Disclaimer: Joss, Rob Thomas, Rob aka Mediancat; Buffy, Veronica Mars, this particular merging.

X X X X X

I wasn't entirely sure how Buffy had made her lemonade in the original timeline, but I had a simpler way which didn't involve any risk of me accidentally leaving sugar out of it: It's called CountryTime powdered lemonade. I picked up six containers at the grocery store, and a big bag of ice. (It didn't surprise me in the least that Snyder was forcing one of us to pay for it.)

After I swung by home and dropped off my groceries, I went back to the magic store and bought more holy water. While I was there, I made an arrangement with the owner to lay away a regular supply. When her eyebrows rose, I said, "It's a dangerous town."

"Most people's reaction to a dangerous town is to learn self-defense, buy a gun, or leave. Not lay in a supply of holy water," the owner said as she rang up the sale.

"It's not that kind of danger," I said.

"Would you be interested in anything else?" she asked. "We have a supply of crosses --"

"Got the necklace," I said. "And I'm not going out of my way to look for trouble. I'm not a hunter; I'm a detective."

"Smart girl," she said.

If I were smart, I wouldn't be in this problem in the first place. If I were smart, I'd have packed the car as soon as I got here, stuck Backup in the back seat, and not stopped driving until I was in somewhere safer.

Two things prevented that, and that wasn't even including that Dad would track me down and drag me back.

One, was there anywhere in the Buffyverse that was truly out of harm's way? Yeah, Sunnydale in the Buffyverse was the equivalent of being a red shirt on Star Trek, but unless I was willing to set up shop on a deserted island, there wasn't anywhere completely not dangerous.

(And the deserted island? Probably attracted a stray demon or two. So even that, likely not safe.)

Two, if I left Sunnydale, I'd never be able to prove that Aaron had killed Lilly; and I'd never be able to find out who raped me.

I already had plans for the second. I had no idea how big a gap there was between School Hard and Inca Mummy Girl, but there would certainly be plenty of time for me to get an investigation started. The first one, unfortunately, was just going to have to play out for the moment.

It wasn't something I was looking forward to. The original investigation had been nerve-wracking; and long after I'd come to terms with Duncan having been inadvertently responsible for one of the worst moments of my life -- and how much does it suck that being raped, one, two, three, maybe four times is only one of the worst moments in my life? -- I'd found out that no, I actually had been raped -- and not that any time to be told that is happy fun time, but those were particularly bad circumstances.

Living through them again was almost more than I could stand.

The key word, of course, is "almost." Because you know me. The only thing I can't stand more is not knowing.

I stopped by the office, called a couple of people back, and headed home.

I loaded up both Supersoakers and the hand-held water pistol, walked Backup, and headed back to the school.

As I drove, I thought. Was there anything else I could do?

Answer: Not directly. At this point, if I remembered correctly, the Slayerettes were in the library making stakes while Buffy was chopping vegetables. Parent-Teacher night officially began in about an hour, and the attack began . . . Damn. I didn't know. I knew when, more or less, assuming Spike's blind rage didn't lead him to start busting up the place earlier -- it was right as an angry Joyce Summers came out of a conference with Snyder. I had to keep my eyes and ears open, and my Supersoaker at the ready.

Then I had to be ready to run like hell.

X X X X X

An hour and ten minutes later, I was doling out lemonade to parents -- next to Sheila, to my surprise.

"I wouldn't have thought you'd be here," I said.

She didn't take offense. "'scool. I owe you, manhunter; and I can't pay you back if I'm not nearby. Yeah, there're a lot more fun things to be doing right about now -- a lot more fun guys to be doing, too. But I'm here."

I reached into my bag and fished out one of the Supersoakers. No, I wasn't entirely sure of Sheila at this point; but I knew if she saw Spike again she'd have no hesitation on blasting him with it. (And if I waited until I completely trusted people to negotiate with them, I'd be waiting forever. Trust as a commodity? Not something that came easily to me.) "And I didn't get you anything," she said.

"Just in case," I said.

"What? You think someone's gonna attack us tonight?"

"No," I lied. "But it never hurts to play it safe. Besides, honestly? If you're going to be going around at night, getting drunk, and heading home with guys just because they say they have a Caddy, maybe a little self-defense wouldn't hurt."

"You judging me?" she asked, a bit defensively.

"Morally? No. what you do on your own time is your business. Drink yourself into oblivion, sleep with a guy a night, party till you're broke and they drag you away. It's okay. I'm not like some people; I don't like telling other people what to do." Well, not as a long-term thing, anyway. To solve a case? Sure. But that was a different matter. And that was more manipulation than "telling," anyway. "But intellectually, yes. This is a dangerous town, Sheila. You've heard the statistics. I'm guessing you're not interested in becoming one of them."

"No," she said, "I'm not. It's just that, well, there ain't a whole hell else to do around here."

"Yeah, there is," I said. "We don't live in Disneyland, but we don't live on Tristan da Cunha, either. But it's your choice whether you want to do it. Remember, though. This on my chest here? Not a bat symbol. I'm not going to be there every night to pull off a last-second rescue. I'm a detective, not a vigilante. And, anyway, in the condition you were in, you could have been carrying a loaded machine gun and it wouldn't have done you any good."

She laughed at that for a second, but quickly stopped. "Yeah, you're right. Might be smart of me to cut back a bit."

"That's the spirit," I said with mock cheer. "There's a difference between 'buzzed' and 'drunk off your ass.' Learn it, live it, love it."

"Good idea. I don't want to run into that guy again."

And of course, that's where the headaches came in. I wanted to tell her to leave now, but I couldn't. "Well, with any luck, you won't."

"'course, if it's a choice between that guy and the troll over there --" she pointed to where Snyder had just entered the lounge, accompanied by Joyce Summers. He looked around for a second as though he were trying to find something to pin on Sheila and me, but left without saying anything.

Disappointing a person like that? Always good. Made me realize how good things had been with Clemmons. The man had had his faults, but compared to Snyder he was the patron saint of principals.

Snyder and Mrs. Summers left.

Still, that meant the invasion was reasonably imminent. If I remembered correctly, there'd been a cut between the time Snyder'd left the library with Joyce Summers and the time they both stormed back into the lounge, but there was no indication of how long the gap was.

Buffy, Cordelia, and Willow had been in the room when it happened. Cordelia was here, but Buffy and Willow weren't.

"What is that?" came an annoyingly familiar voice from about five feet away.

I looked up into the perpetual scowl of Celeste Kane.

I plastered on a fake grin and said, "Deadly poison! Try some!"

"Very funny, Veronica," she said. "I was expecting something a bit more. . . upscale than powdered lemonade in paper cups, and crudités."

My opinion of Celeste Kane jumped by half a notch. I didn't know she was even aware of the existence of powdered lemonade. "Sorry," I said. "If you wanted something more upscale, maybe you should have chipped in instead of letting Principal Snyder make us cover the costs out of our own pockets."

"Do you have any idea where Mrs. Simms' English class is?" she asked eventually.

"Down the hall that way," Sheila said, pointing. "Past the library. Third door past that."

"Thank you," she said, and left. Once she was clear, Sheila burst out laughing, and after a second, I did, too.

If Celeste followed Sheila's directions, she was going to end up in a broom closet.

Logan and Aaron Echolls walked in thirty seconds later.

To my great surprise, Sheila practically squealed. "Damn," she said. "Movie star like that in our town."

Terrific. My new protector had a crush on Aaron Echolls. "Yeah, we're just boiling over with luck," I said. I couldn't figure out what Aaron was doing there -- until I saw the reporter and the cameraman following him.

Of course. Aaron wouldn't give Logan CPR if there wasn't a camera crew around, much less show any interest in his education.

Thankfully for my rising gorge, Aaron didn't decide that sipping a cup of lemonade would be good for his image; he, Logan, and the crew zoomed right on through. I felt sorry for Logan.

Even the me that had 'grown up' here would have felt sorry for Logan. He caught me looking at him sympathetically and flashed me a completely unreadable look before being whisked away.

Fifteen minutes later, Buffy and Willow came into the lounge. Cordelia had beaten them there by two minutes. "My arms are tired," Cordelia'd said to Buffy. Of course. They'd been whittling stakes.

"By all means, broadcast it, Cordy,' Buffy said, then noticed me and grinned awkwardly.

I nodded back, as though I had no idea what they were talking about. After a second, Buffy came over. "Seen my mom recently?" She asked.

"About twenty minutes ago, she and Snyder walked through. Not since."

"I wonder if I have time to run."

"Wouldn't advise it," I said. "Your mom would hire my dad. My dad can find anyone."

"Yeah," Cordelia said -- when had she walked up? -- "Except the person who killed Lilly."

"We're working on that," I said, refusing to let her bait me. "Come on, Cordelia. You only look and act dumb. Even you can't think Don Lamb's a good sheriff."

"Don Lamb's a vacuous moron," she said. "But even vacuous morons get one right once in a while."

"Not this one, he didn't," I said.

She shrugged. "You want to waste your time denying reality, that's your malfunction," she said. "Me, I like to see things as they really are."

Annoying as Cordelia was being, she wasn't wrong. Of all of the students at Sunnydale high, she was one of the few who'd been able to accept the existence of vampires and the supernatural when they were shoved in her face.

I ended the conversation by turning to Buffy. "Do --" I began.

I never got to complete my thought. Snyder and Joyce Summers came in at that moment, and Mrs. Summers came storming up to her daughter. "In the car, now," she said.

Buffy and Willow exchanged looks. In the meantime, Snyder was turning off the lights.

"I guess the party's over," Sheila said as Buffy and Joyce left the room.

"What was that?" I said.

"What was what?"

"Pull your weapon," I said. When Sheila began to protest, I said, "Pull it!"

She took out the Supersoaker as Snyder flipped off another light.

And that, of course, was when the vampires came crashing through the window.

The next hour or so should be just loads of fun.