Betty stared out of the window of the cab as the driver inched their way closer and closer to a town she was suddenly catapulted into calling her home for the foreseeable future. A town her mother had grown up in. A town where she had a best friend who she called FP, but Betty knew that was a nickname, and a town she had met Betty's father in, Hal Cooper. Alice and Hal had a love that reminded Betty of the fairytales she read as a little girl. Their love for each other knew no boundaries; exhausted no limits. And, Betty thought to herself, that's exactly what cost them their lives.

Hal and Alice had both come from a long lineage of witches. Their heritage was, at one point, spoken of in great reverence. Now, it was whispered about in hushed tones. Betty, a witch herself, had to keep quiet about her magic. Had tostamp downher powers the moment they manifested. Was she happy about it? No, certainly not. Did her desire to not want to be persecuted like her parents before her win over the desire to play with fire? Definitely.

"Miss?" The cabbie's voice broke her free from her thoughts and Betty turned away from the window to look at him.

"Welcome to Riverdale," he said, tone kind; eyes questioning.

She understood. Her mother had always said most people looked to leave the town – not move to it. She nodded, looking at the sign that they passed:Riverdale, the town with pep!Betty snorted. Her heart was broken, and her spirit was crushed. She wasn't looking to have any peppiness in her life. Her parents were gone – Polly and Chic long gone by this point, too. She didn't even know where her bother and sister were. It made her already fractured heart splinterjust that much more.

Pulling up to a house that Betty had only ever seen in pictures, she quietly paid and thanked the driver, knowing all-too-soon people in town would know Alice's childhood home once more had a living occupant. She may have never lived in a small town before, but Betty wasn't stupid; she knew how it worked. Small town people make big conversation. She'd be a hot topic for weeks to come. Fucking great.

XXX

Betty spent the afternoon that slowly melted into the evening tending to things she needed to get done. She planted a few herbs in the backyard after ripping up all the weeds. Resisting the temptation to use her magic, Bettydidallow herself to enjoy the soil between her fingers as she steadily covered the herbs. The moisture from the soil was a familiar feeling for Betty, reminding her of when she was a young girl and Alice taught both Polly and Betty how to tell the difference between each herbs during their botany lessons. Pol had never taken a great liking to those classes but Betty, ever the dutiful student, was mesmerized with the idea of learning anything she could.

After getting the herbs planted, she stood up, dusting her hands on her jeans, and headed back into the house. Inside the home, with the shades drawn and no one to see her, Betty felt more at ease using her magic freely. She flicked her wrist casually, quite the expert at wordless magic by this point, and heard the sound of her tea kettle jumping to life on her stove. She was tired and she wanted tea while she did her nightly meditation. Speaking of Betty turned to the mantle on the fireplace and picked up the wooden box that had been a hand-me-down through the women in her family, shifting through it until she found her amethyst crystal she was looking for. Smiling softly at it, a memory wiggled it's way to the front of her mind.

"Remember, Betty, this crystal holds far more importance than you think. Never lose it, as it'll keep you as safe as your father and I could ever hope for," Alice said, looking at her daughter. Betty stared at the crystal resting in her palm.

"Mom, it's an amethyst. I know they're made with healing properties but how will this protect me apart from being good for healing me when I'm sick?" Betty questioned, looking up at her mother.

Alice's smile was warm. "It's made with my magic infused in it. And, my mother's and hers' as well."

Betty gasped softly, finally understanding the importance of her mothers' words. That many women inflicting their magic in the crystal…Betty would be safe. The Smith lineage was just as strong as the Cooper's was.

That, Betty thought, is perhaps why both of her parents were viciously murdered. Afterall, their kind only existed in fairytales as far as people were concerned. The whistling of the kettle made Betty stray from her thoughts and back to the present moment. Hurrying to turn it off, she poured the water into her favorite cup, adding her bag of homemade tea she brewed herself. Again, Polly had never been a fan of that side of magic.

As she took a sip of her tea, there was a knock on the door that had her pausing in her steps. Who the hell would be here so soon? She knew people would come knocking eventually, but for it to only be mere hours after she arrived? Small town people indeed. Sighing, she made her way to the door, pressing her palm against it and pulling at her senses to feel the energy from the other person (or, people), on the other side of the door.

"You're her daughter alright," came a warm and jovial voice, and Betty frowned, before sliding the locks out of their holders and cracking open the door.

"You FP Jones?" Betty asked, voice wary. The man nodded and even though she recognized him as an older version of the man her mother had pictures of her guard was still up. "Proof?"

FP laughed, murmuring something along the lines of, "Ally's kid, alright," while rummaging in his pockets. A moment later he produced an identification card and she accepted it, studying it for a moment before handing it back to him and opening the door.

"Come in," she said, eyes watching as he walked in with three other guys following behind him. "Who are they?"

"This is my son, Jughead, and his two right hands – Joaquin and Sweet Pea," FP explained, and Betty blinked. Good gracious, does everyone is the town have absurd nicknames? Jughead snickered and Betty would have sworn he heard her thoughts if she knew that he couldn't get past her mental block she used when meeting new people – protection at all costs, her mom had always cautioned her.

Speaking of – "Where is Ally and Hal? I thought they'd have called first thing." FP had such a genuine smile on his face that Betty's heart not only panged at the mention of her now deceased parents but at the fact that their oldest friend didn't know, and she had to be the one to tell him.

Betty cleared her throat, taking a sip of her tea with shaking hands. She felt as the room quieted down to match her mood. "They're dead. Murdered."

She didn't explain why or the how but didn't also sugar coat her parent's deaths; they died protecting all those they could, and she would honor them like the heroes they were.

FP stared at her for a moment, face growing paler by the second, and she was alarmed.

"Do you need to sit down…?" Betty trailed off, watching in something akin to horror as his knees gave out and started collapsing, had it not been for his son catching him and helping him stay in place.

"Dead," he repeated in a dull voice.

Betty cringed as she nodded. "Died two weeks ago. My mother, Ally as you call her, she always said if something were to happen to them to come to Riverdale. She wanted me to live my life in her childhood town and, I can't deny her that wish."

It was quiet for several, painful moments as everyone in the room registered her words before someone spoke up. Sweet Pea if Betty remembered his name correctly.

"Who were the killers?" Sweet Pea demanded, tone kind but firm.

Betty stared at him for a long moment, before flickering her eyes to the other men in the room. "Look, I get that you guys know of my parents, but you don't knowme. I don't owe you guys anything except my condolences to you, Mr. Jones, on losing two of your friends." With that, Betty tilted her head towards the door. "Please, feel free to show yourselves out."

Betty wasn't in the mood to play nice with people she didn't know, even if one did grow up with her mother. She had come to accept she was going to be on her own for the rest of her life and that suited her simply fine.

It was Jughead who made the first protest. "I get it, Betty. You're pushing people out because you're in pain. Just, don't turn that pain towards yourself."

She looked at him, curious to know why he had the audacity to care about her and again, he smirked, as if he was in on a secret with her. It was unnerving.

"Let's just say, I like to care about people who are important to my dad," he said casually, and Betty's eyes flickered to FP, who still looked to be pained but nodded, nonetheless.

"You're Ally's kid, Betty," he said quietly. "She was proud of you. We'll be around if you need anything."

Betty looked at the men in her home for a moment longer before smoothing out her shirt, nodding with pursed lips. "Will let you know if I ever need to take up that…offer." Sounded more like a promise but she'll digress. "Now, again, please leave. It's been a long day of traveling and I want to sleep."

FP nodded and they all filed out, Betty refusing to make eye contact with any of them as she shut the door after them. Locking it, she pressed her forehead against the wood, inhaling deeply. Shit, she was tired. Flicking off the lights with another wave of her fingers, she made her way to her bedroom and got ready for bed, unaware that the men hadn't left. In fact, they stationed themselves at different points of her house, eyes peeled as if they all understood they needed to be looking for someone otherworldly.

Author's note:I would love to know what you guys think! Enjoy! Xxx