Life would have been better if school had not been required, but not returning for the semester had been nixed a long time ago. On the other hand, the wintery weather had closed down campus for a few days so Beth had a chance to pretend she wasn't currently a college student. You know, TV had made that look so fun; boy was she disappointed.

Careful of the slushy patches, Beth made her way toward her psychology class. Her mother had made a joke about the professor, saying she hoped Beth's teacher wasn't some monster-wrangling psychopath and Beth laughed awkwardly and nodded her head like she understood what her mother was saying ("That was your psychology teacher?" her father had asked, sounding astounded.).

Before she headed up the stairs, she noticed a familiar face sitting on a bench across the way. "Hey Eddie," she greeted, walking over to him.

He looked up at her, squinting. "Hello Beth!" he replied, grinning. "I haven't seen you in a while."

"Guess we don't have a class this semester," she said, shrugging.

"Oh yes, but that's how things work out sometimes," he agreed. "But I imagined we would see each other again, and we did."

"That we did," she replied. "Too bad you couldn't have joined us at the venue. It was a lot of fun. And I think maybe you would have liked Zack."

"Which one is Zack again?" he inquired.

"My boyfriend," she answered. "He goes to MIT. And Maea was interested in meeting you too."

He smiled. "I bet she was. But unfortunately, things come up in life. I imagine many things are going to be coming up soon."

"Well, mid-terms is right around the corner," she remembered.

"What's it like being a slayer?" he asked suddenly.

She shrugged. "I dunno. Usually involved punching a lot of things; sometimes it has weird, potentially acidic unknown bodily fluids. It's okay, I guess."

"Better than being normal?" he asked and she paused.

"I think each has their positives and their negatives," she answered like a true politician (huh. Maybe she should pursue government instead).

"But if you had the choice, to go back and start over, be someone different—someone normal and decidedly not you, would you do it?" he pressed.

"Hard question there, Eddie," she replied, chuckling awkwardly. "It's hard to say. I don't even know what I would be like if I weren't me."

He sighed in frustration, looking down at his hands. "You're not answering the question, Elizabeth," he stated. "Sometimes in life, everything gets picked out for us. What we are, who we're going to be, what's going to happen to us. And some of us just embrace it, while others constantly fight against it. Which one are you, Beth?"

"Who's to say my life is all planned out?" she retorted.

He grinned, somewhat amused. "Higher authorities, I'm sure," he mused. "But it's all for a purpose. And isn't it good to have a purpose?"

"Well, yeah, sure," she agreed. "Everyone wants to have something to do with their lives. Having nothing would just be boring."

"Then why do some people reject theirs?" he asked, mostly to himself it seemed.

She looked down at him oddly. "Are you in some philosophy class this semester or something?"

He sighed heavily and then stood up suddenly, coming so close she automatically took a step back. He stared intently at her, like he had something really important to say.

"I don't know when I'll be seeing you around, Beth," he told her, "but know that man created fire to abate the storm. And he created weapons to fight off the monsters that follow them."

Picking up his backpack, he nodded at her before walking off. She blinked, watching him go.

"Well, alright," she murmured after a moment, eyes still on him until he disappeared into the crowd. "What an odd person."

Glad that was over, she returned to her original destination and headed toward her next class. With luck, the next time she saw Eddie, it wouldn't be such a weird interaction. Though with his odd vibes, she sincerely doubted that.

The large lecture halls always felt a bit intimidating the first few times around, but this time Beth wasn't alone. Nadja had convincingly forced them into taking the same class with her, and she was still smug about it months later. She and Daniel had already arrived and waved her over from one of the upper rows. She moved quickly up the stairs toward them, sliding into a seat next to Daniel.

"I saw Eddie outside of the building," Beth informed them as she threw her bag down.

"Did you?" he inquired. "I've seen very little of him since moving back into my dorm room. Is he well?"

"Well, he was about as weird as he usually is, so I'd say he's doing pretty okay," she responded.

"Maybe taking introductory psych will give us insight into his behavior," Nadja surmised, an amused smile gracing her features.

"Yeah, I'm sure the placebo effect will be really useful in that aspect," Beth retorted.

"You know, we're learning something useful here and you're just being sarcastic," Nadja said.

"Sorry I'm not interested in the mental going-ons of the general population. I've got enough mental problems of my own, thank you," she responded. "I'm only taking this class because it's required."

"Psychology has its importance in business," Daniel cut in, "though I do say probably not in accounting. Now, say I was a marketing major—"

"Fine, I get it. I'm the only one who cares," Nadja snapped, slouching down dejectedly in her chair.

"Maybe you should become a psychiatrist," Beth offered.

"Or maybe I should get better friends!"

"Ooh, somebody's getting a little testy," she noted, exchanging glances with Daniel.

Lecture started with the professor carrying on about the different forms of therapy, which Beth was diligent about taking notes on. Although she had little interest in this class besides fulfilling course requirements, that didn't mean she wouldn't be a model student. And despite Nadja expressing a keen interest in the course—and even intently listening to the lecture—she herself took very few notes, her pen dangling loosely in her hand. Even Daniel was taking more notes than her, and he looked distracted half of the time.

About halfway through the hour-long class, the lecture was disrupted when the speaker system—hardly ever used—crackled overhead and a static-y voice informed them that due to a non-emergency situation on campus, students were asked to remain in their classes for the duration of the lock-down.

Nadja shot Beth an alarmed look. "Oh my god, my mom warned me about these things," she hissed.

"What things?" Beth inquired, glancing around the room and the growing worry in the other students. Most were restless in their seats, whispering in hushed tones to one another. Their professor tried to continue the lecture, but unfortunately for Dr. Heiden, no one was actually listening.

"An active shooter!" Nadja replied, her eyes darting around the room.

"Nadja, I don't think that's what's going on," she replied. Daniel nudged her shoulder, pointing toward the door leading out into a courtyard outside. There, she could see what she assumed where military soldiers moving around. They were dressed in black shirts with dark green pants, wearing black hats and toting some serious looking guns. Beth's eyebrows rose at the sight.

"Non-emergency, huh?" she muttered, moving in her seat to get a better look.

"See?" Nadja asked. "I told you. Why would they bring in the military if they didn't have to? Something serious is going on!"

"I don't think that's the military," he told her. "I'm unfamiliar with the uniforms they are wearing."

"They're probably like some special ops group of something," she told him.

Within the span of a few minutes, most every student was aware of the commotion outside of their classroom and if they didn't currently have their eyes locked on the men outside, then they were locked on their phones, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Unfortunately for them, Twitter didn't have a goddamn clue.

Beth though, got her first clue when she saw a tall girl with curly red hair come onto the scene, walking alongside one of the more decorated officials. "Margie!" she hissed, standing up.

"What? What is it?" Nadja asked, looking between Beth and the scene outside.

"I have to go," she responded, already moving toward the steps, mindful of the students she was passing. "Hold onto my stuff!"

"Uh, good luck!" Nadja called before muttering to Daniel, "So guess that means it's slayer-related?"

"Demon on campus, it was bound to happen," he responded.

Beth all but had her hand on the door when the professor noticed her attempted escape. "Hey, where do you think you're going? We're on lockdown and you need to stay in this room," he commanded her.

"Sorry, official slayer business," she responded, flashing her ID before racing out the door. She didn't even give him time to stutter out a response before she was gone.

She hurried over to where she saw Margaret and the Military Guy talking to one another. She couldn't hear their topic of conversation, but she was most certain it could involve her.

Again though, she was stopped by someone. He was a younger looking man, maybe mid-twenties, and he attempted to use his height to intimidate her by standing up straight.

"Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to return to the building," he told her, his features firm.

"Hey, if she can get involved, I can get involved," she claimed, pointing a finger at Margaret. By now, she and the solider had heard her and were currently looking in her direction; Margaret's eyes were flaming, which made it all the better.

"Ma'am, we have a potentially dangerous subject on campus," he began, trying to placate her.

"Yes, a demon, I figured as much," she interrupted. "I'm a slayer, just like she is, and have every right to be informed about what's going on. Or were you unaware that the locally assigned slayers are by law required to be given any pertinent information about on-going demon activity?"

"Beth, go back to class," Margaret bit out. "I have a handle on this."

"I'm sure you do," she responded contritely. "And did she tell you that she's also only a slayer-in-training, and therefore needs some form of oversight?"

The older soldier Margaret had been talking to smiled slightly. "Private Geiger, you're dismissed," he said, and the younger soldier saluted before striding off. "You say you're a slayer too?" He was a tall man, broad-shouldered, and looked to be around her parents' age (ahem, mother's age) with greying blond hair.

"I am," Beth told him before Margaret could say anything else. "Same as her, slayer-in-training. You wanna see my ID? I totally have one."

"I believe you," he assured her. "I've been around a slayer or two and you all carry yourselves the same way."

"Look, Beth, I told you I have this," Margaret repeated, glaring daggers at her. "Now, go away. We don't need your help."

"On the contrary, I think we could use as much help as we can get," he informed the two of them, and Beth shot Margaret a gloating smile. "Are you familiar with Seattle and its surrounding areas?"

"Lives here for almost five years, so yes I am," she said. "Although technically we're not supposed to do anything without the overseeing slayer."

"She's not even here!" Margaret pointed out.

"I was informed by Ms. Schmidt here that the head slayer was currently away on business," he announced.

That was true; Beth's mother had taken a trip out to Arizona to help one of the slayer teams deal with a particularly nasty demon nest, and she likely wouldn't be back for another several days. "Yes, but has she been informed or consulted?" Beth asked, turning her eyes on Margaret. "I can call her right now, in fact."

"We have the situation under control!" Margaret told her. "We don't need your mom butting in right now."

"Go through whatever protocol you must, but all we need right now is some help navigating the Seattle area," he told Beth. "We've been tracking a demon up from Nicaragua and could use some help finding where it might be heading. We lost it around the campus area and are now trying to pick up its trace again."

"Well I know lots of little demon hidey-holes," Beth assured before frowning. "Uh General, Sergeant, Admiral, Officer—let me know when I'm getting close."

"Lieutenant Finn," he informed her and she nodded.

"Alright then, Lieutenant, read me in or whatever," she asked.

"He just did," Margaret informed her snidely. "They've been tracking a demon and lost it and now they want our help to find it. Everything else is under control."

"So, are you guys like some military fleet that hunts demons?" Beth asked, studiously ignoring Margaret. "I've heard about those before. You work for like the government or something?"

"We are," he said. "And we are a branch of the army under the D.O.D."

She mouthed the acronym D.O.D., having no clue as to what the hell that was. But he said Army and she knew some things about that. Mostly TV stuff, as per the norm, but she figured that had to be pretty close to the real thing, right?

"So, soldier boys then," she murmured, glancing around at the crowd. There was only about a dozen of them, and upon closer inspection, she noted that it wasn't guns they were carrying, but tranquilizer guns. "You're not interested in killing it, are you?"

"No," he told her, no hesitation. Her mother had warned her to be wary of any demon hunters that had little interest in killing their prey. Usually, it meant something pretty funky was going on—and never funky in a good way. "Our unit's job is to capture and study demons for a better understanding of them. They are essentially an unknown species to us."

"The Watcher's Council likely already has a lot of information on them," she told him. "Maybe you could just ask them. It's dangerous to take demons in alive."

"We can handle it," he assured her, then grimaced. "And we try to keep out interaction with the Council to a minimum."

"And yet, here you are, working with their foot soldiers," she mused.

"Lt. Finn!" someone called out and he quickly excused himself from the two girls. In no time, Margaret was whirling on her.

"Why are you still here?" she hissed. "They don't need two slayers to help them find one demon!"

"I have as much a right to this as you do," Beth reminded her. "And he seemed pretty surprised there was another slayer here. What, keeping me hidden, are you?"

"I didn't think it was necessary to bring you in," she growled.

"Look, we're not even technically supposed to be doing this," Beth reminded her. "We don't have authorization. Bloody hell, I bet you didn't even tell Mr. Wells!"

"Buffy doesn't need to know," Margaret told her.

"Uh, as the overseeing slayer for out training, yes she does," Beth told her, "or did you want to fail out of another field training again?"

Margaret bristled; obviously, her failures being a bit of a sore spot for her. "Go home, Beth," she ground out, turning on her heel with the intent of leaving her behind. But she had the ace right up her sleeve.

"Home? You mean where my dad is and I can tell him all about what you've been up to and he can tell my mum?" she questioned innocently. Margaret immediately froze, inclining her head as she waited. "You don't want to get in trouble? Then I'm riding with you the whole way."

Turning to face Beth, Margaret attempted to call out Beth's bluff. "You'd get in as much trouble if Buffy found out about this."

"First off, she's my mum, I can talk my way out of anything," Beth said (lied). "And second off, I'm not the one looking at getting a third fail. What happens to you if you flunk out again, Margie? Do you even know?"

"Ms. Schmidt!" Lt. Finn called, and both of them jerked their heads toward the sound. He waved her over and Beth gave Margaret one long, last look.

"Your choice, right here, right now," she sang. "Either you keep being a bitch and push me out, therefore paying the dire consequences when you get pegged a loose cannon, or I go with."

Margaret gritted her teeth, glaring at Beth for a moment before yelling, "We're coming!" She stalked over to Lt. Finn, Beth following happily behind.

"You can call me Beth, or Ms. Summers if you want to be all polite," she told him and Margaret rolled her eyes.

"Well Summers, Schmidt, as I said before we lost the demon right around campus here, near the corner of 45th and Aurora. We know that it has a preference for dark, dank places…"

Beth proceeded to tune most of what Lt. Finn said, caught up in her own little personal victory. She had overcome Margaret. And sure, regardless of what Margaret had said, she still would have come along; the older slayer wasn't her Keeper and she certainly didn't tell Beth what to do. But that wasn't the point—the point was that Beth got her to concede. Truly the best day of her life (so far).

-.-

Beth wandered on home late that evening, having successfully assisted the militarized demon group to capture their prey to have him shipped back to the base. He had been a scaley little bugger, leaving Beth with no doubt that they should just kill it. Unfortunately, she didn't make the rules.

The highlight of the day though was Margaret. Having spent only a few months in Seattle, she wasn't as familiar with some of the more popular demon watering holes. Beth, on the other hand, knew them inside and out; she was a goddamn encyclopedia when it came to assisting Lt. Finn and his men. And it obviously rubbed Margaret the wrong way. Too bad she couldn't tell her mother about this, it had been a shining moment of hers. It had helped though that Lt. Finn seemed particularly interested in Beth, asking her a lot of questions. All benign, though many centered around her mother in particular. She didn't have a clue as to why, though she sensed some backstory going on there. And, nosy as she was, she wanted the skinny.

"Hey Dad," she greeted when she swung into the house, giving herself a discreet once over to make sure she didn't miss any of the dirt. The demon had been easy to find, though not easy to lure out. And he certainly hadn't picked the cleanest of hiding places.

"'lo Beth," he greeted in return. "How was the library?"

"Oh, it was fine," she lied smoothly. While telling her dad about the fun she had was always a good story-swapping experience, this time he was going to be left out—because he was a tattle tale. Besides, she had other fish to fry. "What'd you do about dinner?"

"Same as usual," he said, gesturing toward the pizza boxes on the table. She wasn't even surprised. Nearly 2oo-hundred years and the man still hadn't picked up any cooking skills. She wasn't even entirely sure he knew how to make rice.

"Did you leave any for me?" she asked, taking a seat at the dining table.

"Course I did!" he responded, sounding offended. Though, let's get real, that man could eat when he wanted to. It was a perfectly legitimate question.

She snatched a slice of cheese out of one of the boxes, taking a bite and reclining back in her chair. "Hey Dad," she began, acting nonchalant. "Do you know a guy with the last name Finn? Two n's."

Over on the couch, eyes having previously been glued to the TV (they still were, though she could tell he was no longer paying attention to it), Spike seemed to pause. Weird, considering he was the perfect picture of "couch potato." "Why?" he inquired, trying to keep his voice neutral.

She hid her grin behind her pizza. "Oh, Aunt Willow mentioned the name in passing and I thought you might know who that is."

"Your mum's ex," he said slowly. "The Initiative one. Why'd Red bring him up anyway?" he groused, suddenly looking lively.

She didn't bother to answer him; she, in all likelihood, hadn't heard him. In fact, she was so far out of reality she dropped her pizza (pizza, of all things!). "That's Finn? He's Whitebread!" Oh, ho ho, this was just too good to actually be true. Lt. Finn was her mother's ex? The ex? The one that Spike still hated something vicious and in return, the man that probably still wanted to punch Spike in the face? It was her very own TV soap opera come to life in her life! Finally, what all my training has prepare me for.

"Yes, that's him," he grumbled. "An' why do you care anyway?"

"Well, I know everybody and you only call him by inane nicknames and Mum only ever calls his Riley," she replied.

"You seem awfully happy about this," he noted suspiciously.

"It makes everything come together in my world view," she explained. This was literally the best thing ever! She—would he hate her? Jumping off her fantasy train and getting back to reality, it occurred to her that Lt. Finn might not be a fan of hers. Sure, maybe he got married first, but he also didn't marry an ex-mass murderer. Those kind of choices made people look down on you. And she was sort of the outcome of said choice. Darn it, all her dramatic dreams were now ashes in the wind, burnt down by cold, hard reality. Damn, and she was so close to witnessing the best fist fight in existence.

"Don't worry," she told him with a sigh. "I'm over it now." Picking up a new slice of pizza, she ate it in what only could be described as a plaintive manner. Spike, now pretty sure his daughter had officially lost it, turned back to his soaps. At this point in time, it wasn't even worth trying to figure her out.

-.-

The weather had picked up enough so that Beth was comfortable taking her studying out to a table in one of the many common areas dotting around the campus. Everyone was still talking about the lockdown incident, mostly because the solider men were still out wondering around. They were "securing the area" of whatever (more like "hitting on coeds," but nobody bothered to ask her about her perspective).

"Ms. Summers," someone called out and Beth looked up to see Lt. Finn walking toward her.

"Lt. Finn," she greeted as he sat down in the chair across from hers. "Your men finding other demons crawling around?"

"No," he smiled. "Seems like you keep this place pretty clean."

"I try my best," she replied, holding her head high.

"You know, I knew your mother, Buffy, long time ago. We worked together occasionally," he informed her. "You remind me a lot of her."

"Funny, people usually say I take after my father more," she retorted. "I guess it's the slayer thing."

"She must be pretty proud to have a slayer as a kid," he replied. "I didn't know those kinds of things happened."

She shrugged. "Yeah, well, with the one after the other slayer line we had prior, it was kind of hard to tell. And her pride goes off and on, usually depending on how much my training makes me skirt doing chores."

He chuckled. "Sounds like a real mom," he said. "Back when I first met her, she was still getting a hang of her sacred duty."

"Yes, with the Initiative," she remembered.

Looking surprised (and possibly even a little smug), he asked, "She told you about that?"

Beth nodded. "Mum talks pretty often about her old adventures, so you've been mentioned in passing. I mostly knew you as Riley though, mum's ex. I did remember you were military though. Did you really work for an organization that trapped demons?"

"It was all research," he informed her. "The Director turned out to be a nut, but the rest was pretty standard."

"You know, sometimes I look into a demon's eyes and I see something there," she told him in a sober tone. "It makes we wonder if it understands that my job is to kill it—that it's going to die. Did you ever find that in your research?"

He didn't respond and she glanced over at him to see his cautious expression. "We—slayers and demon hunters like yourself—we take out demons because they're dangerous to people," she explained. "They were here first, you know, and so I think maybe we're just encroaching on their territory—but that's natural progress, right? The dinosaurs didn't get to live forever."

He nodded slowly. "We serve a purpose to protect," he told her.

"And vampires are just a different breed altogether," she said. "Despite how much research the Council has put into understanding them, I still don't really think we get them. I think you have to be one to get it."

"Vampires are just killers," he stated without hesitation, his expression a little hard.

She smiled. "Well, they definitely do kill," she admitted. "I met a vampire who didn't though. He fed, but he never killed—at least never on purpose. He got his kicks elsewhere, and he put his violence toward other subjects."

"What, you think we should be more cautious before we kill?" he asked, trying to sound respectful but still coming off a disbelieving.

"Never said that," she told him. "You didn't let me finish—he ended up nearly getting me killed for his own selfish reasons. Never said he was perfect."

"Then why even bring it up?" he asked.

"Because," she started, "I don't think you'd like me very much if you knew everything. You and me—we fight demons, but that's where the similarities end. I'm a different breed, you know; Slayers are not the same—we're not natural, we were man-made. As for me, well, sometimes to kill it, you have to become it."

"You think your demon-like," he reiterated. "And for you that means you think there's more to them than just killing them."

"No, I just think that because of it, we wouldn't get along," she informed him. "Do you ever think about the demons you don't hear about? The ones that never bothered anyone? But they're still trouble, I'm sure."

"In life-or-death situations, things have to be black-and-white. Anymore thinking and you might end up dead."

"Do you discriminate?" she inquired. "At all? Or is everything less than human fair game to you?"

His expression hardened. "I do my job, as should you. When your mom gets back, go ahead and tell her I said hi." He stood up, excusing himself from the table.

Raised a polite girl, Beth murmured a goodbye and gave a half-hearted wave. It wasn't that she didn't like Lt. Finn—she had nothing against him. But she was also sick and tired of his way of thinking. Because, for a girl like her, she always fell on the wrong side. While she herself hardly discriminated when it came to killing demons (hello, it had its claws aimed at her head; what's a girl to do?), it was what got her where she was today. With stunning realization, she knew that while the "stake first, ask questions later" policy of the Slayers and Demon Hunters might have saved countless lives, it was also the very policy that had pointed the barrel of a gun at her from the moment she was born. So, excuse her if she wasn't interested in people who lived and breathed by that code, Lt. Finn included. At this point, she was well on her way to being a fully independent slayer and the last thing she needed was someone else coming along to tear her down because of what she was.

-.-

Finn was expecting them to pack up swiftly once they received the order to depart; what he hadn't expected was for the order to come so soon. While he had sort of been hoping to see Buffy before he left—as one old friend to another—such didn't seem possible anymore. They were moving out by this afternoon, a private plane chartered to take them domestic. A rare occurrence, as most of their expeditions took them to places most people wouldn't dare charter, though this would be a relief. They were going to Texas, in fact, where their current base was. Probably to replenish supplies (God only knew what some of these men were starting to smell like—and they were in the US as it was, a majorly populated city as well).

He spotted his commanding officer outside the doorway of where they'd been allowed to set up camp. It was a row of unused storefronts, set to be rented out in a few months. The structure was wholly unrefined, but he was used to desert and jungle, so this was a vast improvement (his bunk in Texas was starting to sound real good). The man in question, Captain Arnold, was barking orders as privates moved equipment around, loading them up into the trucks to be shipped either out to the plane or sent packing down the I-90 and straight out of town.

Finn had never worked under Captain Arnold before, and he wasn't exactly keen on ever doing so again. His platoon had only joined up under Captain Arnold's due to converging courses and nothing more. It also hadn't helped that he'd been passed over for a promotion with the retirement of his past CO. Captain Arnold was a particular hard-ass that really could flourish in the military from a leadership position. All in all, to put it simply, he was a dick. He reminded him a little of Commander Walsh—except without the crazy synthesized cybernetic demon-man—in the sense that he was very much driven for the cause. After so many years, it was maybe just a tiny bit disappointing (maybe).

"Lieutenant Finn," the captain greeted as he approached. "Are you ready to move out?"

"Almost sir," Finn replied as he stood by the captain and watched as the rest of their equipment was moved.

"Successful trip, wouldn't you say?" the captain began conversationally and Finn nodded.

"Of course, sir," he replied. "We successfully captured and contained a Wazzimir demon."

"Mm, yes. They're known for being incredibly elusive," he commented. "And those slayers, very impressive. Are they all like that?"

"I wouldn't know sir," Finn admitted honestly, "but the few that I have met tend to be. They're all very dedicated, not to mention immensely strong."

The captain chuckled. "Yes, the way they corralled that demon into the corner was something I don't think even twenty of our best trained men could do."

"You exaggerate," Finn claimed.

"Maybe," he retorted. "Anyway, that blonde girl—Summers, was it? She was particularly impressive."

"Yes," Finn agreed, not at all surprised to see that the daughter of Buffy Summers boasted such skill. It'd been more a state of fact than anything shocking. "She was raised by a slayer I once worked with—Buffy Summers. She herself is very impressive. I would expect nothing less from her daughter."

"Slayer of a slayer?" the captain murmured, looking intrigued. "She was…exceptional."

Finn was put a bit on edge from the tone in his new CO's voice, though he knew better than to directly question it. Maybe they would finally end their long-standing ban on anything Council-related. He seemed downright intrigued by the slayers and their strength; maybe at this point he was considering teaming up. For a while now, the military and the Council had been a bit at odds. Unexpected on the surface, seeing as they essentially carried out the same goals. But, as expected, the Council questioned the military's methods and in return the military questioned theirs. That's usually what official-looking people did: butt heads.

"Agreed," Finn said after a moment, looking at the captain out of the corner of his eye. Of course, the older gentleman gave nothing away and he was left only to guess at the meaning of such a tone. Unless—

"Is there any reason we're moving out so quickly?" Finn inquired. "I had expected us to stay until we were assigned a new mission, not accompany the subject back to base."

"Plans change," the captain replied blithely. "The sooner we move out the better."

"Then I'm likely more useful elsewhere," Finn decided, bowing out politely. He ambled over to the side of the encampment before glancing over his shoulder. He saw the captain engaged with a group of privates and thus distracted. Finn then darted back inside, finding whoever was in charge of the supply log.

"Corporal Matheson," Finn intoned, making the woman's head shoot up.

"Lieutenant Finn," the corporal greeted.

"Can I see that log?" he asked, extending his hand out. She wasted no time in giving it over to him, letting him quickly glance through it.

"What's this?" he asked, pointing at a particular log on the paper. "It looks pretty sizable."

She shrugged. "I wouldn't know, sir. Captain Arnold checked off on it earlier."

"Well it's not one of ours," he noted. "Where'd he get it from?"

"Uh, Montlake Boulevard," she replied, glancing at another record of hers.

"Montlake?" he repeated, not too clear on all the streets of Seattle.

"Up near the bays, sir," she offered.

"Wait, that's near—" he cut off suddenly, a look of realization overcoming his features.

"Lieutenant Finn?" the corporal said, looking at him a bit worried.

Shoving the log back into her hands, he muttered a quick goodbye before running off, offering her no other explanation to his sudden departure. She blinked, stunned for only a moment, before going back to her logging. Chances are, she really didn't want to know.

-.-

With the help of residents, Finn located Buffy's house with surprising ease after commandeering a jeep from base. Maybe it was the uniform—people tended to respect those (or maybe it was because a town with a demon problem just meant everyone knew where the slayer lived; it was a toss-up really).

It was a quaint looking bungalow-styled home near the corner of the street and he would've taken the time to admire the neighborhood (maybe get the number of her realtor?—he and his wife had been thinking of relocating), except he was pretty sure a kidnapping just occurred and time was of the essence. If he wasn't mistaken, the plane set to carry the "subjects" down to Texas was leaving in less than an hour, and his own current MIA status was likely to put Captain Arnold on high alert. And so, he wasted no time in throwing open the car door and rushing to the front door, hoping that someone was home. And it was a good thing he did too, because he sure did waste a lot of time staring at the person who opened the door.

"Spike?" he said after a long moment of staring, on both their parts. He blinked. While he knew Buffy had remained in contact with Spike, he was still thrown. Spike lived here? With Buffy and her daughter (no wonder Beth was so odd about demon discrimination)? Where was Beth's father? Wait. He blinked again.

"Captain C—Finn," Spike corrected, trying to be polite. Finn was technically an ally for him, even if he worked for people who weren't buddy-buddy with the Council. Also he sort of, indirectly helped him get his malfunctioning chip out so maybe deep-seated hatred wasn't the best emotion to express right now (though it would be blood easy to). "Figured you'd be here when Beth brought you up. Girl doesn' ask questions without reason."

Wait, was Spike standing with light hitting him? Direct light? And not burning up into a crisp (look, he knew he'd been out of contact with Buffy and crew for a while now, but this was ridiculous). And was he breathing? N-yeah, that was a rise and fall of a chest. Why was he here again?

"Beth," he repeated, the word sticking in his mind (or, right. That time urgent matter). "Beth! She's in trouble!"

Spike looked unruffled. In fact, he snorted. "With you 'round? 'magine she is. What'd she do this time?"

"I have reason to believe she was kidnapped and is now en route to Texas," he stated in a flat tone in response to Spike's blasé attitude.

Spike's entire demeanor shifted suddenly. "What?" he growled, taking one, (supposed to be) menacing step forward. Finn, not one to be intimidated by British men shorter than him, didn't even flinch.

"I think my CO kidnapped Beth and it trying to expedite her out to our base in Texas; after that, she could go anywhere. If we don't go now, we might lose her," he explained in a hurried tone.

"You son of a bitch," Spike replied, taking a swing at him. Now Finn moved. He stumbled backward and out of the path of the furious fist. Spike might not be a vampire anymore (again how? WHEN?), but he was still pretty sure the guy could hurt him if he really put his mind to it. And something told Finn Spike was really putting his mind to it.

"Hey!" Finn barked, blocking another hit. He had half a mind to punch the guy back, but figured that wouldn't actually de-escalate the situation (though it was almost comforting to know that despite all the changes, Spike still resorted to violence—not everything had changed so dramatically, he still lacked basic impulse control and the ability to properly listen). "We don't have time for this! Beth is in trouble!"

"Because of you!" Spike shouted, drawing the attention of some of the neighbors. They looked unperturbed though, so maybe this was normal. "Whose soldier boys did this?"

"Hey, I didn't have to tell you," Finn retorted angrily. "I swear I didn't have any idea. It's kidnapping, Spike. Do you really think I'd be okay with that?"

"Well you're no fan of mine!" he replied.

"She never even mentioned you!" Finn informed him, exasperated. "I didn't know you were even alive until I saw you at the door—very alive too, I noticed! Now, the time you spend wasting trying to pound my face into the ground, the closer Beth is to going airborne and after that, everything gets a hell of a lot harder. So can we go now?"

Spike hesitated, though the dirty look he threw at Finn told the Lieutenant where he stood on turning him black and blue. But lo and behold, parenting had taught Spike patience and soon enough, he was nodding. "Alright," he conceded. "Let's go. You got a plan?"

Finn started toward his car, Spike right beside him. It was odd, fighting side-by-side, but this wasn't the first time they both did something for the same girl (and her daughter no less. Eugh. Riley's life was some bad rerun, wasn't it?). "They'll be transporting her the same way they transported the demon, meaning big, metal vehicle with armed jeeps surrounding it."

"Do you have weapons then?" Spike asked condescendingly, taking a once-over of the bare jeep.

"Do you have something that can take down an armored truck?" he bit out in return and Spike shot him a scathing look. "We'll overtake the vehicle and block off the road. From there, it'll be direct confrontation."

Spike cracked his knuckles, an absolutely evil smile of his face, reminding Riley of the long-gone days of Sunnydale. "My favorite kind of confrontation," he said as Riley sped down the road. Man, he really wished Buffy had been in town.

-.-

"I am suffocating in here!" Beth screamed, raking her shackles along the grating at the back of the car. She'd been sitting pretty and peacefully on the Parrington Lawn when she thought it'd be a good idea to move to a café (those had food, after all), and what did she get for moving? A dart to the back and a swarm of elite military men falling on her. She'd come to, groggy (and missing her $200 textbook that someone—ahem, the United States government—was paying her back for), being jostled in the back of some metal box car that was barreling down the road to some unknown destination. With her superior hearing, she could make out the sounds of rushing traffic and judging by how fast the vehicle seemed to be going, she made the educated guess that they were on a highway. Going where (probably to hell—her own personal hell), she didn't know. Regardless, she was pissed off.

"Have you even heard of air conditioning?" she continued to scream. "Join us in the fucking twenty-first century, you manky tossers!" She banged on the grate for emphasis, only huffing in annoyance because she could scream some of the most deplorable insults at them and they would still keep this car chugging along.

Taking a step back, she surveyed her surroundings. The basic prison cart, she decided, uncomfortable seats and all. At least they provided seats; she guessed that was unusually nice of them, being kidnappers and all. Though, there was some dried blood (she thought) in the grooves on the floor. So maybe not so nice.

She rolled her shoulders, wishing to literally everything that she hadn't lost her phone in the tussle. She would have called Maea so hard by now and then they'd all be in trouble (she'd've shown them then!). Hell, she couldn't even call her dad, who would be better than no help.

Well, I guess it's up to me, she thought with a heavy, internal sigh. God, accept my tiny, broken body.

Preparing herself, she got into position, moving back to the farthest part of the vehicle and bracing herself. With a battle cry, she snapped forward and rammed herself into the heavy, metal door. She hit it with a loud bang, making the vehicle swerve a little. Good, she decided with a grin. Backing up again and ignoring the throbbing in her shoulder, she did it again, leaving a nice solid dent in the side that any parent would be proud of. She repeated her action again and again, feeling the vehicle lurch every time she did so. The door refused to give, though that wasn't her aim.

Finally, she felt the car begin to slow down and she stumbled backward, falling down onto the bench. She righted herself as soon as the vehicle pulled to a complete stop, along with a convoy it seemed, as she heard other cars stopping as well.

Smoothing down her hair and righting her clothes (always make a good first impression, her mother said), she listened as she heard people moving outside, their words muddled by the thick, metal walls. Didn't matter, she heard enough. She listened as she heard the locks being released, the metal groaning. Grinning, she waited until it was done and without giving them time to open the doors themselves, she kicked out the door, barging out upon the surprised soldiers. So, make as good as an impression as you wanted to; she felt an exception could be made for them.

-.-

"Could you drive any slower?" Spike growled as Riley all but crawled down the road (okay, maybe he was exaggerating, but it was Soldier Boy who first brought up the time constraint!).

"You want us to get pulled over?" he asked in return, voice terse. He was no happier about this than Spike was, though he was better at keeping the lid on his complaints.

"Can't you just flash your military badge at them?" Spike asked irritably.

"I'm AWOL right now," he pointed out. "I don't want to draw any more attention to myself. The Captain probably flagged my ID anyway. Look, we'll get there. We might end up having a stand-off at the airport and not the road, but they're not taking off with Beth. I promise."

"You better," he muttered. "You think 'm the problem? Wait until Buffy finds out. Bloody hell, is this girl kidnap-prone! Does she have the bloody word tattooed on her forehead?"

"Wait, does this happen often?" Riley inquired, confused. Wasn't Beth a slayer? I mean, this was a special military ops team, so he understood this time. But kidnap-prone? Was this a common occurrence (ought to put a child leash on her at some point)?

"Unfortunately, yes," he grumbled.

"Jesus, that's rough," Riley sympathized, and he grunted in response.

Looking up, Riley suddenly slammed the brakes on his jeep, sending them both reeling forward.

"Bloody hell!" Spike roared, banging his head against the dash when he saw the traffic leading onto the highway.

"This is quite a pile-up," he agreed, peering at all the cars. Everyone had come to a dead halt. "Is it rush hour?"

"Never this bad," Spike replied, standing up and leaning out of the car to get a better look.

"How far does it go?" he asked. "Any alternative routes to the airport?"

"Residential and commercial," he answered. "With street lights and kiddies on bikes."

"Shit," Riley murmured uncharacteristically. "Hold on." He didn't wait for Spike to resituate himself before maneuvering around the line of cars and moving onto the shoulder, racing past the other cars stranded in their lanes.

"What happened to not drawing police attention?" Spike inquired snidely.

"I'm sure they're already sending me to Leavenworth for this, so what's a traffic ticket?" he retorted.

Spike paused. "Heard federal prison's not so bad," he said finally.

"Yeah, you know from experience?" Riley asked.

"Might," he grumbled, slouching down in his seat.

Riley drove along the shoulder of the highway until they were blocked again, again by a car that, by the looks of the tire tracks on the ground, had come to a sudden, skidding stop.

"Again?" Spike shouted furiously. "Bloody hell, what's a bloke got to do around here?"

"Hold on," Riley said, holding up his hand to hush the coming tirade. "There. You see that?"

"What?" Spike asked grumpily.

"Green roofs," he answered. "Military."

At that word, Spike perked up. "You think—?"

Then, something vaguely human shape went sailing through the air several yards ahead, near the car roofs Riley spotted. "I don't think," he retorted blandly. "I know."

Spike didn't have to be told twice before he shot out of the car, rushing between vehicles to get to the front. Riley was close behind him, but boy, could that skinny, white British man move.

They breached the front line of cars, finally catching sight of the road block. An armed vehicle was straddling the middle lane, its back doors looking like they'd been blown off by a bomb or something (definitely "or something"). Riley watched in amazement as two soldiers rushed Beth, guns drawn. She expertly dodged their tranqs, even going as far as to grab the barrel of one of their guns, yanking the man forward and sending him sailing into the medium. The second man, bless his heart, tried rushing her, only to get rolled over her back and slammed into the asphalt below. And she did this all while still wearing her handcuffs.

"Beth!" Spike called, grabbing the young, angry girl's attention.

"Dad!" she yelped, surprised, and confirming any suspicions Riley might have had. She barely took the two men in before she spun on her heel and slammed her foot into one of the soldiers who tried to sneak attack her. From the looks of it, she'd gotten most of them on her own, even leaving a few dents in some of the cars. Using her boot, she kicked one of the tranq guns up into the air before shooting the soldier, watching as he stumbled before slumping down to the ground.

"What took you two so long?" she finally grunted, throwing some nasty looks at the bruised and beaten men around her. Riley was thoroughly impressed (could he maybe recruit her?). "Nice friends you've got, Lieutenant."

Riley shrugged sheepishly at her accusatory look.

"Not his fault," Spike muttered begrudgingly, much to Riley's surprise. "Loaf's too big to know better." Yep, and all was right with the world again. "Did you take them all out by yourself?" he inquired, looking around in awe at the dozen-odd men kissing the ground right now.

"Do you see anyone else here?" she asked, throwing out her hands for emphasis. Or, well, she tried, but what deterred by her cuffs. The chain was only so long.

"Hold on," Riley told her, looking around at his men before locating the driver. He pulled a key out of one of the men's pockets before coming over and getting the handcuffs off of Beth.

"Thanks," she said, rubbing her wrists. "Things were bloody strong."

"Demon-grade," Riley explained. "We've moved humanoids types before."

"I can tell," she retorted scathingly, the look she threw him pure Spike (ah, yes, now the resemblance was becoming clear. How could he have missed that?). "So, you two suited up to come and save me? I thought you guys hated each other."

Spike and Riley exchanged looks, both considering the temporary alliance. "Bit more complicated than that," Spike finally offered.

"I wouldn't say I hate him, per say," Riley said slowly.

Beth rolled her eyes. "Whatever," she replied. "You were both utterly useless anyway; I handled this all on my own. Now, if either one of you could relocate my belongings, you'd be the real hero then. Let's go. I've got a quiz tomorrow that needs studying for."

Riley watched with almost something akin to fascination as Beth strutted back toward his car, sirens wailing in the distance, signaling the approach of the local law enforcement. Maybe she did take after Spike, but that move was pure Buffy.

-.-

Beth was hesitant the next time Riley approached her on campus. Last time they'd talked like this, she ended up getting kidnapped by some of his men.

"Watch yourself," she warned. "There's thirty eye witnesses here with a penchant for gossiping."

"I came here to apologize," he told her sincerely. "About what happened yesterday."

"Not your fault," she offered. Both he and her father had already explained that Riley had been unaware of his CO's actions until after. And once the story hit the news, the Captain's Admiral had also made it abundantly clear the man had acted outside of protocol. Lt. Finn was now some sort of great hero, even if it was Beth who did all the actual work. Whatever.

"I'm responsible for my own men," he said in return. "And I should have expected something like this. This isn't the first time someone has developed a dangerous fascination with slayers."

"And I'm sure yours won't be the most offensive," she assured.

"I also came to let you know that we're shipping out in a few hours," he told her. "Soon, we'll be out of your hair."

"I thought you wanted to wait around and see my mum," she remembered. "She's coming home tomorrow."

He winced. "And face her wrath? No thanks. I'd prefer the angrily written letter. That way, she can't say it to my face."

She hummed in amusement. "You and me both," she said. "And you know, you didn't have to personally come and say bye to me. I'm sure you're busy trying to pack out and everything."

"Sure I did," he said. "I found this." From behind him, her pulled out her bag and she gasped.

"You found it!" she said, greedily taking the bag. She rifled through it quickly, cataloguing to see if anything was missing. "Everything's here."

Riley nodded. "I don't think they went through it, just took it with them to avoid leaving anything incriminating. Despite the fact that they whittled you down to demonic, they still recognized on some level that what they were doing was wrong and incriminating."

There was a long silent pause that stretched out between them as Beth stood there, holding her bag to her chest and Riley stood some few feet from her, looking like he wanted to say something, but not.

"So, Spike huh," he said after a long moment.

She nodded. "Blood an' all. Knows that's weird, but it's true. It's a mad world out here."

"Just—how, I guess? I mean, yesterday, he was—"

"Human," she finished. "As he was the day before and he'll be tomorrow until he dies. Unless he gets turned again—which is a very real possibility. As for how? Long story, tell you about it later. Just know that he's tenacious and that he deserves it."

"And with your mom," he added. "How is he now? The last time I ever saw them together like this, it, well—it wasn't pretty."

"He's good to her," she promised with a firm nod. "Mutual respect and all that jazz. It's actually kind of sickeningly gross."

"And as for you? I just can't make Spike as a dad work in my head," he admitted.

She laughed. "As strange as it may seem, William the Bloody had a kid and he's probably the best thing I could have hoped for. He's changed a lot since you last saw him, and I don't just mean the soul. That, I'm sure, did a lot, but most of it was just him, I think. Just like you don't really recognize him, I think that if I knew the vampire you did, I wouldn't recognize that guy. He's come a long way."

"I'm sure," Riley murmured, remembering the look of panic when Riley had explained to Spike how the military had kidnapped her and it suddenly dawned on him what sort of things Spike could have been thinking they were going to do to her daughter. He likely hadn't differentiated between this group and the original Initiative; whose methods Spike was more than familiar with. There'd been true, genuine fear, even for a competent slayer like Beth. He'd truly been terrified. "It's still weird," he added.

"Oh, I'm sure it is," she agreed, "but it's kind of my life, so I'm used to it."

He smiled. "I bet. I should head out now. I might not be in trouble for trying to rescue you, but I will be if I'm late to the tarmac."

"I guess this is goodbye then," she decided. "You're alright, Lieutenant. Just hope we meet on better terms next time."

He nodded. "Agreed," he replied. He turned to leave, but stopped. He originally hadn't meant to ask, but the question nagged at him and he didn't think he could leave without even getting the tiniest bit of an answer.

"About that conversation we had before," he started, turning to look at her. She kept her face devoid of emotion, though he might have seen something in her eyes, but he couldn't be sure. "When you said you felt you were demonic, in order to understand demons—"

"I meant it," she interrupted, "when I said that, I didn't lie to you, but you interpreted it like you wanted to, like the way that fits your world view."

"And now considering what I know?" he questioned.

She shrugged. "I'll guess you'll reconfigure if you must," she decided noncommittally. "I just hope it gives you something to think about."

"It will," he agreed.

"And, you know, if you and your team ever want some academic help, I know the Council would love to help," she told him. "Over the years, they've amassed quite a bit of information about demons and all that stuff. It might be a bit easier than what you're doing now."

"Thanks for the offer," he replied. "I'll take it up with my new CO, whoever that'll be."

"I hope he's nicer," she called out as he left. Like, a lot nicer.