A/N: The phonetic spellings came from a few Irvine Welsh books I checked out from the library. Therefore, if they make no sense, it's only partially my fault.

The bit about Susie (Lady Macbeth) cooking drugs in a modified tin can instead of a spoon is supposed to imply that she's smart (in a way). Something annoyed her so she invented a solution. It's really obvious, though I suspect most people are too lazy to do that... or they aren't really clumsy. Knocking over a spoon of half-melted drugs is really awkward. You know what's even worse? Forgetting the filter and, then, trying to get the bits of half-dissolved debris out of the hypodermic without wasting too much.

Back at Macbeth's flat, his girlfriend Susie was lounging in the tiny living room reading an aging copy of The Fellowship of the Ring.

Once upon a time she'd been beautiful. In high school her hair had been to be a beautiful shade of reddish-brown, her skin fair and smooth, her eyes a brilliant and rare green, her figure slim and delicate. Now she was a shell. Her hair never lost it's lovely color, though she didn't wash it very often. That lovely, porcelain complexion now looked greyish at times. The striking green eyes were often spacey and empty. Though she was indeed slender and delicate, her ribs were more pronounced and her stomach was bloated. There were small burns on her fingers from matches.

Her wardrobe was timelessly elegant, which made her look more 'lovely consumptive heroine' than 'druggie next door'. She always wore stockings. Though many of the blouses and skirts were stained - sometimes with something that might've been blood - she still looked pretty, in a sorry way. There was an odd sort of regalness to her - one might mistake her for a long-lost princess in hiding. Of course, that didn't stop her from speaking with an atrociously local accent.

As she sat there, wearily reading the familiar text, she heard a knock at the door.

"Ewan? Honey?" she called.

"It is I, Macduff," replied a familiar, if somewhat unwelcome, voice.

Rolling her eyes, Susie got up and opened the door. There stood MacDuff. There was a look of great despair on his thin, serious face. Susie was horrified. Had her beloved died?

"Whae's wrong? Is ma Ewan awright?" she asked.

"It depends on how you look at things, Susan. He defeated Macdonald and was swiftly awarded the man's territory. Now he's got both twice the power and twice the responsibility."

"That's wonderful!" Susie cried, smiling brightly.

"Is it, Susan?" Macduff replied ominously. "Is it?"

Before she could reply he scurried away like a fiendish rat. She went back to her book, briefly. Though she was a bit nervous after that encounter with Macduff. Something was rotten in the city of Edinburgh. Being the sort of person she was, Susie decided it was time for another dose. One of the perks of having a drug dealer boyfriend was the near-endless supply of drugs lying around. There was a sort of security in it. A junkie's greatest fear is that he won't be able to score his next fix. As long as there are drugs, there is comfort and warmth. It's a simple life. Too simple, Susan often thought. She knew that there was more to the world than this. If only there was a way out… if only someone actually needed her for something.

Of course, dear Ewan needed her. Though that was different. She just had to be there for moral support. That hardly took any energy.

Humming an old Velvet Underground song to herself, Susan retrieved a bag of white powder from the cabinet. It was what Duncan called his 'special Scottish heroin. According to rumor he got it from a nearby factory that manufactured medical-grade diamorphine. Nobody knew who his source was… well, save for Ewan Macbeth. He knew all kinds of secrets.

After assembling the rest of her supplies Susan turned on the old gas stove. She then attached an (almost?) clean ¾-inch hypodermic to her syringe. Then she used that to measure out a bit of water. That was deposited into a small metal thing Susie had made months ago. After knocking over her spoon one too many times she's made her own cooker out of a modified tin can. It worked just as well.

She sprinkled a bit of powder in with the water, carefully holding her cooker over the bright blue flames. As she did did this, someone unlocked the

"Susie?"

"Ah'm in th' kitchen!" she shouted, stirring the mixture with the needle.

Macbeth entered the kitchen, looking tired and somewhat dazed.

"Any ay that fae me?" he joked.

She glared at him teasingly. "Yer clean n' staying thae way."

"Yer a funny burd, ye ur."

There was a pause. Then, Susie said: "Ah heard aboot yer promotion."

"Ye didnae hear aw ay it."

"Whae dae ye mean?"

"Ah met three… persons."

"At th' pub?"

"Oan the way tae the pub. They wir hippies, Ah guess. Homeless."

"That's nae so odd."

"I guess nae." He furrowed his brow as if still confused by the whole thing. "They spoke tae me."

"Askin' for money?"

"Naw, they wirnae beggars. They teld me Ah'd be Dealer ay Cawdor-"

"Ye are," Susan said, sticking the needle into a particularly prominent vein on her wrist. She pressed the plunger in, then shakily removed the needle. It was funny, how you could feel it in you… feel it getting to your brain. There was a sudden sensation of pure and flawless joy.

"Now Ah am - Ah wasnae then. They also sais Ah'll be King," Macbeth said, though Susie only half-heard him.

Susan blinked, slightly dazed. "King? You'll replace Duncan?"

"Event'lly. Remember, he introduced me tae oar supplier. Nawbody else kens where we git the stuff."

"Why no' now?" Susan muttered, setting the needle and syringe on the counter.

"Whae?"

Now, Susie was smiling a rather mad smile. "We could oaff him now, likesay. If ye already ken-"

Macbeth: We cannae kill him.

"Why nae?"

"Ye cannae go around killin' people."

"Sais who?" She laughed, nearly. "Ye jist killt Macdonald."

"In a fight. Anyway, Duncan's different."

"He isnae. Think aboot it, Ewan, think aboot it."

Ewan Macbeth fled the room. How could she say such things? Sure, she wasn't sober… though even high people aren't supposed to think like that. Killing an enemy - a traitor - was one thing. Betraying the boss was far more serious. That would be wrong on so many levels. Duncan trusted Macbeth he really did. Betraying the trust of a mentor, a father-figure… even young Macbeth knew that this was wrong.

Still, the Hippies had said that he would be replace Duncan. If they weren't a weird hallucination - which the couldn't have been, given that DAve Banquo saw them too - they had to be witches. Like the spirits that Ewan's mother had spoken of. Those monsters that haunted the countryside. Perhaps they could visit cities too, thought Macbeth. Perhaps they were right… perhaps Susie was right. If he was destined to replace Duncan why not do so right away?

Why not…?

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