A few days and towns into their journey, Martha realised that her feelings for Sam had grown to be more than platonic. Once she realised it, Martha began to think that maybe her feelings for Sam never had been platonic in the first place. She remembered the endearingly awkward Sam of the Stanford library years before, and she considered the protective hunter that Sam was now. Yes, she definitely felt a flutter in her stomach whenever he smiled or said her name.

That realisation was quickly followed by another one: Martha didn't feel that same something that she used to when she mentioned the Doctor. Of course, he was still the Doctor, the hero, the protector of planets. But Martha felt that special something quickly slipping away. Perhaps it was the long months of being away from that mad man and his box, but Martha began to question what the Doctor actually meant to her.

In one Montana town, Sam and Martha stayed in a bunker out in the middle of nowhere. The place was packed with more refugees than Martha cared to count. She and Sam wound up sleeping in a small corner on the floor amidst the sea of people, their bodies pressed close together. Sam's arms wrapped protectively around Martha, and she slept with her head on his chest. In that moment, despite all of the pain and misery around them, Martha wanted nothing more than to stay in Sam's arms forever. What she didn't know was that, at that same exact moment, Sam was wishing for the same thing.

The days turned into weeks, and the open road still stretched for miles and miles ahead. Most of the time, they spent the night in the Impala, parked amidst some trees for the sake of camouflage. Sam was too tall to lie comfortably in the back seat, so he slept in the driver's seat while Martha curled up in the back. In the morning, they would wake up to the sun streaming through the windows, and then they would start driving again.

More and more often, Sam and Martha would stay up talking for a while. Even though they talked all through the day, they somehow still had more to say when night fell. Martha simply couldn't get enough of Sam, of his smile, of his laugh. She was also beginning to suspect that Sam felt the same way, though of course she couldn't be sure. Confident and sure of herself as Martha Jones was, her big blind spot had always been men.

One night, Sam and Martha sat in the front seat of the Impala as usual. They didn't suspect in the slightest that that night would be highly out of the ordinary. It all started with Martha teasing Sam about his hair.

"It's so long!" she exclaimed, "If my mum were here, she'd force a haircut on you!"

"I haven't had my hair cut in years," said Sam, "I don't need it!"

"Yes, you do," said Martha, "It's almost as long as mine!"

Martha reached up to tug on Sam's hair. She had a large grin on her face. He did too.

"So help me I'll get a machete out of the trunk," threatened Martha.

"I dare you," said Sam. He grabbed Martha's wrist, as her hand was still in his hair. Then Martha noticed how very close together they were, and Sam noticed too. They both withdrew. Sam coughed awkwardly.

"So, um," said Martha. She deliberately looked anywhere but at Sam.

"So…is the Doctor's hair as long as mine?" asked Sam.

"No, not at all," said Martha, "His hair sort of just sticks striaght up."

"Seriously?" asked Sam, grinning. With his right hand, he pantomimed his idea of the Doctor's hair. "Like, straight up?"

"Yeah," said Martha, "The crazier he gets, the more it sticks up."

Sam laughed. But then it seemed that a thought crossed his mind, and his laughter dissipated somewhat. He ran a hand through his floppy hair and asked, "So were you and the Doctor, you know…"

Martha knew what he meant. She hurriedly said, "No, not at all. He was…he had just lost someone. I don't think I could compare in his eyes."

"But what about you?" asked Sam, "Did you ever see him like that?"

Martha chose her words carefully. She said, "I care about the Doctor a lot, I really do. But I'm exactly where I want to be."

Sam looked at Martha with the slightest glimmer of something in his eyes. Martha felt a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. Without meaning to, she found herself leaning closer to Sam. He tilted his head down, and Martha brought up a hand to rest on Sam's cheek.

They kissed. Sam was soft and tender as his mouth moved against Martha's. He rested a hand on her waist, while Martha's hand moved to comb through Sam's so-very-long hair. They moved as close as they could with the gearshift between them. All Martha knew at that moment was Sam: Sam's lips against hers, Sam's hands on her waist, Sam's hair beneath her fingers.

At last they broke apart. Martha' hand fell from Sam's hair to his collar, though his hand still rested on her waist. They looked at each other and smiled.

That night marked a shift in their dynamic. Of course, their daily routine remained the same: they woke up, they drove, they went to a town, Martha told people about the Doctor, and then they drove some more. They slept in the Impala with Martha in the back seat, though now their nighttime conversations were laced with soft kisses. Sometimes, when they went into different towns, they held hands as they walked. It was the little things that changed, and those little things made all the difference.

For Martha, being with Sam felt like the most natural thing in the world. When she had been with the Doctor, she had always felt a pressure to be on top of her game, to be brilliant, and to be ready for anything. But Sam didn't expect Martha to be anything more than what she was. Even through all of the misery and hardship they saw everyday, Sam Winchester always made her feel safe and loved.

As they walked through a little town in central California, Martha was grateful for Sam's presence next to her. Something felt horribly off about this town. There were no people to be seen, but that was hardly out of the ordinary. In most of the places they had visited, the residents had been terrified to walk through the streets.

A clang came from behind them. Martha turned her head to look. A person's head was poking out of a manhole. He looked around, and then his eyes landed on Sam and Martha. He gestured for them to come into the manhole. Martha and Sam followed him into the manhole and then down the ladder into the sewer. Once they put the manhole cover back in place, it was completely dark.

The man pulled out a flashlight and led them through the darkness. He explained, "Once those metal things took over, we all fled into the sewers. We figured flying things wouldn't like it underground. It's kept us safe enough."

Beside her, Sam was looking around distastefully. He seemed to be stepping very carefully, as if afraid of what was on the ground.

"Are you alright, Sam?" asked Martha.

Sam looked down at her. His expression was rather pained, but he smiled reassuringly. He said, "I've had a lot of bad experiences in sewers. Some things leave a lot of really gross stuff down here."

"Like what?" asked Martha.

"Shifters."

Sam didn't have to explain further. He had told Martha enough about shifters for her to understand. Martha, too, began watching where she stepped. She didn't relish the thought of stepping in a pile of skin.

After a few more minutes, they came to a large room illuminated by lantern light. Lots of people were gathered in the chamber, and their voices echoed off of the walls. Families huddled close together beneath frayed blankets, sharing cans of cold food. Sam slipped his hand around Martha's.

About an hour later, everyone was gathered around Martha as she told them about the Doctor. The children listened with rapt attention as they would a fairytale. The adults, too, were hopeful as they listened to the story. This town, like all the others before, had heard rumors of Martha Jones and the Doctor.

The people of the abandoned town offered to let Martha and Sam stay for the night, but the two refused. Both Sam and Martha wanted nothing more than to get back to the Impala. So two of the adults, both armed, escorted the travellers through the sewers and as close to the car as they could get them. The men poked their heads out above first, to make sure that the coast was clear. Certain that it was safe, Martha and Sam crawled out of the manhole.

The abandoned town still put Martha on edge. She couldn't explain why, but she just had a bad feeling. She pulled her gun out of its holster and cocked it. Sam did the same. Neither said a word. As they started to cross the street, there came a clamor from a block or two away. Martha looked up, and her stomach turned to lead.

A massive storm of Toclafane were speeding toward Martha and Sam. Sam fired a few shots before Martha grabbed his arm and pulled him away. They ran as fast as they could toward the edge of town where they had parked the Impala. But the Toclafane were gaining on them quickly. Martha propelled herself forward as fast as she could. The car wasn't far away; she only had to make it a few seconds ahead of the Toclafane.

Sam grabbed Martha's hand, and they sprinted toward the Impala. Martha poured every remaining ounce of energy into her legs. They finally made it to the car, and they both climbed in with seconds to spare. Martha had barely shut her door before Sam floored the gas pedal. The Impala jolted forward, and they fled from the town as quickly as they could. Sam turned the car erratically, hoping to shake off the Toclafane. Soon enough, the swarm was gone and Martha could breathe easily again.

After they drove for a bit longer, Sam parked the car in the woods as usual. They tucked their guns into the glovebox for the night and then moved into the backseat. They held each other close as they considered how close a call that had been.

"Are you sure you're alright?" said Sam.

"Positive," replied Martha.

He brought up a hand to rest on her cheek. "We should never have gone there. Those things-"

Martha silenced him with a finger over his lips. She said, "We're safe. We're here. That's all that matters."

She moved closer to Sam and kissed him. It was soft at first, as it always was. Then her hands wound into Sam's hair, and he wrapped his arms around her waist. She shifted over into his lap as things grew more heated. They had kissed like this before, but tonight, Martha wanted more. Sam did too, judging by the feverish way his hands ran over her body.

Her hands slipped under his shirt and pulled it up and over his head. She ran her hands over his muscles, and he let out a groan. Her head was swimming. His hands were everywhere as his lips trailed eagerly down her neck. Her shirt soon joined his on the floor of the Impala. Her caressed her sides with his oh-so-large and oh-so-warm hands. A shudder went through her spine, and she kissed him again.

The pile of clothes on the floor grew until there was nothing left between their bodies. Sam was too tall to lay across the backseat, but they found a position that worked. Their limbs tangled together, and Martha's hips rose up to meet Sam's. His ministrations were tender and strong, and she melted in his hands. There was movement and moaning and sweat and pleasure and Martha could think of nothing but Sam, Sam, Sam…