Disclaimer:Own nothing, besides what's mine. On with the last chapter!

Chapter Four: Creating Life

Spectre the Echidna sighed and toyed with his fork. He has been seating at the table in the dining room for five minutes, listening to his parents-in-law's chatting, but it had seemed like hours to him. He fought the urge to roll his eyes as Yanek complained about "dangerous drivers that roam the streets."

"You don't know, your best friend could be a mad man at the wheel!" he said. "Especially young people, they always want to show off and all. You can't walk in the street without-"

At that moment Spectre blanked him out. Tressa, please, come back! I can't take it anymore! As if on cue, his wife stepped out of the kitchen, holding a plate of freshly chopped vegetables in her hands. "Dinner is ready!" she happily announced.

They began eating in silence, the only sound that could be heard being the clinking of forks and knifes against a plate. Then Anica raised her head and decided it was time to start a conversation. "This is a nice house you got here, dears," she said.

"Thanks, Mom," Tressa smiled.

"Seems like a fine place to raise children."

Spectre and Yanek choked on their mouthful of salad. "Children?" Spectre gasped. Now, that was a subject he didn't want to talk about. But that wasn't his mother-in-law's case, because she smiled brightly at him.

"Of course, darling! So, how many do you want to have? Three, four?"

"Let's not talk about this now," Yanek growled. "We are trying to eat, after all."

For once I agree with him, Spectre thought bitterly. I'd like to eat without carrots flying out of my nose. It's not like we wouldn't have the time to speak about this later, anyway. Not that I want to, though…

"Nonsense, honey," Anica scoffed him off. "Now is as right as any other moment. And besides, it's kind of familial. So back to where I was, have you already mated?"

"Anica, we aren't wild animals. So speak like everyone else and call it "making love"," Yanek grumpily said.

Anica shrugged her shoulders and turned to Spectre and Tressa once again. "Whatever he says, have you already?" she asked in a matter of fact tone of voice.

By now Spectre was as red as his eyes, and tried to hide behind his gloved hands. Feeling Anica's eyes on him, he searched through his mind for a good excuse. "Err, oh would you look at that, I let my napkin fall. I'd better pick it up, hmm." He quickly slipped under the table, blindly searching for his non-existent napkin on the floor. Why in the world did she have to bring that up? Why why why!

"So, Tressa, have you?" Anica asked again. Spectre felt sorry for his wife, but there was no way he would answer that one!

"Err… yes?" Tressa answered hesitantly. Spectre heard Yanek choke once again, and he banged his forehead against the floor in embarrassment. Well, on the other hand, I don't know if that was the wrong answer…

"Wonderful! So, how many children do you want to have?" Anica asked brightly. Spectre got out from under the table and sat on his chair. Boy, she never gives up, does she? Weird, I don't feel like eating anymore…

Tressa seemed to be lost in thought. "I don't know… well I'd say, six or seven?"

Spectre widened his eyes and nearly fell off his chair. At this Tressa smiled sheepishly. "Just kidding." Spectre sighed in relief, when she suddenly added: "A dozen will be fine."

Spectre groaned and put his head in his hands. Now, it would be harder with Tressa turning against him. How much time are they going to stay here already? He had no idea, but it promised to be very long no matter the real length of the stay. Very, very long indeed…

XXXXXXX

Two days later, Spectre was fighting a delighted scream, and stuck to a relieved sigh. His parents-in-law were leaving, and he was happy about it although he knew it wasn't nice. But damn his inner thoughts, he couldn't keep his smile off his face.

He was actually bringing suitcases and travel bags down the stairs; the same ones that almost crushed him when Yanek and Anica had arrived. You Chaos-possessed things! I hope I won't be seeing you before long! He even was humming to himself as he closed the door of the guest room. These two days has been the longest of his life, but they were fortunately over.

He walked past Tressa on his way down the stairs, and smiled. "Good morning, my love and life!"

His wife raised one confused but amused eyebrow. "Well, aren't we cheerful this morning?" she chuckled. "I have to wonder why." She knew full well that her husband's happiness was coming from the fact that her parents were leaving, and she wasn't blaming him. The elders has been giving the black echidna hell for the past two days, keeping asking questions that she knew he wasn't comfortable with. Fortunately, she knew how to make up for it… and she would tell Spectre once Yanek and Anica were gone.

Spectre put the last bag in the car, and wiped his forehead. Whoever created summer probably hated black-furred creatures. He clung to the thought that he would soon be free as he stood under the burning sun, waiting for Tressa to say goodbye to her parents.

A delighted scream was slowly making its way up Spectre's throat as he waved at the moving car, and felt like a ton was lifted from his shoulders. He puffed his chest and released a big relieved sigh, earning himself an amused glance from Tressa-Ca. "Relieved about something?"

"Maybe," Spectre simply replied, his red eyes staring off into empty space.

He smiled when he felt his wife's arms wrapping themselves around him, and she put her head on his shoulder. "Then I'm sorry, but I'll have to break your relief."

Spectre frowned, but Tressa pulled him closer and whispered in his ear. "You'll have to think of a baby name, and soon, because I lack ideas at the moment…" The dark echidna was so flabbergasted he stood still for a few seconds, at a loss for words. He even thought Tressa has misspoken and this wasn't real.

"C-could you repeat that one?" he stammered.

She grinned, and leaned once again against him. "You know you heard what I said, father-to-be."

XXXXXXX

Four hours. It has been four hours since the moment he began pacing back and forth in front of that damned door. And something was telling him he wasn't going to stop anytime soon. Just… how much time does it take to deliver an egg, anyway?

Spectre sighed and sat down. This has been the same routine since the beginning; he stood, paced a bit, and sat down, only to begin all over again. Ever so often he would cast a glance towards the door, but nothing had happened so far.

Haven's medical wing seemed smaller than the last time he has seen it, but the fear he felt whenever he was near it has stayed the same. Just the thought of that white sterile room, those metallic surgery tools… he knew he was doing himself mental harm with these memories, but he couldn't help it. And Tressa-Ca has been in this room for four hours now, giving birth to the son of a Guardian.

The son of a Guardian… Spectre was aware that this wasn't a life every child would like to have, but there wasn't any other way. On top of that, the child would have to stand its unnerving and half-robotized father.

Spectre ground his teeth; would he be a good father? The answer came in another form. Look at you, no child would like you to be its father. You won't even be able to touch it, unless you want it to be disgusted for the rest of its life. You're bound to watch it grow without interfering, that's all. The dark one sighed; no, he wouldn't be able to get any physical contact, but he would be forced nevertheless to train the Guardian-to-be.

The black echidna put his cybernetic hand in his lap, pulling the glove off. He flexed his fingers, one after one, feeling the power and static energy coursing through his non-existent bones. He had half a mind to rip the metallic arm off, tear it to pieces and scatter every bit of metal in Haven's corridors. But I can't have that, he thought while slipping the glove back on. No, I can't.

Spectre was about to get up and pace again, when the door suddenly opened. He was on his feet before he knew it, running up to Hawking. "So?" he asked impatiently. "What is it? What is it?"

Hawking blinked a few times, startled by his second son's outburst. "Well, it's… an egg," he answered simply. "What did you expect?"

Spectre rolled his eyes, and fought the urge to punch Hawking into the ground. "No, I mean is it a boy or a girl? Is Tressa all right? Did anything go wrong? How-"

"Hey, calm down, will you! No, nothing went wrong, your wife is all right and I don't know if it's a boy or a girl. You'll have to wait till it hatches."

"And when will that be?"

"Tomorrow, I think."

Spectre groaned, but nodded. He understood that there was nothing else to be done; he'd just have to put up with his anxiety and impatience till the next day. "Can I see Tressa?" he asked hopefully.

"Go ahead. I put the egg near the bed."

The younger echidna nodded once again, and as Hawing was leaving he went for the door. Pulling it open, Spectre got in the room and smiled when he caught sight of his wife lying in a bed. She looked exhausted, but happy as she returned a weak smile.

"Hello," Spectre greeted quietly. The raw and almost respectful silence in the room made his own voice ring through his ears. "How are you feeling?" he asked as he walked to her bedside.

"Fine, thanks," she answered in a tired voice.

"How did it go?" Spectre took her hand in his flesh one.

"Well, let's just say there were times I wanted to rip your eyes out-" Spectre winced but managed a weak smile. "-but it's all right, now. It was worth it." She began gazing lovingly at the egg, actually in an incubator near the bed.

Spectre's heart warmed up with love and pride as he looked at the result of their undying love for the first time. He squeezed Tressa's as gently as he could. "Grandfather Hawking told me it would hatch tomorrow," he said.

Tressa nodded, and Spectre could see the exhaustion in her aqua blue eyes. He kissed her forehead and bent down to whisper in her ear. "Sleep. I'll stay with you. Rest well, my love." You didn't need to tell her twice; she instantly fell asleep against the black male, who smiled down at her. Tomorrow… tomorrow we'll see.

XXXXXXX

A soft cracking sound was what woke Spectre up. The dark male yawned, and in the few seconds between opening his eyes and being fully awake he wondered why in the world he had slept in a sitting position.

Then he saw his wife leaning against him, still asleep, and all came back to him. He was in Haven, in the medical wing, waiting with Tressa for their child to come out of its egg. He had spent the entire night here, keeping guard, but had eventually dozed off himself.

Wait a second… what was that crack? Frowning, Spectre cast a glance at the egg in the incubator next to the bed – and to his surprise found the top shattered. His child was coming out!

The dark echidna thought about shaking Tressa awake, but in the end decided against it; she needed all the rest she could get, and he hadn't the heart to refuse her that. He gently laid her on her pillow and went to stand over the incubator, curious and anxious at the same time.

First he saw a foot. A tiny lavender-furred foot, which got out of the egg and rested on a side. Then came out two little hands, barely the same size as Spectre's nose. The black bent forwards, and this way was able to take a close look at his newborn baby son: a tiny lavender echidna, with bright blue eyes and some hair of a shade darker than his fur atop his head.

As well as the unmistakable white crescent on his chest.

Born to be a Guardian. One of the most powerful beings on Mobius, protector of the most powerful gem in the world, bound to fight till death come for him… but at the moment nothing more than a small baby squirming to get out of his egg. Spectre's first paternal instincts awoke when he heard his son squeak in protest and saw him struggle some more.

Spectre lowered the arms he didn't know he had raised. There was nothing he could do; a monster such as him wasn't allowed to touch such a pure and innocent being.

"What are you waiting for? I don't think he'll bite you." Tressa's voice caught Spectre off guard, and he raised his head to see his wife smiling warmly at him. Her smile encouraged him, and he finally opened the transparent incubator.

With trembling hands he picked up his newly-hatched son, holding his breath every time the baby squeaked or moved in his gloved hands. Before long Spectre had his lavender-furred son cradled to his chest, his flesh hand under the baby's back and his cybernetic one supporting the head. Spectre was squeezing his son as much as he dared to, afraid that he would drop him at any moment.

"Relax, Spectre," his wife told him.

The black-furred male nodded, and found himself releasing his grip a little. He sat beside his wife on the bed, and mother and father watched their son blink his shimmering blue eyes at them. Spectre set him in Tressa's lap, and wrapped his left arm around her shoulders.

"He is beautiful, Spectre," Tressa whispered with raw emotion.

"Yes he is." Spectre kissed his wife on the forehead, before waving a finger in front of his son's face. The baby squealed in delight and grabbed the finger, making his father chuckle. Tressa brushed the few strands on her son's head as he enclosed his toothless jaws around his father's finger and chewed.

"What are we going to name him?" Spectre asked, amused.

Tressa looked up at her husband. "Well, I've been thinking about-"

XXXXXXX

"Thunderhawk!" Spectre yelled. He tapped his foot against the ground, arms crossed as he waited for his son to come. "Come here, son!"

He could have easily guessed what had happened has been bound to happen. Spectre has been painting the front door, because Tressa found it to be slightly damaged. But the Brotherhood had called him up, so he was forced to let everything in place till his return. But of course, his son Thunderhawk just had to mess things up.

And here was Spectre, now, standing in the middle of a brown paint-stained living-room. This had Thunderhawk written all over it. Wait till I get my hands on you, boy. "Thunderhawk! Come here!"

Finally, a pair of frightened blue eyes peeked in the living-room from the door of the corridor. Spectre heard a gulping sound. "Y-yes, Father?" the five years-old trembled. Although he knew his father wouldn't do him any real harm, he dreaded his reaction. "What is it?"

"What is it? Come closer, boy, and look at me." Thunderhawk didn't even budge, frozen where he was behind the doorframe. "Come here," Spectre repeated in a dangerous voice. He knew his son well enough to know that such behaviour wasn't like him. He had done something, as Spectre thought. "Come here now, my boy."

Thunderhawk hesitated before finally stepping in the messed up living-room. And Spectre saw exactly what he was expecting to see. The lavender-furred kid was covered in mostly dry brown paint. Spectre had half a mind to scold him when he noticed the sheepish look on his son's face. The dark male sighed. "What happened?"

"I-I was running home," Thunderhawk stammered, "and when I opened the door, I knocked over a bucket of paint and I fell. I didn't mean to do it, promise!" The young echidna was waiting for his father to yell at him and punish him, but Spectre did none.

He sighed. "Are you hurt?" he asked.

"No," Thunderhawk answered, taken aback.

"No harm done, then. Come on, we better clean all this mess before your mother-"

"I'm home!" Tressa's cheerful voice exclaimed.

Edmund! Thunderhawk shot a fearful glance at his father, who shrugged helplessly. Spectre was about to tell him something when a gasp filled the air. Spectre turned to see his wife standing here, eyes widened as she looked at the state her living-room was in. "Great Aurora, what happened here!"

"Well, you see Tressa, this is complicated," Spectre began.

"We can explain, Mother," Thunderhawk gulped.

"I certainly hope you two can!" she said dangerously. Then she noticed the state her son was in. "Thunderhawk! What have you done? You can't stay like this, baby, come on let's get you cleaned up. A good bath is in order."

Thunderhawk winced. "Aw, not a bath! Please, Mother!"

"I said a bath, then it is a bath. Come on."

The lavender echidna, revolted by the simple idea of his mother giving him a bath, made a run for it and plunged under the sofa, his mother hot on his heels. "Thunderhawk the Echidna, come out of there this instant!" she commanded. When her son shook his head fervently, huddled under the sofa, she turned to her chuckling husband. "Spectre, get him out."

"Or else?" Spectre asked, smirking.

"Or else I'll make you rue the day you met me," she growled, a fire burning in her blue eyes.

Spectre seemed to be in deep thoughts during a few seconds. Then he smiled. "I'm sorry, son." He pushed the sofa aside and picked Thunderhawk up before the younger could do anything to escape. Spectre put him on his shoulder and began walking towards the bathroom. "Traitor!" Thunderhawk hissed.

"I prefer the term "wise one"," Spectre corrected amusedly.

"I'd say coward!"

Spectre couldn't help a smile. Yes, he had suffered many years. Yes, life cost him many things. But in the end, he had got a life. He had gone from suffering, to enjoying and finally creating. And now… well, you could say he was putting up with life, as it seemed!

"Put me down!"

"Your mother doesn't want me to."

"By the way, speaking of mother, Spectre," Tressa said. "My parents are coming tomorrow to visit us. Could you get the guest room ready, please?"

Spectre literally froze in place, his struggling son across his shoulder. Why does it seem so familiar? Sigh. Here we go again… A smirk then made its way to his lips, and he put Thunderhawk on the ground. "Run, son! Run!" The young lavender echidna took off, screaming a "Thank you!" before disappearing. Tressa gasped and turned to Spectre.

"Why did you do this?" she asked, fuming.

"I don't know what came over me," he responded, still smirking.

"As for me, I certainly do know what's coming for you!" Tressa took off a second before Spectre did. The dark one laughed heartily while running, feeling free. Life has gotten a hell more interesting, and I hope it'll stay that way!