Here we are part 3…

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POV Damon

The longer we drove through the night, the more I started to wonder what I was going to do with her. I couldn't just dump her somewhere. Okay, she lived on the streets but still… Her eyes were starting to droop. One night keeping her in my place wouldn't hurt, right? I drove up North and parked in front of the hotel. Maybe one night of decent sleep and a bath would do her well. Really what am I thinking, bringing a child with me… I pick her up and carry her through the double doors. The woman at the reception knows me well enough to not ask any questions.

"send a maid to my room to help my daughter get ready for the night" I compelled her. She nodded in a daze.

When we reached the room, she jumped up in my arms. She started looking around her, clearly wondering where she was. She looks up in my eyes, smiles to herself and looks forward, following the path we're taking.

"Damon… You could have left me you know…" she whispers shyly.

I shake my head. A decent meal, sleep, a bath and some clothes. Then maybe I'll look for a decent orphanage to put her in. I wasn't going to send her back onto the street to get killed. When we reach my door I put her on the floor. I start looking for my key, but that was in my jacket before mister Gasoline ran into me. She pulls at my hand. I look down to see her reaching in her pocket to retrieve my key. Smart little girl if you ask me. Always seeing the things she wasn't suppose to and finding things that could get useful.

I enter the room first and put the lights on. She walks in with her mouth slightly open. It's like she's looking at heaven instead of a hotel room. I walk to the bedroom part of the room and change my shirt. She walks in and stands in front of the white couch. It's like she's scared to make it dirty with her clothes. I take the menu that was laying on my nightstand and go sit on the couch.

"If you could have anything you want to eat, what would it be?"

She turns and shakes her head.

"I ate yesterday, tomorrow I'll eat again. I don't want to bother you. I should go…"

"where?" I ask her. "Home?"

Her angry face stops me from making any more remarks. She reminds me of myself when my pride gets wounded. So what do I've got so far? Her name is Samantha, Sammy because it's too long. She lives on the streets. When I try to talk parents, she looks at me as if I lost my mind and she has personality. Maybe I should keep her…

I shake my head before I can even give the idea a second thought. One night and then an orphanage. I ignore the nagging feeling in my chest, right at the place my heart lays. I lift her up and put her down next to me, ignoring her struggling and the angry face. Just my luck to find a child with my fantastic personality. Poor thing…

I give her the menu. She goes with her finger down the list. A faint blush appears on her cheeks. The anger fades into embarrassment.

"Could you read them to me please?" she asks 5 minutes later.

I start reading them out loud without asking questions. Add to the list, the girl can't read. I try my best to explain every difficult word on the list but my patience is wearing thin. When I said I don't kill children, I didn't mean I get along with them. I try and that works for about an hour or an hour and a half but longer…

"Why don't you chose and I'll eat what's left?" she suggests as if she feels my discomfort.

Maybe that could work but no leftovers. Two plates with a good steak it is.

"You like French fries?"

She looks at me again with that look. The do-you-always-forget-I-live-on-the-streets-look. Well that's something she should try. There's a knock on the door. I get up and open the door to a blond maid. Could be a nice meal but the little one… I pull the maid to my bathroom and compel her in helping Sammy to get a bath. I compelled her to not ask any questions that involved parents and a home. Would want her more angry now do we?

While they're in the bathroom I call room service for the food and a pair of pj's and clothes for the girl. With a glass of Bourbon in my hand I wait for her. It's silent till I hear giggles coming from the bathroom. I open the door and the only thing I see, are bubbles… Everywhere.

"Damon did you know that this bottle makes bubbles?" she giggles looking at my baffled face.

The maid is trying everything she can to get the situation under control but the happiness in the girl's face is worth a little mess. A maid walks into the room with a pair of pajamas. I leave the room to give them some privacy. In the living room area they're making the table ready for diner. It's the first time so many people were in my room. Apart for that party last week with all those girls.

About 10 minutes later all the hotel staff is gone and Sam is sitting in front of her steak. Her eyes betray how hungry she is but she waits. I take the first step and start cutting the meat. She takes it as a sign it's alright to start eating.

"Damon are you a vampire?"

Well that ruined diner. I look at her waiting for a sign. Is she trying to tell a joke or is she serious? She did see my face while killing that other one. And she did ask about the lines under my eyes. Please Sammy just drop the subject. Eat, sleep and forget me. Maybe I should compel her. Or maybe not…

"I have no idea what you're talking about…" I finally mutter.

She gives me that other look again. The I-am-not-crazy look. She was getting easier to read. I shrug. What am I supposed to tell her. Yes sweety I'm a vampire, but no worries I won't kill you. Maybe the maid but not you… That would be a conversation to remember.

"Thank you…"

I stop my train of thought. Did she now just thank me? I don't get this one. One moment she doesn't want to talk at all of is angry and the other she's thanking me. Strange little creature.

"I'll go now… Thank you for everything."

She stands up and starts to walk to the door in her pj's. I flash in front of her. She squeaks. The tears who are shining in her eyes, make their way down her cheeks. She's entirely alone and I was going to dump her in an orphanage? She could stay with me…

No, she can't. I'm not a father figure and I'm certainly not good at being a good example. But I've got money. I could find her a nanny and a teacher. We would have to move every so many times. Other town, other teachers, other house… Poor kid would never fit in. But somehow I doubt if she ever would be like other people. Something told me she wouldn't mind.

"Would you like to stay with me?"

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