Hi guys! 8D I'm back from Disney World!

Sooo, this story is more popular than I thought it would ever be! I'm so happy! I thought that people wouldn't read it, but hey! They do! 8D

I would like to thank Hyper24 7, HeartlessNobodyNamine, JDLuvaSQEE, and iluvaikka for their reviews! You guys keep me writing!

Disclaimer: I obviously don't own it. So sad~

On with the chapter~

Toby didn't leave his room for the entire day, leaving Mrs. Lovett to the job of finishing all the pies. He knew it was selfish of him, and that he should go help, and he wanted to go help, but he just couldn't leave his room. He just knew that HE would be there. Waiting for him. Silently waiting. So, he sat, curled up on his bed, and tried to forget the memories of that horrible night that happened all those years ago.

As night rolled around, and costumers began filing in, Mrs. Lovett knocked on Toby's door and demanded that he come out and help her serve all the pies that she had to make all by herself. Only after she promised that Mr. Todd was up in his shop, and that he would stay there, did Toby out reluctantly. She quickly scolded him for holing himself up all day, and told him that after the shop was closed, he was to do all the dishes and wipe down the tables. Toby nodded, staring down at his shoes, and accepted his punishment willingly. He knew he had to make it up to Mrs. Lovett, even if she was leaving him for a week. In the care of a murderer. After all, she did save him from the workhouse.

...s..s.s.s.s.s.s.s.s..s.s.s.s..s.s...

It had been a terribly long night. The party that was scheduled to come definitely came, and they brought along more people than was expected. Toby had spent the entire time running around, through the isles of the tables, dodging people's feet, refilling their drinks, serving pies, taking plates, bringing forks, and now, after everyone had left, he was still on his feet.

He sighed as he ran a wet rag across the table, throwing any scraps he found into the street for the mutts and rats to eat. His tired limbs were all ready to give out on him, and he swayed on the spot as he wiped the table. The slow circular movements were putting him to sleep. As he reached the end of the table, he dropped the rag into the bucket of water he'd been using and collapsed in the nearest seat. His forehead hit the table with a soft thud and he sighed again.

A cold wind blew down the dark and lonely Fleet Street. The only lights coming from the very few street lamps that people had bothered to light, and the dingy pie shop. Here and there a late night cab was driving, the horses hooves clip-clopping on the brick road. Toby lifted his head as one of these passed by. It was being driven by an amazing pitch black horse that all but blended into the night. If it wasn't for the one white stripe that ran through it's mane, Toby would have believed that the cab was being driven by a ghost horse. Yet, something about the horse irked him, even long after it was gone. It seemed to remind him of someone. Toby shivered as another gust of wind passed over him, and his thoughts switched back to what he was doing before. He took a look around at all the tables he'd already cleaned and deemed them worthy of being eaten upon. Toby stood, his aching legs yelling at him, and bent to reach for the bucket of water that lay on the ground. Before his hand touched it though, he jumped back. A big black rat skittered out from behind the bucket and hissed at Toby, but it wasn't the rat that had Toby scared to death, it was what the rat was grasping in its small paws. An ear. A human ear.

Toby felt his world spinning as memories he tried so hard to repress shot up to the front of his mind. He could remember that horrid day like it happened minutes ago. The smell of the fire burning in the corner, the smell of pies on the racks, the smell of death from the sewers and the grinder...It all burned his nose. He could practically hear the lost screams of all the people that filled the evil machine. The sound of the Beadle's skull cracking and the sight of his brains gushing from said skull was forever etched in his mind. He remembered curling in the corner of the room, trying to get away from it all. Away from all the death in the room, as if it would consume him from the inside out. The souls of all those lost lives lived in the shadows in the bakehouse. The shadows had clawed at him, trying to rip him up, rip him to shreds, and bake him. His screams made his throat sore, and he could practically taste the death in the room, the horrid taste staining his tongue. How many of those pies had he'd eaten? How many...people?

Toby was wrenched back to the present when his stomach suddenly traveled upwards. He quickly emptied it into the bucket of water that lay at his feet, the rat long since gone. He coughed, dry heaving once, before wiping his mouth with his sleeve. He looked away from the bucket, now filled with a mixture of water and vomit, and sat down again. He groaned into his hands, rubbing his face, then looked out over the dark street. He was seriously thinking about sneaking onto the cab with Mrs. Lovett tomorrow. Maybe he'd go stay with Johanna and Anthony. Of course, Sweeney would probably look for him there first. Toby sighed and looked at his feet, before looking all around. He had this strange feeling someone was watching him. No one down the street. No one in the pie shop. He casted a glance up at the barber shop, and lo and behold, the barber himself was standing there, leaning on the railing, watching him. Toby's breath caught in his throat, and he quickly looked away. He only looked back a second later when he heard the door slam shut. What was that about? How long was he there? Toby thought before quickly picking up the soiled bucket that sat at his feet. He ran to the nearest sewer, dumping it down before running back to the shop and cleaning it. He had to wash all the dirty dishes too. Toby groaned, but got to work. By time he went to bed, Toby couldn't think of anything except sleep. He just wanted this whole day to be over.

..t.t.t.t.t..t.t..tt.t.t.t...t...t.

Morning arrived with a bright sun, quite unusual for the gloomy town, but not unheard of. Most people were taking advantage of this wonderful day and were out shopping, or sailing, or just reading a nice book outside. Some people were walking through parks while their kids flew kites along side them. Some people were wondering why the best pie shop in London had a "closed for the week" sign on it. Some people were taking cabs to visit their sick uncles, while some people were still asleep in their warm beds, unaware of the fabulous day outside.

Toby turned over to his other side and blinked his eyes open slowly, only to be blinded by the sun shining through his window. He groaned and turned back over, pulling his blanket over his head. He didn't know what time it was, but he didn't right care. All he knew was that Mrs. Lovett let him sleep in, and it felt gr- Mrs. Lovett. The aforementioned blanket was thrown from the aforementioned boy as he jumped from his bed and ran out of his room looking for the aforementioned lady. Of course, she was nowhere, and as Toby stood in the middle of the living room, all of yesterday flew back into his head. Mrs. Lovett was gone for a week, and he was left here with Sweeney Todd.

Toby tried to get his breathing under control as he walked into the main shop room/kitchen, hungry for...breakfast? lunch? What time was it? He glanced at the clock on the wall. Noon. He'd never got to sleep that late before! Maybe this week without work wouldn't be all that bad. He clutched his rumbling stomach, and was making his way to the pantry, when he spotted the note on the counter that he was making pies on yesterday. He picked it up and read:

"Dear Toby,

I'm sorry for not saying goodbye in person, but I had to take a very early cab in order to get to my uncle's on time. As you know, he lives quite far. Anyway, I've left you some of your favorite potato and vegetable pies in the pantry for you along with some money in case you want to go out to eat. I expect the place to be standing when I get back now. Good luck!

Love,

Mrs. Lovett

P.S. If you could, please take a tray of food up to Mr. T. He sometimes forgets to come down and eat."

There was a heart drawn at the very end of the letter. Good luck! Toby laughed in his head, letting out only an audible snort. He needed all the luck he could get. His stomach growled again, calling for food. He decided to settle it down and continued on his way to the pantry. Inside lay the promised pies, which would stay good for about 2 days, some money, and the rest of the ingredients that were always there. Flour, sugar, etc. Toby took out a pie, grabbed a plate, poured himself a glass of water with a small tot of gin on the side (no one would ever know), and sat down at the table in the corner of the room. As he ate his pie, he looked out the window and watched people walking down the street and going into buildings and getting into cabs. Just people living their lives, worried about things like being late for work and what they would have for dinner that night. Not one was worried about being killed in their sleep by the murderer that lived upstairs. Not one.

As Toby finished his lunch, he cleaned up his dishes, then stood, looking around the room. He never had nothing to do. He was always making pies, serving pies, helping Mrs. Lovett clean the place, but never really doing nothing. He hummed and shoved his hands into his pockets. A crinkle sound met his ears, and he pulled Mrs. Lovett's note out of his pocket and reread it. Those last lines, "If you could, please take a tray of food up to Mr. T. He sometimes forgets to come down and eat," stood out to him more than the others. What if Sweeney never came down to eat? Would he stay up there and brood himself to death? Toby smirked. He liked this idea. Rereading the letter again, he sighed. If Mrs. Lovett came home to a dead Mr. Todd she would not be happy. Toby balled the note up and threw it in the trash, knitting his brows together in thought. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, cursed himself in his head, and began piling food onto a tray. By food I mean one of Toby's own vegetarian pies and a pot of tea with an empty cup. Toby found it worthy, especially since he was giving away one of his own pies, and nodded his head in a job well done manner. Picking up the tray he willed his legs to move out the side door and to the stairs.

Getting up the stairs was another problem. What am I doing? Toby screamed in his head. Why am I feeding a killer? He's probably waiting right behind the door with a razor poised, ready to kill me. The boy groaned. Well, I'm already out here and this tray is all made. Might as well bring it up to him. If anything goes wrong, maybe I can defend myself with the teapot. Toby took a deep breath, puffing his chest up, and began his assent up the stairs, one at a time. In this manner, it took about 10 minutes for him to actually reach the top of the steps, let alone walk to the door. There he stood, staring at the wooden grain, trying to get his erratic breathing under control. All he had to do was open the door, put the tray down, and run like hell. It was that easy. He could do it. Switching the tray to one hand, Toby took a deep breath and reached out the other hand, turning the cold knob and sliding open the door.

..x.x.x..x..x.x.x.x.x.x.x..x..x.x..

Sweeney was staring out of his giant skylight, like he does, looking at all the petty people living their pathetic lives. He watched them smile and wave at others, go into stores, gather at the corner and gossip. None of them had anything else better to do. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Sweeney wanted to be able to be like that. To be able to just walk down the street because you felt like it, but here he was, a different man after so many years in prison. A murderer. A babysitter. He scowled and glanced at the letter that he held in his hand. Mrs. Lovett had given it to him right before she left. It read:

"Dear Mr. T,

When I come back I expect the place to be standing. I think you can handle a week without me. Please try not to scare Toby. It may even be better if you just ignore him. I'm confident that he can take care of himself. As you know, the pie shop is closed, but I don't care if you keep yours open or not. A week vacation may do you good. Good luck.

Love,

Nellie

P.S. If by some chance something happens, let's hope nothing does, singing usually calms him down. Just any simple soft song."

Sweeney scoffed and balled the letter up, chucking it into the corner of the room. Like he'd ever do anything as stupid as sing to that boy. If it was up to him, that boy would have been dead four years ago. Now, he's just another mouth to feed. Oh yes, Sweeney would ignore the boy alright. All he had to do was stay up here. Even if he did wander downstairs for something to eat, the boy would scurry out of the room like a scared rat. The boy practically ignored him already, so he didn't even have to try. It's not like he was going to come knocking on his door with a tray of food.

A small creak echoed around the room as the door slowly opened a crack. Toby slid himself slowly inside just as Sweeney turned on his heel. The two locked eyes, one in a dark glare, the other full of fear. Toby swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to keep his hands from shaking, the teacup making an awful rattle noise when they did. Sweeney raised a dark eyebrow at the petrified boy.

"What is it you want, boy?" He asked, before his gaze flicked down to the tray in Toby's hands. Toby held said tray out towards Sweeney, but he didn't move from his spot near the door. Sweeney studied him, wondering why he was even bringing him food if he was so afraid to be anywhere near him. Sweeney shrugged it off, not really caring, and turned back to his window. "Set it down on that trunk over there," He said, slightly motioning with his hand. He heard the boy's speedy footsteps, as he did what he said, and then the door quickly closing. Steps ran down the stairs outside and then the pie shop door closed too. Sweeney hummed before turning around. He was hungry for some lunch.

Sooo, Mrs. Lovett is gone and our boys are all alone. What could possibly happen? Nyahaha~

Hey guys, school has started up again, so I'm not going to have like ALOT of time to write, so expect updates on weekends. I'm also working on another story over on my fictionpress (it's yaoi if ya'll wanna read it), so I kinda switch back and forth between updating this and updating that. So yah~

Favs and subscribes are the icing on the cake, but reviews are the two gay hookers inside. ;3 (And flames are used for the candles on top)