A/N: And we're back with the third installment! So for anyone who found this one first, yes, there are two other completed stories that come before this one. You're more than welcome to keep reading here, but good luck with the inevitable confusion! You can always start your reading journey with Welcome to Bellevue! Get properly welcomed to this little adventure :)
The air was vibrating, Beth along with it. She couldn't understand how they all dealt with the pounding, oppressive music, considering she was stuffed in a room of keen-hearing individuals. Maybe the Deejay was deaf, she decided, eyeing the pile of sludge with headphones currently manning the station. He didn't look like he had ears after all.
She pulled at the edge of her short dress, wishing this wasn't what was needed to make her fit in. It had been her mother's (and Beth had nearly blanched when she pulled it out of the closet; her mother didn't wear things like that anymore, so what exactly was its purpose? She prayed nostalgia) and while she now had an inch on her mother, that didn't explain it's ultra-short length. She could pull and pull all she wanted, but it didn't make a difference. Her father had scowled the entire time, but her mother had been more confident. She raised a daughter who could punch the owner of wandering hands, so what was his deal? Apparently, a "da's thing," in his grumbly words. She had wished such reasoning had been enough to at least earn her some pants, but it was not so. So mini-dress it was, curls and all. Buffy had been nearly ecstatic at the prospect of dressing her daughter up, who followed her father when it came to style (much to Buffy's absolute horror. How could she, Buffy Anne Summers, raise such a fashion-challenged beast?), and had spared no expense. Beth's hair was artfully curled and her makeup properly alluring (according to Buffy, not Spike. Spike used much different words in between him trying to wrestle the eyelash curler out of his wife's hand), and her bright red heels gave her four more inches, making she feel a little smug standing next to her father as she was almost nose to nose with him. That smugness had left her though, as the balls of her feet ached and she considered how exactly she could fight in them. Sure, spiked heels were a handy-dandy weapon on the fly, but maneuvering in them was a mystery to her. She wondered just how her mother fought in those boots.
A skimpily dressed waitress flounced around Beth, who ducked her head down to avoid the tray making contact her forehead. The club was stuffed, but the air not as stifling as she had expected it to be, likely due to the fact that more than half its club goers were non-heat source vampires. She moved further onto the crowded dance floor, trying not to look as nervous as she felt. She knew vampires could "sense" slayers, but Willow and Andrew had both assured her over and over that with so many demons packed into one room, it would be hard to discern power essences. Also, as Andrew had added, her added vampireness likely muted whatever slayer signal she sent off. If anything, he had stated almost boastfully, the only thing the other demons would be able to tell was that she emitted great power. She sure hoped so, because now was not the place for an all-out, beat-down brawl. She was outnumbered and in heels. Doubly not good. Besides, she had a job to get done here and she didn't want to finish out with bruises and a ripped dress (her mom would kill her). The job in question was a sleazy vampire Charlie had connections with, who knew something about the disappearing hikers who lost themselves within the twenty-one square miles of Tiger Mountain State Forest—a feat if there ever was one (This wasn't the Yukon, after all). They police were feeling out of bounds and had called in the slayer to solve this little conundrum. Of course, no vampire nest was found in the area and so the big guns had been called (the big guns being Charlie, but not like anyone was going to tell him that). He didn't know anything, but knew somebody who would. The meet-up was arranged and had landed Beth in a short dress and heels, pretending she wasn't a slayer. Because they had to meet in a demon club. Of course.
Out on the floor and not seeing her informant yet, she gave it her best at dancing, trying to look like she came to have fun and not extract needed slayer information. She swung her hips in beat to the music, watching another vampire to try and copy her dance moves without looking like she was outright staring. She threw her hands up and Beth followed suit easily, allow her natural slayer grace to ease her into it all. She was no ballerina, but at least she wasn't as clunky as that one demon to her left who had been given a wide berth so other club patrons could avoid injury. She allowed the music to move her, waiting until her informant showed up. She knew what he looked like thanks to Charlie's description, but the time in which he was to arrive had been one of those "maybe, if traffic's good and he doesn't stop to get coffee" sort of times.
After about ten minutes of dancing, and the subsequent realization that she couldn't see half of the lounge area from the dance floor (followed by irritation from that fact), she moved off the dance floor and towards the bar. She wasn't old enough to drink and even though she knew the bartender would laugh if she even pulled an ID out ("Wanna see my ID? I totally have one"), she didn't want to consider what her father would do if he so much as smelled alcohol on her. She found herself a nearly-empty drink on a table, abandoned, and picked it up to avoid suspicion as she sat down on a barstool, heels hooked over the bar. She did her best to look appropriately intimidating, hoping that whole power radiation thing was doing its thing and keeping would-be approachers at bay.
"Can I buy you a drink?" Apparently not so.
She froze, then remembered she shouldn't do that, turning around to look at the source of the voice. He was a vampire, she could tell, out in his human visage with a devastating smile. All she could think was that he was the type girls swooned over in magazines. She got some of the appeal, eyeing his tight pants and burgundy shirt, working well with his darkly tanned skin and good facial bone structure. He was muscular too, which only made her wonder how long it would take her to take him down, and had very blue eyes. His hair was that "Just-rolled-out-of-bed-look-even-though-I-spent-an-hour-styling-it-with-gel-before-I-left-the-house" and a nice shade of shiny brown.
He noticed her perusal though and his grinned widen. Damn. He thought she was interested. Bugger.
"I said, can I buy you a drink?" he repeated when she didn't respond. He wasn't at all put-off by the "bugger off" vibes she was giving off, likely because she was giving them off with her eyes and he was most certainly not looking at her eyes (gross).
She had to take the offer though, right? She was supposed to be another patron here, just another rando powerful demon (who was now being mistaken for a vampire, which truthfully wasn't that far off) and rando powerful demons didn't turn down free drinks, especially not from ones that looked like him. Fuck. She could deal with whatever weird substance demons put in drinks, but alcohol? Exactly how good of a nose did her father have and how hard would he kill her if he found out? He told her to blend in and not make herself stand out, but was offered drinks included under that? Did demons even ask for virgins of things, besides victims (snort)? Could she just laugh in his face and say he was the dirt beneath her feet and thus unworthy of her attention? Would that even turn him away, or would he see that as more of a challenge? Damn, now she was wishing she hadn't blown off her father when he had tried to give her a run-down in demon social rules ("I got this. I have this so hard it's like I already did it." What cruel lies.) Doubly regret.
"Sure," she finally said with a sultry grin. Or at least what she hoped was a sultry grin. Out of all the faces she had made in the mirror after a shower, sultry expressions were not her forte. And it wasn't like she could just ask Zack what sort of expressions women made that were hot. That would be weird.
The vampire smiled at her, sending a not-happy kind of shiver down her spine. He had to at least have been twenty-five when he was turned and here she was, newly sixteen and didn't have those extra vampires years on her to make her "wise beyond her age" or whatever. He turned to call the bartender over, leaving her scrambling to fight her way out of this. He was definitely not her informant and part of her was happy about that, considering he seemed like the kind who didn't know how to leave a bone alone. But at the same time, she needed an out and quickly.
"What can I get you?" asked the bartender, a scaly-looking beast with two gargantuan horns he likely used to skewer anyone who skimped on the tip.
The vampire turned to look at her and she smiled again, saying, "Surprise me," with a flip of her hair. That was how flirting worked, yes?
Apparently it was good, because he turned back to the bartender ordering, "Two Bloody Mary's" (of course, he did. Of course, he would. Had he no shame?). She breathed a short sigh of relief, glad it wasn't something too outlandish, before she stopped. There wasn't any real Mary in there, was there? As the bartender went to prepare their drinks, the vampire returned his gaze to her and her eyes quickly scanned the crowd. She still didn't see her informant and was likely now in for a nice, long chat with Mr. Tussled Hair.
"So, what's your name gorgeous?" he asked, a smoldering look in his eyes. She kept flicking her eyes over the crowd, hoping to transmit disinterest. Either he didn't care, or was poor at picking up social cues.
"Liz," she supplied, as he was the last person she actually wanted to hear her name come from and that was quite a feat, considering the people she'd met throughout the years.
"Name's Josué," he gave in return and Beth then picked up the barest hints of an accent. "Don't even think I've seen you around here."
"I'm new in town," she told him with an air of casualness. The bartender slid the drinks toward them and Josué handed Beth her own and she pretended to take a drink from it, hoping she'd be gone long before he caught on that her drink level stayed the same no matter how many sips she took.
"Ah, well, what brought you to little ole' Bellevue? Not much in town happening here," he commented. Sure, maybe from the perspective of the vampire; her parents were busy. "I would think someone as powerful as you would be basking in a Hellmouth somewhere."
So maybe Willow and Andrew did have a point; her signature was too muddied, but the power there was still noticeable. She looked human so ergo must be vampire, yes? Or maybe he just said that to all the pretty girls.
"Hellmouth's are crowded," she said dismissively. "I didn't want the competition for real estate. Although, Seattle's got more demon in it than I would think."
He chuckled. "You'd be surprised that Hellmouth's aren't the only places with thin walls between here and another place," he told her ruefully. "Many places can attract the best of the worst."
"Yourself included?" she asked, emphasis on the worst.
He threw back his head, letting out a deep laugh. She could almost picture her mother getting a dreamy look in her eye—then punching him right in the throat. The thought made her smile and she hoped it would tie her through this whole conversation.
"You're a feisty one, aren't you?" he commented, a predatorial look in his eyes. Not unusual. All vampires had it, his was just especially strong at the moment.
Quite tired of this ruse, and really hoping she'd warmed him up enough for a proper brush-off, she sighed, giving him an unsatisfying look over. "You seem alright, but I don't date vampires," she claimed.
The charming look on his face dropped immediately, replaced with a scowl. One of her father's little social rules popped into her head and she recalled how little vampires were thought of in the demon world. Couldn't help but include racism in the evil, soulless part she supposed.
"I'm a vengeance demon," she decided, coming up with that in the moment. "I've dated the likes of Demon Kings throughout the ages. Do you really think I'd waste my time with you?"
Okay, she might have gone too far with that last remark. She wanted to get him to slouch off, not burst with anger. She heard the glass of the cup in his hand crack under the force of his hand, fire building up in his eyes. Oh shit. Was this the all out, beat-down, brawl she was trying to avoid coming to her? Oh, why did no one up there watching like her?
When Josué made a move toward her, a hand came up behind him, gripping his shoulder and halting his motion. From around him appeared another vampire, this one a bit pudgy around the center and wearing a bowler hat like it was still cool. Her informant.
"Hey Casanova, how about you leave the nice lady alone?" he inquired, a cool smile on his face. When Josué seemed disinclined to disengage, her informant made a head jerking motion toward the bartender, who was now watching them keenly. "He don't take too kindly to rough housers."
The bartender let out a short growl, eyes locked on Josué. He took one look at the bartender before snarling, jerking his shoulder out of the other vampire's hold and stalking off, disappearing onto the dance floor.
"Thanks," Beth said.
"Oh, I didn't do that for your benefit," he replied. "Rico Suave is here a lot, acting like he's god's gift to females of all species, taking someone new home every night. Nice to see him get turned down. I wanted to be a part of that spectacular moment. Shall we sit somewhere more private?"
She nodded, allowing him to lead her to a small table under a staircase. It was secluded, but she wasn't worried about him pulling something. It seemed odd to trust a vampire, but she had a feeling that in this moment, he wasn't about to pull tricks. He seemed a bit like Charlie: interested in whatever benefited his wellbeing.
"Thank you for meeting with me," she told him as she sat down.
"Well, I sure wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to meet a slayer. Can't say I've got a history of running into them, unlike your dad there."
Her eyebrows rose. Nobody usually knew that her father was Spike, vampire-turned human. Most vampires thought William the Bloody had just gotten himself dusted. It would have made sense, considering his obsession with slayers.
"How—" she started, confused.
He chuckled. "Come on, how many people are running around looking like they got dropped in a vat of bleach? It was William the Bloody's look then and it seems like it still is now. The human thing though—now that is unexpected."
He laughed when he saw her perturbed look. "What, didn't Charlie tell you I know things around here? An ex-Master Vampire patrolling around isn't going to slip my notice. And it's not like he's being subtle. Gotta know though, what's that like, having a vampire for a dad?"
"He's human now," she stated flatly, not liking where this conversation was going. The last thing she needed was this vamp nobody to put two and two together, figuring that maybe her signature wasn't all slayer. "He was human for as long as I can we talk about something else now?"
He muttered to himself, waving off the approaching waitress with a wave of his hand. "Kids these days, so impatient. You want to know what I know?"
She looked at him expectantly, figuring it a rhetorical question. When he didn't keep talking, she sighed, "Yes."
"Alright. Here's what I know. Xavier's been keeping it rather low lately, after McGregor took a bite out of his guys—no pun intended. They got pushed out of urban hunting grounds and so he's fallen back to less populated areas to try and get attention off of him until he can recover. Hikers go missing after all, don't they?"
"So you're saying Xavier's behind it," she stated. Xavier ran a relatively small, but powerful vampire clan in Klahanie. McGregor's clan was settled right next door in Sammamish, although if he was pushing Xavier out, it seemed like he was on a journey of manifest destiny-like quality.
"McGregor's been expanding his territory for years now and he wants to finally make it big here in little ole' Bellevue—too bad he's on the wrong side of the lake. Makes sense he'd head south of I-90," he replied. "McGregor's on a power trip and Xavier didn't have that much to begin with."
"So if we strike Xavier at his nest, the problem ends then?" she asked to be sure. She didn't want to bust in and break up a vampire nest for nothing. Besides, she wore a short dress for this, by hell she was getting something out of this.
He threw up his hands, adopting a look of no responsibility. "Can't promise nothing. But I would bet money on it and you probably know how stringent vampires are about our betting."
Her eyes narrowed and she leaned across the table, bringing their already close faces closer. "I know they cheat to get their winnings."
"Hey, I may drink blood for a living, but I do my work honestly. Look at me, working for cash by way of slayer. I'm practically in cahoots with the Council. These guys here would have my hide if they knew who I was helping. Think I'd risk that by lying to you?"
She leaned back, realizing this was as honest as a vampire could get. "You have a point. But if I find out you lied to me in any way—that includes withholding information—I will have your head and it will be dusty. Savvy?"
He chuckled, obviously amused by her anger. "Alright. Alright. I got it. I told you all I know. If I hear anything more, I'll drop a line. Maybe for a bit more of cash; I may like your style kid, but that don't make me a rich man."
She snorted, standing up. "You're incorrigible."
He grinned, almost ferally. "But boy does it get the babes."
She regarded with a light sneer, letting him know this "babe" wasn't impressed in the slightest. "You're not my type," she bit out.
"And you're not mine, so don't flatter yourself," he shot back, grin still on his face. "You may look good in that dress, but any seasoned club goer can tell just how uncomfortable you are in it. You wanna fit in in the underground? Maybe try looking less like you'd rather take a long walk off a short pier then wear that."
"I bet they tell you you're funny, don't they?" she replied snidely, standing up. Quite finished with their conversation, she turned on her heels to stalk off (and totally not wobbling even a bit. Who told you that?). She stopped short though, eyes going wide when she saw who was at the door.
"Oh feck," she breathed.
"What?" he asked, looking toward the door. He caught sight of the large Vahrall demon sporting a leather coat, surrounded by equally vicious looking demons decked in leather. He spotted the insignia on the back of one of their jackets and his eyes widened.
"Oh no, you know those guys?" he hissed, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her back. She stumbled on her heels but used her other arm to grab the table for support and keep herself from looking like a total klutz.
"Oh no?" she repeated, narrowing her eyes at him. "What do you mean, 'oh no'?"
"Those guys are a notorious demon gang," he explained in a low tone. "Look at them wrong way and you'll get your head ripped off."
"Oh," was all she got out. She looked back over at them. The tallest one, the leader, snorted, snarling at some vampire who accidentally bumped into him. The vampire in question startled, backing away quickly before turning and running out the door. Yep. That was definitely the guy. "Well, I might have set their hideout on fire last week." She remembered it quite clearly, especially the part when the leader had roared out how he would remember her face so he could tear it off the next time he saw her. How lovely. A reunion already.
"Why on earth would you do that?" he nearly yelled, his grip bruising her arm.
She yanked herself out of his hold, sniffing. "They stole an old lady's purse. That's rude."
He looked at her like she was absolutely certifiable. "I thought slayers were supposed to deal with real crime!"
"Hey, theft is a very serious crime!" she hissed angrily.
"Well, good luck on getting out of here now. You think this place has backdoors?" he asked with her a snort.
"I can sneak past them," she told him snidely, sticking out her tongue. He only snorted again.
She walked away from him, making her way along the wall until she could reach the door and sprint out to her getaway car.
"I am definitely watching this," he muttered, turning to make sure he had a good view of the biker demons.
Beth casually and slowly made her way toward the exit, hoping the poor lighting and different scenery would make her harder to recognize. After all, she was a ditzy party-goer in a sparkly dress here, not a righteous, kick-ass slayer. Totally different vibes.
She was about five feet from the door when the head demon grunted and sniffed the air. She froze.
"Slayer," it growled, turning its eyes on her. It just had to recognize her scent, didn't it?
Beth wasted no time, grabbing a bottle of beer from a passing waitress' tray and smashing it against the demon's head. It roared at her and she sprinted back across the club. The demon barreled toward her, along with the rest of his gang, all of them snarling and roaring at her. One of the smaller, faster ones reached her first, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her down. She quickly flipped around, jabbing her spiked heel into his belly. She heard a gross squelching noise and did her best not to gag as she felt something warm drench her leg. Of course, her mother would have literal spiked heels. Of course.
She pushed the demon back and delivered a kick to its side, sending him flying into a group of vampires. She quickly regained her footing in time to be assaulted by another demon, this one with a chain. He swung out at her and she ducked, her eyes searching for a weapon. The nearest thing she could find was a barstool so she grabbed it, mindless of its patron, and swung it at the demon's head. It collided with a solid thunk, making him growl in annoyance. Alright, so not the best weapon. She abandoned it, going for a solid hit to the demon's stomach. Another demon came up behind her, wrapping his bulging arms around her midsection and squeezing. She grunted in pain but took another swing with the spiked heels, driving it in in the behemoth's upper thigh. He made a pained groan, but didn't stop squeezing. Damn this dress for not coming equipped with more weapons!
She reared her head forward then snapped it back, impacting with its jaw. She heard a crack, and smiled to herself at the sudden weak spot. That had more of the desired effect and the demon loosened its hold enough for her slip out and down, knocking him off his feet. She delivered a right hook to the other demon, stunning him enough to grab him and throw him into the other. Both stumbled back into a line of tables, sending demons and drinks scattering.
She dodged out of the way of another demon trying to put her in a bear hold, hopping on top of the bar. She ran down it, mindless of the glasses, and jumped to reach the balcony floor. The vampires near screamed at her sudden appearance, before dissolving into whoops and cackling. She grabbed the bars of the rail, trying to pull herself up. The head demon had recovered though and was unfortunately tall enough to reach up and grab her ankle. She made a shriek of outrage before using her other foot to deliver a kick straight to his face. He growled, barring his teeth at her. She did the same in return, kicking again. He didn't let go though, tugging her down. She felt her hands slipping, no grip on the metal bars. She grabbed onto the base though, feeling the pain in her leg growing as he pulled harder. She kicked over and over, hoping at some point he'd be forced to let go. It only seemed to make him angrier though, and he pulled harder.
Rethinking her earlier plan (it would have been so cool to swing from the overhead light, but whatever), she let go of the bar and landed right on the demon. He seemed surprised that she had done that, and she caught him off-guard. She landed a punch right to his neck, hearing him gasp and gag. They landed in a heap and she quickly rolled off of him, and right into the brawl that had broken out in the rest of the club. Apparently, the other demons and vampires didn't like the biker members that had been crashed into their tables. God bless the deejay though, he continued his job, loyal to the end.
The mess gave her cover though and she ran toward the front door, dodging punches and brawling demons the whole way. She turned back just in time to see the head biker get up and roar, realizing she had got away. She ducked out the door, running down the alleyway.
She spotted her dad's car idling on the side of the road some distance off, far enough to not draw attention to it. She opened the back-car door, crawling in without so much as a hello.
"How'd it go?" Willow greeted as soon as Beth fell into the car, turning around in the side passenger seat. Spike was sitting in the driver's, fingering a pack of cigarettes he kept in under the chair where Buffy wouldn't find it. Obviously, he had been nervous. "What's happening to our hikers?"
"Vamp-food," she confirmed. "And it seems it's because our Klahanie clan is feeling the burn from our least favorite red-head."
Willow nodded knowingly. "So it is Jude Law. I knew it!"
"Jude Law?" Spike repeated, frowning. "I thought his name was Xavier."
"Buffy said he looked like Jude Law."
"He does not look like Jude Law," he growled, crushing the cigarettes in his hand.
Willow smiled. "Methinks the man doth protest too much," she taunted. "Don't worry Spike, she's married to you."
Beth's glanced back and forth from the window to her aunt and father, before settling on the pair. "Anyway," she drawled. "I think it's a good lead. Xavier's been too quiet anyway."
"So everything went well with the informant?" he asked urgently, obviously expecting her to tell him how awful it had been, all the leers she had gotten, and how he was going to have to go bust some heads in retribution for them eyeing his little girl.
"Yup," she said quickly, seeing that the head biker was now making his way through the mess. "It went great. But we need to go." He spotted the car and started making his way over. "Like now."
He watched with great suspicion as she buckled herself up, her gaze nervously glancing between the window and the car gear he was not putting into drive.
"Why?" Willow asked, confused. "I thought you said you got the information and everything went smoothly?"
"Oh, it did," she assured. He was getting closer. He could probably smell her from there, dammit. "But I may have started a bar fight."
"What?" Willow asked, startled. "How did you accomplish that?"
"I may have run into a demon gang I angered earlier this week."
"How," Spike stated, although it was a question. His gaze was hard and she knew she was going to get an earful sometime this night.
"Well, I may have burned their hideout down."
"Why."
She fidgeted in her seat. Did he not see the steaming angry demon slowly but surely making his way to the car? Did Spike not proclaim this car as his second child, the other daughter he never had?
"They stole a lady's purse," she whispered, cringing as she did so, waiting for the outburst.
She didn't have to wait long. "Are you serious?" he bellowed. "For a purse?"
"Hey, theft is a very serious crime!" she argued. Someone had to defend her after all. "And she was really, really old! How low can you go?"
"We will be talking about this more when we get home, young lady," her father growled, turning around to resituate himself at the wheel. "Wait until your mum hears about this."
He put the car in drive, peeling down the road just as the biker demon reached the car. He roared at the empty air and Beth looked out the back window to see him punch the asphalt. She had slipped through his fingers a second time; no doubt that had to sting. She snickered, quite happy with herself, until she turned around and met her father's glare in the rearview mirror. Obviously, this was not as funny to him as to her. She went for the pity route, giving him her best "I'm sorry, daddy" look. It worked, as he looked away, knowing he couldn't stay mad at her when she looked at him like that. He cursed to himself, banging the steering wheel. He really hoped Buffy would give her an earful when they got home.
-.-
"And so she forgave you for the China plate incident?" Nadja asked over the phone. Her voice was all staticky, as she had yet again found herself out enduring the wilderness of camp at her parent's insistence. Beth didn't mind the absence of her friend too much, seeing as she did have Zack for company and she was busy in Slayer Boot Camp, smashing demon heads into the dirt.
"Yup," Beth said, her feet propped up on the wall as she laid out of the bed the wrong way. "So I'm no longer in trouble for that. My father's face was the best though, when she actually laughed. My mum's always been very black and white when it comes to demons. I knew she would agree with my actions before I even told her why I lit their place on fire."
Nadja sighed forlornly. "Gosh, you're having so much fun without me. Even stupid Zack gets to have more fun than me!"
She snorted, amused. "He doesn't really fight, you know. He shows up for the lessons Mr. Wells provides, but he always stands back and just watches during actual fights. And he only shows up to patrol with me if my dad isn't coming, which he insists on doing a lot. My mum has to sometimes beat him into not coming because she thinks he's going to officially scare off Zack and then I'd have one less friend."
"And wouldn't that be a shame?" Nadja muttered, though there wasn't as much venom in her voice as their used to be. She'd gotten more used to the fact that she had to share Beth with Zack, even if she seemed to still hate it.
"He's going off to college in a couple of days," Beth reminded her. "You won't have to deal with him until Thanksgiving, if he comes home for that."
"Of course he will," Nadja muttered. "Massachusetts doesn't have my Beebee's turkey, or you for that matter."
"Don't be ridiculous," Beth laughed. "He wouldn't buy a plane ticket because of me."
"You're so dense sometimes," Nadja said. "And it's not like my family can't afford it."
"Plane tickets aren't anything to sneeze at," Beth reminded her. "Where's Massachusetts again?"
Nadja sighed. "East coast. But trust me, I'll be seeing him every holiday for now until forever. Unless he gets himself a girlfriend finally, but I seriously doubt that'll happen anytime soon."
"What, is he gay?" Beth inquired. It was true that she had never seen Zack with another girl, but she didn't spend every waking hour with him. But to think that Zack finding a significant other meant she'd never see him again? It made her stomach drop.
"He's not gay," Nadja promised. "That's why I said girlfriend and not boyfriend. I meant that he's weird, so who'd want to date him? Besides, it's not like he even tries."
"Nadja, I think you're the only one who finds him too weird to date. Also didn't he take someone to prom?" she remembered.
"He did, but that was because she asked him and he was too polite to say no," Nadja explained. "That's how trouble starts."
"Well, you can't be too upset that he'll be coming back. Haven't you two been getting along better?" she asked.
"Better is a relative term," Nadja explained. "We weren't doing all that good before you showed up, but I will admit I actually don't mind his presence entirely. Although I do wish it were me you were spending summer with and not him. I'll admit to being a little selfish."
"Well, you're the one who went to camp," Beth reminded her lightly.
"You know, you could always join me at camp. Go swimming, make s'mores."
"I already go to camp," Beth reminded her. "Slayer camp. We roast severed demon heads over an open fire while we sing Kumbaya."
"Yeah, but you can't eat a demon's head," Nadja argued.
"Well actually, theoretically you could—"
"Okay, that's just disgusting."
"—because it's essentially meat, you know," she finished, grinning as she heard her friend gag a little.
"You are absolutely vile. It's almost dinner and now I'm not even hungry and I hate you so much right now," Nadja growled.
She laughed. "No you don't. You couldn't ever hate me."
"Watch me," Nadja warned.
"Beth, dinner!" Buffy shouted from the bottom of the stairs.
"Well, that's my cue. I'll talk to you when you get back, alright?" she told Nadja. "We can have one last free night before school starts back up."
"Alright. Bye."
She hung up her phone and rolled off her bed. She quickly made her way down the stairs, making her presence known with her loud steps. Her father was already in the dining room, still looking properly sulky that she hadn't gotten in trouble for her stunt at the club last night. She was pretty sure her lack of grounding had something to do with her going out with Zack later that night.
"So, when's Zack coming by to get you?" Buffy asked with a little grin on her face.
"Around eight," she replied, sitting down beside her father and lightly nudging him with her shoulder. Nope. Still all frowny. "We're going to the arcade and I should be back before midnight."
"He payin'?" Spike grumbled.
She gave her dad a funny look. "No, why would he? Where's Willow?"
"Out," Buffy replied airily. "I think she's got herself a new girlfriend, Esme."
"Wait, you mean Nadja's aunt?" Beth asked, surprised. She knew that the two witchy women had hit it off, but she hadn't realized romance was involved. Gosh, Nadja was right. She was dense.
"Got it in one," Spike said. "So, at what point in the date is it alright to bring up you live under the same roof as William the Bloody?"
Buffy rolled her eyes at him. "Don't be so dramatic, Spike," she said, dropping the pizza boxes to the table. "It's not like it's a big deal."
The noise he made expressed just how ridiculous he thought his wife's comment was. "Have you forgotten I killed her ancestors?"
"And you've attempted to kill me on numerous occasions, and haven't I gotten over that?" Buffy asked in return.
"Yeah, 'cept when you bring it up 'cause you're angry," he shot back, looking crabby.
"So what's the plan with Xavier?" Beth inquired. "And what about McGregor? Charlie's informant made it sound like he was really egging to be Master of Seattle." She finished her sentence with a little disbelieving snort, amused by it all. There were too many vampire clans vying for the position, almost like a vacuum had opened up and they were all rushing to fill the spot—getting stuck in the hole in the process.
The look on her mother's face said that she had already given the plan some thought and had come upon a conclusion she didn't like. "All they do is scatter and make camp somewhere else," she grumbled, sitting down. "And it's not like any one of them is going to be a Master anytime soon. That's earned."
Spike nodded his agreement, his mouth too full of pizza to answer properly.
"Well, there had to be one before, right?" Beth asked, curious. There were too many demons here and Seattle was a large city if you included the sprawling metropolitan area. It had to have been run by some sort of demon boss, right? Vampires were the most common, often acting like gangs in terms of leadership and territory.
Buffy shrugged. "Maybe," she answered. "The Council didn't mention anything, so if there was one, he's long gone now."
"What like he just ran off or something?" Beth asked, chuckling.
"Probably went dusty," her mother replied.
"Happens sometimes," Spike agreed, wiping the grease from his face with his sleeve. Beth made a face, offering him a napkin. He took it, placing it down on the table immediately. "Nasty slayer comes along an' kills a Master or he kills her. That's the way it runs."
"'Nasty'?" Buffy inquired, her voice taking on a dangerous tone.
"Jus' a word, love," he said, quickly backtracking. "Phrase more like it. 'Nasty slayer.' S'what you are to a vampire."
"I'll show you nasty," Buffy grumbled, taking a bite of pizza. Beth sincerely hoped that didn't meant what her father's expression was implying it meant. At least she'd be out playing air hockey.
-.-
"What do you mean you don't know what skeeball is?" Zack asked, sounding highly scandalized.
"I know what it is," she replied, rolling her eyes in that condescending manner like any self-respecting sixteen-year-old teenage girl could. "I said I don't know how to play it. I didn't have friends at the Academy, remember? And Nadja doesn't like arcades like you do."
"You had friends," he argued. "You told me about that one girl. Jackie."
"Jackie is a boy and we didn't go out to the arcade," she explained patiently. "The slayer academy isn't exactly in the middle of some bustling metropolis. Do you even know the true meaning of a farm town? Because I do."
"Look it's easy," he assured, sliding his card through the slot. She heard a click and several wooden balls rolled down. He picked up one, tossing it back and forth between his hands. "All you do is roll it along this ramp here and aim for one of the holes. Each is labeled with points so the more points, the more tickets."
"And then I can get that monstrosity of a bear?" she breathed, excited.
"What is with you and that bear?" he asked, laughing.
"You know, it's in all those movies. When people go to the carnival or something, and then they win the giant bear or rabbit or whatever," she explained.
He regarded her for a moment. "Do you base your entire life off of television?"
"Well, what else am I supposed to base it off of?" she asked. "My parents' life?"
"Well, if you're sticking true to the source material, I'd have to win it for you," he remarked. "You want to go first?"
He held out the ball in his hand, which she excitedly took. She moved to stand in front of the ramp, eyeing the holes. "So those ones in the corner are the highest point ones?" she asked.
"Yup. But if you miss, you land your ball in the lowest hole," he reminded her. Challenge accepted.
She smiled to herself, lining up the shot and applied the right amount of force behind her swing, watching as the ball rolled up the ramp and landed right in the hole. The game made an extra little dinging noise and she grinned.
"Boy am I good at this, and could you believe this is my first time?" she said, hands on her hips.
"You know, I keep forgetting that your slayer skills make you good at just about everything," he said, scratching his head. "If I could just remember that, I would feel a lot less dumb most of the time."
She patted him on the shoulder sympathetically. "I can pretend to be bad, if that makes you feel better."
He snorted. "You? Pretend? Your pride wouldn't let you. Besides, how does it help me if I know it's all fake? Just know you'll probably be the one winning yourself the teddy bear, not me."
"You going for the racecar eraser?" she teased.
"Haha, very funny. I'll have you know I spent the entire summer between my freshman and sophomore year here playing these games," he told her. "I was very Vitamin D deficient that summer."
He took his turn, rolling a ball up the ramp, getting it in the middle hole. He paused for a moment, frowning. "You know," he began, "this might be cheating but there's that really cool speaker system—"
"Already on it. Move," she interrupted, pushing him away with her hip, already knowing where he was going.
He grinned. "I'll throw in the teddy bear too, just because I think you've earned it."
"Excuse me," she cut in. "I'm the one who will be doing all the hard work."
"But it's my card," he reminded her, waving the piece of plastic in front of her face. She rolled the ball down the ramp, getting another hundred and hearing the game ring. "This isn't hard work anyway, not for you. Hard work is last night."
"Oh, it wasn't that hard," she said, tossing another ball. "The dress was more if a nightmare than the actual info extraction, or even the bar fight. My ankle still kinda hurts though. You should have come. It would have been fun."
He snorted, handing her another ball. "You think your dad would have been fine with me tagging along, when you were wearing a short dress? I'd be in about sixteen pieces right now, which would be a fun thing for my parents to explain to MIT when I don't show up tomorrow."
"What is it with you and my dad?" she asked. "I know there's the whole 'killed my ancestors' bit—"
"I'd say it's more than a bit," he muttered.
"—but he's got a soul now," she reminded him.
"And it's not me that has the problem with him," he told her. "It's the him that's got a problem with me."
She snorted. "Don't be ridiculous. He's always wanted me to have friends closer to my age. Why would he have a problem with you?"
"Uh, because I am of the male gender?" he replied. "No dad likes it when a boy hangs around their daughter. I could be proudly-proclaimed asexual and he would still bury me in the back yard next to that guy who had the audacity to whistle at you."
"Okay, that guy's not dead, he's just afraid to ever come outside again," she told him. "And that was because of how I reacted. My dad just laughed after he was done being angry."
"My point still stands," he said. "Your dad would rather see me dead than see me within 2,000 miles of you."
"Well then, ain't he in luck?" she said with a grin. "Coincidentally, that's just how far Massachusetts is from here."
His mood seemed to dampen and he sighed.
"It is 2,000, isn't it?" she asked, thinking now that she had gotten in wrong. Dammit, why did MIT have to be in Massachusetts? Why couldn't it be one of those other states that people actually knew about, like New York or even that one that proclaimed that everything was bigger there? What was in Massachusetts anyway (besides MIT of course, and tomorrow evening, Zack)?
"It's 3,000, but at that amount, who's really counting?" he joked, though his mood didn't seem to lighten.
"You're going to have a fun time," she promised him. "Moving can be nice. I mean, I had a bunch of bullies from where I moved from, but I think it can still be fun even if that isn't true."
He smiled at little at that, no man ever perfectly immune to the Summers' women charm. "You're not going to go and replace me, are you?" he finally asked.
"Well, we did have a nice 'Three Musketeers' thing going on and I would hate to see that go," she considered, pretending to think for a moment. When he scowled, she laughed, punching him in the shoulder (but not too hard. It would suck to have a broken arm on the first day of class next Wednesday). "I'm joking," she assured him. "I couldn't replace you, even if someone tried really, really hard. Shouldn't I be the one worried about being replaced? You're going off to a cool, new city and will meet new people. You could easily find someone else to fill my place. Someone special."
"Ha, replace you?" he scoffed. "I don't think that's possible."
"You're probably right," she agreed. "I am a slayer. What city is MIT in?"
"It's Boston," he told her, for probably what amounted to the fiftieth time.
"I don't think there's a slayer there, so I guess you're right. I am irreplaceable," she decided with a grin. "Poor you. You'll have to wait until November to ever get to be around someone as cool as me again."
"You know, just because one guy thought you were his god—"
"It was two people, thank you."
"—Does not mean you need to walk around with an inflated ego," he finished, poking her head with his game card and making a popping sound.
"I will miss you though," she promised with a sincere smile. "Just because you're thousands of miles away doesn't mean you're not important to me. It doesn't mean you're not still my friend."
"Stop it, you're making my blush," he joked, but she could tell she'd made him all jittery when his hands started to do their walkabout again.
"I'm serious," she continued. "You're, like, a very important part of my life now and I'm not just going to forget that."
"Yeah?" he asked, sounding a little breathless.
There was a deep, soul-searching look to his eye, one that made her heart go kinda fast, so to break the tension, she added, "Yeah, I've reached an all-time high score of two friends now, and I'm not just about to let that go."
He let out an awkward chuckle, leaning backwards. "But what about your Watcher? Did he not count?"
"No," she grumbled, "not according to my dad."
He smiled. "Alright, we won't lose the high score. Now finish up this game. I think you'd be a shoe-in at the block stacking game."