he finished, Ramon stepped to him.

"Ready for your official first day?" the man asked. Sam nodded, a bit nervous inside. "Your job now will be the porch first. Sweep it up then go to the Dining Room! If the tablecloth is not that dirty, just shake it out then sweep up the room, as well! If it's dirty, bring it down here to wash it out and put a clean one on the table! Okay?"

"Okay" Sam nodded. "And what about the decoration and the candleholders?"

"I'll put them back onto the table" Ramon replied. "Don't worry about that!" Sam lowered his head a bit, feeling shame rear its head up again. Ramon just clapped his shoulder in assurance. "Take a shower, before you go!" he said then left the room. Sam walked out of the room, too, and stepped to the closet to get a shirt and a pair of sweatpants, grabbing his towel from the back of the shelf. He took a quick shower, feeling lighter from the water massaging his stiff muscles. All the while he was thinking about his future in this mansion. The other servants were nice and fun to be with. His Master obviously cared for him. He just hoped that it wouldn't change for the worse. Otherwise, he may be able to get used to this.

When he was ready he went to the cellar, where the closet for the supplies were and got a broom and a dust-pan out. As he made his way out of the servants' quarter, he nodded at the others in the kitchen with a smile. Yes, he could get used to this.

TBC

So, how did you like it?

I'm so happy that I can finally write Sam without his stutters. He's finally over his fears... I think...

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Alright, see you soon!