Chapter 8
A/N; Mr Berwin I actually got from the lawfirm I worked at this summer, whose founder was names Berwin. It's just around the corner from the Tower, by London bridge. Anyways, on with the story!

Henry opened the letter in a hurry and started reading, but was immediately disappointed by the formal address.

To his Royal Highness, King Henry VIII,

I am writing on the behalf on my elder brother, Dean Castiel Winchester, to inform you that my brother has fallen ill. I am not aware of what dispute there is between you, nor shall I inquire, but your letters and gifts, while generous are a source of distress for Dean. While I have encouraged him to firstly read, and secondly respond to your letters, I am now politely requesting that you desist your well intended communications until my brother finds himself more able to deal with them.

Thank you,

Samuel John Winchester

"Gah -" He yelled and threw the letter on his desk. He raked his finger through his hair in frustration. He had done everything he could think of, but nothing had gained him any progress, or even any response. Now Dean was ill and the knowledge festered in his soul. He knew these feeling and urges to please were not natural, but it was like his heart had been pierced by the arrow of cupid himself. And he was bleeding.

He had sent letters of forgiveness. Letters of reconciliation. Letters of friendship and letters of infatuation and love.

He had set gifts of expense, of beauty and gifts of poetry and love. Gifts of usefulness, knowledge and academia. He'd sent ay thoughtful token of affection he could think of.

The problem, he believed, was that he did not know much about Dean. All he knew was that Dean loved hunting and was deeply committed to his family. Henry blinked. His brother. It was sly and underhanded, but perhaps by not only showing that he cares for Dean's wellbeing, but also that of his family... yes. That could work. It would do nothing to inspire the affection Henry had come to crave, but it would gain him some sort of acknowledgement...

~*~...

By that afternoon, the king knew everything there was to know about one Samuel Winchester and his well, not employer, as he did not pay him a penny, but mentor, Mr. Michael Berwin who was now standing in front of him. "What can you tell me about Sam Winchester?" he asked.

"Well, he is an extraordinarily brilliant and hardworking young man," Mr. Berwin said. He looked puzzled, obviously wondering what this was about. "I took him in as a favour owed to his brother, Dean. Initially I thought it would be bothersome to have a youth running around my offices, but he has proved very useful and quick in both mind and feet, no doubt a result of his brother's care and nurturing of the boys education."

"Do you think he would become a good lawyer?"

Mr. Berwin looked slightly surprised, "There is no doubt in my mind. Young Sam is a born lawyer. He sucks up knowledge like cotton does water and is extremely hard working. His written language, both English, Latin and French is flawless. He told me he was taught by his brother, who in turn has been taught by their uncle, a Mr. Robert Singer, whom I know to be a reputable linguist and scholar of religious studies and folk lore, although, his love for horses won out in the end."

Henry nodded, "I know Dean, he was my best hunter. I admit that I am doing this to regain a good friends favour, but also, that all I can do is give keys, it would be up to Sam himself to unlock, open and walk through them. Would you be willing to support an application to the University of Cambridge? I will offer a scholarship if he is accepted, and for that he will need a glowing recommendation, and a few weeks off to be here at the castle with my own lawyers, so that I- or my lawyer as it were, can write one as well. Of course, as a reward -"

"I cannot accept any reward for such a thing, your majesty, young Samuel has a bright future,and it would seem I only wrote his reference for ulterior motives..."

"You will be rewarded for your excellent skill in spotting and cultivating talent," Henry continued from where he had been interrupted, "In the discreet form of having well paying clients sent your way. Are we in agreement? I must remind you, we are only giving Sam the opportunity many less deserving, but wealthier young men have been served on silver platters."

Mr. Berwin nodded. "I will write the letter and deliver it myself to you within the week."

Henry smiled, "Very well, it was a pleasure doing business with you," he said and stood up, shaking the lawyers hand.

~*~...

It was the next morning when Bobby opened the door to reveal the Royal Surgeon that he knew Dean had gotten himself in a serious spot of trouble. "Hello, I am Dr. Quilling, the Royal surgeon. I am here on the king's orders to see to one Dean Winchester. Bobby just shook his head and saw the doctor upstairs.

The doctor, like Sam, raised a brow at the number of letters and unopened gift boxes there was in the room. "Dean is not fond of gifts," Bobby said, seeing the doctor look around the room.

"I see..."

Dean himself was curled up in a heap on his bed, looking rather green around the gills, so to speak. The doctor took a deep breath and hoped it was not contagious.

Over an hour later the doctor was mystified. All he could find wrong with the boy was a sore and slightly swollen stomach, which was probably a result of all the vomiting. He gave him some herbs to drink which would calm his stomach, but otherwise, he was at a loss.

~*~...