Dean snapped into action. He grabbed Sam and pulled him back—but he was too late.

A red-haired woman, probably in her mid-thirties, stepped into the kitchen and froze, jaw hanging open. "Ah . . . I . . ."

Dean swallowed hard, keeping a firm grip on Sam's arm. "I'm so sorry, ma'am, we must have walked into the wrong house—"

"Who are you?"

"No one, we're just leaving, so sorry to disturb you—"

"A-are you in new in town?"

"Yes. Yes, we are. I'm so sorry, we just—"

"Dean, stop." Sam wrenched his arm away. "Ma'am, we need help."

"Sam," Dean warned.

"Our dad left us at a cabin in the woods. He was supposed to come back for us a couple of days ago. We're out of food, and we're hungry." Sam put on the look he gave Dean and their dad when he wanted something—big, wide, watery eyes. "Please help us."

The puppy eyes worked much better on the stranger than they ever did on Dad. "Oh, you poor things! Your dad left you alone?"

Dean shook his head. "No, no, it's not like that, ma'am. I'm almost eighteen." Almost was a strong word—he had more than six months to go—but he couldn't have this clueless woman calling CPS. "We were just looking for . . . a second stash of food he'd left for us, but, uh, clearly our directions were a little off."

"Well, come sit at the table. I'll heat up some leftovers from dinner." She reached out and patted Sam on the shoulder. "Sweetie, can I get you a blanket? You boys must be freezing."

Sam nodded. "Thank you, Mrs. . . ."

"Kent."

"Mrs. Kent. Thank you." Sam smiled. "I'm Sam, and this is my brother Dean."

"Nice to meet you." She looked over at Dean. "Is there a phone number we can call? Some way we might be able to reach your dad?"

"Uh, no. No phone number. But our dad will expect us back at the cabin . . ." Dean was growing more uneasy by the second.

Mrs. Kent frowned. "Well, I don't want you walking through the back woods alone again. It can be dangerous out there, especially after dark. How about you two stay here for the night? In the morning, my husband will give you a ride to wherever you need to go."

Dean swallowed hard. They really should have planned a cover story for if they were caught, one that would have let them grab a few supplies and leave. But it was too late for that, and Sam was hungry. The house was warm, and he could smell meat and onions and garlic—sure enough, Mrs. Kent took a half a meatloaf, a bowl of mashed potatoes, and a container of steamed vegetables out of the fridge and started dishing up plates for the microwave. Before she closed the fridge, Dean caught a glimpse of a third of a berry pie.

One night couldn't hurt.

Martha went out to the barn to find Jonathan and explain what had happened with Sam and Dean. The surprise was clear from his facial expression, but he showed no signs of disagreement about housing a couple of extra boys for a night.

Martha found there was a spring in her step as she stepped back into the warm kitchen and saw the two newcomers clearing their plates. She smiled as she took the last of the pie out of the fridge and began heating it up for them. She liked having a full house—she'd always imagined having a big family, but Clark's secret had made that complicated.

Finding a place for Sam and Dean to sleep would be a bit more challenging, since Lex was already in the guest room. They actually had another extra bedroom, but it was being used for storage, and it would have taken days to clear everything out. The loft where Clark liked to play might have been appropriate for a warmer night, but that wasn't tonight. That left the living room. The couch wasn't big enough for two, and the armchair didn't recline, so one of them would have to sleep on the floor. That would be okay, just for one night.

Most of the extra pillows and blankets were in the room where Lex was staying. Martha went upstairs and knocked on the door. No response—he was probably already asleep. She let herself in.

Lex was packing. He froze when she entered the room.

Her first instinct was to shout demands at him, asking what he thought he was doing. But that wouldn't make him want to stay. Part of her understood exactly why he wanted to leave—as compared to what he'd had with his father, this world was unfamiliar to him, and that must have scared him. But she also had no idea what he thought he would accomplish by running.

Meanwhile, she wouldn't accomplish anything by yelling at him. She decided to play this a different way.

"Oh, you must have overheard. That's sweet of you, Lex."

He blinked a few times. "Ah . . . overheard . . ."

"A couple of boys were abandoned by their father and left to starve in a cabin in the woods. They're going to be staying with us for the night. I was going to have them sleep in the living room, but I guess you heard me and decided to give them the guest room." She nodded to the suitcase. "But I won't put you in the living room. Why don't you go sleep in Clark's room? I'll let him know."

Lex's jaw pulsed, but he nodded. She slipped over into Clark's room—Clark sat up when she entered. She told him what was happening—he was more than thrilled to have Lex stay with him, saying, "It's like a sleepover!"

Martha went back into Lex's room to find him closing up the suitcase, his cheeks bright red.

"It's settled. Clark's happy to have you. I'll get you some blankets and pillows, okay?"

"Okay," Lex grumbled under his breath.

She turned to go, but then she faced him once more. "Oh, and Lex?"

"Yeah?"

Martha gave him a pointed look. "Clark's a light sleeper, and he's not very good at minding his own business. If you get up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, he'll probably lay awake until you come back. And if you don't, he'll probably come wake me up."

Lex looked away. "Yes, ma'am," he muttered.