When Stefan opened his eyes again, he realized that it was dark. He was laying in bed, supported by a soft pillow below his head. Instinctively, he reached out his right hand, searching for Jeanne. He only grasped at air, however.

“Jeanne?” he whispered softly. He turned his head slightly, only to discover that she was not there. But his wife was not the only thing missing. In fact, everything was missing. Stefan realized that he was in a completely foreign room. What’s more, large, towering bars surrounded his bed, encircling him inside. For a second, Stefan panicked and thought he had ended up in prison somehow. A second later, however, he panicked for another reason, as the memories of his conversation with the god of the multiverse came rushing back to him.

Sam! I was walking him to the bus stop, and then this voice- was is really God? Something about a parallel Earth? And a savior? Reincarnation? Stefan’s mind was in a frenzy as he tried to sort out the conversation. He wondered if it had happened at all, still not convinced that he had not just hallucinated the whole event. But there had been something about the voice that had resonated deeply within in his soul, an almost fundamental nostalgia that had given credence to the voice’s claims.

Stefan tried to shake the memory away and sit up. But before he could get fully upright, he fell back down onto the pillow. That’s when, for the first time, he realized how heavy his body felt. His movements were sluggish and uncoordinated, almost as if-

Stefan raised his arm and gasped as he saw the small chubby fingers of his hand, each digit no more than an inch and a half in length. He didn’t know what he had been expecting when the god of the multiverse had said he would be reincarnated, but Stefan didn’t quite think it would play out in such a way. Indeed, he had been reincarnated just as the god of the multiverse had willed. He was born again, a baby once more.

Stefan let out a string of curses. That bastard! That absolute hypocrite! he thought to himself. Jeanne hated when he cursed, but he felt that even she would allow it, given the circumstances. Jeanne. Sam. A pang of longing rippled through his heart as Stefan recalled the smiling faces of his wife and son. He wondered if he would ever see them again. The god of the multiverse had promised him that he would, on the condition that he played savior to some parallel universe. And Stefan had little doubt that the promise would be kept. The god of the multiverse did not seem the sort to lie. But the real problem at hand was the condition it had laid out. Unite the world? What the hell does that even mean? How the hell am I supposed to accomplish something so vague?

Stefan paused a moment, half expecting the god of the multiverse to intercede in his mind and answer his thoughts. After all, the voice had demonstrated full well that it was privy to even the innermost parts of his being. But the room remained silent; the god of the multiverse did not speak. Stefan had no doubt though that it was watching him, which made the situation all the more infuriating. He banged his fist against the bed and cried out in frustration and despair, upset at what he had lost, what he was likely to never see again, and at the god who had so unjustly taken it away.

He cried out in frustration and despair, but rather than sounds of anger, what came out of his mouth was a genuine cry, the cry of a baby. To his surprise, Stefan felt himself begin to bawl his eyes out, his high-pitched voice painfully piercing the still of the night as large wet tears rolled down his cheeks. And he couldn’t stop, no matter how hard he tried.

Within minutes, a rush of footsteps approached. Stefan heard the door open and then saw a woman step into the room. She looked young, early twenties, and was dressed in a thin nightgown. In her hand was some sort of light, which she held out as she made her way to the crib. As she approached, Stefan could hear that she was speaking to him, cooing him with baby talk. “There, there, did baby waby have a bad dreamy?” the woman said. She reached into the crib and picked him up and, for a moment, Stefan felt like he was floating through the air. It gave him a deep sense of unease, from the lack of control, but he was surprised how quickly the feeling vanished as the woman pulled him close to her chest. She rocked him back and forth, singing a lullaby to him that he didn’t recognized.

Despite her efforts however, and even his own, he still could not stop crying. He wanted to, he really did, but it was like his body had a mind of its own. Had he the ability to speak, Stefan would have gladly apologized for his embarrassing behavior. As it was though, all he could do was let the snot run down his nose, literally. The woman, who Stefan presumed was his mother in this universe, did not give up. She continued singing to him, in a voice that he did find quite lovely. It was off key at times, but it conveyed a tenderness and compassion that Stefan could feel was beginning to soothe his own tumultuous emotions.

She was on the fourth verse, and he was just starting to settle down from crying, when suddenly another woman stormed into the room. “By the gods, Sophie, will you get that baby to shut up already?” the woman screamed as she pointed a finger at Stefan, “How do you expected me to impress His Highness, King Henry, if I can’t get my beauty sleep? Ten hours, Sophie! I need my ten hours!”

The woman holding him, Sophie, turned around in flustered anxiety. Being so close to her chest, Stefan could feel her heart suddenly start to race. She was clearly nervous at the arrival of the second woman and promptly bowed her head before saying, “I’m so sorry, Queen Vanessa. I don’t know what’s gotten into him tonight. He’s never-”

“Enough, Sophie,” the second woman, Queen Vanessa, replied with an upheld hand, “I don’t care. Honestly, I knew this was a bad idea from the start. I should have just left him there.” She paused a moment to fix one of her hair curlers before shooting a glare at Stefan. Just from the way her icy blue eyes watched him, he could tell that she definitely had no qualms about throwing the baby out with the bathwater, literally. In fact, Stefan thought to himself, she seemed the kind of woman that would rather enjoy such an activity.

It was another long minute of silence, with Queen Vanessa staring at him, before she finally crossed her arms and looked back at Sophie. Noticing that he had stopped crying, she gave Sophie an harumph and said, “Just make sure he’s presentable tomorrow. He looks absolutely wretched right now. And I won’t stand the embarrassment of a child of mine looking like a common peasant. You understand what I’m saying, correct?”

Sophie gave a quick nod. “I understand, Queen Vanessa,” she replied.

Queen Vanessa gave one last glance of distaste in Stefan’s direction before storming away. He could only assume she was off to drink the blood of children, hold a commune with demons and perform other witchlike activities, a thought which brought a sudden laugh to his face. Sophie, noticing his giggle, looked down at him with a smile. “Feeling better now, are we?” she asked. She tickled him with her finger and then poked at his stomach. “Are you hungry, little one?” she asked.

With all the commotion and emotional turmoil, Stefan had been wholly distracted with other things up to that point. At her question however, Stefan suddenly realized that he was in fact very hungry. His stomach was twisted into knots, begging for food, and he wondered if Sophie would fetch him a bottle of baby formula or maybe even some apple sauce. To his complete surprise, however, she started to undress her gown and pulled him close to her breast. “Go on, baby,” she said gently.

While Stefan had done such things before with Jeanne, the context had been supremely different. Breastfeeding, well, it was strange to him to say the least. But before he had a chance to feel uncomfortable or embarrassed, he felt his body move forward on its own as his mouth wrapped around Sophie’s left nipple and began suckling. Instantly, a warm liquid filled his mouth. It was reminiscent of cow’s milk, but a bit sweeter. Stefan was never much of a milk and cereal type of man, preferring orange juice in the morning, but the breast milk that filled his mouth tasted divine. He greedily gobbled it down until he was filled to contentment. As he pulled away, Sophie re-donned her gown and then placed Stefan back into his crib. He was already half asleep as his head touched the pillow, the food coma adding to the exhaustion he felt mentally and physically.

Just as he was falling asleep, he saw a vivid image of Jeanne and Sam, dancing around a pumpkin they had just carved for Halloween. Though he couldn’t see his own face, Stefan knew that he had a smile on. Jeanne was saying something to him. He could see her mouth moving. Her words were, “Nighty night, my baby.”

And then he was asleep.