Two years later…
Sam hated Halloween. Given how he'd grown up, what he knew really haunted the world, how could he not? This year, if the blurry printed form he held in his hand was anything to judge by, he might have to revise his opinion of the day.
"What's this?" Michelle snatched it from his hand and studied it.
"Nothing much." Sam tried to sound casual. "Just my LSAT score."
"One hundred seventy-four out of a possible one-eighty, and you say it's nothing much? I say I can only hope I do anything like that well when I take my CBEST."
Sam turned to wrap his arms around her. "You'd make a perfect teacher, so you're bound to get a perfect score."
"I'll be happy with passing. Congratulations." She tilted her head up to kiss him.
As always when he kissed her, Sam had to fight not to lose himself in it. Two years together, and it still felt new. He groaned when she pulled back.
"We should go out and celebrate."
"Or we could stay in and celebrate." Sam pulled her closer, suggesting the celebration he had in mind.
"We do that all the time. It's lots of fun, don't get me wrong, but sometimes a girl wants a change of pace." Michelle smiled and gave him another, lighter, kiss before turning toward the second bedroom. "Seth? Come on, honey, we're taking Daddy out to dinner."
Sam smiled, listening to Michelle making sure that Seth's shoes were on correctly. It was a comfortable sound, one that suggested the childhood and family he'd never had. He let that feeling wash over him, soak in. Finally he named it: contentment.
"No room in the budget to take you to Mantra." Michelle's voice brought him back to the moment.
"An LSAT score's not worth Mantra," Sam objected. "That would be for graduating law school and getting a job offer."
Michelle gave him a long-suffering look, then ruined it by laughing. "Okay, then. Next choice - Jessica told me about this great family Italian place not far from here."
"Sounds good," Sam said. Impulse made him ask, "Want to see if she wants to come along?"
"What, it's not a celebration if Jessica doesn't flirt with you?"
"You know it's nothing serious," Sam said. It was ironic that the first time he'd met Michelle's former roommate was the day he was moving Michelle's things out of their apartment and into his. It was even more ironic that if he'd met Jessica first, he'd probably have asked her out. As it was, they'd become friends. Flirty friends, but friends.
"It just means she has good taste in men. But I'd rather it was a private celebration tonight."
"Private is good." Sam picked up Seth and, once they were outside, swung the boy up onto his shoulders. He might go bald, the way Seth fisted a hand in his hair to hold on, but Sam decided that was a small price to pay for moments like these.
This moment stretched into a couple of hours enjoying pasta and a bottle of wine. Seth tried to take Michelle's glass, and she responded by letting him have the barest taste of the wine, after which Seth screwed up his face and said, "Bad."
The moment stretched further, into putting Seth to bed, and then into the gentle lovemaking Sam savored. Finally, the moment stretched into sleeping with Michelle cradled in his arms.
-X-
Sam woke abruptly. That wasn't unusual, given the nightmares he'd occasionally had over the last few months, but tonight it wasn't a nightmare that woke him. He lay still in bed, senses alert, trying to identify what had interrupted his sleep.
Just his, Sam noted. Michelle lay sleeping deeply beside him, and from Seth's room there were no sounds to indicate his son was awake. So what had woken him?
Then he heard it - a footstep in the living room. Moving quickly but quietly, he clasped a hand over Michelle's mouth and nudged her awake.
Before she could even try to scream, he breathed in her ear, "Someone's in the house. Go to Seth."
Michelle nodded, and Sam released her to slip from bed. It was, he reflected as he moved out of their bedroom, the first time he'd been glad for the presence of a four-year-old - it meant he was dressed already. Assuming pajamas counted as dressed, which he did.
Sam padded on bare, silent feet toward the living room, glancing back once to see Michelle at the door to Seth's room. Resolve settled in him, and he stepped into the shadows of the hallway, listening.
He saw a silhouette - male, he guessed - moving toward the kitchen, and he lunged forward to engage the enemy.
His opponent reacted with a fighter's reflexes, and Sam blocked a blow. For a few moments, neither one of them gained a clear advantage. Then Sam landed on his back, his opponent kneeling over him.
"Whoa! Easy, tiger."
Sam blinked up at the face illuminated by the moonlight. "Dean? You scared the crap out of me."
"That's 'cause you're out of practice." Dean grinned at him.
Sam just had to wipe that cocky smirk off his brother's face. Two heartbeats later, he had Dean pinned to the floor.
"Or not," Dean admitted. "Get off me."
Sam climbed to his feet. "Dean, what the hell are you doing here?"
"Well, I was looking for a beer."
"What the hell are you doing here?" Sam repeated. The adrenaline surge from the fight was fading as anger took its place.
"Okay, all right. We gotta talk."
"The phone?"
"If I'd'a called, would you've picked up?"
Sam's gut tightened. There was no way Dean had come all the way to Palo Alto just to talk. Something else was going on. Before he could ask what, he heard Michelle's quiet voice.
"Sam? What's going on?"
Instinctively, he turned toward the hallway leading to the bedrooms. If he squinted, he could just make out the deeper darkness of her silhouette. "It's okay, nothing to worry about. Just an unexpected visitor."
"An unexpected visitor who broke in at two in the morning?"
Sam blinked when Michelle turned on the living room light. "Michelle, this is my brother, Dean. Dean, my girlfriend, Michelle."
Now that Sam's eyes had adjusted to the light, he could see that Michelle and Dean were staring at each other wearing similar expressions of surprise.
"Pete?"
Michelle's shocked inquiry made Sam's blood run cold. He turned to Dean, hoping to find some denial, some lack of recognition, in his brother's face. Instead, he saw recognition.
"You're a long ways from Pittsburgh," Dean said.
"So are you," Michelle began, only to be interrupted by Seth's voice.
"Mommy? Daddy? Why are you talking while it's dark?"
Michelle looked at Dean another moment before turning down the hall toward Seth's room. Sam could hear her talking in low tones as she tried to settle Seth back to sleep.
Dean cuffed his shoulder. "Way to go, Sammy."
"What?" Sam stared at his brother, not understanding the smirk on Dean's face.
"Made Dad a grandpa already. Congratulations."
A dozen responses flitted through Sam's mind, and he couldn't focus on any of them. It was obvious Dean didn't know about Seth. Then again, Sam reflected, how could he? From what Michelle had told him, she had only spent a few days with "Pete" - certainly not enough time for either of them to have realized she was pregnant.
Was it his place to tell Dean the whole truth about Seth's parentage? That was one action Sam couldn't bring himself to rationalize. It had to be Michelle's decision, but he could correct part of Dean's misunderstanding with a clear conscience.
"Seth's not mine. Chelle already had him when I met her."
"Oh?" Dean merely quirked an eyebrow. "Guess you better get busy making him some brothers and sisters."
Who would also be Seth's half-cousins. The situation was making Sam's head hurt, and making him wish he'd paid more attention in his Sociology of the Family class. But until he knew how Michelle wanted to handle this, Sam figured a distraction was the best option. "What do you need to talk about?"
"Family business. Probably should talk about it in private."
"It'll have to wait a minute." Michelle came into the room, balancing a not-very-sleepy Seth on her hip. "Somebody won't go to sleep until he says good night to Daddy."
"Hey, sport." Sam took Seth from Michelle's arms. "Mom couldn't sing you to sleep?"
He felt Dean's start of surprise more than saw it. Thankfully, for once, Dean stayed quiet.
"Mommy's not as good at scaring away monsters as you are."
Sam bit back a grin. "I don't know, Mom's pretty good at it."
But Seth wasn't paying attention. He'd noticed Dean and now the two were staring at each other with, Sam realized, identical hazel eyes. The intense gaze lasted only a few heartbeats, and then Seth was looking at Sam again, no trace of fatigue in his eyes.
"Read me a story," Seth demanded.
"It's too late to be reading stories," Michelle said firmly. "Just say good night to Daddy, honey."
"You go on to bed, and I'll come in later and make sure the monsters can't get in, okay, sport?" Sam asked.
"Okay, Daddy." Seth hugged him tight, and Sam's eyes drifted shut as he held his son close. In that moment, he knew he'd lied to Dean. Seth was his son, at least as much as he was Dean's, and Sam wouldn't give him up without a fight.
Sam took a breath and handed Seth back to Michelle with a smile he hoped the boy wouldn't realize was forced.
Dean stayed quiet while Michelle took Seth back to his room. When he did speak, his voice was quiet enough it wouldn't carry down the hall. "Seth's four? Five?"
"He'll be five in December," Sam replied, his voice equally quiet.
Dean gave a noncommittal grunt but, despite their recent estrangement, Sam knew Dean was doing math in his head. He also knew Dean was smart enough to add two and two to get four.
What he didn't know was how Dean would react.