A/N; In my defense, I was really sick and feverish when this idea came to my head. This might be the strangest crossover ever with BTVS, but I've tried to make it serious. I've posted 20 chapters of this on fanfiction.net so far, and since I haven't received any actual complaints I've decided to try my luck here. I know a lot of people on this site isn't crazy about the Spuffy-pairing, so if this bothers you don't read this fic! This is Spuffy all the way people, and it might get cheesy and kinda fluffy in places, just be warned.
This story is also posted on Elysian fields.
Thank you! //Firebrether
Disclaimer: All characters recognisable from BtVS or MM are not mine (sadly). The BtVS characters belong to Joss Whedon and the nice people at Mutant Enemy Productions. The MM Characters and recognisable places belong to Caroline Graham and ITV1. I'm just borrowing them for a while, and I promise to give them back :).
”Do you like it, sweetie? Think we can live here for a while?”
Buffy lifted her eight month old daughter from the stroller and held her against her hip. She inspected the small two storey cottage thoroughly; took notice of the red brick walls, the small windows with thick, old glass, and the roses climbing up the side of the wall next to the green painted front door. The roses were an old breed, small, deep red and very fragrant. Giles had held a short lecture on the varieties of old English roses when he first had visited the cottage with her, gone through their names and the differences between them. She couldn’t remember the name of the deep red ones that were growing in the garden though, as usual when Giles went deep into a specific topic that didn’t particularly interest her she closed of her ears and just nodded along when it seemed appropriate.
But these roses were really beautiful.”Note to self; ask Giles again about the name”, she muttered under her breath. She took a moment to glance around the small overgrown garden. It would take a lot of work to get it somewhat decent, but then again, it wasn’t like she had anything better to do during the daylight hours; she could see herself take up gardening.
A soft whimper from the child in her arms broke her musings. “ Oh, I’m sorry honey! You must be so tired! It’s quite a way to travel here from London! Lets get you inside and put you down, okay? Mommy’s sorry Heather.”
She managed to fish her keys up from her jeans pocket without dislodging the now fussing child from her secure grip. She walked the short way from the garden gate to the front door and opened it. Gently rocking and cooing the baby she quickly went up he stairs to the small nursery she had set up the week before moving in. She put the little girl to bed and stayed with her until she was fast asleep. She gently stroked the soft honey coloured curls on the child's head as heather closed her striking blue eyes. Eyes just like her fathers.
When she was convinced Heather was in deep sleep, she quietly made her way down to the kitchen. Small and quite rustic, but very charming and cozy, she could already see herself sitting by the round table by the window drinking hot chocolate on dark winter evenings. A sad little smile grazed her lips at that thought; she was thinking of him again. Something so simple as hot chocolate could bring tears to her eyes, but she bit them back. She’d had her time for grief and mourning, now was the time to look forward. Both for her sake as well as for Heathers.
Shaking her head to clear her mind she went over to the freezer and started rummaging trough it in search for an evening snack. “Bless you Giles!” she said to herself when she found a packet of Ben and Jerry’s Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough .
It was only seven o’clock in the evening, and dusk had just started to settle. It wouldn't be dark for a while. She felt herself wishing she could head out for a quick patrol, but she couldn't leave an eight month old by herself, and there probably weren't that many nasties out here. The English countryside seemed almost to tranquil and calm to bee true. She quickly quieted the nagging voice inside her head that whispered that when it seemed to good to be true, it most often was. Besides, that's why she had moved out here in the first place she reminded herself; to move Heather to a quiet and safe place, as far away as possible from The Things That Go Bump In The Night.
Unfortunately, the increasingly annoying little voice was trying hard to get noticed, but she comforted herself with the fact that she only would be alone out here for another couple of days, then Dawn would come down from London when she finished school for the summer. After that she could con her little sister in to babysitting if she felt the urge to try and look up the (supposedly non-existent) nasties of the rural, idyllic English village she had moved to.
She remembered the conversation she had had with Giles the week after she had made her decision to relocate herself and her daughter. After the event that thereafter always would be labeled in her head as “The Wake-up Call” she had asked her watcher for help, and he hadn’t disappointed her.
Three Weeks Earlier
Giles looked up from his desk with an annoyed frown on his face for being disturbed when he heard the door creek open. He really needed to get those hinges greased! But when he saw who it was that stood in front of him the initial irritation quickly faded and he only uttered a small sigh. She was the only one who could get away with entering his office without knocking and not be severely reprimanded for it. Mainly because he had learned the hard way that it wouldn’t do any good.
“Buffy,” he greeted her with a nod. “Where is Heather? Surely, after what happened last week, you wouldn't leave her unattended?”
“No, I left her with Dawn and Rona in the training room, but there is probably another five girls there by now. After what happened all the girls are being overly protective, and thank God for that!”
“Yes, thank God for that.” Giles sighted again and pinched the bridge of his nose above his glasses. “The attack was almost successful. If it weren't for Paul...”
“Yes, I Know” Buffy said quietly and looked down at her feet, trying to swallow her tears.
“If it weren't for Paul, I wouldn’t have my daughter. She would probably be dead.”
The incident, or Buffy's wake up call, had transpired the week before. Buffy had put Heather down for a nap in the nursery next to her own bedroom on the third floor in the council headquarters building, and then she had gone down the stairs to the training room in the basement to lecture the girls currently in training on the things that you Under No Circumstances Aim Or Point A Crossbow At, particularly Giles collection of books on demon lore from the sixteenth century.
While she had been down in the basement, chewing the slayers-in-training’s ears out, Paul Horner, a watcher in training and somewhat of Giles protégé walked up the stairs on his way to the library on the four floor. He stopped before his foot could settle on the last set of stairs and cocked his head, listening to the soft sound of... something coming from the nursery. It sounded almost like curtains flapping in the breeze, but he was certain that the windows in the nursery was to be closed at all times, and besides, it was dead calm outside. He just came in from the garden.
He quietly made his way towards the door of Heaters room, ever careful not to wake the baby. She was renowned for her incredibly strong pair of lungs, and he didn’t particularly want his eardrums shattered. He inched the doors open and looked inside the room, and then he froze. In front of the crib was a creature that made the bile rise in his throat, and despite his vast knowledge of different demons and hellish creatures he could honestly say that he never had thought that he would lay eyes on something as vile as this... thing!
It was not big, the top of its head would barely reach his chin if it stood straight, but as it was, the creature was hunched over and bent almost double, so it seemed even smaller than it actually was. It had big, leathery wings attached to its back, outstretched and ready to flap and let the thing fly away through the open window at a moments notice.
But what made Paul feel the urge to throw up his breakfast was the fact that apart from the wings, the creature was completely skinless. He could see every muscle cord, every organ in its belly. I oozed some sort of yellow, foul smelling liquid all over the floor. It had huge, white, lidless eyes with tiny black pupils that was fixed at the child in the crib. It stretched out its long, wiry arms towards the sleeping infant, and the movement had spurred Paul to act.
He leapt towards the skinless demon, and started hitting on it with the only thing he had that was able to do any harm; a thick, leather bound book about the difference between various werewolf races. He had been on his way to return it to the library before venturing in to the nursery.
The creature quickly lashed out towards Paul wit its long, brown, sharp looking claws, and it was pure luck that made it possible for him to escape without his throat being sliced. As it was, he got two, nasty looking gashes on the right side of his neck, and deep as they were, they weren’t life-threatening.
When Paul flinched and backed half a step after being cut, the demon acted fast and leapt out the window and into the daylight. It flapped its wings, and when Paul got to the window frame and looked out, there was no sight of the thing. He covered his cut neck with his hand, turned and went to check on the baby. She slept on, completely unaware of the drama that just had transpired.
Buffy returned to the present and looked towards the window. It was almost dark out. Time to go on the hunt, but for the last week she had stayed inside, never venturing far from Heathers side. The incident had been the first time Buffy truly realized that Heather was in danger simply by being her daughter. She had always known that of course, from the moment she found out she was pregnant she knew that this child would be a target for every evil being out there. But it wasn’t until the danger actually had ventured inside her own threshold that she really understood how close she was to losing her child simply by being who she was.
“Have you found out anything about the demon yet?” she asked, suddenly all business and with an edge to her tone that would have scared any evil creature that heard it to death. You didn’t go after the Slayers family. If, no when, she got her hands on the demon in question there would be hell to pay. Possibly quite literally. There wouldn't be enough left of him to fit in a thimble.
Giles looked down on the desk and shuffled around a few papers. “No, not yet”, he replied. “It seems to be a particularly unusual breed of demon. I can honestly say I haven’t seen or heard of anything like it before. But we know that it didn’t act alone. Unless it holds really potent magical powers of its own, there simply are no explanations as to how it could penetrate our magical wards. It must have had aid, possibly from a very powerful witch or warlock.”
“I know that! You came to that conclusion almost right away! This is killing me Giles! My child is in danger, she is being targeted, and we have no way of knowing by who or what, or even why, other than the fact that she happens to be MY daughter!”
“But she Isn’t only yours, is she? She is the child of two of the most powerful beings there is, and she was not even supposed to be able to exist! The offspring of a slayer and a master vampire...”
“I know that! He wasn’t supposed to be able to father children, but he did. I know who Heathers father is, you know, as well as Xander, Willow and Dawn. But no one else Giles! There is no possibility that one of you have said anything, so why would she be targeted for being Spikes child when nobody knows about it? It has to be about me, and I hate it! I hate that I endanger the life of my baby simply by existing!”
“But by the off chance that somebody found out... Buffy, her blood must be extremely potent. It could possibly be used for a variety of different rituals or spells, and need I say that not one of them would have a positive outcome.” When he saw her face fall, he quickly added; ”I’m not saying that it’s a fact that somebody found out her full parentage however, simply that it is a possibility. It could very well just be that she is targeted to hurt you.”
“I know. I know.” Buffy sighted. She turned towards Giles again. “I actually had another reason for coming here though.”
“So you have made up your mind then?”
“Yeah, we can’t stay here. Even with the new wards we can’t be sure we’re safe in this building. They know she’s here, there was a demon in her room for Christ sake! We have to leave for a while. You said you knew where we could go.”
“Yes, the council owns a number of safe houses around the world, quite a few in this country. I don’t think it would be wise to leave Great Britain in case you would need quick assistance. I actually found a place not to far from London that seems adequate. We haven't heard of any demonic activity in the area for years.”
“None at all? Wow, I’m impressed. Where is this place?”
“The Council owns a small cottage in a small village close to the city of Causton. It hasn’t been used for many years, so we will need a few weeks to get everything ready for you. I have the papers right here.”
She picked up the folder he had indicated and opened it. It contained various photographs of both the interior and exterior of the small, two storey cottage. There was also reports about the village, its inhabitants, previous demon activity, or in this care the lack thereof, and other good-to-know facts about the area in general. There was also papers about her, giving her and Heather new names and identities as well as a plausible cover about why a young American woman would suddenly move herself and her daughter to the middle of nowhere in rural England.
She read the papers and nodded in approval. She gave the folder back to Giles and gave him a small smile.
“So, looks like I’m moving to Midsomer Parva”.
Buffy had settled in front of the TV, the baby monitor and the empty ice-cream container in front of her on the coffee-table. The wards Willow and the other witches the council employed had put on the cottage was nearly twice as strong as the ones originally put on the councils headquarters in London. Every precaution had been made, and yet she couldn’t feel completely safe.
It was now almost nine o’clock in the evening, and apart from feeling uneasy and worried out of her mind, she was feeling extremely restless. She was an hands-on girl, she didn’t do well with waiting. She wanted to go out there, find the bastard or bastards that dared threaten her child and kill hem. Slowly and painfully if possible.
She knew she couldn’t do that though. All she could do for the moment was to sit tight and wait for Giles' research to produce some results. Until then she would stay in the village Midsomer Parva and wait.
So she waited.