Chapter 48.

Sam had lit a few candles and the room took on a soft glow. When alone in their room, they liked to drink a good red wine, chosen by Eileen, who knew quality when she found it. They lay closely entwined, gazing at each other, sipping their wine without even glancing at the glasses. He felt that he would never get enough of just looking at that face, that looked back at him with such love.

"Do you think the kids will wanna know how we met," he said, "Or why and how we fell in love?"

"Did you say kids?" she said.

He signed the word for clarity. "We do want more, right?"

She grinned. "Of course."

"So, do you think they'll wanna hear all the stories, or will they just tell me to shut up?"

"I don't know. You grew up with your dad. How did you feel about his life story?"

"Dad wasn't really a big talker, to me, anyway. I remember him and Dean talking late into the night and I'd listen and I learned a lot about him. I really wanted to hear about Mom, but neither of them ever wanted to talk about her much. I'm glad that our kids won't have to deal with losing their mother. We both know how that screws up your whole life."

"Is this a 'don't die' speech?" she said.

"Not always in our power to promise." he said, "It's more an 'I will always find a way to bring you back' speech."

"That seems like a difficult promise to keep, too." she said.

"But we have Jack." he said.

"I love Jack." she said, lifting her glass to her lips, the golden light of the candles reflected in the glass, the wine and her eyes.

"You're beautiful." he said.

"You too," she said, "Inside and out. I think our kids will want to know everything about you."

"I don't know about that," he said, "Some of it is not child-appropriate. Most of it, actually. Of course, hunters' kids may be a little more mature and less easily scared."

"Were you?" she said, "Because I remember being scared a lot."

"I guess not, but I had Dean. That made a difference. Our kids'll have the bunker and both of us and Dean and an archangel to protect them. Plus Crowley is taking an interest and I have a bad feeling about that."

"You think he'll scare them?" she said.

"No, I think they'll like him."

It was in his head now, the memory of his childhood, of the angry exchanges between him and his father and the feeling of knowing that Dean would always be near perfect in their fathers' eyes and he would never be even adequate, a mathlete in a family of hunters. But that wasn't how it had been at all.

John Winchester had loved both of his sons, bragged about them both to others and made both of them feel inadequate. Far from feeling secure in his father's love and regard, Dean had spent his youth terrified of falling short of perfection. Sam had not really noticed that at the time, though, looking back, he remembered comments John had made to Dean when he was shooting targets in the woods. "Yeah, not bad. Not Winchester good, but not bad."

Mistakes were not tolerated, because mistakes could get you killed. Leaving for college was not allowed, because out of his sight, his sons were unprotected. He had watched his wife burn on the ceiling. It was all understandable, now. As a kid, he had not understood at all.

"How would you feel about a trip to the Nexus tomorrow?" he said, "We should tell our parents about their grandchild."

"Are you ready for that?" she said, "You weren't yesterday."

"I'm not sure," he said, "But when will I ever be? Me, Dad and fatherhood, probably not gonna make for an easy conversation, but that's part of becoming a dad, right? Making peace with the past, recognising where your own father went wrong ... or right. I don't want him hearing it from someone else. It needs to come from us."

"I can understand that." she said, "It's a lot simpler with my parents. Whatever flaws they had, I never got to see." She wasn't asking for his sympathy and never made anything of her loss, but he knew that it troubled her more than she ever said.

They had so much in common. She had lost both her parents in infancy, he, only his mother, but he understood the totality of such a loss. It had hurt, at times, even just to hear people talk about their mothers' favourite foods or the songs they would sing. At every school, other kids had talked about their mothers, the thiings they said and did, how much they hated their rules and embarrassing ways and he had thought of the few crumpled photos that stood in for the years of memories everyone else seemed to get.

"They'll be excited." he said, "They love you very much. Remember how happy they were at the wedding?"

She smiled. "You always know what to say." She took his hand in both of hers and said, "How can someone with such giant hands be so gentle?" She ran her fingers over the palm of his hand as if reading his fortune,

"I'm not giant," he said, "Everybody else is small."

"Everybody?" she said, not hiding her amusement very well.

"Don't laugh at me, Shorty!" he said, trying not to laugh himself.

"You like me being short. I'll always need you for those high shelves in the storerooms."

"Yeah, except that if you wanted something and I wasn't around, you'd find a way."

"I'd find a step."

"Or climb up like a cute little monkey."

"Maybe I don't need you after all." she said.

He faked a frown. He loved that they joked so easily with each other.

"Maybe I just need you for sex." she said.

He pretended to think about that, then smiled and said, "I'm okay with that."

They both put their wine glasses aside and settled into a deeper embrace. The height difference would never be a problem. She liked being held in strong arms and the moments, as at their wedding, when he would lift her off her feet and he loved doing both and loved how delicate she could seem, when she could beat men twice her size in a fair fight. Of course, sometimes, she chose not to fight fair and then they were in real trouble.

He kissed her and pulled back to mouth the words, "Forever and forever and forever."

"Our baby will love every word you say, like I do." she said.

He laughed.

"What?" she said, sounding intrigued, rather than hurt.

"How did the weak, uncertain, nerdy kid I was ever end up with someone like you?"

"How did the clever, wise, perceptive man you are ever have such a wrong idea of who he was? You could have done a lot better than me. Not that I'm suggesting you should try."

"Dean said you could do a lot better than me."

"That's only what he says to your face. When it's just him and me, he says better things about you. He said you'd make me very happy and you have."

"Yeah, well, right back at you. You've made me happy, you've made me a father and you've given me the courage to deal with the past, all of it."

"And tomorrow, we'll go see the broken bits of our childhoods and enjoy seeing our parents happy about what we've done with our lives."

"I'm very happy with what I've done with mine," he said, "And with what I'm about to do." He pulled the sheet over them both and began to seek out all her most sensitive parts. He knew them all very well.