A/N: First, let me thank my awesome betas skzb, catsluver, and sallyloveslinus. You guys make this story SO much better.

Second, I forgot to say in the beginning that I am not an expert on basically anything I've written about or will write about in this story. I have researched online as much as I could, and my super smart betas have helped with the medical stuff, but I apologize for any inaccuracies or mistakes. Please know that I try to keep it as real as possible.

Third, I want to say thanks to everyone for reading, and in case you're wondering what the events in the story so far have to do with the summary description, I promise we will eventually get there. This is going to be a long fic, as long as or even longer than Redefining Joy, so hang in there! (I know some of you have been wondering, "What the heck?") With the word limits on the summaries, it was hard for me to put everything in it, so I just put the part I thought was most compelling. :)

Chapter 4

The door of the waiting room opened, and a nurse in navy scrubs with butterflies and flowers printed all over them stuck her head in. "Sam? Sam Winchester?"

Sam maneuvered his chair away from the cramped space at the wall where he'd managed to park himself as much out of the way as possible. He was in the waiting room of the SDSU Student Health Services clinic. It was Friday, two days after he'd come home to find out that TJ was sick, and he'd managed to get her an appointment to see a doctor early this morning. He made the appointment for her because even after their conversation and her admission that she needed to see a doctor, she still procrastinated and stalled until he had finally just done it himself.

She'd been in there for an hour. He had been aimlessly staring at the same People magazine for most of that time, unable to concentrate on any of the articles. As much as he'd been reassuring her that she would be okay, he was suddenly afraid. All kinds of horrible scenarios of what could be wrong kept running through his mind.

She wasn't the only one that had Googled her symptoms. He was a master at research, and he didn't like what he found. There were at least 161 diseases or conditions that matched her symptoms, some more severe than others. Some were terrifying. He'd been through every one of them in his head in the last hour, his fear growing with each minute that he waited. He could see now why TJ had gotten herself so worked up.

When he made it to the door, the nurse smiled politely and held it open for him. "Right through here."

He pushed himself through and then waited for her to show him where to go. A turn of a corner and a few doors down a sterile-looking hallway later, he found TJ sitting in what looked like a doctor's actual office, not an exam room. There was a dark, wood-veneer desk dominating a large portion of the small space. Two tufted leather chairs sat across from the desk, and TJ was in one of them.

The nurse scooted one of the chairs out of the way so Sam could pull up next to TJ. "Dr. Chua will be in to talk with you in just a minute."

"Thanks," Sam murmured. TJ cast her a nervous smile of acknowledgment.

The nurse nodded and left, closing the door behind her.

TJ's shoulders were hunched and she was fidgeting with her nails. Her legs were crossed, one foot bouncing up and down in a nervous rhythm so frenetically it reminded him of how his legs sometimes spasmed. Her hair was in a ponytail and she was wearing skinny jeans, flip-flops, and one of Sam's hoodies. She looked like a gangly teenager wearing his shirt, which was too big for her. She had taken over most of his hoodies and wore them now instead of her own well-worn sweatshirts.

"Hey," he said. "You okay?"

She shot him a look of annoyance, but its effect was diminished by the smattering of playful freckles dusting her nose and cheekbones. "No, I'm not okay. That's why I'm here."

The corners of his mouth curved upward. "You know what I mean. What did the doctor do?"

She half-shrugged. "Just normal stuff. Took my blood pressure, took a blood sample, looked in my ears and throat, listened to my chest and lungs, took a history. That was fun," she added sarcastically. "It's like being a convict. 'Yes. I have an eating disorder. Yes. I almost died by barfing. No, I'm not starving myself or purging now.'"

"Did he believe you?"

"She."

"Did she believe you?"

"Yeah. I guess. At least, she didn't give me the third degree. She just went on with her questions, asked me about my symptoms." She huffed. "She made me pee in a cup so they could do a pregnancy test."

Sam frowned. "Why?"

"I think it's standard procedure. I had a friend once who came here with walking pneumonia, and they made her take one. It's kinda the joke around campus. Walk into the clinic all bloody with your arm hanging on by a thread, and they'll make you take a pregnancy test."

He laughed a little and tried not to be bitter that pregnancy was the one thing they could rule out for sure. His chances of fathering a child without high-tech, expensive fertility procedures were slim to none.

He and TJ had discussed having kids, and he had made sure she understood the difficulties they would face. She was okay with it. Even thinking about having a baby, however, was a long way away for them. She wanted to finish grad school and get established in her career. He wanted to finish law school and make sure they were financially secure.

She was still fidgeting. Sam reached over and covered her hands with one of his, giving them a squeeze. "Everything will be okay. Stop freaking out." He said it with confidence and hoped he was right.

She drew in a deep breath and blew it out slowly between her lips.

The door to the office opened, and they both turned to see Dr. Chua walk in carrying a patient chart with TJ's name on it. She was a tiny, thin woman with black hair cut in a mid-length bob and almond-shaped eyes, probably of either Chinese or Filipino descent. She seemed young, almost like a child playing doctor with her slightly oversized white coat, especially when she smiled, but a closer look told a different story. A few streaks of gray in her hair and a few fine lines on her face indicated she was older.

"Hello. Hello," she said to each of them, bobbing her head, almost bowing. She hooked her thumb at Sam. "This him?" she said to TJ.

TJ's dread seemed to disappear for a moment and she beamed, obviously proud of him. "Yes. Dr. Chua, this is my fiance, Sam Winchester."

Dr. Chua smiled, and Sam couldn't help but be warmed by TJ's glowing introduction of him. A goofy grin spread across his features of its own volition before he could squelch it.

"Oh, you two got it bad for each other," the doctor said with a humorous shake of her head. She had a faint accent, her r's sounding indistinct and soft. She didn't seem surprised that Sam was in a wheelchair—in fact, she never looked twice at it—so he figured TJ must have told her.

She tucked TJ's chart under her arm and took his hand in both of her tiny ones. "You're gonna have your hands full with this one," she said, jerking her head toward TJ. Dr. Chua was so short she was only a few inches taller than Sam in his wheelchair. "But then," she said with a knowing gleam in her eye, "I'm sure you already figured that out."

He laughed. "Uh, yeah."

TJ rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

Dr. Chua let go of Sam's hand and made her way around to her high-backed chair, which was behind the desk. She dropped TJ's chart down on the cluttered desktop, plopped into the chair that dwarfed her, and looked at TJ. "Okay. I know what's wrong with you."

TJ's eyes widened in surprise. "I thought you said it would take a few days to get the blood work back."

"Don't need it," she replied matter-of-factly. She turned her head a little to one side and gave TJ a calculating look. "You're not married yet. Are you sure you want him to hear this?" she asked, shifting her eyes to indicate Sam.

TJ swallowed thickly and grabbed Sam's hand, gripping it tightly. He could feel the clammy warmth of her skin that underscored how afraid she was. His own heart started to pound.

"Yes," answered TJ. "I want Sam to be here. I want him to hear this."

Dr. Chua steepled her hands and rested her elbows on her desk. "Okay. You're pregnant."

Her abrupt words hung in the air. They were so simple, yet so incredible, that Sam couldn't believe his ears. He was literally struck dumb.

TJ suddenly burst out laughing. "Oh, that's freakin' hilarious!"

The doctor looked perplexed. "What's so funny?"

"Because—you're kiddin', right?" Her drawl was more pronounced. "That's the big joke around campus, you know, that y'all always think everyone is pregnant, no matter what they come in for?" She was still grinning.

Dr. Chua didn't seem to know whether to be offended or chalk it up to TJ being nuts. "Nooooo...I'm not kidding. You're pregnant."

It took a moment for it to sink in with TJ that the doctor was serious, and then the grin dissolved from TJ's face. She and Sam just sat there, neither of them moving a muscle, time standing still. He felt as if all the air had been sucked from the room and they were in a vacuum. He could see that he still held her hand, but he was strangely numb, could hardly feel the warmth of her skin anymore.

TJ had gone so pale that, for a moment, Sam thought she might pass out. She was the first to break the silence. "You're serious." Her voice was barely audible.

Dr. Chua chuckled. "Yep. You're pregnant, with child, got a bun in the oven, knocked up. You want me to say it in Tagalog?"

Sam's mouth had gone dry, and when he swallowed, it felt like he might choke. "That's..." His voice came out hoarse and his tongue wasn't cooperating. "That's not possible," he finally managed to get out.

The doctor arched a delicate brow. "Oh, it's possible. If you're the father, it might not be very likely, but it's possible."

He shook his head. "There must be some mistake."

"Could be, but those pee-stick tests they have these days are pretty accurate, and we did two of them. The blood work will confirm it. We should have those results by tomorrow."

"But maybe..." TJ glanced at Sam, coloring a little. "I mean, I didn't actually pee on them. Maybe they didn't work right."

The doctor rolled her eyes with humor. "Man, you're clueless, aren't you? You don't have to actually pee on it, sweetie. You can dip the stick in a cup, too."

"Oh."

"It fits with the symptoms you're having—the nausea, loss of appetite, the headaches, the fatigue."

TJ frowned. "But I thought nausea just happened in the mornings with pregnancy. I feel sick all the time, like, all day long."

Dr. Chua shook her head. "Nope. One of the many myths about pregnancy. Some women get sick in the morning, some in the evening, some all the time. Looks like you're one of the lucky ones," she said dryly. "If the nausea gets really severe, there is medication for it. Try eating or smelling things with ginger in it. They make ginger lollypops just for this. Apples and saltines might help, too."

TJ sat back in her chair, staring at a vague point on Dr. Chua's desk, appearing to try to comprehend it all. "But I thought you were supposed to gain weight with pregnancy. I thought you were supposed to be cravin' weird stuff like banana-and-mustard sandwiches and pickles."

Dr. Chua chuckled again. "That may come later. The first trimester is the hardest for some. That's when most of the nausea happens, and a lot of women actually lose weight in those first three months. That's also when a lot of the fatigue happens, although it will probably come back in the last trimester. You might lose your appetite then too, when the baby gets so big it squishes your stomach, makes you feel full faster."

Sam sat in silence, hearing their conversation but none of it really registering. He was utterly shocked and still couldn't believe it. There was a tightness developing behind his eyes and he pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

Dr. Chua sounded amused. "You okay there, Daddio? You look like you're about to faint."

TJ squeezed his hand, a concerned look on her face.

"I—uh, yeah. I'm fine," he answered.

The doctor gave him a crooked smirk and then turned back to TJ. "Okay. Any idea how far along you could be? Do you know when you might have conceived?"

"I have no idea," said TJ, shaking her head a little. She glanced at Sam and her ears turned pink again. "My, um, cycle isn't very regular."

Dr. Chua nodded in understanding. "First thing you need to do is find a good obstetrician and find out what the gestational age of your baby is. Do you have one here?"

TJ shook her head. "No. I usually go to my doctor in Kentucky for annual checkups whenever I'm home for breaks from school."

Dr. Chua nodded. "Okay. He or she might be able to give you a recommendation, or I can give you some names, too."

"Thanks. That'd be great."

"Don't wait. You don't want your nausea to go untreated. You need lots of nutrients for that baby. You also have low blood pressure, which could be dangerous and needs to be monitored."

TJ looked surprised. "Low blood pressure?"

Sam didn't like the sound of that. He felt some of the numbness start to wear off, replaced with concern.

"Don't worry," the doctor reassured. "In most cases it's nothing major, but you don't want to ignore it, either. It could be a sign of hyperemesis gravidarum, which means, basically, puking your guts out when you're pregnant."

TJ nodded, brows drawn together. Sam knew he should be asking questions, but he couldn't get his shocked brain to work properly.

"You need to get some prenatal vitamins, like, now," the doctor informed. "Get them at a drugstore on your way home."

"Okay," said TJ.

"Any questions?"

TJ caught Sam's eye and raised her brows. He couldn't make his tongue work to speak and shook his head no. She shifted her gaze back to the doctor. "I'm sure there's a ton of things we should ask, but I think we're both kind of shell-shocked."

Dr. Chua gave a short nod and smiled. "I can see that. Okay," she said in dismissal. "Good luck and congratulations. I'll get my nurse to get those names of the obstetricians for you."

TJ gave her a grateful smile. "Thank you."

The doctor rose from her desk and headed for the door. At the last minute, she turned to look at them one more time. "Get those vitamins," she repeated. Then she nodded toward Sam. "And get him some Daddy's Little Helper."

TJ laughed cautiously. "What's that?"

Dr. Chua pantomimed taking a swig from a flask and winked, then disappeared out the door.

XXXXXXXX

TJ was full of excitement, talking nonstop on the way home. They were in her car and she was driving, since Sam's car was still at Berkeley.

Sam caught snippets of what she said. "Thank God I'm not dying...Oh, my goodness. We have to move up the wedding date...No, wait. We have to set a wedding date...good obstetrician...wonder how far along I am...Fern and Vern are gonna freak..."

He hardly comprehended any of it. He was still stunned, but it was beginning to wear off, and now the questions and doubts had started to set in. How had this happened? Okay. He knew how it had happened, but how was it possible? He couldn't ejaculate. He never had in all the times he and TJ had made love. And even if he did without either of them knowing it, his sperm would be fewer in number and most likely have limited motility. The chances of him getting her pregnant were one in a billion. Dr. Chua's words haunted him. "If you're the father..."

If he was the father.

Thoughts of Ralph and TJ hanging out came to mind. Gretchen had supposedly been there, but what if she'd left early or something? Stop it, he told himself. There was no way TJ would have cheated on him.

Was there?

No. It was obvious that she loved him. He was being stupid. This was a miracle, right? But since when did miracles ever happen to him?

TJ had been so accepting, so strong about him leaving for Berkeley. It seemed so easy for her to adjust to it, while he missed her with every fiber of his being and had fought a terrible homesickness since the minute he'd left. Maybe Ralph had been there to console her, to alleviate some of her loneliness.

Stop! he shouted at himself. TJ wouldn't cheat on him. For one thing, they were engaged. He knew how much that meant to her, knew she didn't take that commitment lightly. But what if he was wrong? What if he didn't really know her at all? He wouldn't be the first guy in history to be cuckolded.

He was being irrational. After everything they'd been through, all the hell last year with Yellow Eyes, how could he doubt her? She'd always been there for him. She had been his best friend before he'd realized he was in love with her, and she had never done anything to make him think she wasn't absolutely head-over-heels in love with him.

Except get pregnant.

He went back to his first question. How could this have happened? When? Was it a miracle, or was something more sinister at work? Was his demon blood somehow coming into play? Icy fingers of fear spread through him, chilling his body. If the baby was his...

Dammit! Stop it. The baby had to be his. And if it was, what if he'd passed his demon blood and the curse that went with it on to his child—to his and TJ's child? He closed his eyes and swallowed hard, suddenly feeling like all the blood was draining from his body. He wished it would. At least then all the demon blood would finally be gone.

He'd never told her. She had no idea. He was so ashamed of it. It was the one secret he'd never told her because he thought it didn't matter. He wasn't supposed to be able to father a child, but if the baby was his—God, he had to stop thinking like that. But if the baby was his, he hoped that whatever Azazel did to him as a baby, whatever evil the demon tainted him with, died when he killed Azazel with the Colt.

But what if it didn't die with Azazel? The repercussions could be disastrous.

He shifted his gaze to TJ. She was still chattering and hadn't stopped smiling since they got in the car. How was he supposed to tell her that she could possibly be carrying Rosemary's Baby? The thought made him ill.

He inhaled a deep breath and tried to calm himself down. First, they needed to find out how far along she was and confirm he was the father. He hated himself for even thinking that, but it was true. Then he could deal with the fallout either way.

He worked his neck from side to side, trying to release some of the tension in his shoulders. What a fucking mess. Part of him actually hoped that he wasn't the father, that there could be no chance this innocent baby would carry his horrible curse. But the other part of him felt a sickening rage at the thought of TJ being with someone else. He couldn't even fathom the thought that she could betray him so painfully and completely. It would totally devastate him.

"Sam?"

He looked at her and swallowed convulsively.

Her brow furrowed with worry. "Are you okay?"

He looked around in confusion and realized they were parked in one of the accessible spaces near his apartment. He hadn't even known they'd come to a stop. "Uh, yeah," he said, finding his voice. "I'm fine."

"You've hardly said a word since Dr. Chua told us the news." She looked down, the crease in her brow deepening. "Is it..." Her brown eyes rose to meet his, and he hated the fear he saw in them. "Are you...not happy about it?"

"No. I mean, yeah." He wanted to reassure her, to take away her uncertainty. He wanted to escape the turmoil he felt. He wanted to share in her excitement instead of feeling like he was suffocating.

"I know it's a shock. Good Lord. I don't know if I really believe it. Are you worried, you know, how it will affect things—I mean, school and stuff?"

He looked out the windshield. God, he hadn't even thought about any of that.

"Is it—are you not ready to set a date for the wedding?" There was a long pause. "We don't have to if you're not ready," she said quietly.

He turned sharply toward her and grabbed her hand. "No, no. It's not that." He knew how important her family was to her and how being pregnant and not married wouldn't sit well with her parents. "We should do it as soon as possible."

She still looked troubled. "Are you sure?"

He ran his thumb along her cheekbone. The dusting of freckles there never ceased to enchant him.

She leaned into his touch.

How could he doubt her, even for a second? "I'm sure. I love you, TJ. There's nothing I want more than to be married to you."

Her smile was radiant, and she leaned toward him for a kiss. He lightly held onto the nape of her neck, his mouth meeting hers. The kiss was tender, a sweet reminder of everything they shared.

She pulled away and bit her lip, mouth curved into a tentative smile that held a hint of awe and wonder. "I think we made a miracle."

His throat tightened with emotion, and he pulled her into a hug, unable to speak.

XXXXXXXX

Two days later, Sam sat on the sofa watching the 49ers get beat by the Falcons on TV, not really paying much attention to it. He wasn't that big of a fan of NFL football on a good day, and this wasn't a good day. His thoughts were all over the place and he couldn't concentrate.

It was Sunday afternoon. TJ was napping, Heather was working a paramedic shift, and Dean was in the kitchen surreptitiously feeding pieces of bologna to Rocket while he made himself a sandwich. Dean came out of the kitchen and sat on the sofa on the opposite end from Sam, setting his sandwich plate on the rectangular coffee table.

Rocket sat near him alert and in perfect doggy posture, hopeful eyes peering at Dean's sandwich.

Dean rolled his eyes, pulled off a corner of the sandwich, and fed it to Rocket, whose tail wagged gratefully. "That's it," Dean said firmly. "No more."

Satisfied, Rocket jumped up onto the sofa between Dean and Sam and made himself comfortable, head on his paws, facing the TV like he was watching the game, as if he were one of the guys. Sam would normally have been amused at the whole scene, but he hardly paid attention. He scratched Rocket between his ears, but it was more of a mindless gesture of habit.

Dean had brought two longnecks with him and offered one to Sam once he'd gotten the cap off.

"No thanks."

"Take it. You look like someone just stole your favorite Barbie."

Sam half-rolled his eyes and sighed. He reached for the beer but didn't lift it to his mouth, just held it, resting it on his thigh. Dean took a huge bite of his sandwich, cheeks looking like a chipmunk's, and they sat in silence for a few minutes while he chewed.

Once he was done, he took a swig of his beer and stared at Sam. He waved a hand toward Sam's untouched beer, his voice sounding like one of those Kung Fu movies where the English was dubbed in. "You know that it is customary to actually imbibe the beverage of alcohol once it has been placed in your hand, Grasshopper."

Sam looked at the forgotten bottle and then finally took a sip just to placate Dean. The bitter brew went down icy cold and Sam was surprised by how good it tasted. It had been a while since he'd had one.

He had to be careful of what and how much liquid he drank. Beer and other types of alcohol sometimes screwed up his bladder routine, making him have to pee more often than he normally would, so he didn't really drink that often. Right now, though, he didn't care. Dean was right. He needed the buzz.

Dean seemed appeased and went back to his sandwich, taking another bite. He looked at Sam and mumbled something with his mouth full that was completely incoherent.

"What?"

Dean chewed, swallowed, and washed it down with another pull of his beer. "I said it's pretty freaky that you're gonna be a dad."

A knot immediately formed in Sam's stomach and he chugged the beer, sucking down almost half of it. He kept his eyes on the TV screen, not really seeing what was on it. "Yeah."

"'Yeah'?" Dean echoed. "That's it. That's all you have to say?"

Sam shrugged, not looking at him.

"Seems like you'd be more excited. I figured you'd have about twenty books on pregnancy by now and have a hundred articles printed out from researching online."

Sam made a noncommittal grunt and took another swig.

"Oh, I get it. You're worried it's gonna come out lookin' like you."

Sam didn't bother to acknowledge that statement.

Dean slapped him on the shoulder. "Don't worry, Sammy. At least half of its genes come from TJ, and maybe it'll get lucky. Maybe it'll get the good Winchester DNA and come out dashing and handsome like its Uncle Dean." He puffed out his chest and smiled like a JC Penney model to demonstrate, brows waggling.

Sam snorted with derision and turned his gaze back to the TV. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dean shrug and go back to eating his sandwich. Dean didn't say anything else, but Sam could feel him throw a sidelong glance his direction every once in a while.

For once, Sam was grateful for Dean's phobia of sharing feelings. Dean wouldn't push Sam to talk, even though it was obvious he knew something was up.

And one thing was for sure, Sam didn't want to talk about it. It was eating him up inside, but he was trying not to think about it. He wanted to be ecstatic like TJ was, and he kept telling himself he was overreacting. They'd been given an incredible gift, so why couldn't he just accept it and stop flipping out?

Because he knew that the odds of it being a miracle with no strings attached were pretty much impossible. That's why.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop the fear from tearing into his gut every time someone mentioned TJ's pregnancy—which was practically every second of the day since they'd found out. It was all TJ could talk about. She, Heather, and Gretchen had lengthy conversations about it, spending hours on the Internet reading about it and looking at maternity clothes, even though TJ's stomach was still flat. Heather and Gretchen seemed almost as excited about it as TJ was. Sam figured it must be some kind of girl bonding thing.

The more he tried to escape it, the more he was bombarded with it, and it kept grinding away at him. It was driving him crazy, keeping him from sleeping at night. But he didn't want to talk about it. He would deal.

"What if the baby has my demon blood, Dean?" he blurted.

Where the hell had that come from?

Dean slanted a look at him, one brow arched, mouth half full of sandwich. "Wha'?"

Sam gritted his teeth, pissed off at himself for saying anything.

Dean swallowed and repeated his question. "What?"

He met Dean's eyes, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. "The demon blood. If the baby is mine, what if he or she gets it?"

Dean leaned back against the sofa, his sandwich forgotten. "So what if it does?"

Sam couldn't believe Dean would say that. "'What if it does?' Dean—"

"Look, Yellow Eyes has been dead for over a year, and nothing's happened, right? No visions, no burst of freaky telekinesis, none of that shit."

Sam exhaled, mouth pinched tightly, eyes staring at but not really seeing the coffee table. He set his almost-empty beer on it and rested his elbows on his legs, head in his hands.

"Listen to me, Sam. Whatever power Azazel had, it died when you ganked him. I thought we already established that."

Head still resting in his hands, Sam turned a little to look at Dean. "The odds of me fathering a child naturally are one in a bazillion, Dean. What if it's the demon blood somehow coming into play? What if there's another demon to take Azazel's place, to carry on with his work? What if Lucifer wants a new generation of Winchesters to fuck with?"

Dean looked away. When his eyes traveled back to Sam, there was cold determination in them. "If that's the case, we'll destroy the bastard or whatever they throw at us. We won't let Lucifer win."

Sam leaned back. "That's a great can-do attitude, Dean," he said with mock enthusiasm. "So what do we do if my kid is evil? Just kill it, too?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Your kid is not gonna be evil. You're not evil, so why would your kid be?"

"We don't know that, Dean. What if whatever Azazel infected me with is dormant, and one day something just clicks and I go dark side?"

Dean gave a small nod. "You know, you're right. Let me get my gun. I'll just smoke your ass right now."

Sam let out a frustrated breath through his nose. "I'm serious."

"So am I. Maybe I should just put you out of your misery so you won't keep agonizing over this. There's nothing you can do about it now, unless you want TJ to get rid of the baby."

Sam felt a fierce surge of protectiveness for the unborn baby that surprised him. "I would never ask her to do that."

"Good. Because I'd be much more worried about her wrath if you did than I would be that there's a minuscule chance the little rug rat could have demon blood."

Sam laid his head back against the sofa and stared at the ceiling.

"Why are you freaking out about this so much? Didn't all this go through your head before you got engaged?"

"I never thought it would be an issue. I figured it was more likely we would adopt someday."

"And if TJ wanted to try to have a biological kid?"

Sam shrugged. "Then I'd tell her about the demon blood and change her mind. Or maybe by then something would have changed and the blood wouldn't be an issue anymore."

"Like what?"

Sam's voice rose in irritation. "I don't know, Dean!"

Rocket, who had been half asleep throughout their whole conversation, was startled by Sam's outburst and let out a low warning bark. Sam was surprised to see Dean reach over and scratch Rocket soothingly between his ears like it was second nature.

Obviously, Rocket had grown on Dean, especially since Sam had been at Berkeley. Sam felt an irrational twinge of jealousy. Even his dog was content without him.

He lowered his voice but was still on edge. "I don't know what I thought. It was so far in the future, I figured I'd cross that bridge when I came to it."

"Okay. Don't get your thong in a twist." One of Dean's arms rested on his thigh, hand hanging loosely, and he was still petting Rocket with his other hand. "So, uh, what did you mean earlier when you said, 'If the baby is mine'?"

Sam almost groaned. He never should have said that out loud. "Nothing."

Dean eyed him narrowly. "You think TJ could have cheated on you?"

Sam slowly closed his eyes and sighed. This conversation was draining him. "The odds are against me fathering a child, Dean. I can't help but have doubts. My mind keeps going through every possible scenario."

"No fuckin' way." Dean was adamant. "There is no way in hell TJ would ever cheat on you. I've never seen someone so ape-shit in love with a guy. God only knows why," he mumbled under his breath.

Sam raised his brows at Dean's fervent defense of TJ. It reminded him of a time TJ had done the same for Dean when Heather had doubted Dean's fidelity. He sighed. "I know. I keep telling myself that. But sometimes it seems like she wasn't that—I mean, I think our separation has been a lot easier for her than it has for me."

"Nope," Dean stated stubbornly. "You're a moron."

"There's the whole Ralph thing. You implied it yourself the other day."

"Oh, come on, Sam. I was just bustin' your balls. You know that. I never seriously thought TJ had something going on with Ralph."

"There was a time when they liked each other as more than friends. Maybe if I hadn't interfered..."

Dean's mouth tightened cynically. "Again, you're a moron. You're the one TJ's always loved. That Ralph guy didn't stand a chance against you."

"What if we're wrong? What if we don't know her at all? God knows, stranger things have happened. What if—" He stopped abruptly.

TJ walked into the room from the hallway, dark auburn-chestnut hair down around her shoulders and a bit mussed from sleep. She stopped near the coffee table, arms crossed like she was protecting herself, like she was cold. There was a disturbing, hollow look in her eyes that Sam had never seen before, and she was deathly pale.

The stark expression of betrayal on her face left no doubt that she'd heard at least the last part of their conversation, and it chilled Sam to the bone. In that instant he knew he'd never been more wrong about anything in his life. He'd hurt her deeply, wounded her to the core.

He could feel Dean tense next to him. Sam swallowed hard, fighting a painful tightness in his chest and throat. "TJ—"

"Don't you mean the Whore of Babylon?" Her voice was calm and even, strangely devoid of emotion. It sliced through the air like an ax.

Sam held up his hands, palms outward in a gesture of apology. "Please, TJ, let me explain."

She stared at him for a second, and then she grew even paler, eyes looking strange and unfocused. It was all the warning they got, but Sam could see with jarring panic that she was in trouble. "Dean!"

In the next instant, Dean shot off the sofa and made a move toward her, but he was hampered by the coffee table. He was only delayed by a split second, but it was enough to keep him from getting to her in time.

She reached out like she was looking for something to grab onto, something to keep her balance like she was dizzy, but nothing was there but air.

Sam watched in horror as she fell forward, hitting her temple hard on the edge of the coffee table on her way to the floor.

TBC