"Sydney!" I automatically called as I walked through the door. Dropping my keys on the table near the door, I slipped off my jacket and loosened my tie.

It had been 10 years since we had rescued Sydney from re-education. Broken, angry and battered, she had been furious at me for days, months. She was never the same again. Or I thought she would never be. Those were the darkest moments of my life. She had been mad, wailing and screaming about how long it us to find her; screaming as she woke up every night from dark nightmares, tears streaming down her face and shaking and whimpering into the night.

The baby had saved us. When we'd first found out, Sydney had been emotionless. She would sit by the window in a nursing chair, rocking back and forth with a stoic face, hands clasped around her swollen belly. The baby had broken through her shield of steel. The moment she was born, it cracked through her steel resolve. She smiled. She started to laugh. The baby had chased away the dark storms around her; as Sydney had once done for me.

Life had only gotten better from there. We bought a house, I sold my paintings and acquired a studio. Sydney started teaching down at the local school. Once Lily had grown and was old enough to go to school, Sydney started going to college, studying her dream subject- art history. She was doing well. We were doing well. Then came the twins. Michael and Christian. Life was still good. Hectic, but good.

Light footsteps sounded down the hallway, and the familiar, harassed looking face of my wife for 8 years appeared. She still had the same golden hair, up to her waist now after months without a trim. No time, she had said. I didn't mind one bit. I loved it. It flowed down over her shoulders, soft golden threads down in waves down her back. With a clothes basket hooked on her hip and a toy in the other, she blew a stray strand of her golden blonde hair out of her face. She wore a pair of ratty, worn overalls over a white singlet. And she was adorable.

"Don't Sydney me. Your children are driving me crazy," she warned, leaning up to kiss me quickly. Reaching around to grab her laden hands, I loosened her fingers so she released the basket and toy. She made a sound in protest before I clasped her firmly around the hips, bringing her flush to me and kissing her hard.

When we finally broke apart, I leaned my forehead against hers, brushing my lips slightly against her hairline.

She looked up with those reproachful, large golden eyes. "What was that for?"

"I can't just be happy to see my wife?"

Leaning back slightly, she grinned. "No, you can't. What happened?"

"I got the spot at the museum."

Jumping back from my embrace, she squealed and punched my arm lightly. "You idiot! Why didn't you call?"

Grabbing her hand and pulling her back, I leaned down to nip her ear slightly and whispered, "I wanted it to be a surprise."

Reaching out to hold my face, she pulled my face back to face hers, and kissed me lightly on the lips.

"Well, your wife is very proud, very happy, very excited, and very surprised, "she whispered, punctuating every very with a sweet kiss on my forehead, cheeks and finally, lips.

Deepening that kiss was easy. Kissing Sydney never got old, and neither did the feelings that churned inside me when we kissed. It was completion, and full of a love that had weathered half a lifetime.

Cheeky giggles sounded behind us as we both broke apart. A little 6 year old girl stood behind us, her blonde hair pulled into uneven ponytails, grinning widely at her love-struck parents.

Lily looked like and acted like Sydney. The only thing she had taken from me was my eyes. She was Sydney in every other way; intelligent, resourceful and cute to the boot. She also had her hair, face and features. I loved the carbon copy as much as the original. Sydney ruffled her hair slightly as she moved past and grabbed the basket and toy, walking into the other room.

Slipping her onto my hip, I pulled lightly at her pigtails. "Cheeky little monsters who laugh like that get in trouble."

She laughed and put her little arms around my neck, kissing me soundly on the cheek.

"Momma did my hair twoday. Do you like it Daddy?"

"I love it baby girl." Picking her up and placing her on my shoulders, we made our way into the kitchen. Sydney stood at the kitchen sink, peeling a potato and a pear.

"Potatoes and pears?"

She raised her eyes briefly, "Potatoes for you, pears for your sons." She gestured with the knife vaguely behind her.

Michael and Christian sat squat in matching high chairs and bibs at the kitchen table, looking around and fidgeting as babies do. If Lily was Sydney's copy, the boys were mine. They were both 3 months old, and just as cheeky as their big sister. I planted a light kiss on their soft heads as I pulled up a seat at the table.

We were complete with the boys. A 5 family household, a car, a studio, and a two storey house. How suburban were we now? No one could have told that there was a vampire, 3 half-vampires and a human living in the house at 34 Breakfast Road.

Okay, I loved the kids. Honestly. They were the light of my life.

But getting a moment with my wife in this house was too much to ask with all the kids. Just one moment. One. We hadn't….you know…in months.

I was going to die.

When I woke at 6, Sydney was gone. After an assessment of the whole house, I finally found her passed out on the nursery floor, a stuffed toy clutched in her hand, and the boys sound asleep in their bassinets. When she finally jerked awake, she mumbled something and slipped into the shower.

When she finally came down, fresh and smelling of lavender soap, the boys were being fed, and Lily was ready for school.

When she came back after dropping her off, I made my move. Standing at the sink with a pot of rice, I came up behind her and slipped my hands around her waist. I moved her hair from her shoulders, and brushed my lips lightly against her skin.

Shuddering slightly, she moaned a little, and touched my hair with a wet hand. "Not right now."

"When?" I said, a little exasperated.

She turned and tucked her hair behind her ears.

"Soon," she promised, pressing a light kiss to my lips.

A week later, Sydney was the one getting desperate. When I slipped into the laundry room one day, she laid down her assault. Little hands grabbed me firmly by the shirt collar and shoved me up against the washing machine. She immediately pressed her lips up to mine, and I needed no more of an invitation. I grabbed her roughly at the hips, pulled her around, and picked her up to sit on the machine.

Kissing feverishly, our hands went to our shirts, roughly pulling at buttons and breathing hotly. My world became Sydney. Her hands and hair were everywhere, in my hair, lightly brushing up and down my chest, around my neck, burning a hot trail through my body. She pressed herself flush against me as I brushed kisses down her soft neck. Her soft, downy hair curled under my fingers as I ran my hands through it, over and over, trying to memorise the feel of her. The feel of Sydney.

Vaguely, I heard crying through the closed the door. Damn it. One minute! One lousy minute! Sydney groaned, and broke away. I sighed and leaned back, running my hand through my hair. I heard her before I saw her. Sydney started to whimper with dry sobs racking her entire body minutes later.

"Hey, hey," I pushed her hair back a little, and pulled her to me.

"I'm just so tired all the time," she mumbled against my shirt. "And these hormones are driving me crazy! I want to have sex like all the time!"

Huh. "Nothing wrong with that."

She leaned back and little and hit me lightly. I chuckled. "What?"

The cries grew louder. "I'll go," I said. With a quick kiss to her forehead, I slipped out of the room, buttoning my shirt, and sighing again. Two more minutes, and I would have had her.

Two more failed attempts followed that one. One in the car (which left Sydney red for 5 minutes straight when people discovered us half naked and straddled in the front seat of a red Toyota in a shopping centre parking lot). And another attempt in the laundry room again. Sydney was barely in bed these days, and if she was, she was out cold. Otherwise, she and I were alternatively passed out on the nursery room, after a long night of rocking the twins to bed.

"I think I'm going to die. I actually think I'm going to die."

Sydney pushed her head off the floor for a minute. The house was a mess. We were huge messes. Both of us were sprawled on the floor, in a messy living room strewn with toys and vomit and baby powder. A look at the reflection on the mantel piece told me my hair looked like a bird had nested there for a few days. We were both so exhausted, lying on our stomachs on the carpet, almost passed out. The boys were sitting in their bassinets, finally asleep. Lily was at home sick, and was straddled on my back, playing with a toy.

"We need to call someone. Seriously," I muttered.

Sydney's head bobbed a little in agreement.

"Hello?" called a voice down the hallway.

Never had I ever felt such relief before in my life.

"In here!"

Dimitri and Rose appeared in the living room within minutes, both holding shopping bags in both hands, both looking surprised and wary.

"Are you guys okay?" Rose said slowly, a frown creasing her eyebrows.

Lily rushed off my back and right into the Russian warlord's arms. He was surprisingly soft and good with kids.

Hooking Lily onto his hip whilst Rose headed for the boys, Dimitri gave me a hand up. Sydney was dead asleep.

"Help."

I officially loved them. If there was any hate I had lingering for the Russian warlord and his girl, it was long gone. They were like angels, swooping in to save us from a crying hell. Baby hell. They both took on baby- sitting duty whilst Sydney and I slept for 12 hours straight, sleeping like we had been awake for years.

When we both finally woke and pushed ourselves to go downstairs, it was 10 at night. Dimitri and Rose were in the living room, curled up on the coach, and watching a late night show. They both jerked awake when we came in.

"Hey," Sydney started, sitting down on the arm of the coach. I came up on to the other side, and punched the Russian lightly on the arm.

"Why didn't you guys wake us up?"

A bleary eyed Rose stretched and then replied, "Okay, you guys needed it. Like badly."

"The kids are in bed, Lily's fever broke, and they were all fed and bathed," Dimitri rattled off, sitting up to pull his shoes on.

"And we need to get home," Rose said.

When we were all at the door, about to bid goodbye, the Russian warlord spoke four words, four heavenly words that floated down from God himself.

"We'll be back tomorrow."

Though Sydney and I both tried half-hearted protests, it was settled. They would be back.

The door closed.

"Tomorrow," we both said, with a smile.

"How about now?"

Sydney smiled; a cute, sly smile I knew more than well. Then she rushed up the stairs. With me following.