Chapter 3 - Toast and Black Pudding
I waken slowly, feeling much better. My daughter is sleeping next to me, and her father is lying on her other side, his arm curled around her, his eyes closed as he sleeps. I study the two faces, and I'm surprised at how alike they are. Spike always looks younger when he's asleep, when he's not trying to project an image. His face right now is boyish, innocent. I wish their eyes were open so I could compare the colours, but even as I think that, I know it's too soon to know. Zara's still has the greyish tone of new-born babies, and, try as I might, I can't be sure that Dawn's shade of blue was exactly like Spike's.
I wonder that I never noticed, but then, when I was able to look at Dawn's eyes, I had no idea of her relationship to Spike. I assumed she took her colouring from my father. I never really noticed her eyes as being the strong blue that Spike has, although her darker hair colour could be responsible for that. Of course, Spike's natural colour is a lot darker too.
I have a vague memory of feeding Zara a couple of times since I went to bed. I didn't hear her crying, didn't get up to change her, but Spike delivered her to me, and all I had to do was lie here and let her feed.
As I'm watching them, Spike's eyes twitch, and I know he's wakening. I watch him, as the slight tremor moves throughout his body, almost as if he's being brought back to life one muscle group at a time. His eyes open at last, and when they focus, he smiles at me. It's a gentle, lazy, loving smile, and I wonder at it. It's so unlike the face he wants to project to the world, yet it's so much closer to his real self than anything else.
"Mornin', Pet," he mutters.
"Hey," I answer.
"You feeling better?"
I think about that, trying to remember how I felt before I slept. The immediate past seems like it happened to someone else. Everything after saying goodbye to the others seems rather vague.
"Yeah, I think so."
We're interrupted by a growl, and I realise it's my stomach complaining about a lack of food. I giggle at that, and Spike joins in too.
"What d'you say I go and see if I can find some food?" he offers.
I agree enthusiastically.
He gets out of bed, peels off his sweats and pulls on the jeans and t-shirt he discarded earlier. And then I'm alone with my daughter.
It occurs to me that this is the first time I've been alone with her. I know Spike'll be back soon, but the idea of being alone with this baby is strangely terrifying. Still, as long as she's asleep, it should be ok.
No sooner do I think that, than she starts to stir, fretting slightly as she wakens. I'm gripped with panic, but I force it down. In no time, she's fully awake and making her displeasure known to the world.
My first reaction is to feed her, but when I go to lift her, I consider the possibility that she might need a change of diaper. I did that a couple of times before I slept, but then I always had someone else around.
I pull myself out of the bed, noticing for the first time the peachy-coloured night-gown and wince. Peach and Buffy are unmixy things.
I glance around the room, trying to remember which door is the bathroom. I remember which one Spike used, so I assume it's the other. I lift my daughter, and take her to the door.
Ok, so that was a good guess, or is that memory? There's a changing mat on the floor, and a pack of diapers open beside it. Spike's obviously been busy while I slept.
I manage the change more easily than I'd have thought, pulling the sleeper back on when I've finished. She's making her displeasure pretty obvious by now, so I pick her up and go back to the bedroom. I settle myself in one of the chairs, and let her feed.
It's surprisingly relaxing sitting like this. As soon as she knows there's food available, Zara becomes quiet, concentrating on her meal.
Spike returns a short while later, carrying a tray. He puts it on the chest, then stands in front of it arranging something. He turns a moment later, and brings me a glass of orange juice and a plate with what looks like toast.
"I was offered cooked, but I said we'd make do with toast just now. She made enough for a small army, so there's plenty. I've buttered it for now, wasn't sure if you'd want marmalade."
I suspect that I'd eat it if he offered me buttered cardboard, and the orange juice is welcome too.
"I got tea, wasn't sure how you'd feel about instant coffee," he adds, "but that can wait until Zara's finished."
Zara does finish pretty soon, and Spike takes her from me, intending to put her into the crib. She has other ideas, and wails as soon as she's put down. Spike immediately picks her up again, rocking her and talking softly. As soon as she's in his arms, she quietens, apparently staring at him. I take the opportunity to visit the tray for myself, pouring myself a cup of tea, and spreading some more toast with the marmalade. It's good, but I feel like a hot meal would have been good too.
"What time is it?" I ask.
"About fivish," he answers. "We pretty well slept through the day."
He walks to the window, and pulls open the curtain. I get up and walk towards him as he stands looking out. It's a beautiful view, gardens close to the house giving way to a huge expanse of green. If there's a road nearby, I can't see it.
"Jenna's gone," he tells me.
I look at him, surprised.
"She went right back, thought it wouldn't do for her to disappear along with us in case it gave a hint to where we are."
It makes sense, but I'm saddened too. I wasn't particularly close to Jenna, but it now seems that I'm alone in a strange country, and the only familiar faces are Spike and Zara. And then I realise that wherever I am, that's actually all I need.
"They're pretty keen to talk to you," he adds. "And they're all desperate to see the Bit."
"They?"
"Well, I only spoke to one, but she seemed to be speaking for others. I chatted a bit while the toast was doing. The coven's got a pretty big membership as these things go, but most of them live around the country. There're only a few live here all the time."
"It's a huge house," I observe, remembering the view from the window, and the other windows I saw.
"That it is, Pet. Used to be the local manor house. One of the previous ladies of the manor got involved with the local coven, and she left the house to them when she died. I get the feeling there's money that goes with it too, certainly didn't get the feeling that they're having to count the pennies."
We're interrupted then by a knock at the door, and Spike goes to answer as I go to find something to put on top of the night-gown. I find a wrap which is a perfect match for the night-gown. I grimace at the shade. Still….
I turn around to find that Spike's been waiting until I was 'decent' before inviting our 'guest' in. It's the woman I vaguely remember from last night, and she's also carrying a tray.
"He said toast'd be fine, but he's not eating for two," she says by way of explanation.
This second tray has two large plates each with bacon, sausage, eggs, fried bread, and something, black and crumbly that I don't recognise. The smell hits me, and I'm immediately famished again.
"I'll leave you to enjoy it. Feel free to come downstairs when you're ready."
I fall on the plate of food, starting with a mouthful of sausage.
"What's that?" I ask, trying not to punctuate the words with a spray of meat.
"The black stuff? It's called black pudding. It's made from blood and fillers and such. Not too keen on it myself, or at least I wasn't when I was alive. Of course, after that, I preferred my blood fresh."
I know that there'd have been a time when I'd have had problems with the idea of something made mainly from blood, but it seems strangely appetising now. I cut off a small piece, and put it in my mouth. It's not too bad, although it doesn't actually taste a lot like blood. I carry on with my food, watching with amusement as Spike tries to eat one-handed, Zara still awake in his arms.
When we've finished, I check out the clothes we've been left. It's a mixture of sweats and t-shirts, and I just know the pants are going to be too long. I suspect that a shopping trip would be a good idea, but then I realise I've no idea whether or not we've got any money.
I leave father and daughter to their mutual admiration, and go to investigate the bathroom. There's a shower over the old-style bath, and I enjoy a refreshing shower before pulling on some borrowed clothes.
Once back in the bedroom, I find Spike chatting to Zara. It's interesting to note that he's not actually using a form of 'baby talk', but using his normal voice. It looks like he's going round the room introducing her to the various things he can see, describing the bed and other things. I can't stop myself smiling.
He spots me watching him, and carries on with what he's doing, but when he's finished, he approaches me.
"And this is your mum. Don't forget, you're in England now, and the correct word is mum. You're going to be spending a lot of time with her for a while, because she's carrying around your food supply. But then, you already know that, don't you?"
Having finished that explanation, he addresses me.
"Feel like going downstairs?"
"Yeah," I agree. Apart from the fact that it'd be only polite, I admit that I'm quite interested to meet the people who have been kind enough to offer us sanctuary.
I count the doors between ours and the staircase, unsure that I'll be able to find my way back otherwise. Spike's still carrying Zara and I feel a twinge of jealousy. It seems as though he's spent more time with her than I have. Then again, I needed to sleep. I don't ever remember being so tired as I was.
We're met in the hallway by the same woman who brought the breakfast.
"Hello, my dears. I hope you slept well."
"Yes, thanks, very well," I manage.
"Welcome to my home."
She waves her arm around the ample proportions of the hallway as she speaks.
"I know, it's a bit grand, but it's home for me. Come into the main lounge, and we'll let you take the weight off your feet for a while."
She leads us into a large room towards the front of the house. The decoration is appropriate to the room, without being too ostentatious. The chair, when I sit down, is surprisingly comfortable.
"It's time I introduced myself," our host offers. "My name is Morwenna, and I already know you're Buffy, Spike and Zara. As you can see, Jenna has been keeping us informed of everything that's been happening. The coven is based here, but its members are spread around the country, while Jenna, of course, is currently in California. This wing is the living quarters of the coven members themselves. The north wing is really quite a separate thing altogether. It's there your friend Willow spent some time last year. We offer training to many who think they have a gift, but these days, very few have any real talent. Your friend, of course, is an exception."
I'm not sure what to say, how much she knows, or needs to know. It seems she's happy to talk for all of us.
"And this is the little one. So small to have such a fate. May I hold her?"
For a second, I think Spike is going to refuse, but then he pulls his over-protective instinct back, and offers up the baby. Morwenna coos and clucks over Zara, obviously just loving the fact of holding a tiny baby.
"There's a midwife in the village," she tells us. "She's my daughter-in-law, and I can promise that she's completely to be trusted. If you'd like, I can ask her to give the baby the usual checks. I think they normally have a midwife visit daily for the first few days, just to make sure everything's normal. Not that I don't think it is, but it might put your mind at rest."
"Thanks," I manage, still completely bemused.
"The cottage should be ready for you some time tomorrow," she continues. "I think you'll find it quite comfortable."
"Where exactly are we?" I manage to ask. I mean, I know we're in England, and it's not that big, and I remember Willow talking a bit about her time here, but I don't remember the details.
"Well, the nearest town in called Westbury, and we're in Devon. There's a village a couple of miles away, called Torchurch. You'll need a car around here, I'm afraid, there's only two buses a week go through the village. There's one we keep for visiting coven members, though, and you're welcome to use that. I'll show you later. In fact, that might be something you'd like to do tomorrow. Go for a drive around, see the local area. You'll probably want to do some food shopping and such. I've arranged for someone to stock up the cottage with basics, but we've all got our own tastes in these things."
The money question occurs to me again, and I glance at Spike, but he seems to be quite calm. "Don't worry about money," Morwenna jumps in, addressing Spike as if she's read my mind. "I'm sure we can organise you a job in no time. The summer season's coming up, and there're always lots of extra staff wanted. It might not be what you're used to, but I'm sure you won't mind. And, until then, we can make sure you're not short of anything."
"But …" Spike begins. "I've got money, it's just …"
"In America, and if you start transferring it over here, it's going to be difficult to hide your whereabouts. And that brings me to the next thing. We can hide you here. We can use magic to stop anyone finding out where you are. But, this is a small community. It'd be much easier for you if you've got a connection with the place."
"What do you suggest?" Spike asks.
"Well, it's common knowledge that my late sister lived in London. And that she had a son who went to work in America."
"Wouldn't that mean changing our names?"
"Your surname, yes. But I don't see why you shouldn't keep your own first names."
I nod as she says that. The prospect of being someone else seems completely daunting. Even though I speak the language, I feel out of place here.
"Look," Morwenna continues. "Have a think about it. I've had no real contact with my nephew for many years, so you'd not have to pretend to know anything about my life. And my sister moved to London so long ago that not too many people will remember her. I've got some things I've got to do, so why don't you have a chat. We'll be eating dinner at about eight, if you're hungry."
With that, she stands up and hands Zara back to me.
"You ok?" Spike asks when she's gone.
"Yeah, just a bit … overwhelmed."
"She's something, isn't she?"
"But a good something, I think."
"Yes, I think she could be. But, it's just as well there's a cottage. It'll be nice to have her visit, but I'm not sure I want to live in the same house."
I can't help but agree with that. "Do you fancy a walk?" Spike asks.
As soon as he suggests it, I know that's exactly what I'd like. Zara in my arms, we walk towards the front door. There are steps down to a gravel driveway, and beyond that, there are paths through the gardens. It's bright and warm, and the fresh air is more than welcome.
As we walk, I almost get the feeling that I'm watching someone else. This doesn't seem like my life. I'm the Slayer. I'm an American. Men don't stay with me.
And yet, here I am, walking in daylight in a foreign country, with the man I love and our daughter. As far as I know, there are no vampires within miles. It's going to take a lot to adjust to the changes, and I'm not even sure I'll be able to. Spike's arm snakes around my waist as we walk, and I'm starting to think that I could actually get used to this new life, always assuming that it lasts.