darn it, I wanted to finish this scene tonight, but sleep insists.
Birdsong outside his window woke Xander, and he opened his eyes to whitewashed walls and a tiled floor. He was momentarily disoriented, but it was kind of nice. Somewhere bread was baking.
This was a smaller room than the one Anya had been given when they were here last. The ancient rope-strung bed was surprisingly comfortable, but he'd been unable to really settle down to sleep until he'd shamefacedly lit the candle in the lantern on the table. He wasn't afraid of the dark, but the dark in Sunnydale was a less thick and impenetrable thing than the darkness in the mountains in a building that was still ignorant of all forms of electricity. He'd actually spent five minutes marveling at how much light his digital watch could give off. But once he had a little light, he'd been able to settle down to a good night's rest.
Odds were he wouldn't get a crack at the washroom this morning. He'd gotten in late enough last night that he was able to get a proper bath without upsetting respectable female eyes. Still, there was enough water in the jug on the table to go on with. This simple life had its advantages. He wondered how big a solar panel he'd need to run a TV and satellite dish off of.
They were done with morning Mass and halfway through breakfast when Xander realized he hadn't had any of the usual dreams that plagued him in Sunnydale. Whether that was a result of him not having that one extra beer before bed or not having visitors lurking at the windows, he wasn't sure. But he liked this feeling, the one of actually getting enough sleep. He should have that stable finished in record time.
Baynar didn't show up to help for an hour or so. Maybe his mother held Sunday School or something for little demons. Xander heard him coming, calling "Za-er!" as he came.
"Right here, guy, I haven't gone anywhere yet." He pulled out the board he'd been saving as Baynar dashed in. "Just in time, I need somebody to hold this end up while I nail it in." Baynar bounced excitedly.
Another hour saw the end of the tool-using portion of the job. Xander was giving the attentive Baynar a lecture on the importance of cleaning up the jobsite when he realized they had an audience. Joyce was leaning in the doorway, smiling that maternally pleased smile that was so bizarrely disturbing. Baynar squeaked a little at seeing her, but he only took a cautious step closer to Xander instead of actually running for cover.
"Hey, Mrs. Summers. What can I do for you?"
She looked a little apologetic. "Well, I was wondering when you wanted to get going home."
Home. That was supposed to be a happier sounding word. "Never?"
She nodded. "I know."
She joined him in staring out over the valley, the crops in the field peacefully growing, the mountains in the distance.
"But," Joyce sighed, "we can't stay. It's not our place."
"It could be," Xander said. "Without too much trouble at all, this or someplace like it could easily be my place. It's quiet here. Peaceful."
"You're too young to be looking for peace and quiet." She smiled when she said it, but the smile faded as she looked at him.
"Young," he mused. "I remember being young, once." He squared his shoulders. "But, yes, you've got other places to be and footloose and fancy-free daughters to be scolding. When did you want to leave?"