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Wishing

There was never another option, never another possibility or even a thought for David as to what he should do when he learned of his parents' death. For the first day or two of shock and grieving, when nothing could be dealt with or thought of except for the immediate facts of their deaths, it was enough to concern himself with making arrangements for cremation, for certainly his parents could not be buried. What if a coroner were to see their fangs, to test their blood, or even send them for an autopsy, and the more unusual markers of their DNA were discovered? That would simply not do, and so until the ashes were safely in his hands, in the small ornate box that David had chosen for them, he could not rest easy that they would not someone be discovered for the human anomalies that they were.

There had been little time to allow himself grief or to feel the full impact of what they had all lost; it was easier to focus on practical arrangements such as the cremation and payments, on checking on Francis, Lenny, and the twins, trying to keep the twins from going off the rails too badly and further damaging their anonymity and knowing all the while that absolutely nothing he could do would stop them if they chose to do so. It wasn't until a few days had passed and the first true feelings of grief had begun to trickle through that it hit David that there was yet another matter he had not considered.

He had to know what would be done about his siblings. The twins were seventeen, almost eighteen, and would soon be old enough to be on their own, at least in the eyes of the law. But Francis was only thirteen, and Lenny was just six, years from being out of the box. How would they be provided for? Who would care for them until they were adults, twelve more years to go in Lenny's case, almost five in Francis's?

He had known even before he knew the question what the answer was. David would care for them, of course; David would raise them, provide for them, however it took. He himself was only 21, barely even old enough to be allowed to legally become his siblings'guardian, but to do otherwise was not an option. For as long as he could remember, all of his life, his parents, his mother in particular, had drilled into their brains the importance of family, of caring for one's own.

"Whatever the world might see us as, whatever problems we might encounter or what opponents we might face, family is what matters. Family is what's important to us all, and family will always be the thread that runs through your life to keep you whole," she had told them over and over, as she ran a hand through each child's hair or squeezed his or her shoulder, connecting them all through her touch, if not each other's. "Never forget that. You must always be there for each other, looking out for each other. Family belongs together, always."

He would not forget that, could not forget that, however he might want to. And so David did what he had to, social workers, night jobs, and all, just to keep his family together, however they might buck and struggle against him and constantly test the limits of what could strain their badly frayed bonds. They all knew, whether or not any of them admitted it, that in the end, they too were working on some level to stay together too, because when the twins turned eighteen, they stayed on, despite no longer officially being included as David's ward. It was what was best, what all of them wanted, whatever their conflicts, and in the end what they all needed. Even the twins could not exist without the rest of them as support; though they claimed to only need each other, a world with only one other person like you, one other person as your back up was a world with more struggle than most could truly handle.

David did not regret his decision, when it came down to it, and if it were presented to him again, he would have made the same choice. Family was family, and no matter what, you did what you had to in order to keep them close. But still, sometimes when he looked at other young men and saw the careless way they made decisions, the ease with which they lived their lives, unattached, responsible for themselves only, free to pick up and go whenever and wherever they liked, he burned inside with an envy that if he was not careful, would eventually give way to rage.

He had never had that choice, never had that option to have his own life, go his own way, make his own choices without anyone else factored into the equation. He never had a choice, not one that he could have lived with making, and now he never would.