Spike Thornley's Arc

Chapter 9 of 9

The orphanage sat a few towns from home, past fields Spike had never crossed. He and Scarlett walked in with the folded blanket and left with something they had not planned for. A baby girl, small and warm, reached up and grabbed his spine without flinching. Scarlett went still. "She isn't afraid," she whispered. That was the moment they knew. But wanting her and taking her were different things. The woman who ran the orphanage watched Scarlett's red eyes and cloak against the sun. "You're a vampire," she said flatly. "I don't hand babies to your kind." She held the child closer. "Come back when you can prove you'll keep her safe." Scarlett stepped back. Her hands trembled. "She's right to fear me," she said outside. "I could hurt her without meaning to. One night, one mistake." She would not look at Spike. "Maybe I shouldn't be a mother at all." Spike caught her cold hand. "You held her and she smiled. That's not a monster." But the woman needed more than words. She needed proof. So they stayed three days. Spike found the orphanage roof leaking and patched it with reinforced canvas from his pack. Scarlett hauled water at dawn, before the sun rose high, her sleeves down over her scaled arms. She rocked crying children she was not allowed to hold long. She never once reached for a throat. The woman watched all of it. On the third evening the woman brought out papers. "I've seen enough," she said. "You fixed my roof. She carried my water and never fed. A blood-drinker who chooses not to feed is stronger than most parents I meet." She set the baby in Scarlett's arms. "Sign, and she's yours." Scarlett's hands shook so hard she nearly dropped the pen. Spike steadied her wrist, the way an officiant once tied them for their vows. She signed. The baby grabbed a curl of her orange hair and pulled. Scarlett laughed through tears, the same small surprised laugh Spike loved. They walked home with the child wrapped in the blanket meant for her. The door to the burrow stood open, waiting, and now it had someone to fill it. Five years passed inside those dirt walls. The girl grew fast. She climbed the leaf mound and slid down laughing. She learned not to hug her father's back too hard. Scarlett taught her to drink milk from a cup, the way Scarlett drank from hers. One night the girl sat between them by the lantern. "Where did I come from?" she asked. Scarlett's smile faded. Spike answered before the silence grew. "You came from a place far away. Same as me." He looked at Scarlett. "I've never seen my own home. But I made this one." The girl yawned against his arm and cuddled him. He held her, and the old ache in his chest returned. He had a family now and so does Scarlett.