Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Scott dodged between sunbeams through the shadows as he followed after his fledgling. A part of him could feel the instinctual pull of where Pyro was, and it threw him. It’d been over two hundred years since he’d felt the pull of a fledgling bond. That connection, something that he lacked when he woke-up the implication of all his childer being long gone and met with final death nagged at his mind, never leaving must be why his attention was drawn to the newly embraced. His newly embraced. Scott had a fledgeling again, and no place to hide him away from the sun, hunters, or all other dangers. His once terrifying estate–which held his nest at the very heart of it–was defiled by the presence of the humans that trapped him there. And his nest was gone, either from those same humans or years of decay, and Scott had no where to bring his new childe home to. That would not do.

After making sure Pyro arrived at Oakhurst unscathed—surrounded by livestock, food that he hopefully wouldn’t indulge in just yet—Scott made sure to catch Owen’s attention. It seemed the younger vampire understood his reluctant need to play bodyguard, with a curt nod to Scott and a tailing behind the new fledgling.

While Scott was never one to pick up strays, maybe this younger vampire would be the first. Lacking etiquette, seemingly from the little to none time spent with his sire, Owen would make a nice addition to his growing brood. Oh this would do nicely, with Pyro being watched and Owen at least tolerating his elders for now, Scott had all the time he’d need to set up a right-proper nest.

Transforming into a bat to move faster through the sun’s rays, he entered Oakhurst, and looking for any left over cottons, drying sheets, blankets, or any other clothes left outside homes. While he could get into his own “home” and maybe steal a blanket or two from Shelby—who’s attention was so sporadic, she would probably not notice until she needed one—finding other things would be helpful. Anything with Scott’s scent would work best, maybe going to somewhere that to get something that would have his scent would be best.

Keeping under the shadow of the roof, he landed and detransformed beside the door. But a pressure, blistering to his mind and beginning to eat at his fingertips as they attempted to cross the open-threshold, kept him back. Silver. A pain he knew too well, and one he would never believe Shelby to have put there herself. It must have been that “aspiring hunter” that accused him of her murder earlier. Lovely, just so convenient and lovely. Scott made a mental note to make sure he would be his childe’s first meal once the nest was secure.

Breaking through the glass near the rear of the home and transforming into a bat to get inside, Scott eyed exactly what he needed. Wool blankets on a bed meant for him, and cotton sheets on it to match. Folding them with a quick pace, he tucked them into his waistcoat and made his way out the same way he’d entered, and searched for more cloth. Something comforting, plush, fresh of anything his castle would have, moth-ridden with dust infusing itself to the very fibers of whatever remained. It’s what his brood deserved.

With enough fabric on his person to refurbish a small home, Scott transformed again, some fabric clutched in his bat talons, and headed back home. When he did reach the threshold of shade, he transformed back and headed to his crypt. Part of his instincts hissed at the openness, the exposed nature of where his nest once resided and where he had awoken, how dangerous it would be for his fledgling. He’d need to go deeper into his manor, more hidden, maybe in a place on him and his brood could reach. With enough space to bring in a human eventually (live blood was better once the young ones weaned off their sire’s blood, but at some point, Pyro would need to feed).

Feeling at the walls behind his crypt (sue him, he was old) for the stone that could give way to reveal a lever to open to a room behind, once he’d had it in hand, Scott pulled the lever. To his shock, the room looked as if it hadn’t aged. There were silks that draped over a pile of pillows, and outside the smell of stale air, the room was…the same. A relic of better days. Scott found himself dropping into the silks, breathing in the smell of them. Under the scent of dust, there was a faint familiarity. Emotion welled in him the nagging thoughts gained full forceas he felt the wetness around his eyes. Blood streamed down his face from his eyes. He was crying. Scott hadn’t cried since…a long time. Long enough he couldn’t recall the last time. The scent of what was once home brought it all back to him, and he pulled himself closer to the silk sheet that smelled the strongest, allowing himself to fall into the pseudo-nest untouched by time. Drifting off into a light slumber, he felt safer than he’d been able to feel in years.

Owen did not want to play bodyguard for the newest Goldsmith childe. It didn’t help that Pyro stayed closer to him than he had before the embrace, almost instinctively gravitating towards the other vampire. There was a part of Owen that wanted to revel in this feeling, the lack of loneliness, the need Pyro had to stay close, and the growing feelings he was having of a similar variety.

As far as he knew, Lewis has been alone, without anyone but Owen, and that hadn’t lasted long enough after his fledgeling-hood. Pyro had it lucky, a sire that wasn’t being burned to their final death, some type pf home Scott was surely preparing for him, a teacher to show him how to live this life. Company. A cure to the isolation and lonely feelings.

Owen was jealous.

So yes, if he drew himself closer to Pyro that day, stayed on the defensive for the fledgling, and made sure to keep him away from the harm he didn’t know about yes; teach him something he, Owen, had learned, and felt a rush of pride when Pyro understood, that was something only he would know. (He wouldn’t know his face betrayed him every time, pride leaking from him in waves every time).

Chapter Text

When Scott awoke, he knew it was night. Rising from the nest he’d put himself in, he could smell the faint linger scents clinging to the silks infused with his own. A perfect start for a nest for his childer, and with a little work, it would be fully perfect. A safe haven, a home where he could hid away his brood, keep them safe, like his instincts screamed to. With meticulous care, the pre-existing arc of a nest turned into a circle. Fluffed with pillows, lined with linens, it was exactly what Scott needed. All that was missing were his brood.

With little effort, he closed the nest’s entrance and made his way out of the remains of his manor. On basically instincts alone, he let himself be guided—in bat form for speed’s sake—back to Oakhurst. When his fledgeling and his protector came into view, he made his descent. Owen, older and more perceptive, noticed the bat that made it’s way to hang from his roof.

“Now, thank you again, Avid, for the vampire PSA, but Pyro and I do have some final home-touches to make to follow those guidelines. Come on, Pyro, we should go.”

Owen pulled Pyro away with Avid calling out more and more “tips” to their backs, but neither were listening.

“You can come inside. M is out at Shelby’s.” Owen seemed to speak to the air, but the bat that followed in after the two seemed to get the memo.

When Scott was fully out of view inside, he detransformed back, and was met with the crushing weight of Pyro. His childe was on him in an instant, nose resting on his sire’s neck as he melted into his hold. Scott adjusted immediately for the added weight, supporting every vulnerable spot his childe would have.

“Am I supposed to feel on edge without you around? Is that a thing?”

The fact Pyro could speak with the deep waves of his instincts was a miracle, but Scott chuckled. Leave it to his fledgeling to be a rare instance.

“Yes. You shouldn’t even be around livestock now.”

Pyro looked up quizzically at his sire.

“The humans,” Owen supplied, “that’s what the older generations call them.”

“Very good, yes, that’s what I call them, the ‘humans’.”

Scott tried not to let on his noticing of Owen preening under the praise.

“But you won’t be now. We’re going home, really home, my home and soon to be your home.” Scott looked from Pyro to Owen. “Your’s too.”

The older of the two Scott looked at couldn’t hide all the shock from his face.

“Me?”

“You. We’ll get Pyro settled, and then we’ll discuss you.”

Scott keened down at the fledgling in his arms, just having him this close lulled his instincts into a state of quiet. No screaming for his childe, but instead contentment. A feeling Scott wanted to hold steadfast, if not for where they were presently.

“But we have to go now. I have to say the livestock may notice something is amiss when you both leave at night without being spotted, but it’ll be for the best.”

Pyro was in no state to object, and Owen—selfishly—wanted this. He didn’t care about the humans anyway.

“Where are we going exactly?”

The manor was not what Owen remembered. This was a castle when he’d last seen it, last he remembered. The bridge crossing the river below (running stream water, another thing he was glad to be so far enough above) used to be massive, but now the spotty-ness made him thankful they weren’t traveling by foot.

Scott’s bat form was a few inches away, Pyro by his side, but Owen stayed back. Watching the rear, vigilant to any upcoming dangers that may arise outside Scott or the fledgling’s view. Because he wanted to see where Scott was taking him, he told himself, only for that. And when they did face the wall, watching Scott pluck out a single stone to pull a lever down, he couldn’t name what he was seeing. But Owen’s instincts—which long laid dormant after Lewis’ death—reared their head. A nest. Safe. Comfort. Safe.

Pyro didn’t know where the word “nest” came from in his mind, maybe his new instincts, but the word was supplied to him.

“It’s a nest, our nest.”

There was a dark, possessive undertone in Scott’s voice, his ruby eyes looking across Pyro and even Owen’s faces for reactions.

A nest, like for baby birds.

“Baby vampires, actually.” Pyro hadn’t realized he’s spoken aloud. “And you, Pyro, and very much that.”

Scott took his hand (had he even let go of it as he’d guided them through the manor?) and brought Pyro down to the plush circle. Immediately, he felt a wave of exhaustion hit him all at once.

“Scott–I’m…I’m really-” Pyro’s words were swallowed by a yawn.

“Rest, Pyro. You’ve been so strong today, just rest.”

With the honeyed effects his sire’s words seemed to have on him, Pyro leaned his body weight onto Scott who’d sat down next to him in the nest, drifting all the way until his head rested on Scott’s lap. With his sire’s hands in his hair, he let his mind fall into the pitch blackness of the nest’s safety.

Scott looked up at the last remaining vampire in the space, who stood at the entrance of the room, at the perimiter of the nest. It was as if Owen was asking to be let inside, unsure if he belonged there. Scott would have to squashed those silly feeble thoughts.

“Owen, place the brick back on the outside wall, raise the lever on this side of the room, and get into the nest, now.”

Owen only looked spooked at the acknowledgment.

“But I’m not your coven, or coterie, or even childe. I don’t-I shouldn’t be in your nest, Scott. I shouldn’t even be in this room–”

“And who taught you that? Not your sire, not your instincts that want to be here. So who, Owen? Who told you that?”

Owen froze, eye’s straying from Scott’s gaze to the domestic actions of the elder vampire's fingers carding through Pyro’s hair.

“I’ve heard things, learned things.”

“Owen. I brought you into my nest room. Before that, I trusted you with my only childe, and before that, I shared in his embrace with you. Shut the hell up and get inside the nest.”

Scott’s look stayed on him as Owen did exactly what Scott asked. Placing back the outside brick to the wall, flicking the inside lever to close the entrance to the room, he carefully stepped into the nest. It was like he was preparing for the older vampire to lunge and strike him down for being in the space he invited him to a space made partially with Owen in mind, not that he knew.

“You have no one to call your own, do you?”

There was no addressing Owen directly, just a question thrown to the wind. Still, he nodded, lowering himself to sit. Scott could see him ever so slightly sinking into the comfort of the nest. Slowly but surely.

“Your existence is in his memory, right? Your sire’s?”

Scott saw the sudden tension line Owen’s shoulder’s at the mention of his sire. Seemingly a sore subject still, gauging from that type of reaction.

“He, um, he was the mayor of Oakhurst, 200 years ago. The only person to even treat me as well, a person. When he asked to embrace me…” Owen looked anywhere but at Scott’s face, deciding to instead to still keep his attention in Pyro’s unmoving resting form.

“They killed him, the livestock; the humans.”

Not a question, Scott didn’t need to ask. It happened sometimes, he’d learned years after, that if the humans found out a vampire was nearby, they would mob together and meet them with their final death.

“How old were you?”

Owen’s attention pulled from Scott’s when he stilled his hand in Pyro's hair, and followed his sight to Scott's face. It had an expression he couldn’t read.

“Around 27-28.”

“How old were you to the night?”

Owen tensed again.

“….not even a day.”

Fury. That was the look on Scott’s face he couldn’t place. He could see it in his tightening of his hold on Pyro, the anger behind his eyes.

“You were a childe when you killed that town. You were a childe ripped from your sire. You never bonded, did you?”

That was a sacred thing, and Owen knew it from research alone. The bond between Childe and Sire, it transcends distance and time. It a more than mental bond that connected a coven together to their sire and each other, however, it was emotionally binding, and the deepest form of trust a vampire could display. He’d never experienced it.

“I’ve learned of it, through texts and word of mouth…”

Scott's still form stalled for a moment, until he held out his arm, outstretched to Owen. It took a moment for him to realize, but Scott was offering his wrist, his blood; his vitae.

There was no fear in Scott’s face as he did so, flashing one of the most vulnerable parts of himself; his very being, to Owen. Someone he barely knew, some he hadn't even even turned.

“Drink. Drink from me, I’ll give you my venom, and you will be mine.”

Owen couldn’t hide the shock in his face, and couldn’t hide when it turned to betrayal. A betrayal of Lewis, his maker, his sire. The person who’s memory he sought to avenge.

But then he looked to the elder vampire who faced him now, with a new path.

“I’m not asking you to leave behind your past, those livestock will pay for what their kind they did to your sire. All that I am offering is a way to not do it alone.”

Alone. That word rattled in Owen’s mind, jumbling with lonely, outcast, solitude. Alone. Alone for 200 years, alone with only the fury for revenge, alone with no one to come home to.

And he was being offered a rope to climb out of that hole. A coven, a connection that ran deeper than intellectual understanding. A satiation of the long-quieted recesses of his mind, the instincts of a childe who had to grow too quick.

“Do you have to bite my neck for your venom?”

Scott smiled—not the terrifying one he sent to Avid, not the pinched false one he had with the humans, not the possessive one he’s shown them earlier, but a genuine, kind, gentle smile.

“I don’t even have to leave a mark anywhere. The only fangs to ever touch you there will be his. I swear it.”

All it took were those words. Owen grabbed Scott’s wrist, and bit down. Lost in the feelings that flooded through him, he’d barely noticed how another hand from the same vampire came to card through his hair. Humming softly as he melted fulling into the nest around him.

Chapter Text

Scott had never felt this content. Even with his previous brood, he never found himself at such ease. Pyro, nestled in his lap, Owen with his wrist in hand pressing to his side. For a length of time he didn’t keep track of, he was sandwiched between his childer. Both of them. His.

With the small bite he’d taken back at Owen via the younger’s wrist, the young vampire the too old fledgling was Scott’s. It made his head turn to mush with just pure…he couldn’t put a word to the feeling. Something purely instinctual, something no words could capture, that made his entire being feel right.

“..scott?”

Pyro’s eyes began to flutter open, seemingly blind in the dark room. He should have eaten by now.

“Shh, I’m here, childe. I’m here.”

He moved his hand to cup Pyro’s face as the youngest vampire opened his eyes fully, still clearly in the darkness.

“Concentrate and you can see me, you can see Owen. Look at me, Pyro.”

With gentle coos at his fledgeling, Scott watched as Pyro’s brown creased in concentration, and unfurled once he could see Scott.

“Hi.”

“..hi.”

Scott wanted to laugh at the domesticity of it, Pyro so incredibly bashful and awkward, looking up from his lap.

“Did I fall asleep like this?”

“Yes, but it’s natural. Being embraced, turned into a vampire, it’s starting over again. You’re new to this life, a fledgling undead, so you’re instincts and body are taking time to adjusted.” Scott chuckled at Pyro’s confused face, “Don’s worry, Owen’s gonna hate it, but it’s going to happen to him too.”

“Hmm, what about me?”

Owen, still holding Scott’s arm, tugged at it at the mention of his name. He looked to be shaking off the last remnants of rest, but still sounded groggy enough.

“Your instincts are going to put you all out of shorts, childe, shhh, take it easy.”

The older of the two fledglings was trying to raise to his feet, which Scott quickly protested. Pulling Owen back down, he rolled up his sleeves, exposing both his wrists to his childer.

“We don’t have any other food here, and I refuse to let either of you hunt yet, so you will be drinking from me. I’ll be alright, and I’ll venture out to hunt later, but for how young you *both* are now, I’ll be your source for the time being.”

Owen took to it swimmingly, sinking his fangs back into the incisions he’d made before, but Pyro seemed hesitant.

“Will it hurt you?”

Scott looked down with such admiration and care to his fledgeling.

“No, you won’t hurt me, promise. I’ll be alright. I’m old, I can handle this. It warms me that you care so much, Pyro.”

If Pyro had any blood, to spare, Scott knew a blush would be growing on his cheeks. He’ll have to get his childer used to accepting praise, this seemed to be a running theme with them. But with that confirmation, the fledgling sunk his teeth into Scott’s wrist as the elder vampire leaned back against the nest.

His instincts melted into the rush from his fledgling’s bites, the pull of blood special this first time. Establishing the bond. He had drunk from them, given them his venom, but now they would have drunk from him. Cementing that pull in the back of his mind stronger with Pyro, and lighting the spark with Owen. He could feel the tethering of emotions, a drowsiness (Owen, still), and an eagerness (Pyro, it would seem). Oh how he tried to send nothing but his warmest, paternal feelings across.

Not the ones of anxiety, which grew with every moment he began to shake the euphoria of his instincts off. Scott had been doing this a long time, and he knew what needed to be prepared before bringing a fledgling home, let alone two. There needed to be a dungeon stocked with food–he had that town, but Scott has a feeling they wouldn’t go down without a fight; bothersome. He’d need to have protection, the watchful eye of a coven; a brood outside this new one all of Scott’s childer and family were long-gone.

And that, no, it did not scare him, Scott was a Goldsmith—a being from a family as old as the night itself—but it unsettled him. Made him worry for his childer, made he want to do better, to prepare now.

Focusing back on his fledglings, Pyro was asleep once more, having detached from his wrist, but Owen had stopped feeding to instead stare at his new sire.

“You’re scared.”

Scott bared his fangs at the younger, “You will watch your tongue-”

“I’m scared.”

Owen’s attention drifted from Scott to Pyro, and there was a sadness in his expression.

“I’ve..I’ve never had this. I don’t know if I’m supposed to feel anxious, or if it’s one of you being anxious, but I can’t lose this, Scott. I refuse to. Those humans, livestock, they took everything I had. They will not take this too.”

He moved his body a bit, not getting up, but instead pulling himself to Pyro’s side. Owen let his hands tangle in the fledgling’s hair like Scott had done with both of their’s.

“I can stand guard. If they find us, if they try anything, I will fucking kill them all. You’ll know, you’ll feel it. Just, go, prepare to have a coven of childer.” Owen looked up at Scott from his position where he now was laying beside a sleeping Pyro. “I can protect us…sire.”

If Scott’s heart ever beat, it would have skipped one then. He had to protect this. For the protector of a fledgling he gained, and the newly-turned fledgling who he shouldn’t even be away from. With a swift movement, he was on his feet. Scott leaned down gently to press his hand into Owen’s hair, feeling the younger lean into the touch, before he left the nest from the outside.

Chapter Text

Once Scott was out of earshot, Owen nudged Pyro.

“Did he leave?”

“Yeah, enough where he can’t hear us.”

Pyro rolled over to face Owen, the two lying in the nest, facing each other. They were like teenagers, staying up past their bedtime at a sleepover, minus the incisive giggles and more-so worried for their sire.

“I didn’t know if that was me,” Pyro was messing with his hands, pulling and twisting at his own fingers anxiously, “or even you, but it was just so much fear. He’s scared, for us. I-I didn’t know he could feel that.”

Almost on instinct alone, Owen’s hands found Pyro’s, weaseling their way into interlocking them. Before Scott’s venom, he’d have said it was for his own sanity; to “stop seeing Pyro fidgeting”, but with his instincts now? It was to comfort a coven-mate. To protect.

“He’d said it, Scott’s old, older than me, older than my maker was. He can protect himself, defend himself…”

A beat of silence passed.

“But you feel it too, right?”

“The need to go after him?”

Pyro nodded, squeezing Owen’s hands.

“He’ll be mad…”

“And he’ll be safe, watched, guarded.”

Owen leveled a look at the younger, “You’ll have to be stealthier than you normally are, though.”

Pyro knew that yes, technically, he was dead now, but he’d never felt more alive. Leaving the nest with Owen felt rebellious, and a part of his being sang at the prospect of protecting Scott. Or well, attempting to protect Scott. Their sire wasn’t in any danger, just rushing between pigs and cows to strike them down, drain, and move on.

“He’s really efficient.”

“I would hope so, he’s been turned for over 600 years.”

With the little distance between the pair hiding in shadows further away from the eldest vampire, a hushed whisper was enough to speak. Keeping up with Scott while keeping a distance proved to be a challenge.

At one point, as he rounded a corner of a tree, Scott vanished from both of their fields of vision.

“Shit, stay here, Pyro. I’ll see where he went.”

Owen walked ahead, stealthily and gently moving between shadows, until he walked past the same tree. A beat passed.

“Owen?”

Anxiety began to flare in Pyro’s chest. In his mind, he reached for the connection he had to Scott, to Owen, but no one reached back. On shaking legs, he rushed forward towards where his sire and covenmate (a new word he once again, didn’t remember learning) had gone. Rounding the same corner, he was met with a stop.

A physical stop he ran into.

Scott was standing in front of him, with Owen looking equally guilty and content, under Scott’s grip. His sire leveled him with a look.

“Fancy seeing you both here?”

“Sire I-I,” Pyro felt like he was going to collapse, all of the anxiety flooding from his system all at once being replaced with guilt.

“Nest. Now.”

Pyro could only nod, words catching in his throat. Scott reached from his wrist—not aggressively, not tight, and not in his tone or grip—and moved him along. The force of his hold on Owen, however, was a tight one if Pyro was seeing the slight pain on his face right. There was a hint of annoyance in the glare Scott was sending the elder childe’ away, but not a lick of it was for Pyro.

“We,” another hiccup of a sob cut him off before Scott could let go to reach the entrance of the nest, “I was so scared, Scott. I didn’t know if they’d get you, and just, I wanted to make sure you were okay, I dragged Owen with me.”

Scott paused his movements, looking down at Owen, then to Pyro where his gaze stayed. Something looked broken in how when he reached to cup Pyro’s face, the youngest fledgeling flinched back.

“Do you, Do you think I’m going to hurt you, Pyro?”

Pyro could see Owen flinched, moving his body every so slightly to get between the youngest and the eldest vampire. Scott took a step forward, but Owen hissed. Baring full fangs, the elder of the childer pushed himself in front of Pyro, as if terrified. Terrified of Scott.

“Owen?”

“He did nothing wrong, he was just worried. I..I should have kept us here, I promised to keep us safe, but you were gone and it feels weird, Scott, it feels weird for both of us.”

With very small movements, Pyro reached in front of him to wrap his arms around Owen’s waist, burying his head in the junction between the elder’s shoulder and neck.

“Owen, I-“

“Scott, Sire, please.”

Pyro could feel his eyes wetting, and the smell of blood as tears ran down his face. Hit words were incomprehensible between sobs of contradicting instincts, shouting Danger Danger Protect and Sire Safe Safe simultaneously.

“Why do you think I’ll hurt you both?”

A beat passes.

Neither can voice the thoughts in their minds, solely from how conflicting they are with their instincts.

“You want to hurt the humans, you enjoy it. You..you enjoyed killing me.”

Owen’s hand reached to hold Pyro’s at his waist. The younger was trembling into his shoulder.

“We went against what you said, we defied you. You have every reason to…”

Scott took another step back, away from his childer, away from the entrance to their nest. He looked ashamed, guilty, just so many feelings that never would be associated with the elder vampire. But most of all, he looked hurt.

“Pyro, Owen, I, I’d never hurt you, not now, not ever again. I’m so sorry that I ever made you both question that thought.”

Scott seemed to curl into himself at that revelation.

“You’re both so much more than those humans, you’re my childer, my coven, my brood, my... You’re so important to me; the most important things; my existence, now, is to protect yours.”

The elder vampire couldn’t look either of them in the eye. Pyro could feel it now, stronger than before. Scott’s fear. And he was the reason his sire felt that way. It’s his fault.

“Scott-“

Pyro reached around Owen, still holding onto the other fledgling, but extending his other hand to their sire. Scott, this time flinched back.

“Please, we, we didn’t want to upset you. It’s just, new for us, and I know for me at least, part of me still feels human. Emotionally, cognitively, I still fear vampires, even while being one.” Pyro stepped out to get hold of Scott’s hand, and interlocked their fingers, “It’s weird, having sets of conflicting thoughts. It’s weird having been terrified of you one minute, and having that feeling be overwhelmed with the opposite the next.”

Owen seemed to relax his shoulders, standing now side-by-side with Pyro instead of protectively with.

“We can’t have you leaving, Scott, not without us. These instincts are new and melt so perfectly with our judgement, that we’ll listen to them. Hell, I’m older and know logically following you was a bad idea, but I still did it.”

Pyro felt his hand get squeezed, as if Owen was bracing him for Scott to lash-out.

“You don’t have a coven anymore, not a big one like before. You have two childer and yourself, and no one can go out to get you food for us while you stay here. That’s just not doable.

So you, Scott, need to tell us things, like when you are hungry, and we can go with you to hunt. It’s unconventional, but given the situation we’re in and the possible danger that’s posed, it has to be like that.”

Their sire didn’t move. He was eerily quiet, too quiet for him. But from one moment to the next, he pulled him his childer in and nestled them close to his chest.

“You will never feel that way again, I swear it. I, I’ll make sure to explain everything I know, teach you both, and to care for you. But please, understand, my instincts are screaming to keep you both safe too… It’s an adjustment for us all.”

Pyro looked up to his sire’s face, to find that while his tone remained even, blood red tears caught at the corners of his eyes.

But neither him nor Owen said a word about it, just allowing themselves to stand outside their place of comfort, with more comfort than they’ve ever known.