A/N: Sorry for the delay in posting! It's been a busy last few weeks and hopefully I can get back to my normal schedule from here on out.
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The university library was a stuffy old place that was filled with very old books, some of which Beth was sure predated her father—which was really saying something, considering what an old fogey he was. It was also a sad, yellow place (the walls had turned color with age) with windows too far away from the stacks. And despite the advancements of technology (online libraries—hello), she was still browsing for books like some weird, old person. If she were the damn president of this school, every book in the catalogue would be online. But such was not her fate, so she went back to trying to understand the Dewey Decimal System (she did not).
"You won't find what you're looking for here," someone spoke up from behind Beth, making her jump. The library was near silent in this section and she had super-human hearing, and yet he'd crept up on her like a snake. She quickly turned around to see a boy, who despite looking several years older than her, also gave off the presence of someone her age. It was unusual at best and downright concerning at most. Was he a grad student?
"And how do you know that?" she asked, eyeing him suspiciously.
"That," he said, pointing to the line of numbers scribbled out on a post-it note she was holding, "Is four aisles over. You're reading it backwards."
"I am?" she asked, looking down at the paper then looking up at the numbers taped to the shelves. "I am."
He giggled at her response, which reminded her a bit of Andrew when he was around Spike. She gave him a quick look-over, wondering if maybe he knew who she was and was a fan. She'd kept the slayer thing on the DL (nobody wants to get swarmed for autographs on their way to Biology), but word got out anyway. Although, he didn't seem like he knew about her, though he did seem giddy.
"You have Dr. Wiesenhower, right?" he inquired and she nodded. "I have her too! I've seen you in class!"
She nodded again, though she sure as hell hadn't seen him in her Introduction to Mythology class. And she sat in the back, where she could see everybody.
"Uh yeah," she replied. "Um, I'm actually here for her class, for the paper."
His face lit up. "Oh, I am too!" he chirped. "We could work together, maybe bounce some ideas off one another."
"Sure," she said slowly, allowing herself to be led toward the aisle she needed to find her book at. Normally, she would have been dying to escape such a person, but he just seemed so outlandish. Part of her felt like she slipped through some dimensional rip and ended up in another world. The guy wasn't real—but maybe aliens were? This piqued her interest and she followed him more enthusiastically.
After helping her find her book, and seeing what the title was, he offered more suggestions for her, spouting off titles and authors like he had an inventory in his head. Maybe he did. She thought that maybe she'd found one of the rare half-demons that went to college, although she was doubting it. Surely her slayer senses would be going haywire, and he'd be avoiding her like the plague in fear of prejudice. Instead though, he was speaking to her amicably, all while she nodded her head, pretending she followed his ninety-mile-a-minute sentences. She was pretty sure he was talking about guava for some reason, though she was almost positive that a minute ago he was saying something about solar panel cars. It was anyone's guess really.
He directed her toward a table tucked amongst the stacks, where he already had his message bag and a pile of books. At one glance most of them looked unrelated to anything they were covering in class—including what they'd yet to cover as well. She figured they were for other classes and just shrugged it off, sitting down in the chair, slinging her bag to the floor. She flipped through her own book, kicking her legs up on the edge of the table. She paused her book perusing when she realized she didn't even know the name of the person she was sitting with.
"Uh, sorry, but I didn't catch your name," she spoke up.
"Oh, uh, me?" he asked. "I'm Eddie."
"And I'm Beth," she offered in return. He actually stuck his hand out at her and she took it, a little amused. He was odd, but there was a sort of endearing quality about it.
"Is that short for Elizabeth?" he asked and she nodded. She then heard him mutter under his breath, "Wrong again, darn it." She ignored the comment though, as a thought ran through her head.
"Uh, you know, my friend's roommate's name is Eddie," she remembered. "Do you know a Daniel Shao?"
Grinning, he nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! He's talked about you often enough. He seems like a very good friend. Very understanding and intuitive. A good choice."
You don't even know the half of it. "Yeah, he's a good friend. He's mentioned you too. He says you don't have a lot of people here you know?"
He shook his head. "Oh, no. I don't know anybody—well you. But no one else. I have a friend, but I don't know where she is. She moved a long time ago. I'm not from around here, actually. I came from Rome."
"Rome?" she repeated, eyebrows raised. "So you're Italian?"
He scrunched up his face like he couldn't make heads or tails of her question, but then something clicked and he broke out into a relieved grin. "Italy, oh yes! I'm not Italian, though. I just spend a lot of time there—at least, when I'm not traveling."
"What made you decided to come to Washington?" she asked.
"Oh, important business matters," he said after a moment of thought. "And what about you? I detect a slight accent to your words."
"My parents moved here for work," she answered, surprised he caught that. Most people just thought she talked a little different. And since she'd spent so much time around Jackie and Mr. Wells, she was surprised she retained any British at all (though her dad was someone she had tried to emulate as a kid, so maybe it wasn't that surprising).
He nodded, looking very understanding. "There's always work to be done," he agreed and said no more. She gave him a bemused look before returning back to her book. She'd already decided it was mostly useless, but she really didn't want to have to look for another one.
Bored, she glanced up again at Eddie, thinking what a coincidence it had been that she'd run into Daniel's odd, pet-rock-having roommate. Also, that he was in one of her classes. But now she had a firsthand account of what Daniel meant by weird. And while she was sure he was a little off compared to the average, this guy definitely had a strange air about him. While she was trying to figure out if she could guess what sort of demon he might be, she noticed he was writing notes in his notebook. While that wasn't odd, the language was.
"Is that Latin?" she asked. Though she didn't know what he was writing, she could still recognize the lettering.
"Hm?" he asked, looking up. "Oh? Oh! Oh! Yes, I am. I'm so embarrassed. This happens more often than I'd like to. Oh, sometimes I just get so confused!"
"You can write Latin?"
He nodded. "Yes. I'm from Rome, so—can you not?"
She snorted. "No. It's a common language used in magic, so I'm expressly forbidden from ever learning it thanks to my dad."
"Oh, that's unfortunate," he replied, frowning. "I didn't think your father would be that much of a stickler."
"Why, is it because of the way I dress?" she asked, gesturing toward her clothes. While nothing was particularly grungy looking, she did know that the band t-shirts and black clothes tended to ward people off (also made certain guys approach her, asking how much of a "real fan" she was for British Punk).
"Oh, hm, maybe," he said absentmindedly, already going back to his notes. A sort of glazed look overcame his eyes and she decided she ought just let him be. But man, she wished she understood Latin. She'd think that after all the trouble it'd given her, she'd just go behind her dad's back and learn a word or two. Oh well, guess she was stuck being the rebel without a cause.
-.-
"Somebody's jumpy," Buffy noted as she watched her daughter moving about the living room, glancing at the clock every two seconds. "Hot date?" It was probably the nicest she'd seen her daughter dressed, which was a feat considering she took after her father in fashion taste. A dark green wrap skirt paired with a cream blouse that she'd borrowed from her mother (Buffy'd nearly cried when her daughter asked for fashion advice). The only thing reminiscent of her usual style was the vans she was going to wear, but still! Not an inch of black cloth on her.
"Don't tease," Beth scolded, though she might have blushed a little (daaaamnit). Spike snorted, making an ugly face as he did so.
"Stop it," Buffy hissed at him, not wanting him to ruin Beth's good mood. Zack was back in town and he was taking her out on a date thiat evening, which explained her daughter's nervous flitting. It honest to goodness warmed Buffy's heart to see her daughter all giddy over a boy. Ah, she remembered her days of youth when she used to be like this about boys and dates. Of course, she'd been several years younger and by Beth's age, had her heart torn to pieces because of Angel…anyway.
"He's running late," Beth realized, starting to look nervous. She hadn't spoken to Zack in several days, most of their communication being sporadic texting. For all she knew, a lot had happened in those days. She was wringing her hands on the fabric of her skirt—skirt! She'd worn a skirt—and if he didn't get here soon, she was sure to accidentally rip it to pieces. And she liked the skirt (not like she'd tell anyone that).
"The roads are icy, Beth," her mother reminded her reassuringly. "He's probably driving slow for safety. Besides, do you think Nadja would let him stand you up? No, she'd castrate him."
"Not if I get to him first," Spike grumbled. Maybe he didn't like the idea of his baby girl going out on a date with some gangly, older boy, but that boy'd be damned if he stood her up. He'd show him exactly what it was his ancestors had feared.
"He'll be here," Buffy assured.
The back door slammed open and Margaret came ambling in, kicking off her boots and dropping the short staff by the door. Buffy only gave the girl a dirty look as she passed, eyes skipping over to the pole.
"She's as bad as you," she muttered, glaring at Spike.
"I put my weapons up!" he insisted. "It's you who leaves them lyin' about!"
"Only when I need to fix them!" she insisted and he snorted.
Margaret ignored the couple, walking into the living room and toward the couch. She noticed Beth pacing back and forth by the wall, but bypassed her for the couch, flipping on the TV and settling down. Despite the less than welcoming atmosphere from the family, she'd made herself quite comfortable elsewhere, mostly ignoring them unless Buffy went all Senior Slayer on her and ran them through drills. It didn't escape her notice though that Beth was dressed nicer than her normal, punk-ish attire, and that caught her attention enough.
"You don't think something happened, do you?" Beth suddenly voiced, eyes going wide.
"Elizabeth, calm down," her mother commanded, keeping her tone soft. "He's going to be here soon enough, don't worry. If I know him, he's just as—if not more than—excited to see you."
"Who?" Margaret finally asked, doing her best to sound bored and keeping her eyes trained on the TV screen.
Before anyone could reply, the doorbell rang and Beth shot for the door. Ooh, if it was Andrew or someone else, she was going to kill—
"Zack!" Beth greeted when she threw open the door and saw him standing there.
"Hey Beth," he said in return, his face breaking out into a grin. "Sorry about taking so long, there was ice on the r—"
He didn't finish the thought. Beth pulled him into a tight hug, mindful of her strength, and keeping the PDA to a minimum with her dad watching. She was sure he already had a grumpy face and she knew that if she so much as kissed her own boyfriend (oh, the scandal), she'd hear him growl like it was the "good ole' days" again. He probably wished it was the 1880s again, where girls only kissed their husbands and women couldn't be left unattended with men that weren't family.
"Zack, good to see you again!" Buffy greeted once Beth let go of him. "How's college been?"
"Uh, good," he replied, throwing glances over at Spike, who was eyeing him like he half-expected Zack to start murdering them with an axe (and where'd he be carrying that axe anyway?). "My internship makes sure I'm busy, but otherwise good. And, uh you? The slaying is—is good?"
Such an awkward child, Buffy remembered. It was almost funny how nervous he was around her. Sure, she understood Spike, he worked to be intimidating, but not Buffy. The last thing she wanted to do was scare a potential suitor away (the James-Jacob incident notwithstanding; she only took off his head after Beth broke up with him). "The slaying's good," she told him with a slow head nod. "I'm sure Beth's told you we've got another slayer lending a hand."
"Uh, yeah, she mentioned that," he intoned, glancing over at the redhead on the couch, who was looking at him like he was some kind of strange creature. Possibly, since the Slayer Academy was an all-girl's school and he didn't know the last time she'd actually been around a boy. "Nice to meet you? I'm Zack."
"I gathered," she said, tone monotonous. Her eyes betrayed her though, as she looked more like she'd gotten thrown down the rabbit hole and been introduced to a door that talked. In other words, the world made no goddamn sense. Beth almost wanted to smirk haughtily. Yeah, I got myself a boyfriend! What now, you dateless nerd? Of course, she didn't say that, but she sure as hell thought it.
"Where you goin'?" her dad inquired, leveling Zack with a suspicious gaze.
"Dad," Beth whined, rolling her eyes. "I already told you we're getting dinner and then seeing a movie. Boring stuff. How often do I need to repeat that to you? Do you want the restaurant address? The movie name and time?"
"Don't tempt him," her mother cut in, throwing a reproaching glare at her husband.
"I jus' wanted to see if he got nervous," he replied, eyeing Zack once more.
Beth scoffed. "Oh no, you caught him. He's actually kidnapping me to force me into the sex slave trade. Oh, how ever will I fight him off?"
"I don't think you're helping my case," Zack murmured to her under his breath.
"Well, have fun," Buffy said, smiling at the two before dragging her husband out of the room, who was still throwing daggers at Zack with his eyes. Blunted ones, since he'd kinda saved her life and all once, but still daggers.
"Ready?" Zack asked.
"Oh, um, jacket," she said, searching through the mass of fabric both on and under the coat rack. Boy, did someone need to clean that up.
"Wait," Margaret cut in, eyes going back and forth between the two. "Are you dating"—finger pointed at Zack—"her?" And finger pointed to Beth.
"Yes," he replied, drawing it out like Margaret had. He nodded his head really slow too for added effect.
"Why?" was the next thing out of Margaret's mouth, like she couldn't help herself. Good Lord. Beth was beginning to wonder if maybe Margaret was less of a mean girl and more of someone with very little impulse who blurted out the first thought that crossed her small mind. Or maybe those two things just went hand-in-hand.
"Uh, isn't that line of questioning usually reserved for the parents?" he retorted, his facial expression going from gently confused to slightly offended. It was a smooth transition, one Beth hoped to acquire one day.
Margaret ignored the jab, her eyes settling on Beth again with a hint of disgust. "Don't you know what she is?" she asked.
Beth did her best not to flinch, but it was hard. Despite Zack's cool exterior about it, she sometimes couldn't help but wonder what he really thought of her. The whole possession bit hadn't been great help in that department either. He hated vampires after all, and his family had beef with her (paternal) family. It was hard not to wonder a little.
"Uh, cooler than me?" he answered off-handedly. "Out of my league? What answer are you aiming for exactly?"
"I think the compliments are a good way to go," Beth hummed as she smiled, getting one in return.
"She's a fucking vampire," Margaret stated.
"And I think that's our que to leave," he replied, opening the door to escort Beth out.
"Wow," he said once the door closed. She shrugged into her coat, looking at him. "Has she always been like that?"
"Like what? A frosty bitch?" she muttered. "Yeah."
"And you have to live with her for how long?"
"Too long," she replied.
"And you've been dealing with her since you were ten," he realized. "Jesus."
"She's not so bad once you get good at ignoring her," she explained. "At that point, you kind of just tune her out."
"Still," he started, looking troubled. "You shouldn't have to deal with that."
She shrugged. "Not much else I can do. She's gone back to doing it when my parents aren't around so it's not like they can yell at her or anything. I don't think she'd care much anyway. She's absolutely miserable being here, but it's her last option now."
"Have you told your parents?" he asked.
"No," she snorted. "Besides, it's not like this isn't something that they're completely unaware of. They know how she can be. And what would it look like, me, eighteen year's old, tattling to my parents?"
"I don't think that counts as tattling," he said as they approached his car. "She's just…acerbic."
"Whoa, okay their college boy, hold off now on the big words," she teased, quickly getting into the car. November was a nippy month and she hoped he'd get the heat running soon.
"You know what that word means, college girl," he remarked. He leaned forward to kiss her, now that Spike couldn't be watching them. She relished in it, running her hands through his hair as he sipped his tongue into her mouth. She tried to press herself as close to him as she could, but it was hard with console in the way.
"I missed you," he breathed when they separated. The look in his eyes made her shiver, but like, in a good way. "A lot."
"I missed you too," she giggled. "But we should probably get moving. If my dad realizes you're still parked out front, he's going to think something's up."
"Something is up," he muttered, but put the car into drive anyway.
She laughed, and quickly reached over to kiss him on the cheek. "Besides, the sooner we leave, the sooner we can find a better place to continue this."
He laughed. "Don't tempt me," he warned. "How is it, by the way? College. I heard U-Dub is a nice campus."
"It is, very old," she agreed. "But ugh, classes suck. But I met Daniel's roommate. You won't believe this, but he's even odder than him."
His eyebrows rose until they almost vanished under his hair line. "Really?" he asked. "But I heard so many stories about that kid back at St. Jude's. Weirder isn't possible."
"Oh, don't be so mean," she said, lightly smacking his arm.
"Hey, don't distract the driver."
"And this guy really is an oddball," she continued. "He's got some uncanny ability at being at the library the same time as I am, so he's been my study-buddy for the last two weeks now. And he writes in Latin. Latin, Zack!"
"So he's a bit…eccentric," he decided.
"Only rich people are eccentric," she told him. "For the rest of us normal folk, that's just straight up weird. He also has a pet rock. It's unadorned."
"So he talks to a rock," he clarified and she nodded.
"Mm-hm. He once brought it with him to the library. I couldn't tell what he was saying to it, but it might have also been in Latin," she said. "And it's not like a normal rock either. It's black and hole-y."
"Sounds like volcanic rock," he informed her. "And if he's so odd, go study somewhere else."
"No, I can't!" she claimed. "There's something about him, I don't know. Like, yeah, he's the weirdest human I've ever met, but there's something about him."
"I know, you said that already. Don't tell me I might lose you to some creep who talks to rocks."
"I'm not interested in him like that," she snapped good-naturedly, throwing him a disappointed look—disappointed he'd ever suggest such a silly thing. Didn't he know better? "I don't really know how to explain it, but I have to stick with him. For research purposes."
"Research purposes?" he repeated.
"He might be half-demon, which would explain some of his abnormalities," she told him. "Certain species of demons aren't as integrated into human society, making them somewhat fanatical-looking to the rest of us. I think maybe he's testing the waters, seeing if I'm one of those prejudice slayers. Which I'm not, me being a half-demon myself, but he doesn't know that. Ooh, maybe I should warn him about Margie. She's obviously a bigot."
"Don't you think you're being a little weird about this?" he asked.
"I don't know, maybe," she offered. "But it's not like he has many friends, Zack. To my knowledge, the only people he talks to is me and Daniel. I'm not going to just leave him."
"You're turning into quite the friend collector," he noted. "And you've got an eclectic bunch at that. Let me see—son of a slayer, older nerd Watcher-guy, a God, an empath, and now this new guy."
"What, are you not included in that 'eclectic bunch?'" she asked. "How about wizard boyfriend? Oh wow, is Nadja the normal one out of all of us?"
"I perish the thought," he returned.
-.-
Her date with Zack ended later than she had planned, not that she minded at all (though she was not looking forward to the angry presence of her father contaminating the living room air). She said goodnight to him with a long, lingering kiss, one that left him a little dazed and her triumphant as she realized that she was really getting good at this. It was a bit sad though, as she knew it would be a few more weeks before he came home for Christmas break. And sure, it had been a longer wait between summer and now, but the next several weeks were going to kill her.
When she entered in through the front door, she first noted her father sitting in the lounge, pretending to read a newspaper. She mostly knew it was fake because he never read the newspaper; she hadn't even realized they had one lying around.
"Had a good night?" he asked conversationally, strategically deciding not to meet her eyes just yet.
She rolled hers as she hung up her coat and kicked off her shoes. "Yes, I did," she replied, "and before you ask, I'm back late because we ended up talking a lot at the coffee shop, that's all."
"Coffee, eh?" he retorted, finally looking up at her as he carefully folded up the paper and set it down.
"Yes, dad," she groaned. "Just coffee."
"You don't even like coffee," he accused.
"I like it just fine and they have hot chocolate!" she retorted. "Do you think I'm lying?" She stared into his eyes, daring him to call her a liar. He didn't have to say anything though; his look spoke volumes.
"What do you think we did, Dad, went out to the woods and shagged?" she asked, ignoring his angry sputtering at her words. "First off, it's bloody cold outside—"
"Don't take that tone with me!" he cut in. "My own daughter is out with some boy—"
"Zack is not some boy!" she interrupted. "I've known him for years, as have you! And what does it matter what we do? I'm old enough to make these decisions and I'm smart enough to do them carefully!"
"When you live under my roof," he began and she couldn't help but snort derisively. "Oi, 'm your father an' that means what I say goes."
"What exactly do you think we're doing?" she questioned. "It's normal dating stuff. I'm not doing anything worse than Mum had done at my age."
"Do you really think you want to use her as your comparison?" he asked.
"Well, I know I'm doing better than you were," she muttered under her breath.
"You know I can hear you, right?" her mother shouted from upstairs. "And Spike, if you get between Beth and Zack, I will put you in a grave like your old ass should be."
"Don't you trust me, Dad?" she asked as her father threw a dirty look at the hallway stairs. "You know I wouldn't do anything stupid, right?"
He looked like he wanted to say something else, but he uttered, "Yes."
"Then what are you concerned about? You think Zack could take advantage of me? You know as well as anyone else that if he tried anything I didn't like, I'd just break all his fingers."
"I know, but you're my little girl," he sighed, suddenly looking forlorn. She sighed, coming over to sit on the arm of the chair beside him.
"I'm eighteen," she reminded him, patting his shoulder. "And I'm not so little anymore. I haven't been for a long time now. You knew this would happen eventually. And you were never like this with Jacob."
"Why'd you bring him up?" he growled. "And this is different."
"How?" she asked. "We went on the same kind of dates, did some of the same things." Not like she'd go into great detail about that, but Jacob had certainly taught her some, ahem, things.
"You never really cared for Jacob," her father informed her. "And don't try and blow it off. He could have floated off an' you'd have been none the wiser."
She cringed, wondering how transparent she had truly been. "I'd say I liked him a bit more than that, considering I dated him for six months."
"Do you love him?"
The question took her off-guard so much, she actually slipped off her seat. She righted herself quickly enough, and if her father noticed, he made no motion as to suggest he did. "Wow, Dad," she said. "A bit out of left field, don't you think? I should probably tell him before I tell you anyway."
"Well, he loves you, do you know that?"
She blushed, though she hoped he didn't notice (but he totally did, the bastard). "And how do you know?" she asked instead of answering.
"I can just tell," he replied and she snorted. "It's the way he looks at you. It's how I looked at your mum."
"Uh, is that before or after you got your soul?"
He shot her a sour look, but replied, "S'all the same. My act changed, but never how I felt about her. She was never different in my eyes; it was me who changed."
"Well, then, shouldn't you be happy?" she asked. "Considering how you are with Mum, shouldn't you want that for me?"
"S'bit more complicated than that," he muttered after a minute.
"Well then, can I go to bed?" she asked and he eventually nodded his head, though he looked conflicted. It was a dad thing though, so there was little she could do in the way of helping, except hope that maybe one day he'd come around and be as happy about this as his wife was. Beth was happy after all; her dad wasn't wrong, she definitely cared about Zack more than she ever cared about Jacob, and that's only counting the time before she figured out that he was a eons-old vampire looking to turn her (because honestly, including the after just made for really unfair playing ground). And while she herself hadn't said the L-word yet, that didn't mean it wasn't in her mind. And that didn't mean the thought didn't make her smile.
And as if the gods truly despised her, there was Margaret in the doorway to the library, there to spoil any good mood she was in. Talk about a bad penny, she though dourly.
"Look, unless you have something insightful or contributory to say, stuff it," she told her.
Margaret rolled her eyes, making a scoffing noise. "So that's your boyfriend?" she inquired and Beth pretended she hadn't spoken, moving quickly toward her door.
Margaret was undeterred though, moving quickly enough to block her. Huffing, Beth took a step back, meeting Margaret's sharp gaze.
"Fine, okay, what do you want? Make this quick because I actually am tired," she said, sweeping out her arm to signal Margaret to speak.
"How did you get a boyfriend?" she inquired, tone scathing.
"Well, it helps to be around boys," Beth started, trying to keep her patience. She'd just had a great night out with Zack and now everyone seemed intent on ruining it. Everyone (and now everyone was going to die). "I don't really know how to explain it to you. Either you get it or you don't, that's all I can say."
"So you're trying to tell me some guy thinks you're attractive? Has he even seen your other face?"
"In fact, he has," she snapped, surprising Margaret. "And why do you even care, Margie? Why are you so obsessed with me? Before, you had an audience. It made you feel important, but now, it's just you. There's no one watching, so let me ask again: why are you like this?"
Margaret seemed taken aback by the question, and though she kept her expression neutral, Beth could see that she was struggling to come up with a response. So, Beth saved her the trouble and answered for her. "You're a small person, that's what. And belittling me makes you feel big. Honestly, I don't really get it but maybe that's because I've always been the one belittled. We're too old for this, Margie. Honestly, you're here to start your future, not play these high school games anymore. And there's no one here to watch. So, please, knock it off. I'm really tired of it."
Margaret didn't even fight back as Beth shouldered her out of the way and walked into her room, shutting the door behind her, not even once glancing back. There was a pause before Beth finally heard motion in the hallway. Sighing, she sunk down onto her bed and closed her eyes. Boy, was she going to need a breather tomorrow.
