May 1980
She's pouting again, sitting in the middle of our bed, nearly ripping the hair from one of her dolls as she yanks a comb through its blonde locks. Leaning against the wall across from her, I watch her warily. She's been in a mood for nearly a month.
Outside thunder crashes and lightning lights the sky--a rare thunderstorm on Dartmoor. The atmosphere seems only to aggravate her mood.
A low growl begins to emanate from my love and then the doll smashes into the wall next to me, its porcelain face shattering.
"I want it," Drusilla screams. "I want it now."
"Dru," I begin, trying to think of yet another way to steer her mind from her latest obsession. "Where will I find one in the middle of a thunderstorm in the middle of nowhere?"
"I don't care," she yells, stressing each word. "You brought me here, to the middle of nowhere, with only nasty sheep to eat."
"You had a fucking mob hunting you in Southampton," I protest. "We had to get out, get away."
"I hate sheep." She flings herself from the bed, her nightgown swirling around her slender body as she begins to pace. "I hate the cold and the rain and the emptiness. You promised. You promised you would give me anything I ever wanted."
The wheedling tone of her voice makes me sigh, but she's right. I had promised her anything. Reaching for her, I pull her into my arms, anticipating her instinctive struggling by turning her and pinning her to the wall. "Luv, what will we do with one?" I ask softly.
Warmth fills her eyes and she leans up to nip my lower lip. "Love it and it will love me back. I need that, my Spike." Her lips caress mine and her tongue flicks out and runs along one corner. Groaning, I open my mouth and kiss her deeply, knowing I'm sunk.
*****
What the fuck am I doing trouncing around on the moors, tripping over the stinking sheep, getting soaked and nearly fried once by lightning? It's only an hour till dawn. I've checked all the houses in a sixty mile radius--not that there are many, which is why we moved here.
So, on one of the highest points on the moor, I found an abandoned car and decided to follow the scent of the humans who stumbled away from it.
The scents' are faint, but one of them definitely fits the requirements. Now if I can just find them in the muck and the dark.
A pony whinnies a few feet from me and I groan as I step in something soft and smelly.
Damn ponies, damn rain, damn mission, damn Dru!
Stomping farther down the hill, I try to extend my hearing, shutting out the sounds of the rain, trying to locate the occupants of the car.
And why on Earth did they leave the road to wander the moor? Why did they leave the car at all?
Suddenly I hear a low whimper of pain, and I turn and hurry towards the sound. In the distance I see a lone tree and as I approach it, I spy the bundle of wet wool on the ground.
I smell the blood.
Dead. She's dead.
But, still the whimper sounds.
I'm running now, my agility keeping me from stumbling over rocks and hillocks. Falling to my knees next to the bundle, I turn it and light blonde hair and a battered feminine face fill my eyes. The woman's wearing a rough brown wool robe, almost like a monk's, and it's stained with blood.
She's dead. There's nothing I can do for her. Someone killed her. I can see a knife wound in her side through a tear in the robe.
But, she no longer interests me. It's what she was protecting, was curled around, the whimpering creature laying next to her that captures my gaze.
A tiny infant, wrapped in a dirty once-white blanket.
Carefully I pick it up. I've never held a baby, but it fits easily into my arms. It's shivering--wet and nearly blue from the cold. Shrugging out of my jacket, I wrap it around the tiny thing, and begin to run back towards my car, my only thought on keeping the child alive.
*****
Drenched to the bone, muddy from trouncing across the moor, hungry and tired, I reach the house with only a few minutes to spare before dawn. The rain has stopped and as I lift the now sleeping baby from the passenger seat, I see the clouds clear revealing the reddening sky to the East.
Carrying the baby inside the house, I immediately go to our bedroom, eager to give my princess her present.
She's waiting at the door, as if she knows my mission was successful. Joy lights her face and she reaches for the bundle in my arms, carefully slipping the infant from my jacket and cradling it close.
"Ooooh, Spike. She's so beautiful," Drusilla croons.
"How do you know it's a she?"
"I just know. Just as I knew it was right to send you out tonight to find her."
The baby wakes, crying softly and nuzzling against Drusilla's breast. I hadn't even thought about what we'd do if we found a baby. What do baby's eat? "Dru..."
"We need nappies and clean clothes for our little darling," she orders as she walks over to the bed, rocking her baby. I watch her, my mind whirling with the implications. Drusilla can't even keep a bird alive for more than a few days! How is she going to keep a baby?
And, what if the exposure to the elements has made the baby sick? How are two vampires supposed to take care of a sick baby?
I'm beginning to panic and my eyes flash over to Drusilla and I gasp.
The baby is suckling at her breast.
I can sense the magic in the air. Drusilla's woven a spell. She's produced milk--magic, vampiric milk.
I'm gaping, I can't help it, but the look of exquisite joy on my lover's face determines my course of action. I'll do anything to keep her happy, even helping her keep a human baby alive.
"I'll just go get those nappies and stuff," I hear myself saying, knowing full well that the nearest store is an hour's drive away, doesn't open until ten in the morning, and the sun is rising outside.
Drusilla beckons me with one hand and I go to her helplessly. Catching my hand she pulls me down to sit next to her, love shining in her eyes. "She's so beautiful, Spike. Our little daughter."
The baby's hand flails out and catches my finger, wrapping tightly around it. A little blue eye opens and looks up at me. And I feel myself surrounded by warmth. I feel myself smiling and I brush my lips across Drusilla's forehead.
"Yeah, she's a beauty, luv. What do you want to name her?"
Drusilla unwraps part of the blanket and I see a name embroidered in the soft wool. "She's already named."
And I think that her name is just perfect, for the little mite has survived a lot already and her life with two vampires will be a struggle. As my mind fills with all the things that babies, then little girls need to survive and thrive, I whisper her name and smile.
"Zoe..."
End