A/N: And I'm back! Real quick, for anyone new here: Please note that this is not the first story! This is a sequel to "Welcome to Bellevue!" If you're interested in reading this story, it might be best to read that one first. Not saying you have to, but I dunno, you might get confused.
For everyone else, welcome back and I hope you enjoy the second installment!
Beth swatted at another mosquito, trying to enjoy the warm summer heat without an annoying buzzing in her ear, but damn, was that mosquito persistent. This was probably what having a three year-old was like and for once she was relieved she'd probably never be able to settle down and have kids. Maybe her parents were happy to have her, but they were just going to have to forget about grandkids. Her mom might be sad, but seeing all the dirty looks her dad gave her friend Zack, she figured he'd be happiest putting her in a monastery anyway. Such an idea was all kinds of blasphemy and sacrilegious that she would think, but also equal parts funny for the very same reason. Not to mention her dad had on occasion mentioned Drusilla's love for dressing like a nun, so that was a career (ahem, lifestyle) Beth was going to steer clear of. And to add on the Vampire-related creepiness, Angelus liked nuns. And when Angelus likes things, you do your best to not do those things.
"Here," Zack said, walking down the wooden dock to where Beth was trying in vain to suntan. She would burn probably, with her extra sensitivity to sun. She really hated that. Why couldn't her parents wait until after her dad was human to make with the metaphorical beasts with two backs? Of course, the built-in condom of vampire infertility probably played into the reasoning of why they didn't, but still. She didn't want to be so goddamn pale.
"Thanks," she replied, taking the coke from his hand. She hadn't really known Zack all that well when summer kicked off in June, but with Nadja spending her time at summer camp, something she was sorely upset about for some reason (did Nadja not realize not bad things happened at summer camp?), Zack was kind of the only person around. Plus, his house was lake front property. And he had a boat. A nice one that his dad had taught him to drive. She wasn't missing out on that golden opportunity.
He sat down next to her on his towel, still slightly damp from when she had dunked his head under water because he had thought it funny to throw her in the lake hours earlier. "Ready for school next week?" he asked conversationally, and she groaned.
"Was there a reason you had to bring that up?" she asked, sitting up from her towel to take a drink.
He shrugged and she couldn't tell if he was looking at her from behind his sunglasses. He was smiling though, so maybe he reveled in making her unhappy. He brought up school, didn't he?
"Shouldn't I be asking you that anyway, Mr. Senior?" she drawled. "It's your last year and everything. Isn't that when all the cool stuff happens?"
"You mean graduation?" he asked.
"Well, in the movies people are all about senior year and it being the last year of high school. They want to do something big before they go off to college."
He let out an amused snort. "College is where the fun happens, Beth. Out of your own, not having to worry about your parents breathing down your neck, that's when cool stuff happens."
"Okay, well, all the girls at the Slayer Academy were happy about their last year," she argued.
"Because they were graduating so they could go out into the world and kick monster ass. I'd be excited for that too if I was a slayer."
She frowned at him. "You make it sound all fun and games. According to my mum, it's a lot of laundry and showering. Plus bandages."
He grinned. "That's your mom. From what I've seen, you can take the girl out of the valley, but you can't take the valley out of the girl."
"That's what my dad says."
And with that, his expression immediately soured. Was it a surprise to anyone that their relationship had not improved? With Nadja out of town all summer, Zack had also come around Beth's house more often, sometimes when Spike was home. And boy did that make for tension. Mr. Wood and Spike were bad enough, but there was some equality there. Both were human and capable of holding their own in a fist fight if it ever came to that. As for Zack and Spike well, it was more of a one says "Boo!" and the other hides. It was obnoxious how Spike would pretend to make advances at Zack, who would—like clockwork—dart away, sometimes using Beth as a shield. She hadn't realized how childish her father could be until recently. Thankfully, Buffy was just as fed up with him as Beth was and usually, none-too-gently, pulled Spike out of the room, sending him to the store or to train, just to get him out of Zack and Beth's hair.
"Anyway, what about Prom?" she continued. "Isn't that exciting?"
"I guess?" he replied, sounding unsure.
"Well, there's the Prom Queen and King thing that I think people get excited over," she added. All she knew from Prom is what television and movies told her, which were unsurprisingly not accurate depictions of such adolescent events. At the academy, there had been an annual dance, but that was more for releasing tension and giving the slayers and potentials a good time. Even though Beth herself was only a sophomore, her mom was still giddy about the idea of Prom for her daughter. After all, the Academy dances had been less formal, whereas Prom had special Prom dresses in which to choose from. Yes, Buffy was very excited for that event.
"I guess some people do, yeah," was his response.
"What? You're saying you don't want to be Prom King? Or Queen? Whichever, I don't care. Wouldn't it be cool though? You get a crown and stuff," she reminded him.
"I don't want to be King or Queen. It's not my thing. Plus, you have to be more popular for those things. I've got my Robotics Club and maybe a few other kids. I don't know enough people to wind up on the ballot," he explained.
She let out a frustrated breath. "Is there anything you're looking forward to?"
"Maybe my physics class," he finally offered after a long pause.
"You nerd."
"Zackariah Emerson Kalder," the voice of Zack's mother rang out from the house, "I thought I told you to take out the trash this morning before your friend came over."
He winced at her harsh tone. "Damn. Knew I forgot to do something."
"Emerson?" Beth asked, gigglin.
He frowned. "My mom is a fan of American authors, so don't laugh. Like your middle name is any better."
"Seeing as I'm named after my dead grandmother, yeah, I'm willing to bet it is," she retorted.
Before he could say anything in response, his mother called out to him again. "Now, you take your friend home and do what I ask you to do, Zackariah."
"Somebody's in trouble," she sang. She knew the meaning of a full name; her mom had used it often enough on her.
"And somebody gets to go home," he told her, standing up and patting her on her head. "Get your stuff and get in my car."
"So bossy," she muttered, though she did as he asked. It was getting late anyway, and prime sun tanning hours were ending. She was still as white as she had been when she started, so it was a waste anyway. She huffed, noting the strong contrast between her skin color and red bathing suit. She followed Zack up to his car parked on the drive.
-.-
The feel of the thin foam mat beneath Beth became a familiar sort of comfort. Hello Ground, my old friend. She let herself lay there for a moment, on her back, her knees bent, and her arms splayed out. What was this, like the fifteenth time she got herself knocked flat on her ass? Maybe more? She lost count after seven because really, who still counted after seven? At that point, the positive relation between beat-downs and the stinging humiliation of defeat just kind of plateaued.
"What, you gon' to jus' lay there?" Spike asked, bending over her. He was grinning, the smug bastard.
"What's the point?" she moaned, closing her eyes and rolling over onto her side. It hurt less that way. "You're just going to knock me down again."
Her father sighed and pulled an unwilling Beth to her feet. She went limp, making the task as hard as she could for him. But he had super-human strength and was used to her dramatics that he didn't even struggle a bit. Damn. "Somethin' you got to learn," he told her. "You're not always gon' to win, pet. Got to be prepared for defeat."
"Is that what you tell all your enemies before you utterly annihilate them?" she asked.
"No, leave the quips for your mum," he told her.
She allowed him to let go of her by standing up on her own two feet. The sparring sessions had been his idea, though Buffy had probably been very active in the decision-making. The reasoning was that if Beth wanted to get involved in Slayer stuff like the fight to stop the Hellmouth, she was going to have to get back into training. And not that pansy stuff (as her father called it) she'd done in those Introduction to Slayerhood classes she'd taken alongside the other Potentials, but full-blown Slayer stuff. Which apparently included her getting her ass handed to her on a regular basis. Sure, the Harbingers has put up a fight, but they were like bottom-feeders or whatever terminology her parents had used in that speech they gave her back in June. Other demons, they were tough. Vampires, with enough skill, were trained killers. Bloodthirsty animals, ready and raring to kill. She had taken a vampire or three back in the woods when she and Nadja had gone out looking for clues, but they had been weak and she'd also been fueled with rage when they attacked Nadja. In general, she was above other humans in terms of strength, but lagged behind everything else in general. She thought maybe that also put her on equal footing with "bottom-feeder," but thought it best not to mention it so her parents wouldn't start another speech about how Beth wasn't a bottom-feeder and was actually great and wonderful and their little girl, and don't be so harsh on yourself and those girls were just mean. Yes, she had that speech memorized by heart. It was touching and emotional and boring after hearing it for the nth time. Talk about soundtrack of her life.
"Ready for another go-round?" he asked, already taking his starting stance.
She weighed the option of just telling him to go screw himself and storming back upstairs to go eat ice cream and sit in her inadequacy in the tree house her Uncle Xander had built for her birthday last month, but she saw the gleeful look on his face and caved. Despite his earlier worries about having her fight, he really enjoyed their father-daughter bonding time. He liked to see her grow stronger, probably for bragging purposes. He liked to train with her and so did Buffy, Beth could tell. She could see the pride in her mother's eyes, though worry was there too. Buffy was starting to see her own mother's point of view and such a feeling was a little bit "wiggy," as her mother loved to put it.
"Yeah," she agreed wearily. She fell into her opening stance, parting her legs just so and raising her arms to block. Spike swung first. He started off without tricks or flair, simply going in for a basic punch. She could handle that easily. She blocked, knocking his arm upward and trying to go in for her own hit. She missed, of course, as he dodged it quickly and attempted a kick. She avoided it with ease, even though her entire body ached something fiercely.
They went like that for a few moments, throwing kicks, punches, and jabs, each one missing as the other moved out of the way. But as she expected, he stepped up his game and started to feint hits and picked up his speed. She was able to keep up for a while, but soon she had made a swing that missed and left her unbalanced. In that moment of weakness, he came up behind her and kicked her feet out from under her. Much like the London Bridge, Beth came falling down.
"Oof!" her breath left her in a large whoosh and she gasped for air for a moment. She moved her lips like a fish as she tried to regain herself and she had a moment of clarity. She was done getting her ass kicked. She wasn't a slayer, and she sure didn't fight like one. A slayer could get hit and keep on coming, like they took strength from the blows. She, on the other hand, could last longer in a fight and endure pain more than another, but her father was way above her in skill. Where she lacked, he succeeded and where she was above average, he shot past her without as much as a glance backward. It was humiliating, but above all frustrating. She wasn't getting any better.
"I think I'm done for today," she told her dad, picking herself up off the floor. He held out a hand for her, but that only made her cheeks burn. She didn't need him helping her up on top of punching her down. That was insult to the injury after all. "I'm just going to get something to eat. Are you staying down here?"
He nodded. "Take a few more rounds with the punching bag, I s'pose. You alright?"
She nodded. "Yeah. Just achy from you kicking my arse so often." She hoped that didn't sound as bitter as she felt.
Slowly she carried herself up the basement stairs to the first floor, grumbling to herself about how her arms, legs, and everything in-between as it felt like someone had beat her against a rock seven ways to Sunday.
"How'd it go?" her mom asked from the lounger where she was perusing a magazine. She smiled at her daughter and even though she didn't feel like it, Beth smiled back.
"Oh, you mean you couldn't hear my grunt of pain?" she asked. "I wasn't trying to be quiet about it."
Buffy gave her a sympathetic look. "He was rough on you, wasn't he?" This could have been the part where she said yes, he was, just like you are too, Mum, but decided against it. Admitting defeat would mean she'd never get closer to going out and fighting again. But maybe that was for the best. After all these sparring sessions, she was beginning to feel like maybe she wasn't cut out for this lifestyle, and that made her feel like a failure. Here she was, the daughter of two powerful fighters who had saved the world on numerous occasions, and she couldn't match them. She was part Vampire and what did she get out of that? Ridicule and torment for the first fourteen years of her life. And the ability to drink blood. That was weird, dammit.
"Yeah, but he does it because he cares," Beth replied. Wow, what a load of crock that was. Even her tone was a million miles away from being believable.
"Don't worry, it'll get better," her mother assured. "You'll get better."
There had been little improvement in Beth's skill the last two and a half months, so she really didn't believe that.
"I'm hungry," she said to excuse herself from her mother's attempts at soothing her. Buffy gave it her best shot, but she could only work so well against Beth's believed shortcomings. She walked into the kitchen and pulled open the fridge, grabbing a leftover piece of cake. She took it out with her onto the patio, sitting down cross-legged in the grass. From the basement window, she could hear the metal clang of the punching bag's chain and the grunts of her father as he pummeled the poor thing (what had it ever done to him after all, save that one time it came back and hit him when he turned his attention to Beth when she asked a question once last spring?). She didn't even bother with a fork, picking off pieces with her fingers and licking off the frosting. She considered her placement in her family. She wasn't very good at the kicky-kicky-punchy-punchy like her parents were, and her father forbade her from using magic, so she couldn't hold a candle to her Aunt Willow. Of course, Willow was an incredibly powerful witch who restrained her full powers in the name of safety, so again, it wasn't much of a comparison. Beth was the basement-bargain deal compared to her top-of-the-line, pristine condition family members. She sighed dejectedly.
"Cake," she said, "you are my only friend." Of course, maybe with the exception to vampires, she did not taste as good as cake and thus again fell short.
"So when are you coming home?" Beth asked Nadja over the phone last night. Nadja was down in Lake Tahoe spending her days canoeing and making s'mores because that's what people did at camps, yes?
"The day before school starts, I'll be back," Nadja responded. "Ugh, I'll go from 7 am wake ups to 7:30 am wake ups. What a step up it'll be."
"But you're having a lot of fun, aren't you?" Beth inquired.
"I guess so. It was a lot of fun when I was younger, but lately it's been kind of a drag coming up here for my summer," Nadja answered. "Besides, you're up in Bellevue having fun without me."
"Fun," she snorted. "Sure, we'll call it that."
"Oh?" Nadja said. "Does it have something to do with Zack? Are you tired of him? Is he just not getting the hint that you don't want his company? If you're too kind to tell him, let me. I will spare nary a feeling."
"No, it's not Zack. Zack's cool. We're cool," she assured, "but you remember those sparring lessons I was having with my parents before you left?"
"You mean the ones you were super-hyped and excited over?" Nadja asked.
"Yeah, well let's just say the hype and excitement have been thoroughly beaten right out of me," she sighed, flipping over on her bed to face the ceiling. "Literally."
"Ooh, that sucks."
"I know," she groaned. "I can't compete with them. And here I am, daughter of a Slayer and ex-Vampire. I'm not even getting a little bit better, Nadja! What am I supposed to do? This is all my life is: fighting demons. And if I can't stand up to the ones who fight them, how can I expect to fight them myself? I feel completely at a loss. I know nearly every martial art and fighting style known to man and demon! Back at the Academy, I was top of my class. It was the only thing I had over those girls because I was part vampire. But it's only because they were Potentials, essentially human. Of course I was better at it than them, I had the biological advantage! But now all the girls in my class are slayering up. If I was to run into anyone of them, they'd beat me for sure. I can't compete with them anymore. I don't know what to do with myself."
"I know how you feel," Nadja sighed. "I've got all these successful women in my family and I don't even know what I want to do with my life. My mom's been pressuring me to find some interests outside of my needlework and leaf-collecting, because I can't make a living off of that, but I don't know what to look for. I don't feel like I'm cut out for anything."
Both girls sighed simultaneously, as misery loves company.
"What are we going to do, Nadja?" Beth asked.
"I don't know," Nadja responded, sounding very tired. "I feel too young to be worked up over this, but in reality, college is three years off and I don't know where to go."
"Maybe I could just become a Watcher with all my demonology knowledge," Beth muttered.
"There's so much pressure for me to do well," Nadja went on.
"Maybe Law Enforcement. Kick crime's ass," Beth thought aloud.
"Everyone's saying, 'Just become a Lawyer!' I don't know if I want to be a lawyer," Nadja said.
"I can't wait until you get back," Beth finally told Nadja.
"Me too. School will be starting, but at least we'll have each other. I should go now. It's lights out at ten anyway."
"Bye Nadja," Beth said.
"Bye."
She hung up her phone and dropped it to the floor, letting out a large sigh. She glanced over to her shelf where she had a stake sitting. She knew her mother wanted more for her than what Buffy had gotten in her teen years, but Beth couldn't help but feel like right now she was missing out on something. She could hear the thrum of the engine of her father's car as both her parents left to go patrol, as they did every night at ten. They wouldn't be back until late, when they thought Beth was asleep, but was actually awake, listening to them as they talked about strategies and places to hit next as they walked up the stairs to their room. Maybe Buffy had once wanted something different, but now she seemed content where she was. And Beth didn't want the boys, shopping, and gossip her mother enjoyed as a teenager. She had grown up in a very different home, surrounding by demons and fighting and magic. The whole thing was amazing to Beth, and she wanted in. When she found out she was a child of a prophecy, sworn to save the world when she was older, she thought maybe she'd get to be a part of it. She'd worked hard to learn the skills she needed, had trained and studied harder than any full-blown slayer out there. She'd been disappointed every time her parents went out without her, but she'd gotten used to it. She wasn't old enough, that had to be it. One day she'd be able to. But now, faced with the realization that she didn't match strength, she was left adrift. She'd prepared her entire life for a place she couldn't go. She wasn't strong enough and she wouldn't ever be. She wasn't a potential and would thus never be a slayer.
"Hey there, Bethie," Willow said, standing in the doorway to her room. "Your parents just went out. Wanna do a girl's night with movies and popcorn? I heard some action flick with some really cute stars is playing at the theatre."
She smiled at her aunt. "Which one? The male or female lead?"
"Both," Willow promised with a smile, "so we both can be happy."
"Okay, let's go," she said, sitting up and pulling on her boots. She didn't know why her family could be so happy with someone who couldn't ever reach the levels they were at, but she guessed that was family. Didn't matter if you were a screw-up, they'd love you anyway.
-.-
She stepped out of the theatre, allowing the warm air of Washington to encompass her. She breathed in deeply, happy to get the smell of stale popcorn out of her nostrils, only to immediately regret it as a gas-guzzling truck passed in front of her.
"You sure seem popular in there," Willow noted, pointing a thumb at the theatre behind them. "You got us free concessions."
"Nadja's family owns the theatre, remember?" Beth said. "We come here often so the manager, one of her uncles, knows me and is completely willing to give me free things."
"Whoa. Connections," Willow said with a grin. They began to walk through the car, Willow still absentmindedly finishing off the popcorn. It was a little past midnight and they had seen the last showing of the night. It had been some dopey rom com she was sure her mother would have enjoyed while her father slouched down in his seat, muttering about how terrible it was that nobody had killed anyone yet (even though he secretly liked it). Her mother would then have hushed him and smacked his knees and rolled her eyes. While Beth oftentimes liked to make gagging noises when her parents got too cuddly for her preferences, but secretly, she kind of liked it. It was sweet to see people who had once been at such odds with each other now making googly eyes at one another. It was a testament to have much love could conquer. Sometimes she would wish such for herself, but then she'd remind herself that love couldn't overcome everything.
"I bet everything's closed," Willow pouted, unlocking her car. "I wanted to get something sweet."
"The gas station is never closed," Beth reminded her, getting into the car. "And they have candy."
Willow grinned. "Ooh, I want a Snickers."
"And I refuse to leave the establishment without Twizzlers," she decided.
Willow started up the car and they pulled out of the theater's parking lot, heading down the road to the nearest gas station. Beth made a quick run-in with a twenty-dollar bill Willow produced from her wallet, promising to use it all. She saw a ratty looking man in a baseball cap milling around the beer. He sounded foreign, possibly Welsh. Beth observed his clothes, wondering if he was a vampire. In the bluish lighting on the gas station, she couldn't tell if that was dry blood or dirt on his pants. It could have been paint, if he was a construction worker. He looked dirty enough to be. He might have been homeless, but seeing as the man behind the register didn't seem quick to run the man out, she was skeptical. He caught her staring and he scowled at her. She causally averted her gaze, acting like she hadn't been staring at him. She made her purchase and walked back to Willow's car. She saw the man inside pick out a beer and stalk over to the counter.
"I think I might have made an enemy," Beth told Willow who was looking over their stash.
"Hm? Oh, what? Did you say enemy?" Willow asked, looking up from the candy.
"Yeah? See that guy that screams vampire?" she said, pointing to the man at the counter. He slapped money down, before exiting the store without even bothering to collect his change. Not vampire style, unless he saw something else more important than fifty cents.
"He paid with cash," Willow stated. "Vampires don't usually pay, seeing as they don't usually have money."
She watched as he got into his car, started the engine, but didn't leave. "Yeah, but I think there was blood on his clothes. It was kind of spatter, like mud would be." The car still didn't go. "Hey, start to back out. I want to see what he does."
Willow obliged, pulling out of her parking spot and driving to the gas station exit. The other car did the same but headed toward the other exit. It was no matter, as when Willow pulled out onto the road, the truck followed in the same direction.
"You think he's following us?" Willow inquired as she glanced at her rearview to see the truck a few car paces back.
"Maybe," she replied. "I was kind of staring at him and if he's a temperamental vampire, well, you probably know how that goes."
Willow frowned. "I'm more concerned that you know how that goes."
"Hello? My parents? One is an ex-vampire? I know a lot of things."
Willow made a right turn and so did the truck. It was possible that the truck was simply going in the same direction and Beth didn't like to make assumptions. Well, that might have been a lie, but she also liked to check things. "Take this left," she requested, and Willow did. The truck stayed behind them.
"Looks all busted," Willow muttered, eyeing the car again.
"Front fenders bent-in," she noted, "like maybe a pole."
"Or a vampire? Can vampires withstand the impact of a car?"
She shrugged. "I feel like they'd make a big dent and then be very angry about it. Also, the driver's side mirror is gone."
"We shouldn't go straight home," Willow decided. "We don't need him following, even if he's just a regular guy with a lot of built-up rage." She made another left turn and the truck did the same. They were now heading out of town, away from stores and neighborhoods. The truck kept its distance though, never getting too close.
"Maybe we should stop somewhere vacant," Beth suggested, "see if he does. I can take him."
Willow bit her lip nervously. "I don't know. Can you take a vampire? Maybe we should call your parents and find where they are."
She frowned. She thought about mentioning the three vampires she took in the woods several months ago but knew that would only get her into more trouble since her parents knew nothing about it and no doubt Willow would tell them.
"Totally. Dad says I could take at least one vampire," Beth lied. Well, she didn't think it was a complete lie, exactly. Spike had never said that explicitly, but he was sometimes impressed with her moves. Okay, well, fatherly approval, not outright praise. If Beth had ever asked, he probably would have said she could handle one vampire.
"Yeah, one vampire shouldn't be so hard," Willow agreed, warming up to the idea. Sounded like she missed the adventure herself. "Besides, I'm here to back you up with some of my mojo. It'll be a breeze."
Willow chose the mall parking lot for the potential showdown, figuring it was a large enough space and vacant since the mall already closed. She parked in the middle of the parking lot and waited, engine thrumming. It took a while, but the truck eventually pulled into the lot, a few rows behind them.
"So, rage-man or vampire?" Beth asked.
"Is there a difference?"
She grinned, unbuckling her seatbelt and getting out of the car. "You got a stake?"
Willow reached under the seat and produced the piece of wood. "I've been around your mother for years. Always."
She took the stake and shut the door. She turned to face the truck, which was idling as well, the driver still in his seat. She didn't think of this before, but she really hoped he didn't have any buddies in the car with him. After all, he might have been the only one to go in to get the beer.
"Hey!" Beth called, walking towards the truck. Willow waited back in the car, watching the scene unfold and prepared to work her magic at any point in time. Willow trusted Beth to be able to handle the situation though, considering whose daughter she was. Then again, Spike wasn't known for putting a lot of thought into his plans…
"Hello?" she called, getting closer to the car. Finally, the door squeaked open, and she saw was looked like a bloody handprint in the dim light of the parking lot. Okay, definitely a stolen car with a most-likely terribly beaten, if not dead, owner.
"You got a problem, missy?" The man growled, shutting the door with a loud bang. She thought she might have heard the window crack. So pretty strong guy. "Starin' at me?"
She shrugged. "Dunno," she started casually, "thought you looked kinda funny."
The man stepped away from his car, stalking his way towards her. Once he got close enough, she could see his ridges and fangs. She'd guessed correctly.
He faltered when he noticed she wasn't afraid, the smirk sliding off his face. That didn't stop him completely though and he hissed, "How'd you like to be dinner?"
"You really are a touchy vampire," she told him, still holding the stake behind her back. Helpless victim was usually the easiest way to go, since you could always go in for the kill when they went in for the kill.
He got within ten feet of her before stopping, cocking his head curiously. "Wait a minute," he muttered, looking at her strangely. "What the fuck?"
Out the window went the helpless victim and she lunged at him, knocking him off his feet and driving the stake into his chest. He didn't even look surprised when she dusted him, only curious. She stood up, wiping the dust off her knees and grumbling to herself. She walked back over to Willow's car and yanked open the door.
"That was quick," Willow commented. "I thought for sure you would play with him."
"He could tell," Beth muttered.
"Tell wh—oh. You mean about the vampire stuff," Willow realized. "He could sense it, or smell it, or whatever."
She nodded glumly. "Probably freaked him out, coupled with the heartbeat and all. He hesitated so I went in for the kill. I didn't want him to run or anything."
Willow nodded, putting the car into drive and pulling out of the parking lot. In the morning, someone would find the quadruple-parked car and get it towed. It wasn't Beth's problem.
"You think that'll always happen?" she asked.
Willow shrugged apologetically. "You're the only one like you, so it's all kerfluffle."
"Kerfluffle," she repeated slowly. "Yeah, it is, isn't it? I guess when it's just me, it's easier to pinpoint that I'm the source of the weird mix. I mean, not even just demon, but human and vampire? That's got to be a strange combination."
Willow smiled. "Tell me about it."
