A/N: Well, I can't say where this one came from, but…remember, criticism and reviews are always welcome!

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Despite the fact that it was daytime, we were all exhausted. Four of us had immediately collapsed onto tree branches, but I hadn't.

I stayed in clear sight, relaxing on a bench. I held a baby in my arms, and he giggled as I played with his black hair.

"Aw, what an adorable baby!" A new voice suddenly startled me. It was a female's voice, probably a young girl's. No older than fourteen, I thought. "Aw, such big, dark eyes! He's gonna grow up to be a handsome one, isn't he?"

I tried to appear relaxed, but I knew that anyone could be an Eraser. The school had perfected them, and now even what appeared to be a friendly old lady could have been a malicious half-wolf, half-human killer.

"Such a cutie," the girl said in a warm, gushing voice. I felt her eyes land on me. "Is he your baby?"

I turned blind eyes onto the girl.

No, I wanted to say. But how could I explain the rest? I couldn't just tell her that the birth father had run off; not only would it be a lie, but it would be disrespectful towards the father.

How could I tell her that we had wings? How could I explain to her that I lived the first ten years of my life in a dog crate, and the rest on the run? How could I tell her that the birth father had died protecting this baby's mother, that he had been shot square in the head?

I remembered hearing the mother's scream as the father went down, black wings trailing out behind him.

I remembered having to make the hardest decision I'd ever come across. I had already traced the mother's scream and followed it, and right as she was about to dive after the father, I had snatched her wrist. I had dragged her away.

She fought against me, despite knowing that she was pregnant. "Iggy! Let go of me! Let go of me, goddamn it…"

I clearly remembered her desperate shrieks trailing to sobs.

My heart still clenched in pain every time I thought of it.

I hadn't wanted to do it, but I knew that wherever he was now, the father was thanking me for it.

Swallowing thickly, I felt myself reliving the months following. Holding the mother as she cried, letting her clutch onto me, letting her bury her face into my shoulder to muffle the sobs that would surely wake the younger ones.

Then, the night where her sudden shrieks woke up every last one of us. Coaching her through it, letting her squeeze my body until I was sure that it would break, letting her cry into my shirt.

Then the third youngest had drawn back, holding a baby in her hands.

Over time, the mother and I had become exceptionally close. I didn't have any romantic feelings for her and vice versa, but her baby had become like my own son.

I held Fang Jr. closer to me as I smiled at the girl and said, "Yes."