When Beth awoke, she had a strange feeling she should have already been awake. And while Christmas break was edging ever so tantalizingly closer, it wasn't yet the day where she could sleep in. Also, she was pretty sure it wasn't a weekend.
When she sat up, and her blanket slid down to her lap, she realized just how friggin' cold her house was. The heater better not have broken or the house was going to have some explaining to do. Wrapping her blanket around herself, she reached out and grabbed her phone, looking to see what time it was. The clock read 10:21 on a Tuesday, really not a time she should have been asleep. She was supposed to be in like third period or something by now.
"Willow?" she called out, wondering why no one had bothered to get her up when she slept through her alarm. Her parents had gone through numerous different tactics to get Beth out of bed when she was being unreasonable (the most memorable being the time her father had actually gone through with his threat and flipped her mattress), and sleeping through her alarm wasn't exactly unreasonable.
When she didn't get a response, she got out of bed, hissing when her bare feet hit the cold wood floor. She found a pair of thick socks soon enough, shoving them on her feet and walking out into the hallway, her blanket still firmly wrapped around her. There weren't any lights on in her house and the light coming from outside was dim, giving the house a sort of drab, greyish tint to it.
Once on the ground floor, she headed toward the living room, letting out shriek when her foot landed in a very cold puddle.
"Fecking bleeding hell!" she yelped, picking up her foot to get the sopping sock off of her, hopping all around while doing so.
There was a loud shuffling noise from the kitchen before her mother was in the doorway of the living room, eyes wide and alarmed.
"What? What?" Buffy demanded, already looking for something to attack.
"Why is the floor wet?" she cried, dropping her leg and now bare foot. She held up the sock as evidence, the sole a darker shade of green from the water. "And why is the house so cold? And why am I missing school?"
Her mother dropped out of her defensive pose, an almost innocently confused look overcoming her face. "You don't know?" Buffy asked.
"Know what?" she huffed. "That the floor is wet? That the house is cold? That I'm not in school right now? Not that I'm not happy about the last one, I'd just like a bit of background if you don't mind."
"School's closed," her mother told her. "There was and is a heavy snowstorm going on. Everything's down, including power."
"Which is why the house is so cold," she realized with dawning horror. "And that means the TV doesn't work either! Are we stuck in here? Can we at least go outside?"
Hands on her hips, Buffy adopted the scolding-mother tone. "Didn't I just say that everything is closed? And you can't go outside in a snowstorm! It's snowy and I don't care how enhanced your vision is, you're going to get lost! And the water's because your father tried to go outside, only to get a bunch of snow in the house which he didn't clean up!"
"Did I forget that?" can the muffled reply of her father from the kitchen.
"Yes!" she growled, stomping toward the kitchen. "And now my foot's gone cold again!"
He barely glanced at her before looking back at the laptop in front of him and replying, "You've got more socks, haven' you?"
Huffing, she glared at her father. "That's not the point."
The door to the garage banged open and a red-cheeked Willow stumbled into the house, shivering but smiling.
"I got the generator running!" she announced happily, "so we'll be able to turn on some lights and maybe use the stove. Sorry about the wi-fi though Spike. No can do on that one."
Angered, he slammed his hand down on the counter, missing the computer by a hair's width. "Then what's the bloody use of this thing?"
"It needs a tower for a signal, Spike," Buffy explained as if speaking to a young child. Although he had witnessed a large portion of the Industrial and subsequent Technological Revolution, he really didn't have a firm grasp on the whole "wi-fi" thing.
"Oh, Bethie!" Willow said, finally noticing the presence of her de facto niece. "You're awake finally. I thought maybe you would sleep through this whole thing."
"It would have been nice if someone had told me about it instead of just letting me sleep through the morning," she replied.
"All you need to do is look out the window," her father grumbled, still upset about the fact that he couldn't access the Internet.
"It's very white out there," she stated blandly.
"It's called a White-out," Willow explained. "Like a black-out, except because of snow."
"I don't remember this being on the weather channel," she commented, taking a closer look out the window. And, yes, while it was still white outside, she could see the vague dark shapes of the trees and the fence in the near distance. She could hear the wind howling outside as it drove the snow at such a sharp angle. She remembered it had started snowing last night before she'd gone to bed, but that snowfall had been nothing close to this monstrosity.
"Because it wasn't," her mother replied. "They're calling it a freak storm. It suddenly blew in early morning and before the power went out, the weather report said they didn't know when it was going to end."
"So we're stuck in here—without any sort of preparation—until this thing is over?" Beth asked, gesturing toward the storm going on outside.
"Yeah, less you want to make a trip out yonder," her father told her, quickly adding, "which you're not."
"I wasn't thinking of going out there," she shot back. "It'd be freezing! I might be able to ignore environmental temperatures when I go all vampy, but it's not as simple as it seems. Going back, I always feel like my fingers are hardened clay."
"We're just going to have to sit it out until it passes," Willow told them. "We've got food and bottled water so all we need to do is sit tight an—"
"And not go bored from lack of engagement?" Beth asked. "Wait, are we expected to sit and talk with each other?"
"A water pipe better not burst," Buffy announced loudly, as if talking to the house. She even made a point of glaring at the ceiling. "I am not cleaning that up."
"Water's all frozen anyway, so it don't matter," her husband responded.
"Beth, is there a reason you're only wearing one sock?" Willow suddenly inquired, looking down at her niece's foot.
She shot a pointed look at her father, who studiously ignored it by glaring at the computer screen again. "Talk to my father," she huffed, turning on her heel to stomp up to her room to get another sock to keep her toes from freezing off.
Beth tried to spend the rest of the day not getting antsy, but staring out the window as she listened to the howling wind only took up so much of one's day. She was getting twitchy and she was sure her father would complain—seeing as her foot sometimes hit his leg as she sat in the chair beside him at the counter—but seeing as she'd inherited the inability to stay still from him, he really only had himself to blame.
"Well we've got tuna," Willow announced as she dug through the pantry, looking for something to eat. "Lots and lots of tuna."
"Can't we use the microwave or something?" Beth whined as she crinkled up her nose. She really hated fish; the way it smelled and the way it tasted was atrocious to her.
"We need to think long-term," her aunt instructed. "Who knows how long we'll be in here?"
"And how long the generator will run," Spike added, his eyes currently tracking the little snake running around on his computer screen. He was still irritated about the lack of Internet and seemed to want to spite the computer by using it senselessly until it died. Buffy'd given up telling him it was stupid, since he just ignored her comments anyway.
"The shouldn't we eat the refrigerated stuff first?" Beth suggested.
There was a pause before Willow said, "oh," and turned toward the fridge.
"I think I maybe got a bar up by the ceiling fan in our bedroom," came the voice of Buffy as she came down the stairs. "I had it for a moment and then it was gone. Maybe if the storm comes down a bit—"
"We're just going to have to wait until someone can get out there and fix the towers," Willow told her. "And right now, no one's going out there."
-.-
That morning, Beth squinted her way into awareness. There was a patch of sunlight—right there—on her pillow, exactly where her eyes had been. She let out a grumble before shifting under her blanket to lay on her side, facing away from the window. She smacked her lips and settled down into her blanket, prepared to fall back asleep, when realization hit her. Her eyes snapped open and she quickly turned over to see a pretty, blue sky peeking between her curtains. Somewhat dazed and really confused, she threw off her blanket and headed toward the window. Pulling back the curtains, she could see out to her backyard, and more importantly, the complete sans snow that was the current daily weather.
She blinked. And then she blinked again. While she didn't have that much experience with freak snow storms, this one seemed a little more freaky than normal. Maybe Angel had been in town yesterday and had tried to off himself again. That was really the most logical of explanations she could come up with. Either that or Santa was pulling some weird stuff.
Downstairs she found her aunt Willow sitting on the couch, pouring over papers and books. She looked up from her work when she heard Beth land on the ground floor with a thump, still clad in her pajamas.
"Explain-y?" Beth asked, gesturing toward the window beside the front door, from which she could see a nice day outside.
"I've got nothing," Willow responded with a sad smile before turning back to her work, a look of pure frustration overtaking her features.
"What's the weather report saying?" she asked as she swung into the kitchen.
"A 'sign of the true power of Mother Nature'," her father quoted, reading off from his computer.
"Aw, did they get the wi-fi back up?" she asked, and he shot her a glare.
"And good news for you, school's open," her mother cut in and Beth scowled. "You need to get dressed. You leave in twenty minutes."
"How come the snow storm couldn't have caved the roof in or something?"
"It did, just not for your school," her mother told her with a grim look.
"What?" she asked, finally feeling the tense mood that permeated everything.
"Some people had gotten caught outside when the storm hit," her father informed her. "Needless to say, those who did, didn't make it."
She blanched. "How many?"
"Too many," her mother responded quickly. "It's getting worse. We need to find out what's making these surges and find out fast."
"I still can't find anything," Willow called out from the living room. "I'm pouring over every paper that ever has anything to do with magical spikes and its subsequent effects on the natural environment, but there's nothing that fits what we've got."
"And what have we got?" Beth asked.
"Nothing," Willow answered. "There's been no signs of disturbances where they take place and neither Esme nor I have heard about any bigwigs or brouhahas going down in Seattle or the surrounding area."
Beth mouthed the word bruhaha as Spike and Buffy exchanged hard looks. "Well, we need to find something," Buffy said finally, hating all this waiting. She needed to punch something; it was what she was good at. All these books and research, she didn't have a clue!
"So this person—or persons—makes a big shake and then doesn't leave a trace?" Beth asked for clarification and Willow nodded. "Why do I feel like I've seen this on the telly? Maybe he's a techno-pagan and does magic by way of coding, safely in his nerd cave several hundred miles away."
"No, this is close and on-site," Willow said adamantly. "That's what we can pin down; this can't be done at a distance."
"So until we get more, we get to huddle down and hope the next surge doesn't make the sky rain down fire upon us," she muttered, excusing herself from the kitchen to get ready for school. Boy was this going to be a long school year.
-.-
Beth met up with Maea a few nights later, once she got her homework out of the way. The deaths from the snowstorm were making everyone antsy, not just her family and Nadja's. Even Zack, all the way in frickin' Massachusetts, was getting worried. Beth thought it was mostly because his mother was considering coming to him for Christmas break (and boy wouldn't that cramp his college-boy lifestyle?), but there might have been some genuine concern mixed in. She hoped a visit with Maea would shine some light on things, but these surges were taking everyone by surprise. Even some of the demons were getting more cautious and opting to stay indoors, since it was anyone's guess when the next one would happen.
"I wish I could be of more assistance," Maea apologized, looking troubled, "but I have heard little beyond what you already know. At this point, whoever is doing this is giving away no more than they did before."
Sitting on the couch, Beth slouched over, the trademark teenage pout on her face. "This stinks," she decided, arms crossed.
Maea looked over at her with a slightly amused expression, taking a seat on the chair beside her. "I suppose it does," she agreed lightly. "But sometimes all we can do is wait to attack. You slayers like to run into things, weapons glinting, but true strategy comes from preparation. Whoever this is, they are waiting for their moment. And, in turn, we must also wait and prepare ourselves. Best not to be caught off-guard."
Beth glanced over at the woman, whose expression gave away nothing, tilting her head as she studied the red-head.
"What are you, exactly?" Beth finally asked after a long moment. While for a human that would seem like a rude question, it wasn't for Beth and it certainly wasn't for Maea, judging from her neutral expression.
"Off-topic, wouldn't you say?" Maea asked, shooting her a cool look.
She shrugged. "Maybe, but it's not like our other conversation was going anywhere. I can tell you're not human. Or, at least, you're not anymore."
Maea hummed, a slight smile on her face. "I was never human, but then again, what does it mean to be human? I have lived among them for a long time now, adopted their customs and cultures. Does that not make me human?"
""To err is to human'," she quoted from somewhere (probably someone smart too), "but there's a lot more than that. It's a biological thing. And humans aren't immortal, though they've sure as hell have tried to be. Are you immortal?"
Maea shrugged. "I don't know anything that can never die."
She let out an "augh," rolling her eyes. "I mean are you functionally immortal? Like a vampire?"
"I've been around for a long time, Elizabeth," Maea said in response.
"That doesn't answer my question," Beth told her moodily.
"I don't physically age," she added. "And it would be very hard to kill me. I'm artificially immortal."
"I don't know what that's supposed to mean," she admitted.
"I think all you need to know is what I've said," Maea told her. "And that you'd be very hard-pressed to find another like me."
She made a small sound of amusement, almost a laugh. She never thought she'd have much in common with the stand-offish woman. "You're a Tigger too?"
"A what?" Maea asked, throwing her a sharp look.
"One of a kind," she clarified. "Is it lonely?"
Maea shrugged, suddenly looking uncomfortable. "I've chosen it to be."
"So you don't have anyone?"
She let out a sigh, sounding more like an adult than Beth had ever heard her sound. "When you live as long as I do, you tend to leave people behind. And sometimes it's just easier to not have anyone at all."
There was a long pause, both girls staring at the floor before Beth said, "I'm sorry."
Maea looked up, meeting the her eyes and smiling. "I'm not."