The Salvatore Saga, Part Four: My new Life

The buzzing of my clock woke me up, and I reached for it on the nightstand. It seemed that Marco and Mario were already awake, which was fine. I turned off the alarm, knowing that if someone else didn't, it would go off again in ten minutes.

I felt Damon's hand on my waist and his breath on my hair. He was exhausted. Over the past five days, there had been a few challenges. Four days ago, Shadow's three boys had respiratory infections, causing them to feel unwell and restless. Damon had to take care of them.

Then, two days ago, six of Mariella's babies had baby pox, resulting in itching rashes and slight fever. Damon was juggling caring for the babies, Mariella, and preventing the spread of the illness. These were common baby diseases without vaccines yet.

Our babies were healthy but moody, and Colin had shown how germs could transfer from clothes to our homes. It was nobody's fault, and we couldn't live in a sterile environment.

I closed my eyes, trying to go back to sleep, but the buzzing alarm woke me up again. Everyone was occupied, so I had to get up. I gently moved Damon's hand, put on my robe, and headed to the nursery. I lifted both of my babies, who needed changing, and took them to the care station. I could handle both at the same time. 

There was a whiteboard where we marked whenever we changed a diaper, indicating whether it was just wet or dirty, so we could keep track. I proceeded to take the dirty diaper off Mario, cleaned him, and applied care lotion and baby powder to his bum.

Next up was Marco, whom I also changed.

As I was getting them dressed, Damon's soft voice asked, "Why didn't you wake me, baby? I can help."

Damon walked up to the care station, smiled tiredly at Mario, and started dressing him.

I told him, "You must be exhausted; you should rest."

He hummed to himself and replied, "I am tired, but it's so fun taking care of these guys. It feels right."

While I was still cleaning Marco, Damon carried Mario back to his crib and asked, "What was in the diapers so I can mark them down?"

I replied, "Both, and big ones."

He noted it down and then asked, "Have you noticed anything unusual with Milo? He has fewer dirty diapers than even Mona. I wonder if he's eating enough."

Damon went to check on Milo, who was slightly awake. As Damon opened his diaper, it was clean even though he hadn't been changed since the evening.

Damon probed his tummy and grunted, saying, "I'll go to the medbay to take an x-ray. It's probably nothing, but his tummy feels distended, and there's no poo in his diaper. I want to make sure he's not backed up."

I replied, "He's the laziest, so he's probably drinking less. Check him over."

When Damon returned, he said, "He's backed up; I've given him a laxative. We should get him to drink a little more, so it will work in ten minutes. Mariella gave me a formula of your laxative, and I tweaked it for efficiency."

I nodded and went to the fridge, only to find it empty.

Damon assured me, "Don't worry; I'll get a few bottles."

I thanked him and suggested he go back to sleep, saying, "I'll wait here for him to empty himself out, so there's no need for both of us."

Damon agreed, yawning, "Sure, babe. I'll take a few hours' nap before it's morning again."

I picked up Milo and settled into my rocking chair in the dim light. Damon brought over a few bottles, and I took one to feed Milo, who was thirsty and eagerly guzzled it down. Damon then left the nursery and went to sleep for a few hours.

It struck me as odd how, over time, both the Salvatores and Mariella began to find sleep beneficial, turning it into a necessity. Of course, my body required rest as well, but I could rely on my powers and willpower to carry on without it.

Nightmares were a significant reason for my insomnia, and I couldn't always count on someone being there to ward them off, so I learned to manage it. While I enjoyed sleeping and cherished the feeling of waking up refreshed after a long, peaceful night, it wasn't always an option for me. 

By morning light, I had changed six dirty diapers, we had consumed five bottles, and I held my giggling little boy, Milo, who had no tummy issues. When Salvatores came to restock the fridge, I mentioned Milo's constipation to number two.

He grunted and looked at us sharply, saying, "We need to keep an eye on this little guy to prevent a recurrence. Wake him for drinks occasionally and ensure those dirty diapers keep coming. Baby, You should go and have a nap; you look exhausted."

He gazed at me.

I replied calmly, "I'm fine. Sure, I'm a little tired, but look at him—he's all giggles and coos now that his tummy has settled."

Milo was trying to put his toes in his mouth again, so I stopped him and gave him a pacifier instead, as his little fangs weren't disabled yet—no need for him to cry after biting his own toe.

I continued to hold him while Salvatores attended to the other babies, performing measurements and tests for the day. Sitting in my rocking chair, I reflected on my life—a veritable rollercoaster filled with both highs and lows over the years.

I still vividly remember the incredible sense of safety I felt when they nurtured me back to health, kept me wrapped up, asleep, and cared for—despite my dwindling willpower, the love remained. Yet, I also sensed the dark, oppressive emptiness that hit me after the VENOMS experiences.

It sent a shiver down my spine when number ten turned towards me, took Milo from my arms, and comforted me with these words: "No, sweetheart, don't dwell on that moment. We'll address it in due time. Let's set it aside because that feeling was dreadful and not meant for you."

I tried to explain, "But it's a part of me now, you see. It's a defining moment that has altered me, and I'm uncertain if it's a change for the better or worse. Change is inevitable, and because of this, it will be etched in my memory for eternity."

Handing Milo to number eight for measurement, he reassured me, "Darling, the change has been positive. It's a new phase for us, and although your words may be unfiltered, it's refreshing. That feeling is too unpleasant for you to bear, so I've entrusted Wulfe to address it. He won't remove it but will shield you from it. You can count on that."

I rolled my eyes, acknowledging my transformation had influenced those around me, making my pack more assertive in protecting me, a change I had no control over. 

I sat quietly in my rocking chair, observing as my babies were measured, and checked for diaper changes and skin conditions. Number eight had a tablet on him, where he noted all observations, measurements, and results from yesterday's diapers.

They also cleaned the whiteboard, preparing for the day ahead. Morning feeding would be in just two hours, unless someone was hungry. They aimed to stick to a schedule to teach the babies, but let's just say that Mona wasn't too eager to follow it and had her own feeding times despite their efforts.

I had no rush; I just enjoyed listening to my babies' coos and giggles as they remained awake. I pondered whether to hold one or even a few in my lap.

Damon entered, looking pale but not as haggard as before.

He scruffily told me, "You, my baby, go to bed, sleep, and Wulfe will be there to ensure you rest."

His tone was strict enough that I obliged and replied, "He's now fed and happy. It took some effort, but he's giggling. Number two is aware of the situation, so they'll make sure he drinks, as he's lazy and doesn't always wake up to eat much."

Damon grunted, saying, "Chop chop in the bedroom! And don't think an hour or two is enough; you need quality sleep. Your body demands it, so we can finally lower that damn cortisol."

He really didn't leave me much choice.

As I walked back to my bedroom, Charles nearly bumped into me. He muttered something, and I noticed he was pale and felt hot to the touch.

"Damon, Charles might be sick too," I told him telepathically.

Damon hurried towards us, pulling me away from Charles and using some sort of spell to clean me.

He told Charles, "You need to go to the medbay, Cornick; you're sick."

Then he looked at me and said, "Mimi, hurry up. Wulfe knows about this and will use a few more spells to cleanse you so you won't get ill."

I heard him mutter as I walked away, "Idiots don't seem to understand how contagious these illnesses are. We can't afford for the whole pack to take sick leave." 

I entered my bedroom, and Wulfe was there waiting for me, along with Magnum.

Wulfe instructed, "Undress completely, place your clothes in that sack, and hop into the bath that's drawn for you. Get going!"

His tone was strict, and feeling tired, I rolled my eyes as I complied. I took off my clothes, put them in the laundry sack, and stepped into a hot bath that smelled strongly of disinfectants and medical supplies.

Wulfe came in and said, "Don't worry about the smell; you'll be showering afterward. It's just a precaution to prevent baby pox or whatever other pox might be around. With you, things are never straightforward, so we have to be careful."

I rolled my eyes again, feeling tired; this seemed a bit excessive.

Wulfe continued, "Damon can't predict how bad it could be for you. Remember how sick you got when Apollo was born? That was just baby germs, and it really knocked you down. We can't risk exposing you to any germs this time around. Besides, you can be sure that number two will keep that pendant active, just in case."

He sat on the edge of the bathtub, looked at my still too skinny body, and softly tutted, "You're still too skinny."

Magnum walked in and assessed my body as well.

His tone was gentle yet concerned as he remarked, "Hummingbird, this isn't a race. You need stamina, and in your current shape, you lack it. Babies will be here for months, and as they grow, things will get busier. You're needed, but it's not beneficial if you're overwhelmed in medbay, heavily sedated and feeding while burning yourself out. Your cortisol levels are too high, which disrupts everything in your body. You need to rest to lower them, not stress over the babies constantly."

I nodded in understanding; he made sense, but I yearned to be the most resilient among us again. Instead, I felt like I was being protected, not as the weakest but the most vulnerable—and perhaps the most needed, too. 

After spending at least 30 minutes in the bath, Wulfe told me, "Okay, now you can come out and take a shower. Remember, use hot water and don't take too long. We will be watching."

I rolled my eyes, got up, and headed to the shower, still smelling like a hospital and feeling remnants of spells on my skin. I scrubbed myself five times until the medical scent was gone, then grabbed my robe and towel before leaving the bathroom.

As soon as I stepped out, Wulfe instructed me to sit on a stool near the vanity. He began brushing and drying my hair. Exhausted from the bath, I yawned several times.

Wulfe smiled and remarked, "This is perfect, right? Your babies, oh my god, they are lovely and relatively easy so far."

I agreed, mentioning that managing two babies simultaneously wasn't a problem, but dealing with others' illnesses was challenging as it took carers out of the pool, so to speak, meaning that we healthy ones had less help available.

After braiding my hair just right, Wulfe suggested, "Come on, let's go to sleep. It's a win-win for me; I get to nap and hold you in my arms."

He was genuinely happy, and I tiredly smiled as I noticed that Magnum had disappeared. I changed into my nightgown and went to bed.

Wulfe eagerly joined me, pulling me close and reassuring, "I won't let you feel that way anymore. It's in the past, and I've isolated it, so you won't experience it again. No more self-punishing."

His voice was quiet yet firm next to my ear, providing me with a sense of safety. It was surreal how I pushed those around me to put me in my place, and once they did, I found true happiness. Quite demanding, I must say.