Buffy delivered another solid kick to the vampire's chest, sending him flailing back and into the waiting embrace of death, offered up by the stake held in Spike's hand. Another pile of dust and another job well done.
"This just gets easier the more I do it," she commented with a nod of her head.
"Too easy," he mumbled, fingering the stake in his hand. She only rolled her eyes at his petulant tone. Maybe he mellowed out with age (150-something years and he'd finally grown up), but he still liked the adrenaline kick, which, let's face it, was hard to come by when your only enemies were unorganized vampires. Considering what she'd heard about Bellevue and Seattle's demon population, she'd expected more of a fight when she got here. So far, Beth was the only one coming home with battle wounds. And speaking of that…
"You're not still mad at me, are you?" she asked him.
"No, 'course not," he replied in that "I'm a Liar" tone Beth had inherited from him.
"Yes you are," she argued. "Look, she's a slayer. She's going to get hurt some times. I got stabbed in the gut once and look at me, I'm fine."
He shot her a long, tired look over his shoulder. "'S different," he commented.
She frowned, placing her hands on her hips. "What're you saying, that if I got stabbed again, it'd be like, 'oh, she'll be fine. It's Buffy. Buffy is magnificent at healing,' but with Beth it's, 'oh god, she's going to die. We must put her in one of those inflatable bubbles'?"
"That s'not what I meant an' you know it," he remarked. "She's my little girl."
Another eye roll from her. He looked like a sad little man. "And she's my little girl too. If you remember, I kind of pushed her out of my—"
"Yes, I remember, I was there," he interrupted, making a face. One would think after a century of gore, he wouldn't be so grossed out by bodily processes, but no, one mention of the beauty of childbirth and he wanted a wide berth.
"And so I trust her to be okay," she continued. "She's a slayer and I think I know better than anyone else what that means for her, even Beth herself. She doesn't have to do this alone. Spike, we trained her to be the best she can be. She's not so little anymore. We have to trust that when she goes out to patrol, she's going to act quickly and smartly. Or, if not, she'll be with someone who will, like her friends."
"I can act smartly," he rebutted.
Ignoring the obvious jab she could make there, she instead said, "Yeah, and who wants there dad hanging around on patrol?"
"Giles was with you," he reminded her.
"Giles was my watcher," she countered. "He was supposed to be there. He was my watcher before anything else. You're her dad first."
He sighed, knowing he wasn't going to get a leg up on this one. It was after all Buffy and he didn't win arguments against her, especially when it came to girl things and slaying because he "obviously couldn't understand."
"I can still be mad at you for lyin' to me," he reminded her.
Well, he had a point. She may have argued to allow Beth to patrol, but she hadn't exactly told him who Beth would be patrolling with. She might have said Andrew. Might have.
"Oh, get over that," she responded with a wave of her hand. "So she snuck out to be with Zack. Big deal."
"Big deal?" he repeated in disbelief. "Big deal? He's a boy! Who knows what kind of ideas he's got in 'is head!"
"You are such a dad," she sighed. "Puh-lease, it's Zack. What's he going to do?"
"Oh, don' act like you haven't seen the way he's been sniffin' around," he remarked.
She raised an eyebrow at him. "You mean driving her home and participating in the slayer training, always under the watchful eye of someone else? Besides, Beth is totally oblivious to him. Zack's a nice boy. He's not going to try anything. He's too awkward. Have you seen the way he flails his arms sometimes? So weird."
"Last thing I need is some boy 'round her," he grumbled.
"She's fifteen, Spike. I was dating at that age already," she reminded him.
"A centuries old vampire, yes. Excuse me for not letting you be the judge of relationships," he said.
"Oh, says the guy who panted after some demented queen for over a century!" she laughed. "And don't forget Harmony. God, I still have a hard time believing that. Cracks me up all the time."
"You dated farm boy," he countered. "What white bread he was."
"Riley was a nice guy," she reminded him. "And let's not forget how I actually had relations with a perpetually twelve-year-old vampire who dressed like the eighties and stomped his foot every time he didn't get what he wanted. God, what was I thinking then?"
He scowled at her. "Didn' need to go that low."
"You were asking for it," she told him. "Beth is old enough to be around boys. You were fine with Jackie and Andrew."
"Jackie's like an older brother and Andrew doesn't even like girls," he countered. "'S different."
"You're right. Andrew likes you," she retorted, making him scowl again. "But she's old enough to hang out around boys. I wouldn't mind seeing her dating, actually. You know, seeing her adjust to a normal teenage life."
"She can date, fine, as long as you don't mind pickin' up strewn body parts 'cross the lawn," he replied.
"This is why she doesn't date. She's afraid you'll kill the guy," she grumbled. "Let her be normal!"
"She's not exactly normal," he reminded her.
"She's normal enough," she said. "She's as normal as I was when I was her age. Only girl like her in the world. I still had a social life." She withheld the fact that her newfound slaying abilities totally killed her social life and forced her to recreate a new one with many limitations and restrictions. She was trying to win this argument, after all. She wasn't going to give him any fighting power.
He sighed, looking heavenward. "'M not going to win this one either, am I?"
"Nope."
"S'bit quiet, don't you think?" he asked, changing topics suddenly.
"No, I can hear cars," she replied, not sure at what he was getting at.
"I meant the demons," he stated. "Not a lot of business."
"Demon holiday?" she suggested, shrugging. His accompanying sigh told her exactly what he thought of that idea.
-.-
"Yeah, well now I'm like for real grounded," Beth told Nadja and Zack over the phone, who got to enjoy movie night without her. "No patrolling, no leaving this house. If I so much as want a candy bar from the gas station behind my house I have to fill out a twelve-page form to request services to get it for me. And when services if my miffed dad, he's always busy."
"Sorry to hear about that," Nadja sympathized.
"He doesn't seem like he wants to murder me, does he?" Zack asked, his voice echoing from a location further from the speaker than his cousin.
"Our friend is grounded indefinitely, suffering inside her own home with a still healing knife wound, and all you can think to ask about is your safety?" Nadja said.
"He doesn't seem particularly murderous, no," Beth told him. "I do think he'll think twice about letting me patrol without some adult supervision, which sucks. That whole slayer independence thing got flushed down the toilet real quick."
"What does your mom say?" Nadja asked.
"She's out patrolling with my dad now so I think she's trying to soften him up a bit so he won't become helicopter dad. You know, I am probably the least fragile person out there and yet I'm being treated like some terminal patient. I'm not going to keel over without a moment's notice. Someone will know. Mainly because I'll probably go out with a few creative curse words."
"You didn't in the park," Nadja commented dryly.
"Yeah, that was pretty quiet," Zack agreed. "Very pretentious hero of you."
"Thanks," Beth replied sarcastically.
"I'm only saying it like it is," he replied.
"Do you think it's going to scar?" Nadja asked.
Beth stretched the band of her sweats to look. White bandages were wrapped around her thigh, and she could only make out the very tip of the cut. "Considering my slayer healing, and the fact that my mother force-fed me my own weight in pig's blood, I doubt it. But if it does, it'll be one cool battle scar."
"So blood does speed up the healing process?" Zack asked. "I thought maybe Nadja was panic-thinking."
"Yeah, it helps," she replied. She hadn't talked to him yet about the whole blood thing, mainly because the topic made her uncomfortable for numerous reasons. One being that he was supposed to hate vampires and get all squicky about Beth's vampire parts and yet he had opened a vein for her. It was weird and unexpected and opened up many pathways that led down directions that made her heart go into overdrive. It was too much, so she wasn't going to think about it. Nope, not even a bit.
"I don't 'panic-think'," Nadja snapped. "Compared to you, I thought pretty well in that whole dire situation, thank you very much! You went catatonic, remember?"
"No, I think I went catatonic," Beth cut in.
"No, you went unconscious," Nadja corrected. "Learn the difference."
"Regardless," she went on to say, "you both were very helpful. My parents are eternally grateful, and yes Zack, even my father to you, although he'll act like that's not true. He's got his pride, you know. Sometimes. I think."
"How is it that you're even allowed to call us?" Nadja wondered aloud. "I would think after all that lying you did, your father would ground you to the Stone Age."
"I'm pretty sure my mother is magic," she responded. "She's finally happy I'm like a normal teenager, that she will do what she can within her power to make sure I maintain that whole 'friend thing,' which, quite frankly, is a bit overrated. You guys are okay."
"Thanks, says the guy who saved your life," Zack shouted.
"Ignore him," Nadja said. "His space cadet team is currently losing and he's very unhappy about it. See Zack, this is what happens when your team is comprised of you and your robo-friends. How it is that none of you dweebs are good at gaming?"
"Robo-friends?" Beth asked, confused.
"Those who make up the 'Gentleman's Club,' as she calls it," Zack answered, his voice clearer now that Nadja had come closer to inspect the game.
"I call it a 'Boy's Club'," Nadja corrected. "I would never refer to anything you're a part of as a gentleman's anything."
"Well, enjoy your space cadet team losing, Zack," Beth said.
"Will do." There was a slight pause, and she could almost make out the sound of electronic gaming noises, coupled with some muttered curses from Zack.
"He's still losing," Nadja stated, providing running commentary. "Who's Xterminator19923? He really sucks."
"I should go now. My phone's dying a slow, draining death," Beth told them. "Maybe I'll get some homework done for tomorrow. Can't wait to go to school. Thankfully I'm not limping anymore, but I got a note for PE, which is great."
"Lucky for you," Nadja muttered. "If I have to try and avoid another volleyball heading towards my head, I'm going to lose all the skin on my knees."
"Wonderful imagery," she commented. "Bye now."
After Nadja hung up, she wandered downstairs into the kitchen. She was told to limit her movements until her wound healed more. It had scabbed over, which was healing enough for her, although her ever-anxious father didn't agree so. She might be grounded, but with the amount of waiting on hand and foot she got, it hardly seemed like it.
But with the parents away, the kids can play. Which meant she was in the kitchen making cookie dough for the purpose of eating it. She sat on the counter licking the spoon, occasionally poking her bandage-covered wound to see it would throb less (Data suggested no, but further study would be needed).
Once the cookie dough was gone (all four-dozen cookie equivalent), she decided that maybe eating all of it wasn't the best idea she'd ever had (she's had some pretty good ideas, after all). She went to lay down on the couch and rest off the congealing ball of cookie batter and chocolate that was now currently stewing in her stomach. She really hoped that whole raw egg salmonella thing wasn't a thing anymore or her parents were going to be pissed.
-.-
Spike kicked another demon solidly in the chest, sending him reeling into the side of the building. What had gone from a quiet, easy patrol night had suddenly turned into Fight Club. Demons he'd never even seen looking at one another were now ganging up to attack him and Buffy. And while he and she could hold their own, the sheer onslaught was enough to keep them on their toes.
"Ugh," she grunted, twisting a demon's head off with strength that made him stutter a bit. "These guys are like that water monster."
"Water monster?" he asked, trying to figure out what she meant. She didn't hit the books often enough, but maybe something had stuck and so now she was strutting her knowledge even if she didn't remember the name of the demon. Any continued thought of that was dropped as he ducked a fist aimed at his head. Demon even had brass knuckles. He planned on taking those when they cleared the area.
"You know, the hydro-monster," she expanded, fighting off a demon using only a trashcan lid and a pipe. "From mythology."
"Hydra?" he said. Even after all these years, decoding Buffy-speak was one of the hardest things he'd ever done. It was once the hardest, but then he had a kid and that opened up all other sorts of decoding and understanding that for one mere man like himself was too impossible.
"Yeah!" she said. "You cut off one head and another two grow back!" Well, she wasn't wrong. It did seem like every time he cut down a demon, another two popped up, ready to take him on.
He hefted a demon over his shoulder and it crashed into another demon, sending two of them to the ground. None of them seem particularly interested in killing him and Buffy. Constantly fighting off attacks left him little time to survey his surroundings, but it seemed that some of the demons were just waiting their turn. Which seemed nice out of context, but really damn annoying in it. He wanted this onslaught to be over so he could get home and ice all parts of his body. He really did miss that fast healing he had as a vampire. Human bodies were so susceptible to injuries and took forever to heal.
Another kick and a punch, a borrowed axe to the head, and another demon was down, replaced by another. It was never ending. Maybe only a minute or two had passed, but it felt like fifty. Most of the assailants' attempted hits weren't even well-aimed. They acted more like a distraction than anything and he half-expected some all-powerful beastie to come raging down on them, ready to wipe out his exhausted prey. Or maybe a bunch of drunk, uncoordinated demons had gotten it stuck in their head the thought that taking on the slayer was something they could actually do. Safety in numbers, wasn't that what they said? Turns out that's not entirely accurate, a fact made painfully true as Spike rammed his fist into another demon's face.
-.-
Imogene ignored the smell of trash that permeated the air around her. She didn't know how the demons below could stand it. Most demons of lower-intelligence relied heavily on smell to track their prey and if the stench of garbage overwhelmed her, even from her position on the roof several stories above, it was no doubt choking them. Maybe they lived in the filth enough to enjoy it. Or, more likely, even her weak mind-controlling spell was strong on their stupid, tiny minds.
As she studied the tousle below, the phone in her pocket vibrated. She pulled it out, looking at the name on the screen. She frowned, but answered it.
"Is everything in position?" Baba demanded to know without so much of a "Hi, how are you? Aren't working too hard, are you?" Would it kill that man to show a little common courtesy for her? Was he raised by wolves or something? Though, considering what she knew about his parents, that wasn't far from the truth.
"Yes," she answered, studying the fight below. She could barely make out the two blondes in the heap of demons below, but she could occasionally see a flash of hair. "I've distracted the slayer and the Son of the Master. They shouldn't bother us anytime soon."
"And as for our Destroyer?" he asked, a hint of excitement seeping into his tone.
"Phase Two commences now. Now that I've distracted the other two, I can complete the next step," she told him confidently.
"Well, get to it," he snapped. "You failed me last time and I have no room for that to continue. This is what we have been waiting for these last centuries and so this is no time to forget all the preparation we've done. Get it done!"
He hung up abruptly after that, leaving her miffed. If she had to continue to deal with him yelling at her and commanding her to do his every whim, this wasn't going to be what she had been waiting for. Eternity with that guy was starting to sound like a real drag. Letting him live forever seemed more like a punishment for her than a gift to him.
Imogene stuffed the phone back into her pocket and walked over to her summoning circle. She sat in the middle and prepared for Phase Two. Hopefully without any distractions or interventions, they'd finally get this over with and she'd never have to do another thing Baba asked of her.
-.-
Beth sat crisscross on the floor in the lounge, flipping through her dad's CD collection. He used to have originals, but apparently, they were destroyed in an explosion caused by a grenade (which sounded so fake, but she let him have that moment to sound cool). He now had everything on CDs, which was as outdated as Vinyl had been when the supposed explosion occurred. They even had a CD player. Currently, The Undertones' There Goes Norman was strumming in the background as she perused the CDs. She'd have to make sure she'd put them back in order or her dad would be irritated that he couldn't find the one he wanted right away. Still wanted immediate gratification, that man. Her mom had hoped he'd grow out of it, but sometimes, you can take the vampire out of the man, but you can't take the man out of the vampire or whatever bullshitty statement she was could say that would explain her dad. She was also pretty sure a large portion of his music collection was gathered through illegal means, but everyone did that now, so it was hardly vampire-like.
She much preferred her own punk rock music, but her dad was that music snob who said her stuff wasn't nearly enough punk and how anything after the British Rock scene was derivative. She would then launch into a discussion about his precious rock-n-roll was essentially ripped off from plantation slaves and Latino culture. He'd then say something about her music was just "girls angry at their dads" and at that point, there argument would dissolve into some incoherent mess of words, in which Buffy would have to intervene by telling them both that their music was just noise to her. Beth would then say "duh" because music was of course noise since everything you heard was noise. Sometimes she would get sent to her room for "back-talk" or her mother would just leave the room, shaking her head.
She sighed, tossing the CD case up on the chair. She could respect the old stuff, but some of it was just weirdly experimental. Her dad's music was basically archaic these days anyway.
The sound of the doorbell ringing interrupted her judgmental search. She wondered if it was maybe Zack and Nadja who'd come to spring her and take her on some wild journey where she discovered herself and the meaning of life, like what happened in those movies she sometimes watched. She hoped it wasn't Mr. Wells. The last thing she wanted to do this evening was studying.
She unlocked the door, swinging it open with the greeting "hello," which never made it past her lips as she caught sight of who stood on her porch. It was easily the most comical sight, some demon dressed in full battalion armor, a flail in hand, hand stretched out toward the doorbell. It was tall and large and looked like its skin was all veiny with two curved horns sticking out of his head. And it would have been really funny (demons didn't ring doorbells) if it wasn't for the fact that imminent death was now coming her way.
She slammed the door shut, even though that would do little. She just wanted him to know he was most definitely not welcome. He let himself in anyway, crashing through her front door with a roar. She ducked as splintered wood flew over her head. The last thing she wanted was a splinter the size of branch lodged in her skin.
"Slayer!" he roared at her.
"Demon!" she yelled back, still not quite sure what to make of this situation. She hoped her neighbors called the police or something.
She ducked at it swung the flail through the air and dodged as it swung the weapon downward. She took her leave, running into the living room. The demon followed her, still swinging its weapon like a crazy person, roaring all the while. She couldn't make out what he was saying, though she guessed it wasn't English anymore. It sounded like Fyarl and she was never very good at translating when they spoke quickly.
She jumped behind the couch, hoping maybe her mom kept a battle axe or something stashed behind it, always the paranoid one. No such luck. She knew there was a set of swords up in the library and the motherload down in the basement, but neither of those places were viable options with a destructive demon tearing up the house.
It wasn't long before the couch was heaved up over the demon's head. She quickly scrambled away as the couch was tossed out the window, shattering glass everywhere. She grabbed the floor lamp, tossing the shade off and ripping the cord out of the base. It was the closest thing she had to a weapon currently. Damn, what was it with the demons here lately? First her school and now this.
She swung the lamp around, handling it much like a long stick. She blocked several haphazard strikes from the demon's flail though the weak metal of the lamp gave just a little after each blow. This wasn't going to last long. Just as the metal finally gave all the way, making a nice little right angle, she swung it around, looping it behind the flail and pulling it away from the demon. The weapon flew out of his hands and into the wall, leaving a sizeable hole in the family portrait her mom insisted they get every year, much to the chagrin of Beth and her dad.
"My mum is going to kill you when she sees that," she commented.
"Crush slayer now!" The demon roared in response, obviously unaware of the impending doom her mother would strike down upon this simple demon. Oh well.
She took her cue and slid between the legs of the demon, barely missing get swiped by his hands. She made her escape into the lounge, hoping to get down to the basement and take this demon down immediately. She didn't make it though, as the demon threw the coffee table at her, hitting her in the head and making her crash into the bookcase, undoubtedly breaking many of her dad's CDs. Now the demon had two powerful people who were going to be angry with him. This was just not going to end well for the guy.
She picked herself up off the ground, staggering just a bit from the blow. It seemed it hit a very important part of the back of her head and now her vision was a bit wonky. It mattered not. If there was one demon or three (looked like three now), everyone was going down.
When she stood up, she felt the sticky feeling of wet fabric on her skin. She looked down to see that her wound had been ripped open and was now bleeding through the bandages and her pants. Make that three powerful people.
"I was trying to heal, you jerk!" she shouted. Now she was really pissed. This demon comes into her home, throwing some hissy fit, and destroying her house. She picked up the coffee table, throwing it right back at the demon. It shattered against his chest and the demon only laughed in response, grinning. She did the only thing she knew what to do. She cracked her knuckles and prepared to get down to business, busted wound or not.
-.-
The space between Spike and Buffy was now about ten demon corpses thick and this situation had surpassed ridiculous about fifty demons ago. Now he definitely knew this was a distraction. What, was some gang of demons holding a bank heist? Vampire clan terrorizing club goers? Some apocalypse going down he hadn't heard about? There had to be something, he wasn't stupid, even if Buffy sometimes gave him a look that commented on just how clueless he was being.
"This needs to bloody stop!" he shouted, shoving his fist into yet another demon face. That's all he did. Punch and kick and jab, he pummeled the demons and they just kept on coming.
"Not until the slayer is down," the demon grunted. He honestly hadn't expected the demon to respond, but that was helpful information. They wanted the slayer dead. Didn't every demon after all? Buffy had been sought after by countless demons ever since she had taken down the Master after being brought back to life, wearing a dress like some hell-bent prom queen, ready to reclaim her crown.
But if these demons were really trying to take her down, they were doing a pitiful job of it. They had taken quantity over quality, not realizing the immense stamina of the slayer. She would just keep going. If they wanted to take out the slayer—
They'd want her at her weakest point. Possibly take her off guard by attacking when she least expected it. This was a distraction, and Buffy wasn't the only slayer in town anymore.
Adrenaline rushed through his system, as fear gripped his heart. He now began to fight his way over to Buffy, abandoning the plan to each take their own in an attempt to cut down numbers faster. The demon attacks weren't going to end, not until they took out their truly intended target. And as long as the demons kept coming, he could at least know that Beth wasn't dead just yet.
"Buffy!" he called out over the roar of the demons.
"Busy right now, honey," she grunted back, tossing a demon over her shoulder.
"It's Beth!" he told her. "They're here to take out Beth."
"Beth isn't here," she responded, her word punctuated by a punch delivered to her opponent. "She's at home—"
"Alone and recovering," he interrupted. "They're not really fighting us anyway."
She froze for a moment, long enough for a demon to knock her off her feet. He pushed a demon off himself, running over to help her up.
"Do you think they sent a crowd after her too?" she asked, panicked.
"I don't know, love, but the sooner we can get home, the sooner we find out."
She nodded, now fighting her way to the edge of the crowd. Neither knew from what direction they had originally come and didn't know how they'd find their car. But if they had to run home, they would. Buffy abhorred crime, but she had an ex-vampire who knew how to hotwire a car and she'd be damned if that wouldn't be her plan B if they couldn't find hers.
-.-
"Shit," Imogene muttered as she saw the two muscling their way out of the crowd. The demons turned to fight them, but made no move to keep the two fighters in the center of the mass. They were dumb things anyway, falling prey to her control. She hoped that demon had finished its job already, since the cavalry was coming, it seemed. She turned on her heel, leaving the fight behind. The demons would either further distract the two or they wouldn't and there wasn't much else she could do. She could summon another demon, a stronger one that could take on the slayer and her lackey, but she used a lot of her energy controlling the demon crowd below and summoning the Fyarl demon. Besides, she left all her other supplies back at that magic shop.
She hoped the Fyarl demon was making progress, if not already done, or else she was going to hear it from Baba.
-.-
Buffy and Spike raced down the alleyway, the horde of demons just a few paces behind them. Luckily, they'd been able to orient themselves quickly after escaping the masses, running in the direction of where they had parked Buffy's car.
"I'm driving," she called out as she slid across the hood of the car. He didn't argue with her, even though he knew he would drive better and faster. But now was not the time, not with the demons right behind them and the uncertainty of Beth's fate on their minds. Her last several run-ins with demons hadn't left them feeling completely secure that she would be okay on her own.
She peeled out of the alleyway, demons bouncing off the front of the car as she drove. He pulled his phone out of the glove compartment, dialing Beth's phone. It went directly to voicemail, which wasn't a comforting thought.
"Dammit," he hissed.
"Try the home phone," she directed. "You know she always forgets to charge that thing."
He dialed the house number, which rung three times before the line went dead, not even going to voicemail.
"Shite," he growled. "Phone went dead. Got us real good, they did. Didn' even think they'd go after her."
"But why?" she asked. "She's not notorious as a slayer yet and she's barely fought anyone. Why would someone put so much time into keeping us away to kill Beth?"
"Said before, someone knows," he muttered.
"There's only one version of that prophecy," she insisted.
"An' you know that how?" he asked. "Been havin' a chat with the seers over cuppa?"
"If there's more than one, then why can't the damn council get ahold of another copy?" she demanded, slamming her fist against the dashboard.
"Doesn' matter," he responded. "We need to get home now."
What had been a fifteen-minute car ride there was a five-minute car ride back. A lot of angry horns had been honked at them and it was really good there hadn't been any cops around because Spike didn't think he'd be able to remain calm in that situation. And judging by the way Buffy was gripping the steering wheel, she wouldn't either.
Their car came to a skidding halt in from of their house, leaving smoke and the smell of burning rubber in the air. The damage was immediate from the outside. The door was blown off its hinges and there was a gaping hole where the front window had been. They raced out of the car and up the walkway and into the house. It was quiet and Spike stepped carefully over the wood debris scattering the hallway. The stair banister was splintered and there was a large dent in the stairs, like something heavy had landed on it.
"Beth?" Buffy cried, looking around at the mess, frazzled.
"In here," came the reply from the dining room. Spike and Buffy stepped into the living room, which looked about a picturesque as the hallway. The couch and coffee table were absent and the two chairs were broken on the floor. The overheard light had two bulbs shattered and there was glass all over the floor.
Beth sat on the top of the dining table, all the chairs laying in destroyed heaps around her. The chandelier lay broken beside her, excess glass scraped off onto the floor.
"What happened to you?" Buffy cried, seeing the blood on Beth and rushing over. As Beth opened her mouth to respond, she interrupted, adding, "And don't you dare say 'you should see the other guy'."
Despite the damage to the house, Beth looked fine. Tired, but fine. Her wound had reopened, but that was the only blood on her. Despite his earlier concern, he couldn't help but be a little proud of her. Whatever had been sent after her had been hell-bent on killing her and she'd put up one hell of a fight.
"Demon attack. Fyarl, I think," she told her mother. "He's in the kitchen though, if you want to double-check."
"Why's he in the kitchen?" Spike asked.
"Making himself some tea, what do you think?" she replied sarcastically. "That's where I finished him. Also, you're going to have to buy a new coffee maker."
"And couch. And chairs. And front door," he added, assessing the damage around him.
"Spike, quit being a smart ass!" Buffy snapped, turning back to Beth. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?"
"I am fine. I cannot say the same for my opponent," she answered.
"If you're so fine, why didn't you pick up the home phone when we called?" Buffy demanded.
"Because I might have broken it when the demon threw me on top of it," she said slowly. "But, on the bright side, we have another flail now."
"Got a pair of brass knuckles," Spike added.
She nodded in appreciation. "Why even buy new equipment? We should just lift it off of our kill count. Like this guy has got some nifty army, though I think it might be too big for any of us."
Buffy sighed, rubbing her temples like any person would be surrounded by people who seemed to out of touch with reality. "I'm glad to see you're alright, Beth."
"Oh come on, you guys couldn't have been all that worried," she said. "I can handle one demon."
"Can you?" Spike asked, walking up to lightly poke her wound.
She flinched away, scowling at him. "Don't do that."
"I'm going to get the demon body out of the house," Buffy told them. "Spike, could you find something to cover the door, at least until we can get someone to come by and fix this mess?"
"'Course love," he assured her as she walked into the kitchen. He looked down fondly at Beth, who was currently examining a bruise on her arm.
"You know, he was kind of a polite demon. Rang the doorbell and everything," she commented, looking up at her dad. When she caught the look in her eyes, she questioned, "What?"
"What? Can' a da' admire his daughter for her handy work?" he asked, motioning toward the destroyed living room. "Quite a mess you made here."
She grinned. "You proud of me?"
He kissed her on the forehead, murmuring "Always been proud of you."
-.-
Beth sat patiently on the kitchen counter, all the debris and broken tile swept to the floor. She didn't know where she'd be eating breakfast tomorrow.
"Was the fridge you or him?" Spike asked out of curiosity as Buffy attended to her daughter's minor cuts.
"Him," she responded. "Or maybe me, I don't remember. After about the fifth toss, I kind of lost track of who smashed what. The stairs are him though; I remember that much."
"You know, they always talked about teens bein' destructive," he mused.
"And we hog the bathroom," she added.
"Did he say anything about why he attacked? Who sent him?" Buffy asked, cutting to business.
"It was a lot of 'Crush now! Crush Slayer!' So he knew who I was, at least," Beth told her. "But conversation was rather limited, like his vocabulary."
"Fyarl demons don't jus' come in an' kill you," Spike explained. "Someone had to send him."
"Oh, he didn't just come in. He knocked," Beth reminded him. "It was pretty polite of him. Well, I mean, until I slammed the door on his face. Then he just came in."
Buffy sighed, finishing with the antiseptic. Demons were pretty dirty after all, and one dressed in battalion armor was no different. "So first we have the Fast Nick demon—"
"M'Fashnik."
"And now the Feral demon," Buffy finished. "All after you."
"I'm a slayer," Beth said with a shrug. "Aren't demons supposed to want to kill me? This can't be unusual."
"It's damn well ballsy," she huffed.
"A Fyarl demon's not smart enough to make such a plan," he said. "Send demons after us and then Beth? Not bloody likely."
"What in the name happened here?" Beth leaned forward to see her aunt Willow stepping over the rubble into the living room.
"I think I have an enemy," Beth said excitedly. "Someone sent another demon after me!"
"Another?" Willow asked curiously.
"We're connecting the attack at her school to this one," Buffy explained. "Both demons are mercenary-attack type demons sent by a person for a purpose."
"Really? Wouldn't someone be more concerned with you, Buffy?" Willow asked before a wide-eyed look crossed her face and she added quickly, "not that you're not a dangerous, skilled slayer, Bethie. It's just that your mom is more well know and she's got a rap sheet a mile long."
"I know what you mean," Beth assured, "and it doesn't make much more sense to me either. I'm not exactly a threat. I'm like 'Baby-Slayer.' Who fears the Baby Slayer?"
"This has got to do with the prophecy," Spike asserted. "An' I don' care if we were told there was only one copy," he added when Buffy opened her mouth to protest. "Someone got ahold of another one."
"And so they want to kill me so I don't save the world?" Beth asked dubiously. "Because we don't even know if that part's true."
"'Course it's true," he asserted quickly. "S'not gonna be anythin' else."
"Yeah, but you said it was ambiguous," she retorted. "Wouldn't it just be a mess of words to someone? You lot had a whole mess of councilmen to decode what you had and you still only figured it out when Mum got pregnant. I mean, Daughter of Samson, what the hell is that supposed to mean? Cut off a slayer's hair and she loses all her powers? I'd never be able to cut my hair again."
"We're getting off topic here," Willow cut in. "We need to find out who sent the demons. And if they did so because of the prophecy. If they did, that means there's a chance they have a completed copy."
"You know, when I think about it—my fyarl really isn't all that good—he said something like Great Killer? Which would be me, I guess? Killer of demons?" Beth pondered. "Or maybe it was Destructor. Is that an actual word?"
"Great Destroyer," Willow said, "that's the phrase from the prophecy. Maybe that's what he was saying?"
"I guess Destroyer makes more sense," Beth agreed. "Fyarl is such a simple language, but they do love to destroy things."
"So now we have to assume somebody knows?" Buffy asked. "A 'Great Destroyer' could be anything, anyone. It's not like the bad guys come up with creative names. The Master, William the Bloody—"
"Oi!"
"—The First. All pretty basic. Any bad guy could have named himself the 'Great Destroyer'. It doesn't mean it's all related."
"Isn't that also the guy from Ghostbusters?" Beth inquired.
"That's Destructor an' why else would the Fyarl say it to Beth?" Spike asked. "'M tellin' you, it's about the prophecy! We need to get ahold of their copy."
"So then the Great Destroyer sent a demon to kill Beth rather than do it himself?" Buffy asked skeptically.
Willow sighed, shaking her head as she eyed the two adults. Both as stubborn as could be, neither were willing to entertain the possibility that the demon had called Beth the "Great Destroyer." Buffy was completely confident that no one else could possibly know about the prophecy—let alone have a copy of it—while Spike would adamantly refute anyone so much as suggesting that his daughter could be involved in the Very Bad Things. And as much as Willow hated to admit it, two demons sent after Beth with a purpose sure seemed like someone knew something. There was just too much coincidence for the things to be exclusive to one another. Beth wasn't a bad person, but Willow wasn't either and look what she had nearly done once.
"Tomorrow we'll get Andrew over here and he and I can go through the Council resources to see if the term 'Great Destroyer' is referred to anything else and if it has any possible connection to Bethie," Willow informed the two. And hopefully they'd be able to scrape away Beth's connection to the "Great Destroyer."
Buffy sighed irritably, but relented. "Alright. And this needs to be done quickly. Who knows what this 'Great Destroyer' has in mind. I don't want to be cleaning up any more messes!" She nearly stormed out of the room, heading upstairs.
Willow watched her friend go with weary eyes. "We'd probably all better go to bed, especially you, Bethie. You've been through quite a lot today." Willow made her way to her own bedroom as well, leaving Spike and Beth in the living room.
"'M probably sleeping on the couch," Spike commented off-handedly. He looked over at Beth with a smile on his face, which quickly turned into a frown when he saw her deep look.
"Look," he began in a soft tone, "Your ole' Watcher an' Red will figure this right out."
"And what if I am this 'Great Destroyer?' What if he was talking about me?" she asked. "What then?"
"Nothin' 'cause you're not," he promised. "If he was talkin' about you, the Fyarl got bloody confused, that's what."
Nice thought, stretching it a bit though. Beth had every ability to be some destructor. She was stronger than just about anyone that had existed. She had unimaginable strength, and although rough, it was powerful. Even her mother, exalted for her accomplishments and being the best of the best, didn't have the additional help of vampire-like strength. With the right training and discipline, she would be unstoppable, even she could figure out that much. And without what made her human, who'd be able to stop her? She sure had enough repressed anger and hatred to want to take it out on the world. But despite all this, she smiled at her dad, making him think it was alright. "I'm tired. I think I'll head up as well."
Her dad gave her a gentle kiss on the head, like he used to do a lot when she was little. He was smiling at her, albeit a little sadly, as she walked up to her room. She once told her father everything because he was the only one who could ever get her. But this was ground Spike had never stepped in, boundaries he had never crossed. Besides, at some point in a girl's life, she couldn't tell her daddy everything.