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It was his duty to scout ahead, as Tantrum was asked by his superior. Except this was not an ordinary scouting mission that he had been sent out on. No, there were rumors floating about, rumors about the first returning. The first of their kind, the one that sired all of them. There were rumors about that he had returned from where ever it was he had gone, but that was only if the rumors about him being dead were not true.

So it was his duty to scout the areas he was sent to, checking to see if there were any more rumors about the potential for the first to be alive. If he was in hiding somewhere and could be found and brought back into the fold. It'd be a great boon to whichever clan brought the first back, if they even could.

If he wasn't dead like some of the stories told. The young vampire clenched his teeth, ignoring the irrational anger that flooded through him. He knew the stories, just about all of them at that. There were so many versions that floated around after the countless centuries that had passed. It was hard to tell which was truth and which was fiction, but the vampires knew their version to be truth. There was trickery and deceit, at the hands of the fae ...

Tantrum froze instantly, his attention on a couple that were situated on the front porch of their home. The woman was stretched out on a porch swing, long lanky legs hanging over the edge and her head in the man's lap. He could've cared less about the sounds of their voices, the conversation they were having. It was the children that caught his attention, there was something about them that called to him. Letting himself slip closer, he was still cloaked in shadows and darkness, invisible to the eyes of most.

There was faint growling that he could hear from both children who seemed to be locked in mock battle. Tantrum moved to where he was crouching down in the bushes, watching the pair of children unseen by them or the adults. The mock battle continued until the child with black hair came out on top, gnawing gently on a fuzzy ear of the other. A small playful whine escaped the lips of the other child and he wriggled helplessly under the onslaught, but he did not seem bothered by it at all.

It was not the behavior of the two that struck Tantrum, once he had his first good look at them, but rather their appearances. The child with deathly pale skin and startling lavender eyes continued to n** at the fuzzy ear of the other child, a pair of fangs glinted in the light of the moon and for a moment Tantrum had to wonder if it was possible for a babe to be a vampire.

And then when looking at the other child, the irrational anger returned from not so long ago. Two soft ears were on top of brassy hair and a shock white tail swished back and forth rapidly. There was a quality to the boy's eyes, the way they glinted and glimmered in the light, that spoke of something else entirely. The scent of death was around both children, but it was the eyes of this one that told what he was.

This one, this one was fae.

Clamping down on the urge to snap the fae's neck immediately, Tantrum found himself trying to listen in to the conversation of the adults present. The two that were apparently watching after the children. It was better, he reasoned, than immediately doing what he wanted. Fae were not to be trusted and best had as a meal, their blood exotic to the vampire -- it held a quality, a taste, that most did not. It was intoxicating.

"... still," the woman started, turning so that her back was to the tussling toddlers and facing the man, "it's creepy. A baby vampire." Tantrum himself cut back on the surprise he felt, the urge to make a sound at that small fact. It made sense though, but hearing confirmation only meant he had something vital to pass back along to his superiors. He may not have found the first, but finding a child who was of their kind potentially meant a lot more. A cursory look at the growing baby, who seemed happy to have the fae nuzzling up against him and getting comfortable, was not enough to tell him which of the powers he possessed or the clan he could be a part of.

"Mm," the man just made a small noise of agreement, his attention obviously elsewhere. A sudden yelp brought Tantrum's attention back to the adults. Apparently the woman had pinched the man's arm lightly.

"What's on your mind?" she asked, voice curious. She turned again, so that she was on her back and her legs swinging a little over the edge of the seat.

"Just that if Alex is a vampire and Lafe is fae," the man replied, a sheepish look on his face. These two adults, they were more than meets the eye, Tantrum could sense it. He just didn't know what they were, but they were something more than human, particularly the man. "... it's just that a pooka and a vampire, dear heart, it's not ... common," then in a quieter tone, that the scout stretched his hearing to hear, "it's all most unacceptable, because of things between fae and vampires. I don't think things are so different here, as they are from home. These two, they wouldn't be friends like this, normally ..."

Tantrum watched as the woman raised a hand and pressed it against the man's cheek, her thumb stroking the skin softly. It was a rather sickening display of soothing and affection and he could've done without seeing it. Still, he watched and listened, keeping an eye on the two toddlers as well who were content to rest against one another in between bouts of playing.

"I don't think it's a problem with these two, Wren. Don't worry about something if it doesn't need worrying about, I seriously doubt anything comes between those two. ... they're rather attached," the woman finished with a chuckle, a wave of her hand directed at Lafe and Alex, respectively. The two were piled up on one another, Lafe mostly hidden underneath Alex's cloak and Alex nibbling on one of Lafe's ears a bit. He didn't seem to mind the fur at all.

Probably leeching warmth off of the thing, Tantrum thought, and he doesn't know better than to associate with fae. A pooka no less! With a mental snort of disgust, the scout continued his watching of the adults and the two babes. Soon, he would have to go report, but not before he did something about the fae. He simply could not leave without taking action against the deceitful thing.

Fae were not to be trusted and it was usually best if they were killed on sight, but Tantrum was not in the mood to be so easily forgiving of the pooka.

He waited until the toddlers were picked up by their adults and carried into the house. Then it was just a matter of ghosting after them and figuring out which room the toddlers slept in. Except that the two did not go to sleep immediately, but rather stayed up for longer playing in their crib with the stuffed animals and once again locked in mock battle.

Sometime before the first light of dawn, they did fall asleep and it was then that Tantrum slipped into the room. Carefully, without making noise or even breathing, he looked about the various shelves and hiding spots for the perfect location. Eventually he found one on a shelf not even five feet away from the crib. It was towards the back, behind all the various knick knacks and other items that lined the shelf. There was a layer of dust that spoke of not being disturbed in some time.

The scout removed the blade from his side and wrapped it carefully in a dark piece of cloth, placing it behind the items so that it could not be seen. It was a special blade, one that he kept for the soul purpose of using against fae. Particularly the ones that carried a weakness to cold iron. To some being in the mere presence of the blade would induce sickness and he could only hope that was what would happen to this fae. It did not deserve to be in the presence of a vampire, to be considered a friend.

It was deceitful and tricky and not to be trusted.

If the fae was not allergic to cold iron, then he would know when he returned, and he would end it's life another way if necessary. A simple snapping of it's neck would do the trick, but a slow and sickening death was more deserved, after all that the fae had potentially cost them.

Tantrum would leave and go back to report to his superiors and in his stead he would leave a blade of cold iron to mark where he had been and to potentially poison the sleeping fae in the crib.

And he was unaware of a pair of glowing lavender eyes that barely cracked open to his departure, before quickly falling back to sleep against his companion, or the fact that even as he was leaving the cold iron was doing just what he had intended it to do.

Slowly, but surely.

Lafe wasn't even paying attention while dinner was being eaten. The most he had done was pick at the food he had been given before purposely pushing the plate off of the tray attached to the high chair so that it crashed down onto the floor below with a loud crack as it shattered and food spilled everywhere.

It had been enough of a sign for Wren to pluck up the pooka and go deposit him right back in the crib he hadn't even been out of for an hour. Alex, of course, was still in the crib himself. The other baby had gotten burned badly after being out in the sunlight for too long and felt bad himself. Both of them weren't in too good of shape and while Alex was slowly getting better, Lafe only seemed to be slowly getting worse.

Running a hand through his hair, Wren watched as Lafe burrowed himself under the covers until he came up right beside Alex. The pooka all most immediately snuggled into the other, finding it as the only source of comfort at the moment. Nothing made him feel better, not even sleeping because somehow he woke up feeling worse. He would feel better after being out of the bed for a bit, but once he had a good day's sleep he would quickly find himself feeling just the same, if not worse than before.

Worse that he couldn't tell that to Wren, but the demon seemed to pick up on the fact he was not feeling the best and would let him slide more than usual. Otherwise, the demon probably wouldn't have been putting up with his cranky behavior at all. Not when he had bitten, scratched, and pitched more drained fits in the past week than he had in the whole of his time at the Concord residence.

Letting out a disgruntle growl, Lafe nuzzled up against Alex softly, not wanting to disturb the other who's skin was still sore and sensitive from the sun exposure. Alejandro was a warm presence in his mind that seemed to say that everything was all right. Even if he was a little toasty, he'd heal and be back to normal and he could look after him and everything would be all right.

As long as Alex was around, Lafe was safe and protected and he didn't have to worry about a thing.

He was totally ignoring the demon at this point, wrapped up in snuggling up against Alex. The two of them sought comfort from the other and it was really all Lafe could do in return for Alex being his protective. He'd do whatever it would take to make sure the other would be all right. He wasn't even happy that Alex had gotten burned like he had. That silly --

-- and Alex's thoughts cut through his own and smoothed away his irritation. Telling him to let it go, because he was sick too. They were sick together, so they could get better together.

"'Lex," Lafe mumbled out, though the words were muffled by the covers he was hiding under. His tail swished rapidly, as much as it could under the covers, and he let out a yawn. He felt so tired, so hot -- much hotter than Alex's sunburnt skin felt. He had no energy whatsoever and an unhealthy pallor had finally sunk in and he didn't care about it at all so long as he was where he was at the moment.

Miserable silver-blue eyes glared suddenly as the covers were tugged back and he was revealed by the demon who looked after him. The supposed father figure, but he didn't even think of him as such. Just someone who looked after him. The demon, turning a wary eye on Alex for a moment, lowered his hand to press it to Lafe's forehead and feel for a temperature. He let out a not nearly muffled enough curse when it felt like the pooka had one.

But in that one second, Lafe's mind was elsewhere. His eyes had gone wide and were staring off into nothing. There was a flash of something in his mind. It was night time and there were dark figures in the room that were not people he knew and they were doing something in the crib, pulling someone out of it and holding something else down. He felt so tired and drained and he couldn't, couldn't let them ...

And as quick as it appeared, the flash was gone. His mind was mercifully blank, but a sickening feeling settled in his stomach that had nothing to do with is current illness. He barely paid attention as Wren said something about getting him medicine and left the room.

All he could do was snuggle up to Alex and try to ignore the foreboding feeling. Something was going to happen and when Alex silently questioned him he could not respond except to snuggle up to him and latch on.

"Perhaps," the retired Italian doctor started once they were out in the hall and the door was shut, "if he were still in a human form, I might have been able to diagnose his condition, but I'm not a veterinary," Carmine finished, reaching out with his hand to rest it against Wren's shoulder and squeeze lightly. The demon had his back to what had been Lafe and Alex's room, his fingers tightly wrapped around the door knob. The man practically radiated the fact he felt useless in this situation and Carmine's empathy wasn't the only thing that alerted him to it. It was in Wren's posture, the look on his face, his over all presence.

"The fact is whatever is wrong with Lafe is out of my domain. It likely was in the beginning. I saw nothing wrong in the first place, while he was human, and I still don't see anything now. It's likely been made worse because of ..." Carmine trailed off, knowing from the sudden look in muted blue eyes that Wren was filling in the blanks quickly.

Made worse because Alejandro's kidnapping and the effect it seemed to have on Lafe.

"Yeah," Wren said once, straightening up, "yeah ..." The word was repeated and he shook his head as he finally gave Carmine as much of a smile as he felt like mustering up. It was hollow and fake. "Thanks anyway, and before you even mention it -- no, I will not take Lafe to a veterinary. He may look like a fox, and is one at that, but he's not the same. There's more to him than some veterinary around here could conclude. Even if Richard is an excellent one, I'm not going to let him look at what is actually a child -- not an animal."

Pulling his hand back, Carmine merely shook his head. "It wasn't going to be my advice. I know you well enough to know you wouldn't do that unless -- well, unless you were forced." The doctor smirked faintly, eyes raising from looking at the demon to looking at the door that lead into the bedroom. It was easy to tell that the wards had been increased on this one room; it was a glaring beacon to his senses. Still, it was understandable after what had happened. These children they looked after, they seemed to attract trouble.

It made him rather glad he didn't have any ties to them besides occasionally lending a hand and looking after them.

"Pretty much," the words were murmured and Wren was all ready turning around to head back into the room to see Lafe.

"Something needs to be done, Wren, and soon. If he stays like this for much longer, the effects won't be good." The doctor started to walk away, he had other things to tend to, but it didn't mean he couldn't leave without a few words for the other. "... and be careful. I believe Lafe has some measure of empathy, so shield your emotions. He'll recoil if you're not careful. Not because he doesn't trust you, but because he wants comfort, not stress. Don't overwhelm him." Casting one final look at Wren, Carmine disappeared off down the hall.

Raising a hand through his hair, Wren focused on Carmine for a moment as he departed, before he once more turned to the door. His hand was on the door knob, and just as he was twisting it open he took a deep breath. He had to push aside his frustration and everything else that was bothering him at the moment. The fact that he couldn't do anything for Lafe and that he had been unable to stop Alejandro's kidnapping could not bother him for the moment. It bothered him, more than he cared to admit, but right now his concern was Lafe.

The toddler's room was dark, the curtains drawn and only a few stray beams of light filtered in. Pushing his hand through his hair again, Wren shut the door behind him with a small nudge from a shoeless foot. He heard the tell-tale whimper from the crib that was a sign Lafe was awake and as he approached, he could clearly see the small fox curled up on the covers between both of the drake plushies that had been his and Alex's. He was as scrunched up as he could be, hiding his face behind that white tail of his.

"Lafe ..." Wren murmured, reaching forward with a hand to smooth it down the fox kit's fur. There was a brief moment when Lafe seemed to want to pull back, but at the first touch to his fur, he was all ready trying to scoot forward and soak up more of the touch, a small whine escaping. After a moment, a sigh escaping Wren's lips, he reached in to pick up Lafe and cradle him against his chest as he moved to claim a seat in the nearby chair.

The demon got comfortable in the chair, letting Lafe curl up in his lap and snuggle his way into a spot that he found satisfying. His fingers rubbed at Lafe's ears, watching him and unsure as to what he was going to do. An absent gesture told him that Lafe's nose was dry and the fox radiated more heat than he should probably give off. The way the fox kit seemed to immediately slip off into sleep said that he still wasn't getting any better. That sickly aura was still being radiated by Lafe and no medicine that he had could seem to do anything to make it go away.

"Can you even change back?" he asked softly, fingers scratching at the scruff of Lafe's neck. The fox showed no signs of being awake, but another soft whine escaped in his sleep and he pressed closer to Wren. The demon wasn't sure how this scenario could improve itself, but he was beginning to get an idea. It was a long shot, but when a pooka was ill and not improving, there was only one that came to mind to visit. The trip there would be the hard part, making sure that the travel would not hurt Lafe was another thought.

He would have to leave the house for a while and he did not know how long, but ... he'd need to talk to Halo about it. It was the only solution he could think of.

When it was a faerie that was sick, who else would you visit but another of their kind?


It was a few hours later and the demon still felt more than a little on edge. Letting out a deep breath, he finally let the other emotions bubble to the surface now that he had shut the door to Lafe's room. The fox kit was once again asleep in his lonely crib, curled up against lighter of the drake plushies, the one that had been Alex's.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair -- a nervous twitch if there ever was one -- and looked down the hallway to see if Halo was coming this direction. It looked like he would have to go find her and not have her come to him. Not that it was ever hard to find his wife, but sometimes he just wished she would zone in on him so that he did not have to.

Except something started to tickle in the back of his mind, a presence that was slowly growing and he gritted his teeth in irritation. He knew that sensation and as quickly as it started, he suddenly clamped down on the connection between himself and Hawk's Eye. Their bond was suddenly sealed on his end and he turned sharply, stalking down the hallway towards where Hawk's room was.

The door opened itself up before he even got there and Hawk was standing there, blind eyes staring right through him. Wren thought, for a moment, that if Hawk had had lips he might've been smirking and he immediately swatted at the fiend as he stepped into the room. Luckily, Hawk had gone transparent and he hit nothing but thin air.

Only luckily for Hawk.

"What," Wren gritted out, "do you want? I don't appreciate the near bombardment of a vision on me right now." The demon crossed his arms and stared at the fiend who easily turned to face him, his body taking a more solid form again. He also held himself high enough that they were on eye level.

'I have no clue what you are talking about, Wren.' The fiend's head tilted slightly, his body posture reflecting his expression. As if he really had no clue what was going on and that the demon was talking nonsense. 'I've had no visions today.'

"... then what was it that I was about to get nailed by just a moment ago?" Muted blue eyes suddenly flared to life with the irritation that was quickly taking over. He wasn't in the mood to play the games that the Seer before him liked so much. Wren barely stopped himself from taking a step forward to grip Hawk and shake him, but the urge was still there and it clearly reflected in his eyes. He was, obviously, at the end of holding back his frustration -- be it from recent events and one final straw that seemed to break everything.

'Maybe you suddenly developed the ability to See, yourself.' The shadow shrugged it off and turned from Wren, dismissing him from the room. Obviously what had happened had fried his brain, or perhaps it was the lack of sleep, in any case Hawk had no idea what the demon was talking about. He had not had any visions and if he had, he wouldn't have let them reach over to Wren through their connection.

And as quickly as he turned around, Hawk's Eye felt a hand curl around his forearm and it shocked him enough that he didn't immediately shift his form to slip out of it.

"I somehow doubt it, Pierce," Wren hissed out, his eyes flashing with the irritation he felt. Not having sight was a blessing, because the demon before him was truly such as of that moment. The hand wrapped around his arm was warm and that warmth flooded his body. Hawk could hear a tail lashing back and forth irritably and he merely shook his head after a second, unable to voice anything.

He truly did not know what had happened.

"You have your visions and you are all most all ways conscious of them. Doran's not around anymore, Pierce, and you yourself are a little too hard to shake up lately for even that to cause you to send a vision my way by accident." The demon paused, and sharp claws were suddenly sliding against shadowed flesh. "So that leaves me with you doing it on purpose and I do not appreciate the sudden bombardment. It's not the time for you to start playing irritate the demon."

'And I told you, Wren, that I --'

"Hawk's Eye!" The small demon cut off the fiend and took a step closer, his eyes practically smoldering. "Just leave me alone. Take a break from bothering me and doing your duty in tormenting me for a bit. If you wanted to bombard me with a vision, how about one that's a clue in to what's wrong with Lafe. How about that? You could be a little helpful for a change!" The demon's voice had changed, there was an unearthly quality to it. It was all most like his words were changing to growls and more dragon-like than human.

Hawk had enough of it. He finally came to his senses and let his form shift to less solid and float right out of Wren's grip. His head tilted and he stared accusingly at the demon. He wouldn't tolerate this from him, let alone anyone. It wasn't his fault! And how dare he ...

'Get over it,' Hawk said quickly, snapping back. 'And if you want a little clue in to what's wrong with Lafe? Why don't you ask him yourself? Oh, but you can't, can you?' The shadow sounded a little smug as he kept falling farther and farther back, moving away from the demon as he was stared at with glowing blue eyes. 'He shares the same gift I do, the ability to See, but it doesn't matter -- he wouldn't share with you if he could, not with you as you are.' Throwing the words, Hawk was all ready to the wall and he was about to go right through it, but he wasn't through. 'But I'll leave you alone, you don't have to worry about me tormenting you.'

Before Wren could even get in another word, the shadow fiend was gone from the room and abruptly the presence that was usually Hawk within in his mind was shut off. There were walls up where there had been an open connection.

It only took a few moments for Wren to suddenly come to his senses and let out a muffled curse. A hand raking through his hair, he carefully pulled back all the traits of his true self that had bled through in the past few minutes, and he reigned in the frustration that had flooded his system.

Hawk was right about one thing, Lafe wouldn't deal with him as he was now. Not when his frustration was at the forefront and not willing to be ignored. Lifting his head up, Wren stared at the wall that Hawk disappeared through. Any other time, he might have gone after his shadow, but now ... now he needed to do something. He needed to talk to his wife.

And in the end it was better that he did not have a shadow with a will and mind of it's own following him to where he was going.


Once he had calmed himself down, Wren really started looking for his wife. It wasn't too hard to find her once he realized she was probably outside, staring up at the night sky that Alex and the two vampires had disappeared off into.

"Never found anything, did you?" he asked quietly, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her stomach. Wren rested his cheek against her back, letting out a deep breath and trying to let the frustration fade away as he soaked up his lover's presence. He felt Halo's arms rest on top of his own and his tail curled loosely around her ankle, a small measure of comfort.

"Not a trace. Once they left this dimension, it's hard to follow them." Halo leaned her head back, eyes cutting to look at the figure of her husband. His eyes were shut and there was a glint to his skin that spoke of his current state. His true form was trying to make itself known, so he probably did not have a good grip on himself at the moment.

The fact was, she felt like she didn't either -- at least, that her powers hadn't been enough to hunt down and find the two that had made off with Alejandro. Even if they were vampires like he was, it didn't mean that they could care for him better -- it didn't!

... and she did not want to think about Lafe who seemed to once more be crying constantly now that Alex was gone.

Both her and Wren stayed as they were for several minutes, soaking up each other's presence and not speaking. There was only the sounds of the night that surrounded them, otherwise both of them were silent and lost in their own thoughts.

"I ..." Wren started after a little while, "I need to go somewhere, dear heart." The small demon kept his arms around Halo and moved so that he could look up into her face. There was a questioning look in her eyes and he smiled faintly at it. "Lafe's sick and I don't really think there's anything that can be done here. I don't know anybody I really trust to look at him that could tell me what's wrong. Carmine doesn't even know ..."

"So?" his wife asked, one hand coming up to push hair out of his face, and trace a finger down his cheek. It was nice the way the moonlight glinted off of his skin and made it glow. "Where will you go?"

"... home," the word was quietly spoken and the demon lowered his head slightly and he felt Halo's arms encircle him this time.

"You think your parents might have an answer then?" It wasn't like she didn't know about them, know what they were. She could, just as easily as Wren, see where his line of thinking was going.

"They might. Mom especially. I mean, when you have someone like Lafe sick, who else would you go to see besides another --"

"Like him, another belonging to fae, hm?" Halo leaned in so that she was pressing her face close to Wren's and she smiled faintly. "If you think it'll help, then go. Not like I'm going to be able to go anywhere if I can't get a handle on where those vampires went." She paused for a moment, her grin widening, before she spoke again. "But that just sounded like you are admitting to not being entirely --"

" -- don't even got there." Wren pulled back, smirking and returning the look she had on her face. "I'm a demon and that's that. No discussion about it. Seriously though, if I can manage it, I want to leave tomorrow. I'll take Lafe with me and ... hope for the best."

"All right." Halo merely smiled again and caught Wren's hand in her own before she turned around to head inside the house. There was no point staying outside. There was nothing for them to see. From the look on her husband's face he had more to tell her, but it could wait. Right now they had a family to tend to.


The fox tossed and turned in his sleep, mind flooded with images of glowing lavender eyes that were falling farther and farther away. Lafe let out a yell, trying to get Alejandro to come back, but all that fell from his lips was a bark instead of an actual yell. He started to move after Alex, but he fumbled to the ground on four feet instead of two. This wasn't going to work, he wasn't going to be able to get to Alejandro like this.

So he tried to change back, tried to think about being a little boy instead of a little fox and nothing happened.

And Alejandro still moved farther and farther away and that sense of insecurity overwhelmed him. He curled up in the darkness, trying to hide himself from everything and anything. Alejandro wasn't here to protect him and he was all alone except for Wren and even that didn't seem like enough to him.

He let out a small keen, crying out in his sleep without even knowing it.

He wanted Alex back.

"No! You can't come in here," Cuinn yelled as he slammed the door shut behind him. The dark faerie could hear his son pounding on the other side of the door and ignored it. "If it wasn't for the fact you brought along Lafe, I'd be even more angry with you. Think about what you've done!" Walking forward, the faerie set the basket on the floor in front of him as he sat himself down on it.

"Mom! I didn't do anything!" The words were muffled, but they came through loud enough for Cuinn to hear them and he let out a huff. Looking back over his shoulder, he glared daggers at the wooden door.

"You don't visit, you get married without inviting me, you deny your heritage, and who knows what else! You've done enough." Nose in the air, Cuinn turned his attention back to the basket in front of him and ignored the jiggle of the doorknob as his son tried to get it open. The fact that he wasn't arguing anymore said he had obviously hit home with his words. Well, they were true enough as is. Cor and Nima were trouble at times, but they weren't liars -- and if Wren had been suppressing some of his less demonic qualities, they'd have known it.

"Just like his father," the dark faerie muttered, scooting forward on the floor until he bumped up against the basket. Unlike his son, he was able to tell the presence of another faerie instantly. It was hard to miss the distinctive aura that was given off, but the presence of this one was sick and seemed to lack the vibrancy that came with the aura of a faerie. Cuinn pushed a lock of dark hair behind one long delicate ear and reached forward with a pale hand to open up the basket.

Opening it up entirely, he peered into the basket and took note of the condition of the fox kit within. Tentatively, as if Lafe were his own child, he smoothed a hand down thick dark red fur. The aura of sickness was thick around the kit and Cuinn shook his head in disgust. At least his son had known when to come to him before things got to late, but he wasn't sure what was wrong with the fox child yet either.

"What ails you, little fox?" he asked quietly, smiling faintly at the way the small fox nuzzled against his hand for a moment in his ill sleep.


The door to the room Cuinn was in with Lafe finally opened up after what had seemed like hours to Wren. He was leaning against the wall opposite of the door, having a staring contest with his father who hadn't said anything in response to Cuinn's words. Rather, the look on his face was enough to reproach him for his actions -- after all, Rabin knew quite a lot about suppressing certain traits.

"You. Sexy. Come here." Cuinn was leaning out of the door, long black hair falling over a pale shoulder. There was a serious look on his face and he wasn't even acknowledging Wren. Instead, he was pointing at Rabin and flexing his finger in a come hither motion. The tall demon moved forward at the beckoning finger and walked right past his son as his lover called. Not that he was without any sympathy for his son, but right then it did not quite matter. Funny thing about having children, it tended to make you feel a little softer on the inside.

Or maybe that was -- Rabin snorted, shutting the door behind him and ignoring his thoughts in favor of looking towards Cuinn.

"Yes?" he finally spoke, voice deep, but not holding the same unearthly tone it had the previous night when he had gone to meet his son. Rabin felt Cuinn wind his way around him for a moment, before tugging him over towards the basket where the fox rested. Apparently it was one of those moments were looking was better than explaining verbally.

Rabin crouched down in front of the basket, claws shifting until they were merely fingers and he could rest them on the edge of the basket. The demon could feel Cuinn's body pressed up against his back, resting there as a chin came to sit on his shoulder and look over at what he was doing. Rabin did not have to even take a deep breath to smell the sickness that washed off of the fox in waves, he merely had to have a look at the faerie's aura and it was apparent.

"He's sick, obviously," Cuinn murmured, nuzzling his head up against his lover's for a moment, before continuing on. "I'm not quite sure what's causing it, but if I know our son it's probably something that can't be diagnosed by any means at his disposal. Probably why he came to us, me specifically. I just don't know if I can tell what's wrong with this little fox. This child is as fae as I am, but I've never been sick like this in my life that I remember."

"His energy is low, explains why he's sleeping," Rabin responded, blue-green eyes focusing on Cuinn for a moment, before turning back to the fox in the basket. "It's as if his aura is non-existent. It's there but it's not at the same time." The demon held his hand over the fox, willing what little healing power to work it's way into his system. Rabin let out a sharp breath, eyes darkening for a moment before he abruptly pulled his hand back.

"What is it?" Cuinn was moving so that he was on the opposite side of the basket, leaning over and peering at Lafe as well. His vivid blue eyes stared up questioningly at his lover's and he watched as the demon sat back on his knees some.

"... healing is not something I'm talented at, you know that," Rabin ran a hand through his hair, a gesture that had actually been picked up from son and not the other way around, before folding both arms across his knees, "but he's drained of energy and healing him is like trying to fill a void. From what our son has shared with me, this pooka may not even be retaining any energy he gains."

"Which is odd in itself. Pooka, precious," Cuinn ignored the way Rabin's lips twitched and his eyebrows quirked at hearing the pet name, as usual, "are all ways energetic. The few that I knew, they all ways seemed to have endless stores of energy." The dark faerie's fingers were once more brushing along the fur of the sick fox. He could tell there was a slight change from what healing Rabin tried to do, but it wasn't much.

"Another way to say that you have no clue what is wrong with him?" Reaching out, Rabin rested his hand right above Cuinn's, before letting another brief breath of healing wash over the fox pooka. It wasn't much, but it would help some.

"There's something wrong with the little darling, perhaps something I could actually know, but it doesn't strike me as anything I recall right now." Except there was all most something at the back of his mind that he couldn't quite remember, but he doubted it had anything to do with Lafe -- more likely it had to do with not having eaten breakfast yet or had to do with thumping his son upside his head and taking those glasses he did not need away from him. Hand turning over, Cuinn's grasped Rabin and tugged it away from the basket. If the fox wasn't keeping his energy, there was no point in returning some. It would only be gained briefly and lost once more. Still, the little boost his lover offered couldn't hurt.

The dark faerie moved back to where he had been, resting against his lover and watching the sleeping pooka in the basket. Until his son had brought the little one to them, it had been some time since he had seen another of his kind and a pooka was a rare treat. They were mischievous tricksters, if there had ever been such, never mind the inherit gifts that some possessed. Cuinn wondered briefly if his son was even ready to raise a faerie child such as this one.

"If he's anything like us, I'm sure he'll be fine raising this one." Rabin said suddenly, as if picking up on Cuinn's thought. The demon smirked as he was swatted at by his lover.

"Stop reading my thoughts, bodyguard mine." Lowering his hand, the faerie merely smiled faintly and continued to run his hand through the soft fur of the sleeping fox. Except the fox had started to squirm in the basket, mouth opening to let out a tiny yawn. A pair of bright, but sleepy, silver-blues slowly opened up and just as they did, the fox immediately went still under the hand that rested on his fur.

A low whine started to escape from Lafe's throat and he pushed away from the hand on his fur, only to brush up against the side of the basket and stumble on his feet. His ears were cocked backwards and he stared between the two people he did not know. Mind hazy for a moment, he let out a sharp bark and another whine, wanting to get Alex's attention to help him out because he was surrounded by people he did not know.

Except when no one came to his aid with a tiny roar, Lafe let out another whine and scampered to get out of the basket and to get somewhere he could hide. He stumbled on the first leap to get out of the basket and let out a near fox-like yelp when a hand came in contact with his fur. Making a run for it on four feet was easier than two, but he wasn't use to moving around and he still felt incredibly tired.

He let out another whine, backing up towards the nearby corner and making himself as small as possible. His vision swam and he felt lightheaded, but he could tell that the two before him were nothing like the people he knew. Wren wasn't even around to hide behind and he let out another pathetic whine.

Leave me alone was what he was trying to get across, but it did not seem to work. Cuinn was all ready up and moving, not sure if his charm would work on the little fox and make him comfortable around him rather he wanted to be or not. When the dark faerie got close enough and reached out a hand for Lafe, he let out a sigh as the fox actually cringed farther back.

Rabin came forward and placed a hand on his lover's shoulder and shook his head. Obviously, they weren't going to be able to get anywhere near Lafe, not with him acting as he was.

"... you don't have to say it, just let him in," Cuinn spoke quietly, tilting his head up to look at Rabin, "I just won't talk to him." Pushing hair from his face, behind one ear, the faerie turned his attention back on the pooka before him. Lafe was still curled up in the corner and shaking. He showed no signs of moving, but there was a feverish glaze to his eyes. Cuinn had to wonder if the little one was even capable of understanding what was going on.

Rabin had turned his head towards the door, one hand resting on Cuinn's shoulder and the other making a simple gesture towards the door handle. It all most immediately opened up and Wren came falling in with a thump. Snorting, the demon shook his head. Obviously someone had been trying to listen in on what was going on inside the room.

"He's awake," was all Rabin said as he jerked his head towards Lafe in the corner. Wren was all most immediately up at hearing that, not even paying attention to his mother who was likewise ignoring him for the time being. The small demon brushed passed his mom without a second glance, crouching down on the floor in front of Lafe and holding out a hand towards him.

"Oi, Lafe, come on ..." Wren spoke quietly, inching forward slowly. Lafe was still pushing himself farther back and the demon let out a small sigh, before he merely went still holding out his hand. "These two aren't going to hurt you and neither am I, you know that. You can tell." Looking over his shoulder, Wren cast a look in his parents direction that clearly reflected his thoughts. Act harmless -- not intimidating. Though if his father could pull that off, he'd be surprised.

Minutes passed, but slowly Lafe started to inch his way forward. His body was crouched down and pressed to the floor as he dragged himself forward by his front paws. Wren looked a little different that he recalled, but the man smelled the same as he remembered. The other two in the room also made him think of Wren, but he wasn't quite sure why, and at that moment he did not care. Once he was sure it was Wren, once he was sure nothing could happen to him, he practically attached himself to Wren.

Lafe was crawling up into his lap, paws trying to find a way to get under Wren's shirt and hide there.

And Cuinn and Rabin merely looked on, sharing a silent look with each other as they watched the both of them.


"So?" Wren looked back at his parents as they got comfortable on the pillows that lined the floor of the room. There were no real seats in the room they were in, but instead large comfortable pillows that they could lounge on when they wanted too. It was no surprise that Wren had garnered three of the larger ones for himself and that his mother had more than that, but was mostly using Rabin as a pillow to lounge against.

Lafe was nuzzled up against Wren's side, curled up as small as possible, and trying to burrow his way right under the demon's shirt still. After a moment, not hearing a response from either of his parents, the seemingly young looking man lifted up his shirt and let the fox crawl right in to hide. Holding back the laugh that threatened to escape, the fur tickling his skin, Wren shook his head with faint amusement. At least Lafe was active enough to want to hide, so it meant there had to be some sort of improvement.

He could sense the sickness of the pooka and there was the fever that still seemed to be in place, among other things. In the end, however, Wren was grateful for Lafe's consciousness. Even smiling slightly when a nose peeked it's way out of the collar of his shirt before disappearing right back into the depths of his top. But Lafe acting like he was feeling better couldn't distract him from the fact that neither of his parents were speaking. Raising his head, Wren turned his attention to both of them and quirked an eyebrow.

"We have nothing for you Wren," Rabin finally spoke quietly, as his lover was not going to anytime soon. Cuinn's eyes were on Wren, but they were not staring at him kindly, rather they were staring at him with reproach, waiting for his son to do something to earn his forgiveness. If there was anything he could do. However, at the sight of Lafe's white tail, his lips quirked up into a softer smile and he even wiggled his fingers at a pair of silver-blue changeling eyes that peered at him.

"Nothing? At all? ... you can't be serious." Shifting uncomfortably at the news, Wren peered down at his shirt and the kit that was hiding within it. It did not bode well for him if there was nothing his parents could tell him. He did not know who else to go for and even though Lafe showed signs of getting better, it was not the first time he had done so. He had all ways relapsed the next day.

"You're lucky you're who you are." There was a hard stare from Rabin and Wren shifted once more, unnerved by the piercing stare. His father never appreciated being questioned on what was the truth as he knew it. "Your mother has no recollection of any sort of sickness that affects the little one. It seems familiar, but it is not something he remembers. I've no knowledge either. All I can say is that he seems deprived of energy, his aura is weak. Potentially something has drained him and it could be that because of that he is suffering from the side effects. Fever, nausea, and any other symptoms you mentioned to me earlier." Tilting his head slightly, the dark demon turned his attention to Cuinn who looked pleased with his explanation. Clawed fingers curled in a lock of dark hair as eerie blue-green eyes turned their attention back on Wren.

"... it's a bit more than what I had to work with," murmured, Wren's attention was back on Lafe. His fingers were brushing along the bits of an ear that poked out from the edges of his shirt. "I've no clue what could drain him, but ... I knew he was without energy, just ... Well, not something like that." It had not even been a consideration. That it was something more than just a sickness, something ... draining the faerie's energy.

And then, all most immediately, Wren's mind jump to Haas and the other vampire with him. The ones that took Alejandro. Had they done something to subdue Lafe? To make him ill like this so that he wouldn't cause such a ruckus when they were taking Alex? Wrinkling up his nose, he opened his mouth to question his parents about the vampires, before he realized that Lafe was once again curled up and sleeping. Part of him was outside of his shirt, the other part hidden within it.

"I need to talk to you about something but right now I need to put Lafe to rest. I wouldn't doubt that this was a tough trip on him." Smiling faintly, Wren looked up at his parents. He all most expected Rabin to be the one to say something, except Cuinn wordlessly pushed himself up and tilted his head towards the rooms of the house.

"Go with your mother. The little one can rest and we can talk." If Wren knew any better, there might've been a silent command in his father's voice to patch things up with his mother, but he wouldn't question it. Carefully, so as to not disturb Lafe, the demon pushed himself up and cradled the fox against his stomach. The fur still tickled lightly, but it was something he could ignore.

Instead he focused on following his mother as he lead him through the halls of the house towards a familiar room.

His old room.

A lot of memories surfaced as Cuinn opened the door and held it for Wren to go in, but he let them fade away as he slipped inside. The smaller demon just nodded his head politely to his mother as he passed into the room, looking around as he did so. It hadn't changed since he had last been in it. His room was sparingly decorated, if one counted the mass amount of ribbon and drapes that hung about the room from the ceiling to the floor and vice versa, as well as his bed that was covered in blankets and pillows. There was a pile of books in one corner, most of them tomes people would die to get their hands on.

None of it mattered at the moment. All of the things he wanted to look into now that he was back were forgotten as he slipped over to his bed. It was easy to put Lafe to rest on his bed. He bunched up the covers around the fox kit, making sure that there was a make shift next for him to burrow into while he slept. The room itself smelled of Wren and nature itself, all the smells a forest would hold. Wren's fingers brushed through Lafe's fur with a small smile and he leaned down to whisper into the fox's ear.

"I'll be back later and you can snooze with me, but for right now you need to sleep here. Just got a few things to talk over with the 'rents." Watching carefully as Lafe nuzzled into his hand, not truly awake, he was satisfied that the pooka was staying asleep before he picked himself up and turned to his mother. There was no chance that the pooka would come under harm in this house, not with himself watching and especially not with his parents watching, as it was obvious they had taken an interest in the fox.

"So." Wren found himself saying the same word again as he stepped outside the room and shut it, leaving it barely open for the time being. He lifted his head up, light blue eyes meeting his mother's darker blues. There was irritation there and a trickle of disappointment all most. The smaller of the pair, Wren, shuffled his feet some, rubbing his hand against his neck and then ruffling up his hair.

"Look," he said quietly, looking at the floor and not Cuinn, "I'm sorry, all right? I would've come and visited you sooner, but ... Children, they complicate things. When you've got so many to look after, visiting your own parents loses priority." There was a small breath taken and a brief pause. "And, yes, I know I've been pushing back a few of my less demonic traits, but I've never really ... denied what I am, where I've come from. I may have fibbed and said that I'm a demon and not included what else I am --" he paused at the stare he received from Cuinn, before adding, " -- that I'm probably more of the fae than I am a demon. I know where I come from, what I am, and I would not disrespect it so much as to totally push back the traits that make me who I am."

There was still no response from Cuinn, who had turned his head to look at a spot on the wall and not at his son. Wren practically squirmed at seeing that particular look on his face. The look that spoke of irritation and disappointment. He raked his hand through his hair once more, letting out a strangled sigh.

"Mum," he said in a quiet whisper, the hints of some lost accent slipping into his voice, "please ... I'm sorry. I'm careless and thoughtless and I should've thought about how you'd feel about some of the things I've done, but don't look like that. I can't -- damnit, don't make me regret everything I've done, because I can't, I won't, but I don't want you upset with me. I love you and all I can do is apologize and if that can't make it better, I don't know what will, because I can't change what I've done ..." He wasn't even looking at his mother by the time he finished speaking, but rather staring at the floor and biting at his bottom lip. It was indescribable how having his mother made him feel and on top of everything with Lafe, he wasn't sure if staying here now that he knew they couldn't help was worth it. The only thing that he could think of was that this was the power every mother probably had over their child and while he did not like it, he couldn't help that it made him feel shitty.

But then fingers slide along his jaw and tilted his face up and Cuinn was looking at him, eyes no longer full of reproach and tears at the corners.

"My little flutterer," Cuinn spoke quietly, ignoring the slight noise of exasperation at the nickname he had given his boy as a child, as his fingers slid from his son's jaw down to his shoulders and eventually pulling him forward into a hug, "don't you look at me like your father just squished your pet again." There was a loud sniff from Wren and he merely snaked his arms around Cuinn and hugged him back tightly. "You know I can't stay angry with you ..."

"I know, I know, but --"

"But nothing, all you had to do was apologize and you did." Cuinn smiled into his son's hair, fingers coming up to rest against the back of his head. His eyes focused on the dark locks of hair, so like his own and his father's at the same time, but they narrowed at the sight of a stray strand of dark red hair. He pulled back to stare at Wren, holding him at arm's length and critically eyeing the rest of his hair.

"Please tell me you did not have red hair at some point."

And things were slowly sliding back to normal, at least for Wren and his mother.