Disclaimers: STILL listed in Chapter One…you know the whole I don't own them…they really own me type of stuff. This is all just a product of my weird little demented (and tired brain). As a note again…I write for me…if you like it…I'm glad…if not….well…come on…I'm not Hemingway. My husband is still sick. My patience is worn super thin and now I have decided he's not really sick he's MAN sick. That's a whole level of sick where I think he's not really sick. He's just too lazy to get off the couch. I mean it is the beginning of football playoffs. Oh, and GO CHARGERS!

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The Gulfstream G550 jet sleeked effortlessly down the tarmac of the small general aviation airport. Somewhat out of place with the usual small single engine Cessna's and Piper's that were the normal residents of this facility.

The business jet always raised a few brows. Old pilots and mechanics along with student pilots took notice whenever any jets landed. Stories from the experienced airmen mixed with the awe of the students and soon tales of the plane and its owner ran rampant.

As the jet taxied to the small terminal building, most of the interested parties went back to their regular routines. The excitement having died down, for the moment.

Dean Winchester growled under his breath as he found himself behind the wheel of the brand new 2007 Java Black Supercharged Range Rover. The interior was rich in ivory leather and cherry trim. There was a GPS navigation system, a rearview camera, and hell; there were two DVD players and one badass sound system with 14 speakers. The car dripped money, it had to have set back old man Warner a cool $100 grand, and Dean didn't feel the least bit comfortable driving. Well, except for the sound system. Metallica never sounded so good. But, give him his 1967 Chevrolet Impala any day. This car screamed come beat me up or let me pick the kids up at the soccer field

Nursing what had to be the most intense hangover known to modern man, the blonde managed to slide into a parking spot. He had managed to slip out of the house the night before, once his mom and dad had gone to bed. It just wasn't right. He was nineteen years old. He had tasted freedom for over a year while he was away at school. Now that he was home the leash had returned. Taunting him cruelly. Yeah, his parents let him move home but at what price. His pride, his ego? Definitely his social life. Whatever that was. In this small town that was a joke.

In any case, Dean had the chance to break in his new fake ID in the next town over. It would have been too dangerous to use it at home. So, the nineteen year old snuck into the little dive bar and settled into the "nightlife". A few games of pool later, a never ending supply of beer with a lot of skanky girls, Dean had pronounced the night a complete success. The hangover in the morning a badge of honor and a salute to the fine artwork of the master who created his new drivers license.

Now that reality had smacked him in the face, though. The hangover was becoming an irritant. His life as a what? A chauffeur? No. Too stuffy. A butler? God, no. Might as well just kill myself. Well, whatever he was. He never thought it would include a Range Rover and trip to the airport to pick up the young, obscenely wealthy heir to a fortune that could never be spent, certainly not enjoyed, as Dean would see fit. "Bitter much, Winchester?" Dean asked himself quietly. It was probably the headache talking. Probably the added nausea that also taunted him. Whatever it was, Dean was in no mood to deal with it right now. If ever.

But, it was a job. A really good paying job, at that. Face it dude, he thought to himself.

It could be worse. You could be cleaning toilets or serving fries through a drive-thru window. Somehow, though, that had little effect on his encouragement speech. Seeing the expensive airplane taxi to the gate only exacerbated his crabby mood.

The cabin door to the plane opened up and soon the ground crew, working at the terminal, rushed out to greet the newcomers. A red carpet and a small step stool were placed carefully announcing the arrival of what had to be a very important dignitary or royalty. Within a few minutes a tall, slender teenager appeared at the doorway. Slinging a large black backpack, the young boy stared out to the beautiful day and smiled graciously as a steward quickly took his bag and sprinted down the steps to the building close by.

Looking around, the teenager took in the sights of a place he hadn't seen in nearly three months. So much had changed in the days and weeks since he departed from this same spot. It had been a long summer. Probably the worst days he had ever know. His return was not anticipated. This, in fact, had been the moment he dreaded for the past few weeks. As soon as he received the call summoning his return, he had fretted and even prayed that there would be some mercy given. Some divine intervention granted. No such concession was received.

Enjoying the late summer sun as it bathed his tan face, the dark haired boy breathed in the fresh air, closed his eyes and let out a deep, cleansing sigh as he began his descent of the steps. The ground crew and the flight crew stumbled all over each other as they guided the young man into the air-conditioned comfort of the airport. The teen guardedly studied the small crowd of people surrounding him as he entered the old building. There were no familiar faces waiting for him. Maybe, if he was lucky, they forgot. Somehow, this was all a bad dream. He was actually still lying in bed. Soon, the maid would come in and open the blinds, bringing him orange juice and toast. Reveling in the memory for a moment too long the boy soon heard a voice beckoning him back to the present.

"I see our crowned Duchess has made his humble arrival."

Turning quickly to the source of the annoying voice, the dark haired teen turned his blue-green eyes to meet unwelcoming hazel orbs.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?"

The nineteen year old looked exasperated as he studied the younger teen in front of him.

"I probably don't exist in your world." Dean mumbled. He moved to accept the large backpack that had been earlier acquired by the flight crew and sneered disgustedly at the offending item. Without a second thought, the blonde thrust the bag into the other boy's arms.

Feeling confused and overwhelmed, he finally had had enough. "What the hell is your problem, dude? Who are you? Where's my father?"

Dean stared out around the room looking at the remaining people in the building and never acknowledging the kid.

"Your dad's busy, Duchess. I'm your…I don't know. I'm in charge of making sure your ass gets home." Still scouring for signs in the terminal, Dean distractedly continued, "your dad hired me to drive your scrawny ass around and make sure you don't get into any trouble." Finally looking the teen in the eye. "Though looking at you, I can't imagine what trouble you could get into, Poindexter."

"Who the hell are you? Why would my father hire you?" The boy had finally had it. How much was he supposed to take? His mother had always raised him to be respectful and considerate to everyone. But, the older teen was pushing his buttons.

"Names, Winchester. Dean Winchester."

Staring at Dean for a moment, the dark haired teen finally responded, "Winchester? As in Mary Winchester? You related to Mary, our housekeeper?"

"Yes, Duchess. She's my mom, dude." Dean shook his head in complete disgust. Why the hell did I take this job? I should have just gone to work at Mickey D's. This is going to totally suck, he thought to himself as he continued to survey his surroundings.

"Dude, what are you looking for?

Letting out an impatient sigh Dean looked into the curious eyes of the fifteen-year-old boy. "The luggage carousel thingy."

A ghost of a smile bloomed two amused dimples as he shook his dark head. Finally laughing at the older boy. "There is no carousel. This is a general aviation terminal. My bags will be driven home by someone here at the airport."

"Oh….yeah. I knew that. Well, then what the hell am I doing still standing here talking to you? I'm not carrying you to the car." Dean bit off, as he found the exit door, not even bothering to hold the door open as he left the building.

Sam Warner let out an amused smile as he shook his head at the new development. Of course nobody had even bothered to tell him that he had a new…what, a new Dean? Something told him this would be quite unusual and different. Adjusting the heavy backpack, the glass door opened again presenting an even more frustrated older teen.

"I don't have all day, dude."

The two walked through the parking lot. There weren't too many cars and Sam, even though he had never seen the new car before, knew it had to be one of his father's.

Dean hit the remote button to the expensive car and climbed into the driver's seat. Waiting for a moment Sam finally opened the back door himself and threw his backpack in. He climbed in right behind and shut the door.

Looking in the rearview mirror, Dean shook his head in disgust. "Duchess, do I look like Morgan Freeman? You sure ain't Miss Daisy. Get up front, dumb ass."

Here Sam thought returning home would be daunting and worrisome. Now he knew it would be all that and irritating and confrontational. The teen opened the door and started to open the front passenger door. "Welcome home, Sam." He said to himself.