A/N: Thanks to my stupendous betas, catsluver, skzb, and sallyloveslinus, for all their hard work!

Thanks to MJ for your review and to everyone who reviews, alerts, and is reading this story. You rock.

Chapter 6

For the second time in two days, TJ was shocked to her core. Had she heard right? Did Dr. Williams just say twins?

She sat frozen, forgetting to breathe. The dim room seemed to tilt for a second and then right itself. She looked at Sam.

He was staring at Dr. Williams. His face was the same ashy color it was when Dr. Chua told them TJ was pregnant. He still held TJ's hand, but he hadn't moved.

TJ forced herself to breathe. Here we go again. She'd known from the moment they found out she was pregnant that something wasn't right, that he wasn't as happy about it as he'd tried to act like he was.

His earlier doubts that the baby might not be his had devastated and completely floored her—literally. In the end, she forgave him because when could she ever stay mad at Sam? She realized his doubts stemmed from his fears about the demon blood and the belief he held that he was cursed, that nothing ever went right for him.

She couldn't blame him for feeling that way. He'd seen a lot of horrible things in his life and lost a lot of people he loved. Then there was his spinal cord injury and the fact that a demon had wanted him to lead Lucifer's army. So, yeah. Sam had a pretty compelling case for arguing that he was cursed.

But things were going right for him too. He seemed to have accepted his new life and was dealing well with his paraplegia; he was a student at one of the best law schools in the country; and, against all odds, he'd fathered a child. Correction—twins!

Okay. Granted, the whole baby business was a bit daunting (scary as shit, actually) and threw a kink in things, but life happens when you're making other plans, right? It would be a challenge, but they could handle it as long as they were together.

Sam turned his head toward TJ and met her eyes, but there was no indication of what he might be thinking. Then, slowly, a huge grin spread across his face.

TJ was never so relieved and happy to see those gorgeous dimples of his as she was at that moment. "You're a stud," she said, beaming back.

Dr. Williams gave a small smile. "Well, Fertile Myrtle, you had something to do with it, too."

Sam squeezed TJ's hand, his large one encasing hers, warm and safe. He seemed as genuinely happy as she was this time, and she suddenly felt a little loopy. She couldn't contain the dorky laugh that bubbled up.

Dr. Williams turned back to the ultrasound monitor, still smiling. "By measuring the size of the babies from crown to rump and based on when you guessed your last period was, it looks like you're about eleven weeks."

TJ did the math in her head and realized she would have conceived in August. She held in another laugh. Maybe they should name one of the babies after a certain Indian biology professor who'd asked them to house-sit.

"You're almost out of the first trimester," Dr. Williams went on, "so your risk of miscarriage goes way down. Let's see here," she said, typing into the computer. "Your due date is April 30th, but that's what it would be for one baby, a 40-week pregnancy. With twins, you're lucky to make it to 34. Thirty-eight would be ideal. Let's hope you can make it until April at least."

TJ was determined that her babies were not going to be born early. She'd do whatever it took to carry them to a safe term.

"I can give you a list of some good web sites with information regarding twins and the names of a couple of books, if you'd like," said Dr. Williams.

"That would be great," said TJ. "Thank you."

Dr. Williams used the mouse of the ultrasound's computer as a tool for pointing and drawing. "This is the head of Baby A," she said, pointing to the first of two grainy, peanut-shaped images, "and this is the head of Baby B," she said, pointing to the second. She used the mouse to draw an arrow pointing to their heads and labeled them. Then she pointed at two pulsing, tiny blobs. "These are their hearts beating."

TJ felt a surge of emotion and tightened her hold on Sam's hand.

Dr. Williams drew arrows pointing to the hearts. Then she drew heart shapes around them and wrote "We love Mommy and Daddy" above them.

TJ and Sam both smiled from ear to ear.

"We won't be able to see their gender until later on in the pregnancy, possibly after 16 weeks, although it might be a little longer."

"Can you tell if they're fraternal or identical?" asked Sam.

Dr. Williams arched a pensive brow. "Well, I'm seeing two placentas, so that's a good indication they're dizygotic, which means they're more likely fraternal. We'll know for sure they are fraternal if we see two different genders in a later ultrasound. If they're both the same gender, you might have to wait until after they're born and have DNA tests if you really want to know."

Dr. Williams clicked on something with the mouse, and a printer spit out a printout of the ultrasound, including Dr. Williams' illustrations and "message" from the babies. She handed it to Sam.

"Thanks," he said with a smile. TJ leaned toward him and he showed it to her. She looked up at the doctor, about to ask if Dr. Williams would print out another copy.

The doctor held up her hand. "On it," she said, anticipating TJ's question.

A few seconds later, TJ had her own copy of the ultrasound. She stared at it, mesmerized by what she saw. It was hard to make out the shape of the babies. If Dr. Williams hadn't pointed things out, TJ wouldn't have been able to make heads or tails of what was in the picture. It was a little surreal to think that these blurry images were two little miracles that she and Sam had created against all odds.

She was suddenly struck by the magnitude of it all. She felt a lump in her throat and her eyes welled. She'd never felt so blessed before or so overwhelmed by the realization that she'd been given two precious gifts that she had to protect at all costs.

She looked at Sam. His brow was wrinkled in that soulful way of his, and his mouth was tight like he was holding in some strong emotion. She knew that he was thinking the same thing she was.

Dr. Williams glanced at Sam and then spoke to TJ in a wistful, yet sort of wry tone. "Don't ever let him get Botox."

TJ grinned. Botox was the stuff people injected into their foreheads to keep their brow from wrinkling.

Sam looked at Dr. Williams, forehead still creased. He appeared more perplexed than soulful now, and Chandler giggled. When he realized what they were talking about, he rolled his eyes.

Chandler handed some paper towels to TJ, and TJ wiped the gel off her abdomen and buttoned her jeans. It was probably the power of suggestion, but they suddenly seemed tighter. She wondered if she would have noticed the changes in her body sooner if she hadn't lost weight because of the vomiting.

"Okay," Dr. Williams said in a let's-get-back-to-business tone, blowing her bangs out of her eyes with a puff of air. "I'm concerned about the hyperemesis gravidarum, which is fancy lingo for severe nausea and vomiting. Nausea is common in pregnancy, especially in the first trimester, but it's not common for it to be as severe as you have it. The biggest risks are dehydration and anemia, and I'm pretty sure you are anemic. What about water? Are you able to keep that down?"

"Um, sometimes."

"Have you been able to keep the prenatal vitamins down?"

TJ hadn't really, but she'd led Sam to believe that she had. She cleared her throat, knowing she was about to be busted. "Um, it's about fifty/fifty."

Sam gave her what Dean called his bitchface. "You said you did. You've only had them for two days."

"Right. I kept the one yesterday down...sort of," she muttered.

"Sort of?" he repeated.

"But, um, I threw up the one that I took this morning."

"TJ," he scolded, looking worried.

"Hm," said Dr. Williams. "That's not good. You need to be on an iron supplement, but most women find that makes them even more nauseated than the prenatal vitamins, and you're not even keeping those down. We've got to find a way to keep some nutrients in you."

TJ was about to speak when Sam beat her to it.

"She's been trying the ginger pops the last few days and ginger cookies," he informed, "but they haven't really helped. She hasn't been able to eat hardly anything." He shot TJ a look that dared her to contradict him.

She pursed her lips, a little annoyed but also kind of glad that he was taking care of her. She knew he was speaking up because she had a tendency to downplay things. It was a habit she would have to stop. It wasn't just her health at stake anymore. She would have to walk a fine line, though, between being open with Sam about her condition and not worrying him to the point where he would want to leave Berkeley. Hopefully, now that they knew what was causing the nausea, they could do something to stop it and everything would be fine. Then he wouldn't have anything to worry about.

Dr. Williams sighed. "TJ, I'm inclined to admit you for a couple of days to get you rehydrated and get your strength up."

TJ's heart immediately plummeted. 'Hell, no' was on the tip of her tongue, but she kept quiet. If that's what was best for the babies, then that's what she would do, despite the fact that she detested hospitals.

"How long have you been having the dizziness?" asked Dr. Williams.

TJ glanced down at her fingernails, knowing she was about to say something else Sam wasn't going to like. "Um, awhile."

Bitchface number two.

Dr. Williams' mouth quirked at the face Sam made, her expression amused and concerned at the same time. "How long is 'awhile'?"

TJ winced a little, anticipating Sam's displeasure when he heard this answer. "Um, a month, maybe?"

He exhaled and gripped his wheels but didn't say anything. Everyone in the room was silent, as if they all knew there was more to it.

"Okay. Maybe a month and a half."

Sam gave a massive eye roll, getting his whole head into the movement, and folded his arms across his chest. "Come on, TJ! Are you kidding me?"

"But it hasn't been that big of a deal," she rushed on. "Today was by far the worst. I've never fallen before."

Another sigh from Dr. Williams. "Okay," she said, as if that information was the clincher. "I'm going to admit you for at least forty-eight hours. We'll see how your blood sugar and blood pressure do and monitor the anemia, get some iron and Vitamin B-6 and other good stuff in you by IV. I'm also going to prescribe an anti-nausea medication for you and see if it helps. There are three different ones we can try, but they all seem to have about the same success rate. We'll see."

"Why is it so severe?" asked Sam.

"For one thing, the fact that she's pregnant with multiples. She's got rapidly rising serum levels of hormones like HCG and estrogen at twice the normal amounts, twice the drain on her body, twice everything. She would probably be nauseated with a singleton, too, but her symptoms are doubled because of the twins. It's also her first pregnancy. Symptoms tend to be worse for first-time moms." She gave him a rueful grimace. "The other answer is that no one really knows, and there's no real way anyone has found to get rid of it." She turned her attention to TJ. "Hopefully, it'll start tapering off soon, since you're nearing the end of your first trimester."

"And if it doesn't?" Sam asked.

"Then we'll deal with it. Or whoever you choose for your obstetrician will deal with it."

He glanced at TJ with a slight frown, obviously not happy with the doctor's answer. "What about the anemia and the low blood pressure?"

"The anemia we can hopefully alleviate with iron supplements and the right diet, if we can get the nausea under control. Same with the low blood pressure."

Sam's frown deepened. "What happens if the vomiting gets worse?"

"Then she may continue to have to be hospitalized periodically, or a home program of IV hydration and nutrition may be an option."

"What are the possible complications?"

Dr. Williams pursed her lips. "You don't leave any stone unturned, do you?"

"I don't like surprises. I want to know what we could be up against."

She raised a questioning brow at TJ, as if making sure TJ wanted to hear it. TJ nodded. Like Sam, she didn't want any surprises lurking in the shadows.

The doctor nodded. "Okay. In rare, really, really severe cases, hyperemesis can cause complications like renal failure, hypoglycemia, depression, hallucinations, jaundice, mallory-weiss tear of the esophagus..."

TJ's heart seemed to stop for a split second, and she saw Sam swallow thickly. She'd already been there and done that and had no desire to go through it again.

Dr. Williams gave a little grimace. "The list is really too long for me to recite, and it's a bunch of conditions with big words you've probably never heard of. Besides, it's not likely to happen. TJ's case hasn't been that severe."

"And the twins?" Sam prompted.

"Low birth weight, premature birth. Researchers are just now doing studies on the long-term effects. There's evidence the stress and malnutrition due to the vomiting can make the fetuses at risk for chronic diseases such as diabetes or heart disease later in life, and there could be neurobehavioral issues from birth."

Sam and TJ both sat stiffly, digesting the information.

"Sorry. I can see I've scared the pants off both of you, but you did want to know."

Dr. Williams was right. They asked for it. TJ drew in a deep breath, trying to get her blood circulating again.

"This is worst-case scenario, guys, and not very likely," Dr. Williams consoled. "Hopefully, once you're out of the first trimester, things will improve and the rest of your pregnancy will go without a hitch."

TJ nodded. Sam raised his brows in acknowledgment but didn't look convinced. His mouth was in a tight line, and his arms were still folded over his chest. TJ could see the wheels turning in his head. He was already imagining the worst, even though most of it would probably never happen. She knew what he was thinking, that the Winchester curse was rearing its ugly head or that somehow the demon blood was coming into play.

Well, she refused to believe it. Sam was the kindest, gentlest, most selfless person she'd ever known, and there was no way he had an evil bone—or drop of evil blood—in his body. He hadn't passed on anything to their babies because there was nothing to pass on. It was crazy to think that the demon blood could have any effect on her pregnancy.

She wasn't naive. She knew what was out there more than the average person, knew that things really did go bump in the night. She'd seen Azazel in action and felt his evil on a very painful level; but even if he did somehow alter Sam's DNA, Azazel was dead now and so was his power. Sam killed him. End of story.

She reached out and squeezed Sam's shoulder hard, getting his attention. "I know what you're thinking. Stop," she commanded, holding his gaze.

He gave her the flash of a smile that didn't reach his eyes and a half-assed nod.

"Sam, everything will be okay."

He looked away, but not before she could see the doubt in his eyes.

XXXXXXXX

Once TJ was situated in a room, drafty hospital gown on and IV poked and taped onto the back of her hand, Sam texted TJ's room number to Dean. It wasn't a private room, but the other patient in the room was a lady that looked to be a hundred years old, and she was asleep.

TJ had the farthest bed from the door, the one nearest the window. She ate the last of the saltines and apple that Dr. Williams had ordered for her, but she couldn't handle the plain vanilla yogurt just yet. So far, her stomach hadn't rebelled, but she didn't want to test it by trying the yogurt. She really didn't want to throw up in front of Sam. She was getting tired and the bump on her head was starting to ache more, but she didn't say anything because she didn't want him to feel guilty.

"You okay?" he asked, brow furrowed.

The yogurt sat on the overbed table along with the remnants of the crackers and apple. She pushed the table away.

He eyed the yogurt and the crease in his brow deepened, but he didn't say anything. He seemed to know that he shouldn't try to coax her into eating more, although it was clear he wanted her to.

She turned onto her side, pulling the sheet and beige blanket up over her shoulder, feeling chilled. "Yeah. I'm okay."

He gently swept a strand of hair away from her forehead with his thumb, careful not to touch her temple where it was sore, and gave her a smile that was both indulgent and skeptical. "You're a sucky liar...sometimes."

She was sorry for fibbing to him. She'd kept a lot from him, although she hadn't really meant to. She reached out of her blanketed cocoon for his hand and felt the warm weight of it in hers. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about the nausea and dizziness. But it's not like I really wanted to acknowledge it myself, you know? I think I was kind of in denial and I didn't want you to worry."

An errant lock of his own shaggy hair fell forward onto his cheek, and he impatiently brushed it away, completely unaware of the effect it had on her.

Her stomach flipped in a good way, her body never failing to react to those little things about him that were so attractive and so damn hot. She loved his hair—the thick texture of it, the rich brown color, the irreverent length, the spicy smell of it. It was much prettier than her own hair would ever be, but she'd never tell him that. He would be horrified if he knew she thought his hair was pretty. It wasn't that it was girlie. Instead, it accentuated his masculinity. It was a nice balance, a nice contrast to the strong, sharp planes of his face.

"You and Dean," he stated, completely oblivious to her comprehensive critique of his hair. "You two are gonna give me a heart attack trying to keep me from worrying."

She felt a pang of guilt, knowing how stressed he'd been last Christmas when Dean had a life-threatening case of pneumonia as a result of broken ribs. Back then, Dean didn't want Sam to know about his injury because he was trying to protect Sam, so he'd kept quiet and gotten very sick in the process.

Sam's mouth flattened into a straight line. "I would have known something was wrong if I'd been here." He'd said similar words about Dean. Sam had been so busy with school and work that he hadn't noticed there was anything wrong with Dean. Now he was in almost the same situation with TJ, only this time the problem was that he lived five hundred miles away.

She squeezed his hand. "Yes. You're a horrible person. You should feel extremely guilty. How dare you go off to law school at Berkeley and pursue your dream? I mean, how will we all survive without you?"

He gave her a dry look and she smirked, unrepentant.

Dean poked his head in the door then, and Sam let go of her hand and waved him in. TJ felt bad that Dean had been waiting all this time in the ER waiting room. His expressive brows were arched into a vee of concern and his manner was a little wary. He flashed Sam a subtle, questioning look, and TJ knew he was wondering if Sam had told her everything about the demon blood.

Sam answered Dean's look with one of his own, and Dean seemed to relax a fraction. It was like they'd had an entire conversation without saying a word.

"So, you gonna be okay?" Dean asked her. "Is the baby okay?"

She looked at Sam and smiled with encouragement. He should be the one to tell Dean.

Sam cleared his throat, his face unreadable, and she didn't like the change in his demeanor. His delight at the news of the twins had dampened after he'd heard all the things that could go wrong from Dr. Williams. He hesitated and then finally spoke. "Uh, babies," he corrected. "We're having twins."

Dean's face broke into a surprised grin that was so big it could fuel electricity for all of California. "Ha, ha, Sammy! You're a friggin' stud." He clapped Sam on the shoulder and then gave it a squeeze.

TJ laughed. "That's what I said."

Sam was still reserved. "Actually, identical twins are pretty much a chance of nature when an egg splits. Fraternal twins are a result of the mother releasing two eggs at the same time during ovulation, which can be an inherited trait, but not always. The father has nothing to do with it."

"Too much info, Dr. McNerdy. I prefer to think it's the Winchester mojo at work."

Sam paled at that and his jaw went rigid. TJ shot Dean a look and vaguely shook her head. Sam didn't need any reminders, however innocuous or unintentional, of everything he feared.

Dean subtly rolled his eyes, obviously annoyed with Sam's preoccupation with the demon blood. Dean could convey so much with just his facial expressions, just like Sam could convey all the sensitivity and sympathy in the world with his puppy-dog eyes. TJ wondered if her babies would inherit those Winchester traits. She hoped so, and she hoped they got the Winchester good looks too, along with Sam's polite, nice-guy charm and Dean's self-confidence.

She mused, not for the first time, how she'd gotten so lucky. Sam could have almost any girl he set his sights on, but for some reason, he chose her. She was more confident in herself now, even liked the woman she was becoming and didn't hate herself like she did when she'd been in the clutches of the bulimia, but she wasn't delusional. Sam made her feel attractive—sexy even—but she would never be a classic beauty. She had other qualities that made up for it, but she would never be beautiful (or even pretty, really) in the normal sense of the word.

Okay. Maybe she'd ended up wantonly throwing herself at him at one point back when they were still just friends, but since when did having sex with a guy ever make him fall in love with a girl? Why buy the cow when you could get the milk for free, right? But she had no doubt that he loved her and loved her deeply. He told her so in a hundred ways whenever they were together—a simple, solicitous glance in her direction, a light touch with his gentle hand, a soft kiss to the nape of her neck.

And, mercy, how she loved him back. She would die for him. Now, a part of him was growing inside her, two tiny lives that might be his only chance at ever having biological children. She would die for them too, and she would do everything in her power to make sure they were born healthy.

Sam's quiet voice broke into her thoughts. "It's making her sick."

Dean frowned. "What is?"

"The Winchester mojo," Sam said bitterly. "It's making her sick."

That made TJ angry. "You're being ridiculous. It's the hormones that are makin' me sick—too much too soon. It'll get better in the second trimester."

He was gripping the wheels of his chair, his broad shoulders stiff and unyielding, his mouth tight.

Good Lord, he could be stubborn. She prayed that the nausea would go away and that the rest of her pregnancy would be easy, because it was clear that anything that went wrong he would blame on himself and the stupid demon blood. She wondered if there would ever come a time when he didn't carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, even though he'd already saved it once—literally.

"I'm going to stay here tonight," he said to Dean. "You don't have to stay. Thanks, you know, for waiting."

As much as she didn't relish the thought of staying the night in the hospital with Geriatric Sleeping Beauty in the other bed as her only companion, she knew it wouldn't be very comfortable for Sam to stay. He would either have to sit in his chair all night or in the meager chair sitting next to her bed, neither of which would be good for him. There was always the ever-present worry that he might develop a pressure sore from sitting in one place for too long, and he needed to be where he could stretch out his long body and give it a rest. He tended to have more trouble with spasticity, too, when he was overly tired.

The look on Dean's face said he was thinking the same thing. "Sam—"

"Don't start, Dean. I'm staying." Sam's voice was civil, but there was no mistaking the hardheaded determination behind it.

Dean glanced at TJ, a "you try" expression on his face. She stretched her arm out from under her blanket and laid her hand on Sam's arm. "You should go. I'm just gonna watch TV and probably go to sleep."

"I'm not leaving you alone."

She smiled. "I'm not alone. I've got Gladys over there to keep me company. Remember?"

"No."

"I'm twenty-four years old, Sam. I've stayed by myself before."

"I'm not going to debate this."

Dean was clearly not pleased, but TJ knew Sam wouldn't budge. He was the same way when Dean had been in the hospital and wouldn't leave until he knew Dean was out of the woods. He paid the price for it physically too, suffering the worst attack of spasticity in his legs and back that she'd ever seen.

Dean sighed, eyes on Sam. "You call me if you need me to come get you."

"I will," Sam replied.

"I don't care how late it is."

Sam gave an efficient nod. "I will."

Dean shot him a look of warning that said he'd better and then walked over to TJ and patted her shoulder. "You take care of yourself. Okay?"

"'Kay."

He bent down and gave her a brotherly peck on the cheek. "And those babies," he said softly. "Congratulations."

Sam's brows went up and TJ smiled. Dean really was a sweet guy underneath his cocky exterior.

Dean ignored Sam's obvious surprise at his show of affection and kept his focus on TJ. "Call me if you need anything."

"I will. Thanks, Dean."

He nodded and the show of sensitivity was over. "You want me to pull this shut?" he asked, referring to the privacy curtain that would separate TJ's bed from her neighbor's.

"Please."

Sam and TJ both watched him pull it closed, surrounding the little area around TJ's bed and giving the illusion that they were alone. "Later," Dean said from behind the curtain.

"Later," Sam replied. He and TJ were both quiet as Dean's footsteps retreated from the room.

Once Dean was gone, TJ scooted over to the far edge of the bed, pulled back the covers, and patted the mattress. "Here," she said to Sam. "Come get in bed with me."

"It's small."

"We'll fit," she assured. "We've done it before." They had watched movies together last year in her hospital bed when she was recovering from the ruptured esophagus.

He took off his shoes, then locked the brakes on his wheelchair and pressed down on the slightly higher mattress of the bed with one hand and the frame of his chair with the other, transferring himself to the bed. He always made it look so easy, but the way his muscles corded and bulged in his arms and shoulders was an indication of how much upper-body strength it took. After he was sitting on the bed, he picked up his legs, one at a time, and adjusted them to where they were stretched out.

He always wore his jeans a size larger than he needed to so they'd be loose and easier on his skin, and when he scooted himself back so he could relax, he accidentally slid his jeans a little bit off his hips. He lay back and rolled to one side, tugging on the denim waistband, and then to the other side until he had shimmied the jeans back on. He couldn't lift his hips, so it made it harder to get his pants on and off. It was one of the many things he had to do differently, but he never fussed about it. He made it seem like he'd never done it any other way.

Once he was situated, she snuggled up close to him on her side because there wasn't room for both of them to lie flat on their backs. She rested her head on his shoulder and would have been perfectly content to stay like that all night, but it wouldn't be good for him. When it was time to go to sleep (if a nurse didn't kick him out of her bed first), she would insist that he sleep on his side with a pillow between his legs so he wouldn't get a pressure ulcer on his tush.

He wrapped his arm around her. "You warm enough?"

The thin hospital gown and the fact that her legs and feet were bare didn't do much to warm her, despite Sam's considerable body heat.

He didn't wait for her to respond. He reached forward and pulled the covers up over her. She could feel the hard, powerful muscles of his chest and shoulder contracting under her cheek as he moved. He left his own jeans-clad legs and socked feet exposed, then sank back against the inclined mattress and shared her pillow when he was done. "Better?" he asked.

"Yeah. Thanks."

"You wanna watch TV?"

"Not right now. I think there's some things we need to talk about."

"Yeah. I guess we do."

"I think we should get married as soon as possible," she said, "like whenever I get out of the hospital. Like, this week."

"No."

She was a little surprised by his quick and adamant refusal. "Why not? We can go to a justice of the peace or whatever and make it legal."

"Uh-uh."

"Why?" she asked, looking up at him.

He met her eyes. "Is that really the kind of wedding you want?"

She paused and looked down. No, it wasn't, but it wasn't like she had much choice. "If we do it this week, you're already here. You won't have to make a special trip back."

"Uh-uh. We can get married over Thanksgiving or Christmas, when we're both on break and Fern, Vern, and Bobby can be here."

She was quiet for a moment. "I...I don't want to look pregnant in my wedding pictures."

He huffed a small laugh. "TJ, your stomach is still flat. I doubt you'll be showing that much by Thanksgiving."

"What if you're wrong? What if I start getting really big because it's twins?"

"Okay. What if you do? Just get a dress that hides it. Aren't women good at that kind of thing?"

She snorted. "I wish. Let's just do it this week."

"Your mom will kill us if we get married without her there."

"She's gonna kill us anyway," TJ asserted. "And if she doesn't, my dad will—or he'll kill you for knocking me up."

"Why are you so afraid of how they'll react? I don't believe they'll freak out like you think. Besides, we're engaged."

She shook her head. "You don't understand. They seem like they're cool about stuff, but there's certain things they're still old-fashioned about—like their daughter getting pregnant out of wedlock. Where I come from, sex before marriage is a big no-no. There's nine churches in Moss Fork, and it's only got a population of four thousand. I mean, people do it, of course, but everyone pretends they don't. Thank the Lord my mamaw's not alive. This would have killed her." She ignored the irony of that statement.

"Look, if you get married and don't include your parents, it'll just compound the problem. I think Fern would be crushed. You're their only daughter, their only child, TJ. You can't leave them out of this."

She thought about that. She knew he was right, but she wasn't ready to concede just yet. "Why do you care whether we have a real wedding or not? You're a guy. Guys are supposed to hate planning weddings. I figured you'd be glad not to have to deal with that stuff."

He shrugged. "Well, we're not talking about a royal wedding, are we? I was thinking just something small with friends and family."

"Yeah, I guess."

It was hard to explain to him why she just wanted to get it over with. She was elated that she was pregnant, knew she'd been blessed with a miracle, but it was all overwhelming and kind of scary, and a small part of her was ashamed. She didn't want to face her parents.

She was sort of snobby about this sort of thing. Getting knocked up was what people in her Podunk hometown did because they didn't have anything better to do or didn't know any better. She had escaped from Moss Fork and found something more exciting, had broadened her horizons. But she wasn't really any better than those she looked down her nose at after all, was she?

Sam wouldn't understand, and she didn't expect him to. There was a strange culture in small rural towns like Moss Fork, a dichotomy of wanting to get the hell out, and, at the same time, fighting the stereotype that everyone there was a dumb hillbilly. It was okay for her to talk about it with disdain because she was from there, but God help any outsider who insulted it.

"TJ, I..." He trailed off, hesitating.

She leaned her head back to see him better. "What?"

He cleared his throat. "My leg braces are at Berkeley."

She frowned, not understanding.

"I want to be able to stand up next to you when we get married."

"Oh." Of course he would want that—and she wanted it too. She almost slapped herself on the forehead. Suddenly, all her snooty hang-ups seemed trivial and died a quick death. "Okay," she said, hugging him.

He chuckled, and she loved the way his chest rumbled. "'Okay'?" he questioned. "You're giving in that easily?"

"I think your wanting to stand up trumps my baby bump showing." She felt his arms tighten around her and savored it for a moment. Then she started to plan. "So, let's do it over Thanksgiving. I think my mom gets a week off from her teaching job. We'll do something small, like you said. I haven't been to my church here in San Diego in a while, but we can have it there if it's not booked up."

She knew she shouldn't do it, but she couldn't resist. She looked up at him and tried to sound innocent. "It won't be a problem for you, right? I mean, because of the demon blood. You won't go up in flames or get struck by lightning if you step foot in a church?"

He gave her a spectacular bitchface.

She couldn't keep from grinning. "Just makin' sure."

"That's not funny."

"No? Inappropriate?"

His mouth tightened, jaw like iron.

"Oh, Lord. You're no fun."

He removed his arms from around her and folded them across his chest. "It's not funny, TJ."

"Sorry."

"You're not."

She kissed his cheek. "I am."

He still didn't budge, so she kissed his neck just below his earlobe and then flicked her tongue in his ear, tickling it.

He hunched away and gave a surprised laugh, dimples coming out of their sulk. She giggled, and he wrapped his arms around her again, pulling her to him. She resumed her rightful place with her head on his shoulder, her arm resting across his ribs.

There was resignation and a little humor in his voice. "You're kind of hard to stay mad at."

She huffed. "Like I could ever stay mad at you. I mean, hello? Wrongly-accused slut here. I should have milked that for at least a day or two."

"Yeah, you probably should have, but don't worry. I'm mad enough at myself for the both of us."

She gave him another hug. "Don't be."

He kissed the top of her head.

Her mind started going over things, making a mental list of everything that needed to be done. Even a small wedding required some planning. And there was still the issue of telling her parents.

As if he'd read her mind, he pulled out his cell phone from his pocket and offered it to her. "Call them."

"Who?"

There was an eye roll in his voice. "Your parents."

"I'm too tired."

"Just get it over with."

"Let's watch TV."

"TJ." He said her name in a chiding voice.

She took the phone with a sigh.

"Your mom is in my favorites. Just scroll down to her name."

She rose up, bracing herself with her arm, and looked at him. "You have my mom in your favorites?"

"She's been in there for a long time. She and I got to be pretty close when you were in the hospital before."

"How often do you talk to her?"

He half-shrugged. "Once a week, sometimes more."

She raised her eyebrows. "Are you serious? How come I never knew that?"

He gave her a cocky smile, dimples deep. "You never asked."

She was a little miffed. "I don't believe it. You've been givin' her reports on me," she accused.

His smile morphed into a teasing one and he raised his brows. "It's not all about you, TJ. We talk about other stuff."

"Like what?"

"None of your business," he said with a laugh and then, after a moment, grew more serious. "Call your parents and be honest with them. They'll understand."

She lay back down and, with a long sigh of resignation, pressed her mom's name on his phone.

Her mom answered on the third ring. "Hey, Sam. What's up, hon?"

TJ cleared her throat, her stomach in a knot. "Hey, Mom. It's me. I'm on Sam's phone."

"Oh, TJ! Hey, honey. What are you doin' with Sam's phone? I didn't know y'all were getting together this weekend."

"Yeah. Um, it was kind of spur of the moment."

"Oh?" Her mom sounded a little suspicious. "Well, how you doin', sugar? It's been awhile."

It had been. They usually talked almost every day, but TJ hadn't called since Sam came home. She hadn't been ready to tell her parents about the pregnancy and didn't want to have to skirt around it in conversation.

A few uncomfortable seconds ticked by as TJ tried to figure out what to say. Sam gave her a reassuring squeeze.

"TJ? You still there? Did I lose you?"

"No. I'm here, Mama. Is—is Daddy there?"

"Yeah. I think he's asleep on the divan. Let me get him."

A second later, her dad entered the conversation on an extension sounding a little sleepy. "Hey, dumplin'. What's a goin' on?"

TJ's eyes welled at her dad's greeting. He still thought of her as his little girl, and she was about to shatter that. His little girl was going to be a mother.

"Hi, Daddy." She hesitated again, full of dread.

"Is something wrong, hon?" her mom asked cautiously.

"No. Well, not really."

"What does that mean?" said Vern. He sounded more awake.

TJ was coiled tightly, and she let out a long breath. Oh, fuck it, she said to herself. It was time to get this over with. "I'm pregnant," she stated bluntly. "With twins."

Her declaration was met with a resounding silence.

TBC

A/N: Next chapter TJ and Sam get married, so stay tuned...