A/N: Hello and welcome! If this is your first time, please know that you are about to try and read a fourth installment and that there are three other complete stories that come before this. You can keep reading if you want, but I can't promise you won't be the most confused person here (may I suggest finding Welcome to Bellevue! and going from there?).
For all those returning: Hello again! Nice to see some familiar faces! Sorry this took a little longer than promised; life happened! Anyway, here's part four and another delve into Beth's adventures as a slayer!
Beth sighed, throwing her bloody axe down on the ground, nearly falling onto the bus bench herself . Zack took a seat beside her, looking equally as worn. He didn't look as tossed about as she did though, mostly because he tended to seek refuge behind her during the attack. She didn't blame him for it, though she did wonder why he still chose to join her if he wasn't going to be an active participant.
"I quite enjoyed tonight, didn't you?" Daniel asked, tired but invigorated. He came hopping up beside them, looking down at them with a wide, happy smile on his face. Beth scooted over closer to Zack, giving Daniel space to sit down beside them. It pressed her right up against Zack and she tried not to think about how if she turned her head to face him, how close her lips would be to his.
Focus!
"I don't think 'enjoyed' is a word I'd use," she admitted, trying to distract herself with conversation, "but I'm glad you're having fun."
"I have always found demon hunting to be quite energetic," he informed them, his legs bouncing.
"You're trying to kill something," Zack explained. "It's supposed to be energetic, not leave you feeling energetic."
Daniel paused for a second, considering what he said. "Oh well," he finally decided with a shrug, and she couldn't help but smile.
The bus pulled up a few minutes later, allowing them to get on. With Zack's car in the shop and Beth still unable to convince her parents to let her borrow one of their cars, they were stuck taking the bus. And since Andrew had wanted her to go farther outside of Bellevue, hoping she'd face a few more interesting enemies, public transportation it was. She'd never taken a city bus before and she found the prospect exciting.
There wasn't anyone else on the bus, save a worn-looking, transient man and an old lady. Normally it was the homeless that people worried about, but he looked fine to her. It was the old lady she wasn't too sure about. Old people went to bed early, didn't they? It was nearly two and this was the last bus for the night. That old lady was supposed to be asleep long ago. She was pretty sure the lady was a demon (50-50, at least). Besides, the woman had a sour, old face.
She smiled at the bus driver as she got on, and he nodded in response. She admired him for not asking questions about their mussed looks or the bloody weapon she was holding. True champ there. She headed toward the back, taking a window seat. Zack sat down beside her, and Daniel took a seat in the row in front of them (was she secretly thrilled he sat down next to her? Maybe).
She dropped her head forward and let out a sigh before looking back up, gathering what energy she had in reserves to get her home without falling asleep. When she looked up though, she caught eyes with the old woman, who gave her a look over before harrumphing, purposefully holding eye contact longer than polite to fully express her discontent.
Beth looked down at her herself. She thought she looked pretty okay. She had avoided getting any large amounts of blood or dirt on her (quite a feat really—she'd have to share her tricks with her mother). Her boots were totally fine: basic, scuffed (it showed love) combat boots made for demon ass-kicking—which she did a lot of, you're welcome, you judgmental old lady. Her pants were torn, but everyone worn ripped jeans now. They were in again. Her shirt was a little big since it was her dad's, and thus so hanging off one shoulder. And, okay, it did proudly and boldly say SEX PISTOLS in big letters and some people were difficult about the word sex, but really lady, it's a band. Punk is life.
She turned to look at Zack. "Do I look like a hoodlum to you?"
"What? No. Of course not. Never."
She looked at him for a moment longer, before turning to ask Daniel, "Do I look like a hoodlum?"
He tilted his head and studied her shortly, his eyes doing a quick perusal. "A bit yes. Your hair's a mess so that doesn't help, but you do have a nice smile so that usually evens it out." She beamed at him. "See?"
"Kiss ass," Zack grumbled, sinking down into his chair.
"May I inquire as to why you wish to know?" he asked, curious.
"That old lady was giving me a dirty look," she grumbled, shooting her own dirty look at the side of the lady's head.
"She kind of reminds me of my beebee Anita, who's an old-fashioned sort of lady, so there might be another reason why she's staring," Zack suggested.
"Like what?" she asked, hating being left out. If someone was going to dislike her, they might as well be up front with her about it. They always had been before.
"Modesty," he answered with a shrug.
"You act like I have cleavage showing or something," she snorted.
His eyes went to her chest before quickly looking away, like he needed to confirm it. "No," he started slowly, "but one girl with two guys? I dunno, people can get really conservative about that stuff sometimes." He started doing that nervous things with his hands.
"And your messy look doesn't help either," Daniel added. "It makes you seems, let's say, desperate?"
Beth looked back and forth between the two of them, Zack, who pretended to read the bus advertisements, and Daniel, who just stared at her meaningfully.
"Oh, what, like I'm some 'lady of the night'?" she scoffed.
"Or a desperate runaway in need of a bed," Daniel theorized, looking like he'd found the answer.
"Okay, but with two of you?" she hissed. "That's sounds like too much bloody work. I mean—"
"Can we not have this conversation?" Zack interrupted.
"And why isn't she giving you two the same looks?" she asked, like Zack hadn't even spoken, outraged by the unfairness of all of it. "Maybe I should take out my chain, show her what I'm really about."
"Assaulting bus patrons?" Daniel guessed.
"Business," she stated, eyes narrowing with determination.
Zack grabbed her by the shoulder and she lurched back against the seat. Of course, she could easily shrug him off, but that was a little rude. "Down," he warned and she glared at him. "There will be no hurting of the civilians today. So what? She's a mean, judgmental old lady. She was born when girls still got escorted on dates by their dads."
"Doesn't mean she gets to stare," she bit out, loud enough that she actually got the woman's attention again. The woman's eyes widened in fear a bit, probably due to Beth's hard and snarly look. She looked away quickly, clutching her bag closer to her.
"Don't be that one Chemical Romance song you like so much," Zack chastised. "Leave her alone."
"I will now that she's left me alone," she retorted, although she was pretty sure the old lady was still side-eyeing her.
The old hag got off soon enough, leaving the three of them alone with the homeless man and the bus driver. It was another half an hour before the bus stopped at their stop, still a long walk away from home. Beth still wasn't sure how Zack was getting home, because she was pretty sure her dad wasn't going to be too keen on a sleep over. After the Jacob-James incident as she was coming to refer to it as (no matter how many motions Nadja made to change it to the "Date Disaster of Epic Proportions"), her dad wasn't fond of any males (not that he had ever been a fan of Zack to begin with). Even Jackie, who had come to visit over the summer, had found himself on the suspicious end of her father's gaze. Hmph. Dads.
As she hopped off the bus, she threw a "thanks!" at the bus driver.
"I'm no gonna find the police at my door asking questions, am I?" he asked, eyes inexplicably drawn to the axe (or maybe not—it was a bloody weapon. It tended to draw a lot of explicable gazes).
"Nah, just a demon," she assured, twirling the axe in her hand. "You're welcome!"
He looked at her for a second before nodding in appreciation, shutting the bus doors and driving off.
"He was nice," she decided and then frowned. "Not like that nasty old lady."
Zack sighed, rolling his eyes. "She's gone now. Let's get home so we can sleep. I've got a long walk ahead of me."
"You can stay at my place," Daniel suggested. "My mother will be angry that I'm coming home at such a late hour, but when she sees I have a male friend with me, that should make her happy."
"Uh, thanks," Zack replied before turning to whisper to Beth, "I think I'm being used. I don't like it."
"Get over it," she responded, pushing him lightly in the direction of Daniel.
The trio began their walk down the street, passing by empty buildings. It was too late for most places to be open and just about everyone was off the street. At this point, finding yourself out this late either meant you were drunk or a vampire. And slayers were very good at telling the difference.
"Are you preparing to head back out east soon?" Daniel asked.
Zack sighed. "Yep. Leaving in two days."
"Which is why he's going to spend as much time with me as he can before he leaves," Beth cut in with a firm nod.
He grinned wryly. "Yeah. Gotta make sure you don't get into any more trouble than normal."
"I believe with her family's history, trouble is inherited," Daniel stated.
"The summer might have been relatively easy, but I think evil works on a cyclical pattern," she theorized. "I'm waiting for it to build up again. I wonder what it will be this time and what sort of problem they will have with me. Honestly? I'm hoping for maybe one of those hordes of Giljark demons. They're all my Watcher talks about now, since a pack of them moved into the woods recently for mating season."
Zack made a face. "Is that what all those noises are?" She nodded sagely. "Maybe going back out east won't be so bad. They don't have those sorts of problems in Boston."
"But Boston also doesn't have me," she reminded him with a little hop in her step. She'd gotten a little spoiled having him around all summer—he might have taken some summer courses online, but he spent a lot of his free time with her. She was really trying to strictly stick to this whole "friend" thing, but it was hard. Especially when he smiled at her. Or sat down next to her on the couch to watch a movie. Or bought her favorite snacks. Like really hard. Sometimes she found herself staring at him when everyone came by for a Watcher lesson, often enough that she wondered why no one else had caught on. And if Zack noticed, he'd lightly smile at her and whatever daydreams she'd been having while looking at his face all came crashing down. Friends. Right. She knew he couldn't stick around—MIT was his dream after all—but as much as she tried to kill it, there was still a small part of her that wished that he wanted to be in the Bellevue as much as she wanted him here.
They arrived in the neighborhood shortly thereafter, all pretty keen on getting to bed soon. They walked by Daniel's house first, Beth waving goodbye to him and Zack. She then walked down to her own house, axe hanging over her shoulder. She knew she was supposed to clean it after use, but it was easier to just hide it somewhere in the training room and then leave it for her mom to find and subsequently blame on her husband, as enough time would have passed that he wouldn't remember if he had left it or not (and he was quite bad at cleaning his weapons to begin with).
She was surprised to see, when she got to her house, the living room light on. Normally, if her parents stayed home and let her patrol instead, they didn't wait up. Sure, her dad had gotten a bit more protective after the incident last May when she'd almost become Dracula's Bride, but he'd lightened up since then. It wasn't like Beth was bring home boys anymore, now was it?
She walked into her house to see Andrew sitting on the couch, trying to look engrossed in a book. She might have believed he wasn't anxious to see her if it wasn't for the fact that she could see that his eyes weren't moving (predator thing, noticing movements like that).
"Oh, hello! Didn't think you'd be home so soon," he greeted when he saw her standing in the doorway, watching him.
"The Ghastly demon was easier than I thought it was going to be," she explained. "Daniel's really good at playing bait. And also, very willing. Is that something I should be concerned about?"
"Gjartly demon. And nonsense," he said, waving off her concern with his hand. "Did you get what I asked for?"
She nodded, her nose scrunching up in disgust. She dropped her backpack to the floor, mindful not to let it land on the rug (blood and all). She unzipped it and pulled out her prize: the creature's middle head horn. She didn't know why it was so different than the others that had decorated the creature's head (it sure wasn't the easiest one to get off), but she'd gotten it nonetheless.
"Yes!" he hissed, taking it from her outstretched hand. She was happy to get rid of it too; it was bloody and there were still bits of flesh hanging off of it. She'd wasted a lot of time and energy getting it and now she only wanted to take a shower before sleeping for sixteen hours straight.
"What's it for? Some spell or something? Potion?" she asked, picking up her backpack. She'd have to throw it in the washer with lots of soap or else it'd smell like blood for the rest of its existence.
"Erm, no," he said, dropping his gaze.
She groaned. "Don't tell me this is for some sort of costume thing? Your LARPing group?"
He was indignant. "Once hollowed out, it'll be an exact replica of the battle horn from—"
"Some video game I don't care about," she sighed. "Just tell me I didn't kill a peaceful demon."
"It feeds off the flesh of the young," he informed her, pausing before adding, "kittens are its favorite."
Well, at least she saved the kittens. "Alright. I'm taking a bath. You can let yourself out. Does my mum know you were here?"
He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Well, she didn't say I had to leave, so it was implied that I could stay."
She didn't think so, but she also didn't feel like bursting his bubble just yet. "Whatever, but that means if there's any stains on her carpet, you're getting the blame. You sent me out anyway."
She stayed downstairs long enough to make sure her Watcher did actually leave, before going upstairs and taking that oh so very satisfying shower. She made sure to throw her backpack in the washer before heading to bed, but she was pretty sure she'd be needing a new one for school anyway (not something you wanted to show up at school with: a blood-stained backpack). She fell into her bed, barely taking the time to pull herself under the covers before promptly falling asleep.
-.-
Beth squinted her eyes, trying to adjust to the bright sunlight in the courtyard of her school.
"I figured you'd be first on the list to take advantage of the privilege of wearing pants," Nadja commented, gesturing toward the plaid skirt Beth was wearing, much like she had the last three years. Beth remembered her friend telling her, years ago, that seniors got away with small infractions—including those violations of school uniform—because it was their last year and at this point, most teachers didn't find much of a point getting on their cases.
She shrugged. "I guess they've grown on me these last three years."
"Are pants really that much better?" Daniel asked, actually sounding interested.
"It's more of a privilege," Nadja explained. "You wouldn't understand since you've always been able to wear pants."
"I suppose so," he agreed, though he didn't look satisfied with the answer.
"There's always other perks of senior year anyway," Nadja continued, picking at her food.
"Like what, turning in college applications?" Beth asked, eyebrow raised. "You haven't seen the stack of brochures on my desk if you think that's a perk."
Nadja rolled her eyes. "Of course not. You don't think I've been hearing about colleges for years now? With Zack at MIT and his sister graduating from Berkeley, I'm looking at Ivy leagues because my mom is convinced I need to outdo both of them. I was thinking more about—well, for starters, off-campus lunch."
She looked up, surveying the environment around them. It was sunny and the stone benches weren't the most comfortable, but it was pretty outside. "You want to go eat in some greasy burger joint?" she asked, perplexed.
Nadja sighed, looking absolutely at her wit's end. "It's about the—"
"Privilege, I know," she cut in. "Are you interested in any of the senior perks, Daniel?"
"I've been told I can be a very adaptable person," was his reply (a fence-straddler if there ever was one).
"Really? Well, I think that's one for me," Nadja decided. "And don't forget Prom."
She groaned. "Oh, I forgot about that High School tradition. Do we really have to?"
Nadja pouted. "What, you don't want to? Prom?"
"Aren't you supposed to get dates for those?" she asked, nose scrunched up.
Nadja mimicked her look. "If you want to, you can. I won't stop you. I think it'd be more fun with just the three of us, no dates needed. Besides, you'd have to coordinate dress and tie color and I just think that's more work than I'm willing to put forth."
"But I still have to buy a dress," she stated.
"It's traditional," Nadja replied. "Are you really so against this because of those dances at the Slayer Academy? You're not there and most people here think you're pretty cool, if not a little bit scary."
She tilted her head in thought. "I'm scary?"
"You are the slayer," Daniel reminded her. "The title does come with some notoriety. You could kill all of us if you wanted to."
"I'm not going to kill anyone," she told him, sounding appalled.
"And we're eternally happy about that," Nadja cut in, "but you can't let those mean slayer girls get to you. You should enjoy everything senior year has to offer. Come on, even Zack went to Prom and he can't dance. At all. I would know, I've seen him."
"The other slayers were mean to you?" Daniel inquired.
"Because of my…condition," she informed him. "Most just made a point of not speaking to me or making eye contact, but some of them were a lot more confrontational about their dislike of what I was. They're not very inclusive people, I will say that."
"Living with someone you perceive to be something you were trained to kill," he mused. "I can see how that could create tension."
She snorted. "Sure, it was just that. Not like they all thought my dad was the shit or anything before he got a heartbeat. They thought his story was the most romantic thing they'd ever heard. Bunch of bullocks is what it was. They just wanted someone to pick on and I was an easy target when my parents weren't with me."
"I'm sorry to hear that," he apologized.
"So am I," she muttered.
"And they're all terrible people because of it," Nadja agreed, "but you cannot let them win."
"Who says the only reason I don't want to go is because of that?" she asked. "Maybe I just don't want to go to Prom." Nadja leveled her with a "no bullshit" look and she eventually caved. "Alright, maybe I do like the idea of wearing some fancy dress, but I've never had a fun experience at any sort of dance so why would I think this one would be better?"
"We can test run Homecoming," Nadja suggested. "We've never gone to a football game anyway so we can kill two birds with one stone."
"But I thought the dance and the game were on two different days," Daniel said.
"And they are," Nadja agreed, "but we're doing both. It's Homecoming. You can't just do one or the other. You do both."
"Why are you so insistently pushing this? You never seemed too interested in these things when I first met you," she remembered.
"Because now I'm realizing how important it is to have good high school memories," Nadja explained. "And come on, don't you want to have those, the three of us together, before we all go off our separate ways and have adult lives without one another?"
"You think we're all going to leave one another?" she asked. "You're some of the first real friends I've ever had and you think I'm going to start over because I go to some something University of whatever state? No way. I'm collecting friends like some people collect stamps or like how my parents collect increasingly more dangerous weapons."
"Thanks for simplifying me down into a hobby," Nadja replied, looking more amused than miffed. "Life just happens, Beth. You don't plan to leave friends. You just…grow apart. And I want to have these memories. Look, when we were little, Lisa and I had all these big things we were going to do when we were older, but we never got around to doing them before she died. So I want to do those things with you guys. I want to have good memories in case anything happens. Even if you don't do dances, Beth, it just might be fun with me and Daniel."
"I agree," he added with a firm nod and she had to smile.
"Alright, we can do the whole shebang," she agreed, eliciting a small cheer from Nadja. "Just know my mum is going to want a lot of pictures. Seeing me engage in normal teen activities is a dream come true for her. She'll probably cry."
"It's settled then," Nadja decided. "We're going to Homecoming and Beth's mom will cry. I see no downside to this."
-.-
After Nadja drove Beth home in her car (her brand-new, don't-you-dare-eat-food-in-here car), she was greeted in the living room by her mother, again ladled with more college brochures. She didn't know where her mom got them, since she was pretty sure these didn't all come in the mail (was she stealing others people's mail? What low-brow crime).
"What you got there?" she asked as she put her bag down, pretty sure she was going regret asking.
"You know, Northwestern is a good college," Buffy said, flipping through one particular magazine.
"Can we afford an American college?" she asked. "Besides, why do I need to go to college? I'm going to be a slayer. I'm not going to be picking out another career."
"Because college is important," her mother insisted and Beth fell down onto the armchair, picking up one of the brochures herself, mostly to humor her mother. "And we can afford college. Your father is very good at squirreling away money. I think it's a vampire thing."
"Paying $20,000 something a year for a degree I'm never going to use is important?" she retorted. She tossed the brochure back on the table. Loyola really wasn't her thing anyway.
"All your friends are going. Do you want to feel left out?"
"Uncle Xander never went to college," Beth reminded her, "and he doesn't seem to feel left out."
"Now," Buffy emphasized. "Before he did."
"And then he got a job and realized he too could be a useful member of society," she muttered, slouching down in her seat. "I'm going to Homecoming."
That distracted her mother. "Really?" Buffy crowed, a joyous look over falling her face.
She nodded. "Nadja talked me into it. She wants to do standard high school stuff this year, which includes Homecoming. And also Prom."
"Does that meant we can go out shopping?" her mother asked, nearly bouncing on the couch. Beth was beginning to wonder if this had now become an opportunity for Buffy to go shopping again under the guise that it was for her daughter. She wondered what her dad would think of this.
Speaking of her father, she heard the basement door open with a thunk and her father came into the living room. "'Lo, Lizzie," he greeted, dropping a kiss on her forehead. "How was your first day back at school?"
She shrugged. "Fine. Nadja and I decided—"
"Beth's going to Homecoming! And Prom!" her mother shouted.
"No dates," was the first thing out of her father's mouth, so quick it almost sounded automatic.
"Does Daniel count?" Beth asked with a smile.
Her dad snorted. "'Course not. It's him."
"I'm not planning on a date," she assured him. "I've got no one here I'd want to ask anyway." She tried not to look too disgruntled about that, lest her mother pick up on the emphasis on the word "here."
That seemed to deflate Buffy a bit, as no doubt fantasies of Beth and her tuxedoed date standing in the foyer flitted through her mind. Oh well. At least she was going to get her daughter to wear a dress (small miracles).
"When do you want to get your dress?" Buffy asked, refusing to be fazed.
Beth blinked at her. "Prom isn't until the end of the school year. Why would I get a dress now?"
"Because if you wait until March all the good dresses are gone," her mother explained like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Beth looked toward her father, realizing maybe she should have held off on telling her mother about her and Nadja's plan to do Prom, but he didn't offer any sort of support. He just sort of looked at her like "this is your mess, not mine." She huffed, knowing this wasn't something she was going to be able to puppy-dog-eye her way out of.
-.-
Beth chose to keep to the shadows in the bar, keeping her eyes on the crowd without interacting. She had been coming here every once in a while, with the hopes of meeting the same man she had a year ago, the one Charlie had introduced her to. It seemed there was a pretty well-developed network of insiders and whistleblowers and now all she needed was a way in. Despite the fact that she didn't regret telling Charlie to get out of town, she was regretting that she didn't have someone to fill his place. To be honest, she hadn't expected that behavior of him and so had never prepared accordingly. Now, she was up the creek without a guide and had very little knowledge of what the demons were up to. But if she could get someone already on the inside, maybe she wouldn't feel so lost.
The music was still as loud as ever, and even with her enhanced hearing, she couldn't make out the conversation of the horned couple next to her. They paid her little mind, likely just figuring her for another vampire with another time machine-type wardrobe (she'd foregone the mini-dress and heels this time around) and nothing of consequence. She'd even gotten a few dirty looks coming in.
She didn't see the man as she perused the club, and now she wasn't so sure she'd even recognized his face if she saw it again. He looked like every other stereotypical sleazy man in the world, which was also the profile of about half of the men in this place. So yeah, she wasn't getting off to a good start.
"You lookin' for someone in particular sweetheart?"
She jumped at the voice in her ear, the person hanging uncomfortably close to her. She whipped around to see the very man she was looking for grinning at her.
"Almost didn't recognize you dressed like that," he told her, gesturing toward her jeans and jacket. "Might I say this looks a lot better on you?"
She narrowed her eyes at him. "I don't really care what you think," she told him.
"Alright, no need to get all feisty about it," he muttered, jerking his head, asking her to follow him. She did and he led her over to a booth and she slid into the seat across from him. It was a little quieter here away from the stereos, though that wasn't saying much considering she was pretty sure she'd have gone deaf standing near them any longer. "Any reason why you're here again? Charlie never said anything about you coming by."
"That's because Charlie's not around anymore," she stated coldly.
His eyebrows raised a fraction. "That would explain why I haven't heard from him in a while. What, he piss you off so you killed him? You slayers sure are known for your tempers."
"He's still alive," she informed him, "but he's not allowed back in town as long as I'm around and I'm not moving anytime soon."
"Ooh, boy gone done you wrong, hm?" he chuckled, shaking his head. "Wouldn't mind getting to hear why."
"Let's just say he's the reason James is no longer with us anymore," she told him plainly, getting a grin out of him.
"That is a story," he replied, "no doubt one I'll have to hear through the grapevine. So then, tell me, what brought you down here again? I'd think after the last time, you'd be steering clear of this place."
"Those demon bikers have long since gotten over it," she told him, "and I'm here because with Charlie gone, I don't have anyone keeping me updated on the demon going-ons. They've long since gotten smart about my dad so I need someone else to get me intel."
"You want another mole?" he asked, skeptical. "You know why that worked so well with Charlie? He had James' protection. Nobody was gonna kill that guy and get themselves run over by James when he flew into town. There are very few around here who had that sort of protection. If any of us are found working with the slayer, it's sayonara for us. I'm risking enough just being here now."
"So everybody's too scared to make a peep? No one's got a price?" she pressed.
He looked torn for a moment before answering, "Never said there's nobody with a price, but you'd be hard-pressed to get anyone that people won't touch. No one's invincible around here. They'd buy, but then they'd get killed and you'd be out of luck again."
She leaned back in the booth, frustrated. Without any insight, finding troublesome demons and vampires was a hard task. Since most of them were well-organized, it was hard making any sort of impression by offing random stragglers. Most of what she and her mother killed were more beast-like.
He seemed to notice her frustration and he leaned across the table, dropping his voice so low she had to strain to make out the words. "Okay, you didn't hear this from me, but there might be someone. She'll sell information to just about everyone and there aren't many who will try and take her out if it's found out she's been dealing with a slayer. Don't know if she'll agree, but she usually does for money."
"And why didn't you mention her from the start?" she asked.
"Simple: she doesn't want everybody knocking down her door for information," he explained. "She doesn't advertise like others do. Even I sell myself a bit to make a profit. She doesn't do word of mouth. She likes to be left alone."
"Well, what's her address then?"
He produced a pen from his pocket, scribbling it down on a napkin. "Her name's Maea," he told her, sliding the napkin toward her. "And remember, you didn't hear it from me."
He left right after that, sliding out of the booth and slipping into the crowd. She rolled her eyes at the dramatic escape, picking up the napkin and reading it. The address wasn't too far and she wasn't expected to be home for at least another two hours. Figuring she had the time, she slipped the napkin into her pocket and headed out.
-.-
The address led her closer to downtown Seattle than she had expected, and not exactly the safest place to be at night. She was a slayer though, so she wasn't too concerned about running into any trouble (if anything, she was the trouble), although she had gotten some dirty looks from some of the bus patrons, who had become increasingly more demon-y the closer she got to her destination. By the time she got off the bus, she was pretty sure she'd hit the demon part of town (if even such a thing existed). She walked down the cracked sidewalk until she'd found the red-bricked apartment complex. The front door's lock was broken and she was relieved, happy she wasn't going to be the one to damage property. She'd already done a lot of curious things for her slayer gig and she didn't want to add "damaging private property" to the list (or had she already done that one? Sometimes it was hard to keep track).
Since the elevator was busted, she was forced to take the stairs up to the seventh floor. The stairwell looked exactly like one of those places you'd get murdered if you weren't careful so she took the steps two at a time, anxious to get this over with. While she wasn't worried about getting into a fight, she was worried about causing unnecessary drama. She didn't want to start anything she was going to have to finish.
The seventh floor was dank and it was obvious maintenance was a foreign word to this building. She walked down the hallway until she found Unit 74B, which—unlike all the other doors in the building—sported no lock save the standard door one. Most everyone else had a few deadbolts for good measure. Whoever this demon Maea was, it was obvious she wasn't too concerned about unwanted houseguests.
Knocking on the door, she waited as she heard someone muttering inside, the floor creaking as they came closer to the door.
There was a schnick of the lock before the door flew open, revealing a short-haired red-headed woman with a scowl etched on her face. She was tall, statuesque, and muscular to boot. The woman gave her a once over, which gave Beth time to recover from her wide-eyed, dumb-founded look. "What do you want?"
Beth gaped, having been unprepared to meet face to face with a deceptively human-looking woman. She wasn't getting anything demon off of her either and she was now beginning to wonder exactly how this woman survived here without any deadlocks.
"You're Maea?" Beth asked once she found her voice.
The woman's scowl deepened and one hand reached up to grip the door as she leaned against it, her metal bracelets clanking as they slid down her wrist. "Yeah?" the woman, Maea, asked. "What do you want?"
"I was told you could help me," she continued, doing her best to look authoritative. Kind of hard, seeing as Maea towered over her. Not to mention the pissed off look on her face. Even after years of practice, Beth had never managed to ever look so thoroughly irritated at everything.
"Business hours are 10 to 6," Maea said, moving to shut the door. Beth was quick though, reaching out to grab the side of it and stop it. If Maea was surprised at the show of strength, she didn't show it, though her eyes did narrow.
"You're telling me that someone who deals with demons keeps daytime business hours?" she snorted.
"Listen, slayer," Maea sneered, "I choose who and what I want to deal with, and I don't fucking deal with prissy bitches like you."
She didn't let go of the door. "You deal with everybody, good or bad. You have a buying price that I'm willing to pay."
Maea rose a skeptical eyebrow. "Slayers don't pay," she responded condescendingly. "Or are you so new to the game you don't know that?"
"I'm a little unconventional, I will admit," Beth responded (and in more ways than one, she added silently). "I was taught to be more of a 'ends justifies the means' sort of girl. And if you can get me what I want, I don't really care about what else you do. I'm looking to start up a business deal, not make friendship bracelets with you."
Maea eyed her suspiciously. "I've heard about you," she started slowly. "And you expect me to believe you?"
"You've heard about a blonde with a nasty temper, huh?" Beth asked and Maea nodded. "Short, wears a lot of heeled boots? That's my mum. She's a slayer too. If you've heard anything about me, it was probably a bit more reckless. It's alright, they confuse us all the time."
"A slayer's kid a slayer," Maea mused, sounding curious. "Never heard of that one before."
"I'm likely a lot of things you've never heard before."
Maea snorted. "I doubt that. You want information, you call me beforehand so I can make sure I'm not dealing with anyone else when you show up. Last thing I need is you scaring away business. When you tell me what you need to know, I give you a price and you pay it over before I tell you what I know. There are no refunds, even if what I got isn't exactly what you wanted to hear. I don't like people coming in here, busting up my things, so don't think you get an exception just because you're a slayer. That's not how it works around here."
"Fine, that's never how it's worked for me anyway," she responded.
Maea quickly jotted down her number on the napkin before telling Beth to get lost and slamming the door in her face. While she wasn't the most companionable woman Beth had ever met, she couldn't be too sad about it. If anything, it meant this would likely go down a lot cleaner than it had with Charlie. Maea didn't seem interested in getting to know Beth and Beth wasn't too keen on getting to know Maea, a nice mutual deal that worked out for everyone.
-.-
"You say her name is what?" Nadja asked. The two were at Nadja's house on a Friday night, eating chips and dip while Beth gave her friend the run-down on her new informant. She'd gone around some seedier parts of town, trying to get what everyone knew about Maea, checking to make sure the woman didn't have high friends in high places who enjoyed messing with a slayer. So far, nothing had come to light. Either the name was completely foreign or those who did know it didn't know much, beyond that the woman could be a fountain of information when she wanted to be. Nothing to send off red warning lights obviously, but Beth still wanted to be sure.
"Maea," Beth repeated. "I don't know who she is exactly, but I was told she was the best."
"By some guy at a bar who you don't even know the name of," Nadja reminded her. "And you say she's human?"
She shrugged, dipping her chip into the guacamole. "She didn't feel like anything, really. Definitely not demon. More like a blank slate. Or, I guess, a blocked slate? If that makes any sense?"
Nadja chewed the corner of her check. "I don't know too much about auras, but a blocked one doesn't sound like a good thing. That means she could be hiding something."
"She looked pretty human though," Beth told her. "If anything, she's some powerful sorcerer trying to keep a low profile. I wouldn't be surprised. Despite how good I've heard she is, she's not a household name."
"Look, just because Charlie's gone doesn't mean you need someone to fill his hole," Nadja said. "Slayers have been kicking demon butts without the inside guy for eons now."
"That may not exactly be true," Beth informed her. "My mum had Angel and then my dad helping her out. Even if they were on her side, they were still a connection to the demon side of things. And the Council has many demonic allies, many whom they've had for centuries. The slayer diaries might not outright say that a slayer sided with a demon, but that doesn't mean it hasn't happened. Watchers are known for being very protective of their slayers and are likely tight-lipped when it comes to situations and involvements that might not be looked favorably upon."
"Okay, so maybe it does happen," Nadja relented, "but I don't know anything about some powerful sorcerer named Maea and I've sat through enough divanos to know just about every sorcerer in town."
"He did say she's changed her names several times over," she admitted.
"That should make you more worried," Nadja commented.
"You weren't concerned about Charlie like this," she noted, a hint of irritation creeping into her voice.
"Because with him, I knew the limits of his abilities," Nadja explained. "He's a vampire, they can only do so much. But with Maea, you don't know the first thing about her. You only assume she's human because you've got nothing else to go off on. Isn't that allowed to make me a little worried?"
She frowned. "Yeah, but it's not like before. If anything, I trust Maea more than I trusted Charlie. Maybe I can't get a good read on her, but something deep inside me tells me she's more a friend than an enemy. I don't know what it is, but I believe it resolutely."
Nadja sighed. "Well, you know I can't tell you what to do. Does anyone else know about her?"
"I've told my parents I've got a connection downtown and I'm leaving the address with you so if they need to find me, they can go through you. I don't trust me parents enough to have it, as they'd probably check her out regardless, and Maea doesn't seem too fond of my mother. She thought I was her at first."
"I'm sure someone with ties into the demon world isn't ever too fond of slayers," Nadja decided. "I mean, you do kill her clientele."
"Well, now I am her clientele. I think she'll be necessary too, though I don't know just why yet."