Martha set the pie in the oven and let her breath out. Between reading about the plant closing and worrying about Lex, then hearing from Dean about Sam running away from his family, she was feeling pretty broken up about these poor boys from broken families she couldn't fix.

But at least she could comfort Sam a little. He was supposed to be arriving within the hour, which was perfect, because dinner was on the stove, and it would still be hot whenever he arrived.

The doorbell rang just as she was finishing setting the table. She set down the last plate and hurried to the door.

Sam had grown at least three inches since Martha had last seen him; he towered over her. Clark had outgrown him the year before, but looking at Sam now, she was pretty sure he'd passed Clark again. He wore a hesitant little smile, his dimples showing, his hands in his jacket pockets. She grinned and opened her arms, and his smile widened as he stepped into her embrace. She didn't let go until he did.

"Come on in," she said, and he stepped inside. "So good to see you, Sam. And congratulations on Stanford."

"Thanks, Aunt Martha."

She hurried to the side door and called out to Clark and Jonathan, "Boys! Dinner!"

Clark was the first to enter, closely followed by Jonathan. Clark's face broke out in a grin, and he went over to hug Sam. "Hey, man, I heard about Stanford! That's awesome!"

"Very proud of you, son," Jonathan said, clapping Sam on the back.

"Thanks, Uncle Jon." Sam blinked a few times, his eyes watering.

Martha didn't want to embarrass him—she quickly looked away and to her other family members. "Well, shall we? We've got pasta and meat sauce, there's garlic bread, and I just put the pie in the oven."

Martha smiled and carefully watched the others as their chatter and laughter washed over her. Sam smiled, but she could tell he was in pain, too. Dean had mentioned things hadn't left off well with their family; she wondered if his father hadn't wanted him to go away to college. Like her father hadn't wanted her to move from the city to the farm. She'd never received a congratulations from him for her marriage or for adopting Clark, and parts of her—dark parts she didn't want to think about—hadn't forgiven him.

In fact, Clark was the only one at the table who seemed entirely at ease. Jonathan smiled and talked with the others, and he asked questions about what Sam wanted to study and if he knew where he was staying and when he'd get his class schedule. She was sure Sam and Clark didn't notice it—she only did because she knew him so well—but there was a certain stiffness to Jonathan's neck and tenseness in his mouth that betrayed his stress. And she suspected she knew where it was coming from. None of them had seen Sam since Clark had announced that he'd told Sam his secret.

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Martha thought it was a good thing, a healthy thing. Sam was far removed from Smallville most of the time; he was a good confidante for Clark, and someone who would be too far away to get caught up in the dangers of the secret. She'd been livid when she found out that Jonathan had grounded Clark. Around Clark, of course, she had been supportive of his father's decision, in the interest of presenting a united front, but she and Jonathan had fought for days, and Jonathan had ended up giving Clark an early reprieve after less than a week, with a strict warning not to share his secret with anyone else. Clark hadn't sprung back to normal after that. The unjust sentence had been a rift in his trust in his parents, and they had to work double time to make it up to him with extra encouragement, care, and affection.

Unfortunately, things with Sam were going to be a little awkward. After dinner, she helped him set up the guest room to stay with them for the night—it was a long drive to California, and he'd need a place to stay either way.

"I'm going to pack you a lunch for the road in the morning," she told him. "You've got a long drive ahead of you tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah. About twenty-four hours left to go," he said. "I'm going to try to make as much of it in one stretch as I can."

"No, you're going to make sure you get plenty enough rest, so you don't get in a wreck before your first day of school."

"Yes, ma'am." He lowered his head a little, but gave a slight smile.

"And you're not going to sleep in your car. Do you have some money for a motel, or someone you can stay with closer to California?" She and Jonathan didn't have much, but they had some emergency cash stowed away for friends and family in need, and she was sure Jonathan would agree with her decision on this.

"I have what I need," Sam said. "Thanks, Aunt Martha."

She reached up to pat him on the back. "Congratulations, sweetie. On everything."

"Thanks," he said, but he frowned. "Is everything okay with Uncle Jon?"

"Of course. Why?"

"He just seemed . . . I dunno. A little tense, at the table."

She nodded slowly. "I'm not sure if Clark told you, but, um . . . we know that Clark told you his secret, and we haven't had a chance to talk with you about that."

Sam's face fell, reddening on the spot, and she almost wished she hadn't brought it up.

"It's okay, Sam, we're not upset." Anymore, she refrained from adding. "We just want to make sure you know, uh, how serious it is, and how important that you keep it secret."

"Oh, I understand!" He shook his head. "I'll never tell anyone, I swear."

"Of course. You've been a good friend to Clark." She gave him one last pat on the back. "Get some rest. We eat breakfast pretty early."

"Thanks so much, Aunt Martha."

"You're always welcome in our home." She turned toward the door, but looked back when she was in the doorway. "Stanford! You must be so proud."

He grinned again.