A/N: Sorry for the slight delay! The weekend was a busy one and I wasn't able to get to posting today. Enjoy!

Only two weeks in and college was not a gung-ho as it once was. Even Nadja, in all her infinite hope of getting that taste of freedom, was feeling the blow dealt by classwork. And all the goddamn reading.

Slamming her front door closed, Beth dropped her backpack to the floor, landing it on a pair of her mother's boots. Said woman was currently lounging in the living room, feet up, reading a magazine and looking like everything Beth wished she could be doing right now. But no, she had a response paper to write and like fifty pages of reading.

"So, how was class today?" her mother asked when she noticed her grumpy daughter standing in the foyer.

"Terrible," she bit out, stalking into the living room and throwing herself down in a chair. "I've never had so much extra time out of class, but it's pointless because of all the work I'm expected to do for one class! Why do I have to go? Can't I drop out, like you did?"

Her mother let out an amused snort, flipping another page in her magazine. "Sure, if I die."

Huffing, Beth slumped back into the chair. "Damn. People have tried that; it didn't work."

"Well, you know what they say, third time's the charm," she mused. "Maybe this time it'll stick."

"You're very blasé about this," Beth noted.

She shrugged. "Dying twice really does take some of the mystery out of it. And don't you worry sweetie, adjusting to college can take some time. You'll come to love it, like I did."

"You loved college?" Beth asked, incredulous.

Her mother nodded. "I sure did. I was all caught up in trying to have a normal life and honestly, I enjoyed what I got to do. You know, I've always talked about going back, but at this point, it probably wouldn't do me much good. I went for the experience mostly."

"Okay, but I don't want to lead a normal life," Beth responded, deigning to add when she noticed her mother's disbelieving look, "I mean like that kind of normal. I want our family type of normal and that's where I am now. I already have a job. Shouldn't I be focusing on my slayer training? In a few, short months, I'll have to prove that I'm capable of being a slayer on my own."

Sighing, Buffy put down her magazine to give her daughter her full and direct attention. "Bethie," she started, sounding ever so like a soothing mother, "There's more to life than just slaying. Isn't there anything else you want out of life? Consider college this opportunity for you to find other things you enjoy."

"But I don't wanna," she continued on petulantly. "I want to be a slayer."

"And you are," her mother reminded her. "You've been doing field work since you were called, even before that. I'm sure you'll pass with flying colors, so don't worry about spending more time training. Where you are right now is good. Now is the time to focus on other things. College can't all be that bad."

"Classes are," Beth pointed out. "And dad's basically useless. I thought he lived through the 20th century; with his memory, one wouldn't think so."

"It was the cheap booze," her mother answered. "And did you honestly expect a murderous vampire to pay attention to anything else but 'food, food, food?'"

"No," she growled, "but I had thought he was special."

"I'm pretty sure Angelus just hit him too hard too often," Buffy offered by way of explanation. "He was there during the Boxer Rebellion. And Nazi Germany."

"And he remembers jack," Beth huffed. "And what he does remember sounds like folklore—I know it wasn't, but it's definitely not recorded in any historical accounts, that's for certain."

"Well, that's what happens when you pick your major based off of what you think your dad can help you with," she replied. "Should have gone with English; he'd quote Wordsworth to you nonstop. Maybe this is a sign you should try something different."

"Or I'll just waste my time for four years," she rebutted, standing up and walking over into the lounge. There were boxes sitting around the door leading to the extra bedroom, as Willow had decided to "co-habit" (as the cool kids were calling it) with Esme in an apartment closer to some of the magic dens in the southern-most point of Seattle. While Beth was happy that the two love birds now had their own love nest (and would most definitely never be making out around her again; she got enough of that from her parents thank you very much), she was still sad to see her go. Of course, the drive wasn't that far, but between school and work and slaying, when was she going to find the freaking time?

"Now what are we going to do with this bedroom?" Beth inquired loudly, guessing her mother had gone back to her magazine. She'd gotten so used to some of Beth's whiney teen rants, she never put much effort into them, just going to whatever database of shortcuts she had.

"Hm?" was her mother's reply, serving to prove Beth correct.

"I said what are we going to do with this room now that Aunt Willow's gone?" she reiterated.

"Make it a guest room, like it's original purpose was," she replied.

"We have guests?" Beth asked, eyebrows raised.

"Yes; did you think those people who came over for the holidays were just strangers we pulled off the street?" she inquired jokingly.

"Mr. Wood would never stay in the same place as Spike," Beth said. "And you think Aunt Dawn and Uncle Xander want to be cooped up in the same room as Anya?"

"No," her mother replied. "She'd sleep in your room."

"You know, I'm not even going to be living here by next year," she reminded her mother. 'Then you'll have two guest rooms."

"Or I could just knock down a few walls and extend the closet and bathroom," her mother rejoined with a smile. "I'd give new meaning to the term 'walk-in closet.'"

"I'm sure dad thinks that's a wonderful idea," Beth murmured, mostly to herself.

"Isn't there homework you were complaining about that you should be doing?"

Sighing, Beth made a face. "Yes," she stressed, looking heavenward as she turned around and made her way back over to her backpack. She picked up the darned thing, swinging it over her shoulder and stomping up the stairs.

"Have fun," her mother said by way of farewell and she only got a door slam in response.

-.-

He had a good run today, Spike decided. He decimated three vampire lairs, took out a pair of wandering Björkjn Demons, and got himself a brand-new axe for all his troubles, a nary a bloodstain on him. All in a day's work, he supposed.

Whistling a rather jaunty tune, he swung the axe over his shoulder and strode through the back-fence's gate and into his yard. He could see the light on in Beth's room, likely studying. Truly, what a good life he had been gifted. He had a good kid who did well in school and a loving wife, all while still getting to brutalize some demons! Really, he couldn't ask for more. Speaking of loving wife, the fight had got him a little…worked up. Grinning to himself, he hurried his steps up the porch, swinging open the back door.

"Honey, I'm home," he called out, seeing his wife, Buffy, standing in the breakfast nook. She shot him a dirty look, holding up her finger as to say "give me a moment," before returning to her call.

"Uh-huh," she said into the phone, sounding very much like she did not "uh-huh." A little deflated, he sat down at the counter, watching her walking back and forth. Her expression was that of great seriousness, not to mention she looked pissed off. Well, at the very least, she wasn't pissed off at him.

"And you want me to do what?" she asked to the person on the other line. He could hear the murmurings of a reply, but could not make out the caller. It was times like this his wished he was still a vampire; he sure seemed to glean a lot more information with those extra senses.

"And why am I just hearing about this now?" she asked irritably. "I thought you said you would keep me in the loop when it came to these Council matters, Giles."

Well, that answered that question. And it wasn't entirely uncommon for Buffy to become short-tempered with her old Watcher. Though he might head the Slayer Academy and Watcher's Council, along with being her off-the-record dad, Buffy was still as bull-headed with him as she'd always been. Some things just never changed.

"No, this does concern me," she spoke again, cutting Spike out of his own thoughts. Wow, she really seemed upset. While the anger was not clouded, he could tell by the way she was holding herself—shoulders stiff, her neck taut—she was distressed. He opted not to approach her though, figuring she'd only get upset at him. He'd wait until she was off the phone; he had a couple of ways to deal with distress when it came to Buffy. He looked up at the ceiling, wondering if maybe he could convince Beth to study at Nadja's or something.

"And I'm the only one?" she asked, finally sounding defeated. He watched her roll her neck before reaching up to run her hand through her hair. "I know, I know," she agreed to whatever Giles said. "Let me talk it over first before I commit to anything. You do realize you're asking a lot of me; not just as the slayer, but as a mother as well—you know, I don't really think I like your tone, Giles. We will speak later. Goodnight, er, good day!"

Slamming the phone down hard on the table, she let out a frustrated growl. "Stupid Giles," she muttered, sending a death glare to her phone. "He just thinks he can do whatever he wants and I'll go along with it! Spike, what's a word your people call people like him?"

"I think 'dick' would suffice," he replied, "and what do you mean, 'your people?'"

"No, I want a British word," she decided. "Git seems too nice."

"Tosser," he offered.

"Hm, tosser. Yeah, I like that, seeing as I wouldn't mind tossing Giles across a football field right now," she replied, taking a seat at the nook.

"Now, what's got you so upset?" he asked, coming over to be the supportive husband.

"Giles wants us to take in another slayer who's doing field training," she explained.

He blinked. While he was aware that she didn't have the best track record of getting along with other slayers (or, other people, really), she never seemed too opposed to dealing with the slayerettes. She'd led many a training classes back at the Academy in Scotland, so taking on one for field training didn't seem that difficult. Sure, there was the matter of room and board, though the Council was one to cover such costs. And it wasn't as if Beth was a handful; she was pretty well-disciplined in all manners of slaying, and most slayerettes did field training in groups. So, to put it simply: he didn't have a clue as to why this was so distressing.

"'M a bit lost here, pet," he admitted, putting an arm around her shoulder and pulling her close. She let him, her head land with a dull thud against his chest. Whoo, did he smell bad. Buffy ignored it though, mostly wanting to be held at this point because boy, did she have some bad news.

"It's not that he wants me to train another slayer, it's who he wants me to train," she said.

"An' who's that?"

She grimaced. "Margaret."

He didn't mean to, but he laughed. Hard.

"I'm not kidding!" she yelled, pulling herself back so she could properly glare at him.

"'M not laughing at you," he said once the laughter subsided enough that he was able to talk. "'M laughing at your Watcher. Does he honestly think we'd take that cow in?"

"That's a little rude to say, don't you think?" she rebutted, though there was no force behind her words.

"No!" he answered. "Don't care if she was jus' a girl, she was an absolute nightmare. And Giles expects us to train that little minger? Not on his life."

"Well, it's been four years," she said hesitantly.

Oh, doth his ears deceive him? Was Buffy, the loving, vicious mother bear, defending Margaret Schmidt, the very same red-headed tramp who'd made their daughter's life miserable back at the Academy? He'd long since lost his violent streak, but if someone had told him she'd got taken out on a patrol, he'd probably do a jig, dance on that grave like he always talked about doing years prior to joining the good guys.

"You're not seriously considerin' this, are you?" he asked, disbelieving.

"I don't know!" she said, throwing up her hands before sinking her head down onto the table.

"We do remember this girl as the very same, don' we?" he inquired, wondering if there was another Margaret running around that he didn't know about.

"You mean the little bitch who led the campaign that isolated Beth and kept her from having any friends?" she bit out. "Then, yeah, we're talking about the same girl."

"Then why are you actin' like this is somethin' to seriously consider?"

"Because Spike, this isn't her first field training," she began. "She's failed out of two

already."

"You're joking. No one's failed more than one," he remembered. "An' that's a rarity. How is a slayer bad at her job? You're naturals; that's the bloody point!"

"I know!" she cried. "And Giles doesn't know what to do with her anymore. He thinks we'd whip her into shape. He knows we'd take no pity on her, considering our own personal dealings with her. We've never had a slayer fail at being a slayer; there's no protocol for this."

"Sure there is," he disagreed. "It's called dyin' within six months. It's what you slayers did before when you weren' very good."

"Spike!" she admonished. "Giles was very serious about this and we should be too."

"He hopes that with you, she'd take this seriously," he stated and she nodded. "Better idea: we send her to a Hellmouth."

"They've already got too many slayers there," she replied sulkily. "You don't think that wasn't my first suggestion?"

"Too many?" he asked in disbelief. "How can you have too many?"

"I don't know, but they do!" she told him. "And now we're her last chance. If I turn this down, I don't know what they'll do with her."

"Well, we can' take her in!"

"Take who in?" Beth inquired and both Buffy and Spike's heads shot up to see their daughter standing in the archway, eyeing them curiously. "I could hear you two yelling up in my room. It made reading a very difficult task."

"Sorry, didn' mean to disturb you love," her father soothed. "Go back to your room; we'll keep our voices down."

"Well, I'm already here," she said, taking a seat down at the table with them, "might as well tell me who you don't want to take in."

Buffy and Spike exchanged looks, considering their options. They could not say anything at all; they were her parents and if they decided not to come clean with her, then tough noodles, kid. That's called being an adult and not the child.

"Oh come on, you can tell me," she wheedled. "It's not like it's all that bad, is it?"

Another exchanged looks, these ones more uneasy than the last.

"So it's really bad," she decided. "Well, tell me anyway."

Buffy sighed, finally relenting. There wasn't much point in lying anyway. "Giles called me just now, asking us to take in another slayer for field training," she informed her daughter lightly.

"Oh," Beth replied, frowning slightly. "Did you not want to train any other slayers? I thought you liked telling them what to do back at the academy. It's not because of me, is it? I promise not to show off too much."

"It's not that," her mother said. "It's Margaret."

Beth blinked. "What?" she asked, chuckling a little. "She was nearly two years older than me. She would have already graduated training. In fact, I've been meaning to contact Giles to ask what city she's in so I can never go there. Or maybe accidently drop a bomb on it."

"It seems that Margaret has not been doing so well in her field training," Buffy explained, "and Giles thinks she might do better here, but it doesn't matter because we wouldn't take her in anyway! Giles will just have to send her someplace else."

"And what happens if she fails this round too?" Beth inquired, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms.

"Council's never had this sort of trouble before," her father answered, speaking up finally. He looked over at Buffy before continuing, "likely she wouldn't be allowed to work as a slayer."

Beth nodded. She considered what her parents had said. Never had she expected to hear about Margaret ever again. To be completely honest, she hadn't given much thought to the snide, heartless girl. Didn't think the bitch deserved it. But now, it seemed, the stuck-up brat was in a bad position. It was almost a gleeful thing to hear.

"So, let me get this straight," Beth started, making sure she understood properly. "Margie's already failed several rounds of her field training and is looking at being the first ever slayer to not pass the test. But Giles thinks that if he sends her to you, you'll be the one to sort her out and get her on her way to get posted to some slayer team. But you're negative on that because of me, right? You won't bring her here because of me."

"Well, of course not!" her mother responded hotly. "She was an absolute menace to you! Why the hell would I want to train her?"

"Let her come," Beth decided, earning herself surprised looks from both her parents. She didn't look up though, tracing mindless patterns on the wooden table. "Let her come and train, get her stupid license or whatever. Throw in a cap, too, I guess. She'll probably need it."

"Beth, I don't care if she fails out or not," Buffy tried to explain. "She's not my concern."

"Look, I don't care. Don't let me be the deciding factor in whether or not she comes," Beth told her with a one-shoulder shrug. "She's not the boss of me anymore and she's certainly not going to try anything with you two around. She hasn't before. Now, excuse me, I'm going to return to my work, and I would appreciate it if you used your inside voices. I've still got a lot to do before I hang out with Nadja and Daniel this weekend."

Excusing herself then, Buffy watched with wide eyes as her daughter left the kitchen. "What just happened?" she murmured. Turning back to look at Spike, she added, "I'm not letting that girl come here."

He didn't speak immediately, though she'd been expecting a firm agreement on her stance. Instead, he looked thoughtful, almost calculating. Not a look she was familiar with seeing on his face actually.

"Spike?" she tried.

"No, bring her," he decided. "Let Giles know we've got room for her. 'M sure Andrew won't mind takin' on another slayer."

"You're joking," she said. "You were the one earlier getting upset at me for thinking I was considering bringing her, and now you're all for it? Are you crazy?"

"No, been crazy, nothin' like this," he quipped. "But I think Beth's got somethin' in mind for herself."

"How so?" she asked, eyes narrowed.

"Margaret's not in charge here, now is she?" he questioned by way of explanation. "This is Beth's turf, not hers."

A serious expression overcame Buffy's face as she considered what he was implying. "You think Beth's trying to prove something?"

He shrugged, "you remember when you were a kid, 'fraid of the bad monsters under your bed and in your closet? An' then you grew up, got big an' strong, an' suddenly those monsters weren't so scary, were they?"

She looked at him, hard, trying to decipher his message. "This has got to be the craziest idea ever suggested to me," she muttered, shaking her head. Oh my god, she couldn't believe she was actually considering this! Margaret was easily the worst thing that could happen to any household. She couldn't imagine what that skank from Indiana had been like before the Council had gone and snapped her up. Something told her the girl's parents hadn't been too upset when she'd been shipped off to some foreign country for her education. Hell, they might have celebrated. Buffy certainly would have.

"Beth's grown a lot since we brought her out here," he told her. "She's got confidence I've never seen before in her. Makes me proud and makes me wish we'd done it a lot sooner."

"I know what you mean," she sighed, looking forlorn. If they had never kept her at the academy to begin with, who only knew what Beth would have been like? She certainly wouldn't have had as many problems. But no, Buffy had been afraid for her daughter's safety, wary of bringing her oddity of a child out into the open world, where anyone could snatch up a defenseless baby. At the time, it had seemed smart to raise the girl behind the safest walls outside the Pentagon. But as they say, hindsight is twenty-twenty.

"I think maybe we should give her a chance to prove it to herself," Spike finished. "She's not the same girl Margaret picked on, and Beth may not see the same bully. We fear the things we don't confront."

She sighed. "Fine, I'll call Giles, let him know we made up our minds. If I come to regret this, just know that you will suffer indefinitely."

He grinned, reaching over to pull her head forward to give her a kiss. "An' I'd never expect any less of you," he said. "We'll get that chav into shape or ship 'er off, back on her merry way."

"You are way too cavalier about this," she said after a long pause and he shrugged. "You know it's going to be a mess when Beth tells her friends. I'm sure they've heard more than a few horror stories about Margaret. She really was terrible."

"Don't worry," he assured, "S'not like Maea comes 'round here often. 'Sides, she doesn't seem like the unbridled anger type."

She snorted. "It's not Maea I'm worried about. I know she's vowed to protect Beth, but that's in combat. It's Nadja I'm concerned about. That girl looks like she'll throw hands the moment someone looks at Beth wrong."

At first, Spike laughed at the absurdity of that tiny, five-foot-oh girl taking anyone on, but then he recalled her proclivity for sharp, pointy weapons and how she swung them around. "Jus' don't leave Nadja unsupervised with Margaret."

She hummed her agreement, reaching for her phone. She seriously did hope that it wasn't going to turn into the bloodbath she saw in her head. It was once thing before, when both girls were just regular people. But now, adding super-strength into that? She'd have to buy some extra property insurance pronto.

-.-

Sitting in the crowded café near the gallery, Beth blew into her coffee, trying not to think about that croissant that was making eyes at her. She was tempted, but then Nadja fidgeted again and soon the delicious, flaky bread was hidden again, never to tempt her. Unless Nadja moved again, which seemed highly likely. God, how much was she spending on university food?

"Is she going to come here?" Nadja hissed, looking around the café like she half-expected said she to pop out from behind one of the potted plants.

"No, slayers don't really pursue post-secondary education," Beth pointed out. She ended up telling Nadja and Daniel about Margaret's impending arrival. Whether or not the older girl was excited about this was unknown. Buffy had done much of the talking with Giles and she'd been mum about the whole thing, save that Margaret was coming Sunday evening and would be residing in Willow's old room. A waste of a room, in Beth's opinion.

"But why's she coming here?" Nadja whined grumpily, looking more upset about it than Beth did. To be honest, she wasn't feeling much in terms of the slayer's impending arrival. She thought she was supposed to, what with all the bad blood between them. Margaret had been merciless in her cruel taunts and jabs against Beth; the girl had almost single-handedly gotten the whole school against her, a ten-year-old. Sure, she'd not been popular at the time, but before they'd mostly just left her alone. Margaret hadn't known the meaning of the word; in fact, she'd regularly hunt down Beth to single her out, her posse of girls flanking her. But now, Beth couldn't find it within herself to care much. Sure, hackles would be raised once the slayer stepped foot onto the Summers' property, but until then, she was just keeping on keeping on.

"She's coming for field training, just like me," she explained for like the nth time. Daniel, thank the lord, hadn't said much during the whole exchange. He'd listened, and asked questions when appropriate, but had otherwise kept his mouth shut. Nadja, on the other hand, seemed insistent on repeating herself multiple times.

"Sounds like a lay-about, doing field training this late," Nadja decided, head held high. "If she still hasn't passed her training, she can't be that good of a slayer."

Shrugging, she replied, "I honestly don't remember if she was good or not. She was ahead of me, so it wasn't as if we shared any classes during our potential years."

"Well, you know I already don't like her," Nadja said.

She rolled her eyes. "Nadja, you haven't even met her."

"Okay, but it's the principle of the thing," Nadja explained. "I'm your friend and I automatically hate whoever you hate. If she thinks she can come in here and lord over you again, she is so wrong. This time, the roles are reversed. You've got friends, not her. So she better watch her back."

"Or what, we're going to spread vicious rumors about her sexual promiscuity?" she teased. "This isn't a high school drama."

"Says the girl who bases all her life decisions off of TV," Nadja shot back.

"I don't do that!" she defended. "Well, at least not anymore. Don't try and dig up old things."

"Well, regardless, I don't like her and she best better stay out of my way," Nadja harrumphed, throwing her nose up in the air.

"Ooh, feisty, mrow," she teased, smiling.

"Laugh all you want, remember I'm on your side," Nadja reminded her. "That B with a side of itch is going down. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a library calling my name."

Daniel and Beth offered their good-byes as Nadja left the café, off to do work they should all probably be doing. Oh well.

"You know, maybe next semester we should all try and have a class together," Beth suggested. "That way, I don't have to make friends to have a study group."

"Such a suggestion can be considered," Daniel decided. "Though, you are deceptively calm about this whole thing."

"What? School?"

"No, the other slayer, Margaret. I have only heard what you have told us about her, which granted is not much, but as you know, I am good at reading between the lines. And I do believe it is safe to say you absolutely loathe her."

"I loathe the memory of her," she agreed. "I haven't seen her since I was fourteen. That's more than four years. She's probably different now. I'm different."

"But not all of you, and certainly not the part she cared so much about," he pointed out.

"You know, you weren't offering much earlier," she groused. "What made you decide to go all 20-questions on me now?"

"You feel…off," he said. "I thought it best to not bring it up in front of Nadja. She has already decided to be your man in arms and I did not think adding onto that would help anything."

"I feel off?" she repeated. Funny, she didn't feel off. She felt okay, or at least she thought so.

He shrugged. "It is hard to explain. There is a certain way people always feel regardless of what sort of mood they are in. Think of it as a baseline. And your baseline is off. It has something to do with Margaret, I'm sure of it."

"Well, it's not like I'm giving her much thought," she huffed.

"Maybe that is your problem then," he surmised. "It is best not to ignore or try and tamp down your feelings. It will only lead to problems."

"Look, I'm fine!" she sighed, throwing up her hands. "Margie can do whatever the hell she wants, I don't care. She'll come here and then she'll go and I'll never have to see her ever, ever again!"

He regarded her with a concerned look, studying her. If he came to any conclusions, he wasn't sharing. "Will you be training alongside her?" he asked instead.

"Probably," she muttered. "That's how it's normally done, or so I'm told. Younger slayers tend to train in groups. It's safer that way. Only my mum and some of the other first line of slayers go solo."

"So this will require some effort of teamwork," he guessed and she nodded. "And how do you think that will go?"

"I already told you, I haven't given it much thought," she answered irritably. "I don't know what it's going to be like with her."

"Well, I cannot say that I believe she has changed much," he concluded. "But the situation has. This time, Elizabeth, you will not go in this on your own. I only ask that you please remember that."

She smiled, looking down at her coffee. "Don't worry, Maea already promised to punch the girl through a wall if she tried anything."

"I assume doing so while Nadja criticizes her hair and accessories?" he joked, a rare thing indeed.

She snorted. "She was going all high school girl, wasn't she? I half-expect her to ask me to hold her earrings the first time those two meet."

"She just wants you to know that she has your back," he assured. "I also believe she finds you convenient in living out the high school lifestyle she found herself lacking in those years."

"Bit late to try and chase that train," she muttered, shaking her head. And she said Beth lived her life off of TV; at least she wasn't trying to start her own cat fight (mostly because any fight she'd be in would have resulted in a serious case of the deads for the other party).

"I suppose it will be best to keep her occupied," he decided.

"Well, she's got that group presentation for her geology class," she remembered. "Maybe she'll just 'accidentally' lose her flashcard and have to go looking for it."

He smiled wryly. "Unfortunately, I do not think she would miss it for the world."