"I am running laps in my head trying to remember everything for the math test this afternoon," Nadja complained, opening her carton of chocolate milk.
"A squared plus B squared equals C squared," Beth reminded her and Nadja shot her a dirty look. "Why are we eating at a different location?"
Instead of the normal tree they occupied the space under, Nadja had insisted upon relocating to the benches on the patio beside the basketball court a couple of upper classmen were playing on. It was louder and more crowded, whereas by the tree had been much more nice and generally private.
Nadja frowned. "So Zack doesn't think he can come over and 'hang out' with us whenever he wants. If he can't see us, he can't eat with us. He won't wander around looking for us."
That made enough sense, considering Beth couldn't see the ivy-covered fence from where they were currently eating. It made more sense considering how much Nadja seemed to dislike Zack, though the origins of that were still a mystery (right now it was just "dunno, he's annoying").
"Any updates on our Great Bellevue Mystery?" Nadja asked.
"I wish. Still zip. My dad complains more and more about the demons, but doesn't put two and two together. I'm starting to wonder if it's just me who's thinking the two are related. Maybe what I saw was just a bust."
"I don't know, my Beebee Esmeralda called my father to tell him that she was seeing a lot of big, hulking things out at the edge of her property. She lives closer in-town, so my dad's pretty concerned. He and my uncles plan to go and work some mojo to help clean the place out. Zack's excited because they've decided to take him as a 'practice' type adventure. I hope he scares himself silly."
"Wow. You really got something against him, don't you?" she asked. "I'm detecting some real resentment."
"He's just so annoying," Nadja groaned. "You're my friend. He's got his own."
She raised an eyebrow at Nadja's statement and quirked a smile. "What, don't like to share?"
"It's not that, it's just—" Nadja sighed. "Look, when he got into high school, he didn't want anything to do with me or Lisa. He had all his 'cool' friends and didn't want to hang out with his dorky younger cousin. And now that I'm friends with you, he's acting all friendly with me again, asking if I want to watch a movie together or go to the lake or whatever. I'm getting him back. He thinks I have cool friends again? Well, he'll just have to be the outsider now."
"Friend, singular," Beth reminded her. "Unless you're running with some underground gang and you didn't tell me, which is kind of rude."
"Yeah, but you're cool enough to be maybe six people."
She snorted. "Six seems like a lot. Trust me, there is not enough of me to go around. Two at the most."
"The soul thing, right?" Nadja guessed and she nodded.
"Got a human soul and a demon soul. Freaked that coven witch out when she did the soul aura reading on me. She thought I was hiding some pygmy demon in my pocket. Which, I totally would have been if my dad would let me play with them. But no, fire and sharp claws, blah blah blah."
Nadja grinned. "So, if we split you in two, I could have two friends?" she joked.
"Yeah, one that would probably kill you for kicks and the other who wouldn't be able to defend herself, much less you. Is dying on your to-do list today?"
"Well then, I guess it's a good thing there's nothing in this world that can split people."
"Well, about that—"
A loud crack of thunder interrupted Beth, and made a few girls shriek unnecessarily. "Oh, does this mean inside lunch?" she moaned. Those were the worst.
"It might mean an entire power outage and we can go home early!" Nadja cheered quietly.
"And then a power outage at your house too."
"I have entertainment besides electronics, you know!"
She raised a skeptical eyebrow, but said nothing more.
As it turned out, Nadja was right. Power was a no-show about halfway through sixth period. It hadn't helped that they had been watching a film in that class and so when the power went out, none of the windows were open so they were plunged into darkness. More girls screamed and Beth hoped this wasn't a normal thing. If she flicked off the light switch, would they scream then too?
All the security lights went on though the hallways and students were directed to the auditorium, which Beth thought was a little weird. Such an action left the auditorium stuffed with the principal and vice principal up on the stage trying to wrangle in the crowd. Jim Jones wouldn't have had an easier time making people listen to him than the administrators could. These kids were raucous and probably close to some widespread anarchy. Soon they'd be chanting "Down with the Man!" or whatever phrase hippy, anarchists without a clue shouted at authority. "Fuck Da Police" was probably a contender.
She barely heard the principal shouting something about bus numbers and parent pick-up over the roar of the student body who had made it their personal goal to drown out anything that came out of the man's mouth. It would be funny if it wasn't for the fact that she probably wanted to hear what he said.
Apparently, the school had called home because Willow had driven up to get Beth. She had barely heard her name being shouted (oh, what the VP wouldn't have given for a megaphone and for the damn kids to shut the hell up) over the crowd. The teachers did their best to collect the correct students, but gave up and let everyone go. Kids spilled out of the front of the school, either heading for the bus loop or lollygagging around on the grass.
"Power's out across the neighborhood," Willow told her when they both got into the car. The storm was raging above their head and in the loud auditorium, she had been unable to hear it over all the students. Outside, it was no longer vying for anyone's attention. "I was in the middle of my show and then zap! Power's all gone out. It was just getting good too."
"Nature wanted you to suffer," Beth informed her knowingly.
Willow pouted. "After all I do for it?"
At home, with no power, she resorted to a game of Solitaire and Willow went on a search for a flashlight. Wherever that flashlight was, it wasn't in their house. Out of all the things they had packed, had that been the one thing they forgot? Wasn't that a terrible thing?
"Are Mum and Dad asleep? They were asleep when I got up this morning," she asked, getting her ass thoroughly kicked by the deck of cards. She needed a six of hearts or diamonds. Why couldn't she have that? Didn't she deserve that at the least? She peeked under some of the cards, trying to find it. Cheating was fine as long as the other players were okay with it, and since Beth was the only one playing, she told herself it was okay.
"Got back late last night. They've been asleep since they got home," Willow replied. "You'll be fine here for a moment? I've got to drive down to the mailbox."
Beth, not taking her eyes off the cards (she found that six of diamonds, the dirty little sneak, hiding under the seven of clubs she wanted to put it over), raised her right hand. "I solemnly swear not to hurt myself or others in the lack of adult supervision. The stove doesn't even work, there's little I can do really."
"Point taken," Willow said, grabbing the keys off their hook by the door. "I'll be gone only a few short seconds."
"And I promise not to injure myself in that time, but darn it, will I try." She heard the door close behind her, not a reply to be made. She snickered to herself, sure her aunt was just about done with her sarcasm.
The house was quiet, save the occasionally rumble of thunder, which was preceded by a bright flash of lightning, and her quiet mumbling under her breath. She had a tendency to curse when she played Solitaire, probably because of all the Poker Games Spike had played with the Watchers in Scotland. He said he liked cleaning all those "pansies" out, but he cursed a lot when he was losing, britishisms too. And here Spike had thought she didn't know them. What could Beth say? To a five-year-old, "tosser" was a funny word.
"You're home?" Beth turned around to see her mother standing under the archway, confusion on her face. "It's what," she looked at the clock on the wall, "two?"
"Power's out," she explained, returning to her card game. "What counts as cheating in Solitaire?"
"Looking under the turned over cards, exactly what you're doing," Buffy replied.
"Shoot. I suck at this game."
"Where's Wills?"
"Mail," Beth told her. "We still get paper mail?"
"The Council sends paper mail because they're all old, stuffy British people who don't know how to use e-mail."
"They need to get with the time, like several decades ago."
She snorted. "Tell me about it. Ugh, I wanted to make some coffee, but you said the power's out."
"We have juice," Beth told her and her mother made a face.
"Here, come sit with me in the kitchen while I find something to wake me up," Buffy asked. "Keep your voice down though, your dad's still sleeping."
She nodded and followed her mother into the kitchen. Buffy found herself a croissant and stuffed it in her mouth as she pulled a cup out of the cupboard. "Any soda?" She asked around the croissant.
Beth, sitting at the kitchen table in the nook, shrugged. "Probably. I don't think we have diet though. Just regular coke."
She made a face, but pulled a can out of the fridge. She poured it into her mug, just like she was drinking coffee. Beth found it a little amusing and she quirked a small smile.
"Last night was a mess if I ever saw one," Buffy complained as she sat down, finally taking the croissant out of her mouth. "My jacket is ruined, I know it."
"Well, you can always buy a new one," she suggested.
Buffy made a face. "But I liked that jacket. It was old, but a favorite. There's no way I'll find another one like it. Your dad didn't understand why I was so upset. He said it was just a jacket, but then I threw some of the gunk on his duster and he got my point immediately."
She snorted out laughter, picturing the furious look on her father's face when Buffy got the monster guts on his precious duster. What a wimp.
She heard the front door open, signaling Willow's return from the mailbox. "Oh, you're up," Willow commented when she saw Buffy sitting at the table. "You look beat."
Buffy nodded forlornly. "And I get to do it all again tonight. I've been thinking of taking out the Slayer weapon. It's a bit too conspicuous, but it might help thin the herds a bit."
"Well, I got the mail. Nothing from the Council, but there's something from Beth's school here," Willow said, sorting through the mail.
"Probably some PTA thing," Buffy muttered. "All they want is money."
"It's a private school," Willow reminded her. "Your money is the reason Beth goes."
"Hey! I'm smart too," Beth interjected hotly.
"Just give it here," Buffy said, holding out her hand for the letter. Willow handed it over dutifully, and she tore the envelope open, yanking out its contents and skimming her eyes over it. Her eyes widened and she seemed to slow her reading, actually taking the time to see what the letter told her.
"What?" she shrieked, making both Beth and Willow jump.
"What? What?" Willow asked, Buffy's tone making her frantic.
Buffy stood up, coke and croissant forgotten, the chair scraping against the tiled floor. "They have got to be kidding," she growled.
"What?" Beth asked, irritated. "Is the next meeting mandatory? Just send Dad all punked-out. They'll take one look at him and let him know he's an exception."
Buffy sputtered some more, making angry, incoherent noises. Someone was going to die, Beth just knew it. She only hoped she could watch.
"What's with the yellin'?" Spike asked tiredly, walking into the kitchen. "The world endin'?"
"No," Buffy grumbled. "Look at this." She thrust the letter into Spike's hands, though he looked none too happy about being brought into this. He began to read aloud:
"Dear Mr. and Mrs. Summers, We are writing to inform you that your daughter, Elizabeth J. Summers, has been expelled from—"
"Expelled?" Beth shrieked, standing up just as suddenly as Buffy had. "What did I do?"
"You got expelled?" he asked in a low, bordering on dangerous tone. He sounded angry. Buffy sounded righteous.
"They can't expel you!" Buffy shouted.
"What did you do?" he asked Beth, his tone never wavering.
"I didn't do a thing!" she snapped. "This is totally unfair! I haven't even gotten detention, let alone expulsion. Until now! I swear, whatever they think I'm involved in, I have nothing to do with it."
"Oh dear," Willow mumbled, looking between Beth and Spike as she wrung her hands nervously. "Okay, let's sort this out. Buffy, what did the letter say?"
"It said for 'disorderly conduct' that jeopardized the safety of the students," Buffy spat.
"Have you been taking anythin' to school? Showin' off an' the like?" Spike asked.
"I already told you: no," Beth retorted. "I've been a model student this entire time! I know better than to practice at school. I'm not daft."
"This is ridiculous," Buffy griped. "It says we have until the end of the week to clear Beth's stuff out of her locker and since it's a private school, I can't take it up with the state. It's 'privately-funded'. I guess that translates into they can do whatever they damn well please. You know what? I'm going to call them. No, even better, I'm going to march right up there and talk to those Suit and Ties. They think they can just do this?"
Spike ran his hand through his hair, which was all curly from sleep. "Buffy, calm down. We'll get this sorted out, alright? They have to tell us more than 'disorderly conduct.'"
"Yeah, that could be anything," Willow added. "Like skipping class or yelling too much."
"None of which I do," Beth cut in. "Like I said, model student. Right here. You're looking at her in all her five-foot three glory. But what about classes? I have school tomorrow. Is this like immediately in effect or is there some sort of grace period, like for changes in speed signs?"
"You step foot on their property and that'll get you arrested," Spike informed her.
"So no school for me until Mum sorts this all out?" Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.
"Don't act so excited. You got expelled," he reminded her, "an' there's consequences for that."
"I told you I didn't do anything. This probably is all due to my continued pursual of the disappearances. I swear, the school is involved. A teacher once told me too much and then she was gone the next day. Poof!"
"Look, I got expelled from school once. Everything will be fine," Buffy said, finally calming down though she still looked ready to make a couple of heads roll. Then again, she always kind of looked like that.
"Because they thought you killed a girl," Willow reminded her gently.
"What?" Beth said.
"And you were innocent," Willow added.
"What?" Beth repeated. "Killed who?"
"When were you expelled?" Spike asked.
"It was your girlfriend's fault," Buffy accused him. "If you could have kept an eye on Drusilla more—"
"I was in a wheelchair!"
"You were faking it!"
"To take down Angelus!"
"Guys!" Willow interrupted loudly. "Can we take a trip down memory lane later? Beth's been expelled based on no evidence and she's currently without education. That's illegal."
"Am I a truant?" Beth asked. "Is this going on my permanent record? Is it?"
"I will fix this," Buffy exclaimed, spreading her arms out. "I will go to the school and get a better explanation then that thing—," she pointed at the paper Spike was still holding, "—and then I will get Beth re-enrolled at St. Renevier's. I'm Buffy Anne Summers. I'm tough. I always win."
-.-
Contrary to her belief, Buffy did not in fact always win. She lost. Terribly. Buffy got council, but the principal would have none of it. He refused to allow Beth back into school, though he said she could reapply for the fall semester. Buffy put up quite a fuss, but the man was grounded. He believed his actions firmly and refused to budge. Buffy left, annoyed and defeated, probably denting a few walls on her way out.
Unfortunately, this did not mean Beth stopped going to school. Oh no, she wished though. No, instead she got to go to public school. She'd heard enough about those places to say it exactly like that. Beth had never gone to public school. First, she had been homeschooled, which was an experience that she didn't have enough time to get into. And then she had gone to the Slayer Academy, a school obviously very selective of its attendees. And finally, St. Renevier's All Girls School, and while not incredibly exclusive, a person still needed money and the grades to get in.
First off, Bellevue High School had both girls and boys. She knew her parents had chosen St. Renevier's because it was an all-girls school. Beth knew boys, yes, but she didn't know boys. Frankly, the only times she'd seen many men interacting at once was between her dad and Uncle Xander, and then Zack with his cousins, both of which were a different kind of bad experience for numerous reasons (read: alcohol and hormonal stupidity respectively). And now she was supposed to sit in class with them, like she knew what they'd do. What did they do? Beth had only ever gone to school with girls. Was a classroom with boys different?
And then there was the uniforms. Yes, Beth had hated the uniforms, especially the skirt, but something about birds of a feather and all that jazz meant that even in her hate, she grew—dare she say?—fond of them? Except she'd swap out the skirt for pants any day. Now, there was a dress code, but it was so much laxer. She wore her boots to school. To school! And jeans with rips only below the knee! It was madness beyond comprehension.
She stared up at the front of the school, clutching the strap of her backpack. The high school had taken her, despite how difficult her father had said it would be to get her into another school. Score Zero for Spike, it seemed. She stood frozen, feeling her first day of school starting all over again. Goddesses, she was halfway through the second semester, how much did she want to stick out exactly? No one noticed her thankfully, probably due to the sheer size of the student body. That was another thing: there were nearly 1500 students attending. The Slayer Academy had around 200 and then St. Renevier's topped out at 400.
She brushed past students, finding her way towards the administrator's office, probably to get a little chewing out about being one of "disorderly conduct" now. She looked down at her clothes. Maybe she shouldn't have gone with some much black.
She found the door with the words ADMINISTRATORS OFFICE stamped on the frosted glass. She opened the door and found herself in the little carpeted office. The woman behind the desk didn't even look up when she entered, her eyes focused on whatever papers she was currently dealing with.
"Um, hello?" she began. Her strong point was dealing with authority figures since she all but considered herself the Law (hello, if Buffy got to be, why couldn't she? She knew things). The woman looked up.
"Yes?" she asked. She sounded tired for the day just beginning. Whoo, was that woman in for a helluva day.
"I just transferred here, Elizabeth Summers," she stated. "I was told to report to the office on my first day for scheduling."
The woman nodded, turning towards her computer and typing something in. "Ah, expulsion." Beth winced. Her mother had assured her that expulsion wasn't all that bad, but Buffy had apparently only been falsely accused of murder and then cleared, making people not spit out the word "expulsion." Such a dirty word.
The woman pushed off the floor and her chair rolled to the other side where the filing cabinets were. She flicked through the files until she pulled out one relatively thin folder. She rolled back over and opened it on her desk. Inside, Beth noticed a picture that had been taken of her for her Slayer Academy ID when she was twelve. Well, wasn't that old thing a site? Beth hadn't even looked at the ID since she moved here. It was essentially useless, since she was neither a slayer nor a potential-in-training.
"Well, at least you're not a repeat offender," the woman sighed.
Beth raised an eyebrow. "Is that a common occurrence?"
"We take a lot of expelled students from St. Renevier's and St. Jude's," the woman explained. She finally caught sight of her badge beneath her pale cream cardigan: Mrs. Madigan. Mrs. Madigan looked like she needed a smoking break.
"Oh," was all Beth replied. Mrs. Madigan pulled a paper out of the folder before closing it, handing the paper to Beth. It was her schedule. First period Math. Yuck. And Family Consumers Science? Could Beth just explain that she was probably never going to get married due to her "condition," and thus it was unnecessary to teach her family stuff? Plus, science? Whatever was that word doing there?
"We tried to give you the same classes so you wouldn't be so behind, but art was filled up, so we threw you in another class. You'll be exempt from the final, but talk to the teacher about any work you may have to catch up on."
Oh, she was just so excited to get started on that! Screw this, she was getting down to the bottom of these disappearances and getting her ass back in St. Renervier's. She'd welcome the skirts.
"Also, instead of Tutorial, you'll be seeing the counselor every Tuesday, starting today."
"Ah, why?" Beth inquired.
"You're marked down as an 'at-risk' student. Every student that's seen as susceptible to criminal or even gang activity has to see the counselor. Yours is Mr. Watcher. He's the counselor for all freshman."
At-risk? Oh, they didn't know how much of a risk she could be! Ignoring the fact that her counselor's name was Mr. Watcher (for the love of all things good and pure in this world, why?), she left the office, out on the prowl for her classroom. Buffy had told her to make friends, but Beth thought that was pointless. No way was she staying long.
-.-
She took her tray and walked herself to the library, hoping to eat in relative peace. Her phone was buzzing incessantly, no doubt Nadja who was experiencing lunchtime blues without her food companion. Nadja had been outraged that they had kicked Beth out of St. Renevier's, and then when Beth told her why they did, she became worried they'd kick her out too, saying how her mother would kill her. Beth told her not to worry. She was the instigator. Take out the source of the problem and ta-dah, problem gone, just like magic! Beth was the problem child. Nadja was safe, for now. But another kid had gone up and disappeared, a boy this time, sophomore. Had been walking over to a friend's house to stay the night and never made it. The only reason Nadja had even heard was because the boy had been the neighbor of one of Zack's friends. The more people that got picked up, the more Beth fidgeted.
"Trying to avoid the cafeteria roar too?"
Beth stopped mid-chew to look over at the source of the voice. It belonged to a scrawny boy wearing a t-shirt two sizes too big. He looked like he was skin stretched over bone and Beth wondered if maybe he was half Gjorink. They tended to be very bony.
He readjusted his wire-framed glasses, smiling at her. She didn't like his smile. It was creepy. Sure, Mr. Wells looked ten different kinds of uncomfortable when he smiled, but he also looked harmless. This was the kid that if pushed too far, let loose the hounds of hell on a school. Which, according to Buffy, was something kids actually did.
"No," she responded. "Came here so I wouldn't have to talk to anyone."
Her point flew so far over the kid's head, it was currently orbiting the earth as a satellite.
"Oh. Well, I like the peace and quiet here," the boy responded. He stuck out his hand, equally a skinny. "I'm Samson."
She shook his hand, wondering why her narrowed eyes and slightly set downturn of her mouth wasn't making him scoot away. It did everyone else. Of course, everyone else also knew she was part vampire. Could she flash a little fang without trouble?
"Beth," she responded.
"Nice to meet you, Beth. I don't think I've seen you around here before. I'd've noticed you. What grade are you in?"
How was this kid so far off about her vibe? She was pretty certain she was giving off "bugger off" vibes. She wasn't here to make friends. She had disappearances to get to the bottom of!
"Freshman. I transferred from St. Renevier's." And will be transferring back as soon as possible, thank-you.
He perked up. "St. Renevier's? That's the school for girls, right? My younger brother goes to St. Jude's'. He's a freshman too."
He was scrambling to make conversation, apparently unaware that since she didn't go to St. Jude's, the chances of her having any awareness of his brother were nil. He was looking at her like a lost puppy, and she didn't know what to do with him.
"Cool," she responded, trying to sound bored. One-word response, that would give him the brush-off, right?
Unfortunately, Samson was thicker than the wood of a stake used to kill a vampire, and he kept on talking. "I like your shirt. You into the Sex Pistols? That's cool. A lot of people don't respect British Rock."
She refrained from letting out a snort, though she desperately wanted to. Had this kid not heard of the Beatles or was he hoping to win her over through a shared interest?
"It was my dad's."
"Oh, so your dad musta gotten you into the music then? He a big fan?"
Saw'em live, kiddo.
"Yeah." He had been the Sid Vicious to Drusilla's Nancy Spungen, though without all the murdering. Well, murdering of other people, yes. Each other, only attempted. Spike never got that far.
"Cool. So your dad and you must be real close."
"Yep." Boy, was she bad at giving people the brush-off. What was it about her that was keeping him around? For most of her life, she had struggled to keep people around her, as most of them hurried the opposite way with a sneer on their face when they saw her. Was there something in the water in Bellevue? She was pretty sure her monosyllabic answers insinuated her lack of interest in continuing this conversation. Of course, she could have just told him off, but she didn't want to be mean simply because he lacked whatever social skill it was that would have told him she wasn't interested in talking to him right now. She wanted to stew in her agitation. Like a good soup.
Samson kept up a steady stream of conversation, oblivious or simply ignoring Beth's lack of care through her monosyllabic response. He just adapted to asking "yes" or "no" questions. Smart kid. But all would be good soon. She was going to get to the bottom if the disappearances and soon, Samson and public school would be nothing but a distant memory.
-.-
"How're you feeling today, Miss Summers?" Mr. Watcher asked as soon as Beth sat down. She refrained from slouching over like the delinquent everyone thought she was. How many dirty looks had she gotten from teachers? No wonder "at-risk" students were potential gang members and future prison inmates. Then hostility could be cut with a knife.
"A little apprehensive." Did that make her sound smart and worthy of saving?
Mr. Watcher's eyebrows rose above his glasses. He was slightly balding and wore a tweed suit. He wasn't British, but he sure looked like a council member. She remembered how she had once heard that people long ago took names after their jobs. Smith, blacksmith, and such. Maybe this guy came from a family of watchers. Did he know about the inner workings of the demon world?
"And why is that?"
She shrugged. Oh wait, no. Don't shrug. Only degenerates shrugged. "New School. It's always a bit hard to adjust at first, especially so far into the year."
He nodded knowingly. "Yes, we've had many students come over from St. Renevier's and St. Jude's at all different times of the year. Most have little to no trouble adjusting, so I'm sure you'll do just fine." She wanted to know what happened to the few who had trouble adjusting.
"Now, I looked over your folder—," she leaned forward to see the file open on his desk and there was the photo again, "—and it seems you had a little trouble at your old school in Scotland too. Said you had trouble making friends."
Oh hell no. Who wrote that? Were Giles' notes in there? He said those were for research purposes, not her academia!
Back came the shrug, despite her internal protests at its presence. "It can be hard being the daughter of a famous Slayer. Some girls thought I was stuck-up." Such lies spilt forth from her lips, but dammit, she wasn't explaining her vampire condition. That surely wasn't in her records. That was locked up under the watchful (snicker) eyes of the Watcher's Council, keeping Beth's identity as the Prophecy Girl safely protected. All anyone ever knew was that Buffy was a Slayer and Spike had some questionable papers, both of whom were still her legitimate parents.
"Understandable," he responded, hands folded and resting under his chin, looking like every stereotypical therapist. And how does that make you feel?
"I had friends," she assured the counselor. Sure, neither of them went to school with her, and one had about thirty years on her, but irrelevant!
He smiled. "I never said you didn't. Did you leave any friends in St. Renevier's?"
She nodded vigorously. "I was very popular there." Not entirely a lie. Most of the girls were friendly and on good-terms with Beth. Small class sizes could do that.
"That's good to here. I hope you'll be popular here as well, just not with the detention hall, I hope?"
She nodded vigorously again. Calm, or else he'd think she was on drugs or something with all her head-bobbing. "Of course. Fresh start, right?"
He grinned widely and she thought him a fool if he bought that. "That's great news to here."
-.-
Beth didn't know how many times she'd be wrong today, but it was counting up to a lot. Since she no longer went to St. Renevier's and thus got out at a different time then Zack and Nadja, and no one was available at home to pick her up, it meant she had to ride the bus. And, lo and behold, guess who rode the bus too? Good lord, she changed her mind: Samson wasn't a puppy, he was a bad penny.
"Hey, Beth!" he greeted, scooting over in his seat to let her sit down next to him. She briefly considered evacuating the bus out the window like they told kids to in those drills schools sometimes gave, but decided not to. Home was far and she didn't want to walk. Zack had offered to pick her up as long as she waited, but Mr. Watcher had asked her about her transportation home. He implied that her loitering around would not do anything to improve her status as an "at-risk" student. She was also all but banned from ever going near the school bleachers, unless at a game or school assembly. Did students really smoke there? Beth thought bathrooms were all the rage.
"Hello," she sighed tiredly. What she wouldn't give to be left alone like she had back at the slayer academy.
"You seem out of it. Long day?"
She nodded. "I had to talk to the counselor and will have to every Tuesday."
"Oh, they pegged you at-risk? I figured."
Beth turned to look at him, eyes narrowed in question. "And by that you mean?"
He flapped his lips a bit, looking for the right way to word his next sentence. "You know, with the way you dress, you kind of look like a punk." He gestured toward her clothes, which she had picked out since that was what she wore on weekends. Having spent months in uniform, she lost her edge when it came to knowing what to wear around fellow students and those pesky administrators.
"Not punk, but a punk?" she asked to clarify.
"Well, yes punk, but also a punk."
Knew it. "Huh," she responded.
"You act like it a bit too. If you're not careful, some kids might start approaching you for drugs and stuff," he warned. She gave him a look a warning look, one which he misunderstood. He quickly backed up over his last words, shaking his head. "Unless you're into that stuff, which is totally fine with me. Yup, no problem."
She looked at him with bewilderment over just how quickly he was willing to drop his morals for her. Did he have a crush on her? She wasn't sure what to do with that information. But with the way he was acting, she was pretty sure he'd do drugs with her, even heroin if she asked him to. Well then he ought to be relieved her parents raised her better than that (also it was like really hard to sneak drugs and alcohol into the academy).
"I'm not," she told him and he let out a relieved breath. The bus lurched forward and she hoped it would be a short ride. She wanted Bellevue High and Samson out of her head.
When they got to her stop, Beth was regretful to see Samson stand up as well. "You live here as well?" he asked with such hope in his voice.
"Yes," Beth got out. Dammit. Dammit dammit dammit. Now he would never leave, not ever. Please, if there's a Power up there who likes me, please let him live in the opposite direction of me so he doesn't see which house is mine.
No dice. The Universe was laughing its butt off. He walked in the same direction as her, happy to see that she lived so close.
"Maybe we can hang out later," he offered as they approached her house
"I'm busy," she replied. She felt a little bad about being so short with him, but she didn't have time for him. She had a mystery to solve and her expulsion to scrub off her record. She wanted to get into a good college anyway, become an architect or something, and teach jujitsu on the weekend. Nowhere in that plan was there space to "make friends with Samson."
But, of course, her own people-pleasing guilt came up when she saw the slightly crestfallen look on his face and she groaned internally. He wasn't that bad honestly, and she certainly knew what it felt like to be left out, but she couldn't waste any of her time of anything other than getting back into St. Renevier's. "Look, I have a lot of stuff going on in my personal life at the moment that's sucking up all of my free time. Maybe later, alright? Once everything's cleaned up." Which, she hoped, wouldn't take too long.
He grinned at that. "Okay," he said happily.
She left him at the sidewalk as she walked up the drive to her house. He waved goodbye, continuing to walk down the street toward whatever house was his. Beth didn't bother to find out. She had things to do.
-.-
When Spike and Buffy came home later that night after a long meeting with official people concerned about the creature of the black lagoon or whatever was occupying Lake Sammamish, Beth nearly bombarded them.
"I do not want to go back," she said quickly. "They're making me talk to the counselor. Forcibly. They've labeled me as 'at-risk,' and look at me like they expect me to pull out a joint and start smoking right there in lab!"
"Beth, honey, there's nothing I can do right now," her mother apologized. "When I talked to your principal, he had all these forged papers about you being in detention and getting written up. He even had the nerve to show me some forms he 'sent home,' saying you forged them. I've seen you forge Spike's signature and you do a lot better than that!"
"No," Beth moaned, falling down on the couch.
"If the school's tied up in all these disappearances, couldn't we get the Council involved?" Spike asked, having finally been won over to Beth's side. He knew his daughter and she was no trouble maker, save those few magical incidents. Inconsequential.
"We don't have any hardcore evidence, save some stories. I never actually saw anything in the woods," Buffy complained. "We have nothing. I could ask the Council to do a search into the school, but they'd have to call them and let them know. That'd give them time to clean up before the Council arrived. No one would keep their Occult and Demonic Ritual texts out on the table."
"It can't be that bad there, pet," he soothed, sitting down beside his daughter and smoothing down her hair.
"Oh, but it is. They think I'm you. Well, old you, when you lit things on fire for fun," she explained. "I don't deserve this. I'm a good person. I've never even cheated on a test. Is this what I deserve? Karma is a load of bull!"
"We'll get this sorted out, I promise," her mother assured her. "I know we will. If my mother can get my back into school, then so can I. I am the daughter of Joyce Summers and dammit, I will not let this stand."
Beth looked up briefly to see Buffy standing there, chin titled up and hands on her hips, ready to take on the world in her genuine leather ankle boots.
"No offense intended love, but you're not the most persuasive talkers I've ever met," Spike hedged.
"I can be persuasive," she retorted, offended that her own husband doubted her skill.
"With your fists," he added.
"Fists, words, same diff right?"
Beth looked at her dad. "Help?" she whispered.
"Can't say I can, love," he told her. "Don't look the part."
"We could get a wig."
"Does nobody think I can do this?" Buffy cried.
"If we end these disappearances once an' for all, fists flying, we can get Beth back in school," Spike decided. "Negotiate the way you know how, love."
"So we beat the crap out of the hooded men and find out the school's involvement, and get Beth back in school?" Buffy asked.
"Exactly."
"I approve," Beth announced. She tried not to think about how long it could take, getting all this sorted out. They'd barely made any move forward since Beth had made the deduction about the increase in demons and what a small baby step that had been. No new information was coming up and students were just going missing. They needed a breakthrough and Beth was going to need to hit the books to get one.
A/N: Oh, what shall happen now that Beth has been expelled? I felt like the story wound down there for a little bit, so hopefully no one got too bored. Not too many chapters left to this story (yes, that means there's a lot more to come), so we'll get our mystery solved soon enough!