Author's Note/Disclaimer: Sorry for the delay. Health issues. And I don't own anyone below. Unless I created them.

X X X X X

Grrr! (No, I'm not going to add the arg.)

How I could forget something so important?

And the answer came to me almost in the same instant I asked the question: I'm not God, for all that I'm playing him on TV. I'm not omniscient and, despite a talent for Machiavellian plotting and an excellent memory, am not perfect.

One of the balls I'd been juggling had hit the floor.

I supposed I'd have to try to arrange them to get together, too. No Cordy/Xander meant no surprise discovery by Willow, no clothes fluke, no Wish, and no Anya.

Damn.

I really needed to find a way to add more hours to the day.

In the meantime, Norman Pfister, aka the bugman, showed up at the door five minutes later. I guess all he was waiting for was proof that there was someone in the house and awake. I got into position.

"Good morning! I'm Norman Pfister with Blush Beautiful Skin Care and Cosmetics. I was wondering if you might be interested in some free samples?"

"Sure!" Buffy said perkily, stepping aside. He came inside and moved to the living room. I stood around the corner, just out of sight.

He opened his makeup case and said, "Just take a look and see if there's anything there you're interested in. I also have an order form just in case."

I heard a thud, and then Buffy yelled, "Veronica! Now!"

I stepped around the corner and saw Norman Pfister, lying on the floor, beginning to dissolve into "his little buggy parts." I tossed Buffy one of my cans of insecticide and started spraying him the other.

I'd never been too clear on what Norman Pfister had become: mealworms, maggots, or even a bizarre form of demonic caterpillar. I was prepared either way.

I was also amazed at how scared I wasn't. This "man" stood a good chance of killing me, and here I was, calmly spraying him with the most powerful insecticide available on the open market (in Sunnydale at seven o'clock in the morning, so admittedly, we're not talking mass quantities of DDT here).

Mine appeared to be working better than Buffy's, but Norman hadn't managed to get more than a bug or two free. And the solo bugs it was perfectly possible to step on and kill.

The writhing pile of bugs was trying to reform and having difficulty doing so; what he wasn't having trouble doing was moving towards the door. I'd say we'd killed about 10-15 of his body mass by this point.

Buffy had had the foresight to close the door, though. The bugs couldn't turn a doorknob.

Norman turned himself human again, though he was missing his right arm. He turned and sprinted for the door.

The bug spray didn't seem to be affecting him now that he'd coalesced. As he reached for the doorknob, Buffy grabbed his remaining arm and flung him into the wall.

He went down and, apparently, out. Hmm. In human form he apparently reacted like a human -- even though there was no blood pouring out of the remnants of his left arm. Either that or he was faking it.

I stood back and sprayed him for another ten seconds or so until he was covered head to toe. If he was faking, he'd kill off more of his component bugs the second he tried to disassemble himself.

At least, that was the theory I was going under. It made logical sense.

Buffy went me one better. "You got another one?" she said, gesturing at the can.

I nodded. Like I said, I'd pretty much cleaned them out of bug spray. It was one of the reasons I was glad for a steady supply of under-the-table cash from my fellow students for tracking down their stolen property, figuring out who was sending them secret admirer notes, or spying on their SO's to see whether they were cheating. I could make weird purchases like this, or the holy water, in cash, without Dad having any direct evidence of what I was up to.

Buffy said, "Good. Hand me that one." I did, curious. "You had a good idea, there," Buffy said. "You just didn't go far enough." Then she pried open Norman's mouth.

The second Buffy moved the spray can towards the mouth, Norman woke up. Either it was a big coincidence, or he was faking and trying to lure us in

No one faked unconscious that well. It would have been like a normal human staying still while someone stuck a loaded gun in their mouth and pulled the trigger. Apparently Norman's buggy parts mimicked human all the way through.

Good for us. Bad for him.

I'm speculating here, not having much direct acquaintance with assassins. (The woman and her friends who were stalking Tom Cruz notwithstanding.) Still, I'm guessing that Norman was essentially a one-note killer. If his bugs didn't work, he wasn't going to be able to kill you.

In other words, he wasn't a killer because of his sheer muscular prowess. If he had been, maybe Buffy would have had more trouble.

As it was, it wasn't particularly close. Norman had just started to dissolve again – and yes, some of his bugs started to die as soon as he shifted -- Buffy forced his mouth open and sprayed him on the inside.

He "melted" into bugs almost immediately, many more of them dying.

What bugs could, jumped on her immediately. She dropped the spray can as they began biting. They seemed to be ignoring me, for the most part.

Buffy closed her eyes and mouth and began throwing great handfuls onto the floor. I stepped forward – and onto as many of the bugs as I could – and sprayed.

Norman's death-throe final attempt at carrying out his assignment was unsuccessful. Soon all we had was a whole lot of bugs on the floor, most dead, some alive.

I picked one up and put it in an envelope while Buffy finished spraying and stomping the rest. "Mr. Giles might want a look at it," I said when Buffy shot me a curious look.

"True. He probably wants to look him up in some big book of bugs. Anyway, I'm glad you were here," Buffy said. "And I'm glad you thought of the bug spray. My way probably wouldn't have worked."

"I'm sure you would have come up with something," I said. "Or, if worse came to worst, you probably could have outrun him." While we talked, Buffy went and got the vacuum cleaner. "Does your Mom know your secret?" I asked.

"No. Why?"

"Then you might want to empty that before she gets home," I said. "Just in case."

She looked sheepish. "Um, about that."

"Yes?"

"I . . . don't know how. The last time I tried, I was ten and the contents ended up all over the living room."

"That's not so bad."

"The dining room."

"Okay --"

"And the kitchen."

"Ah."

"And my parents."

"I get it."

"Did I mention I was glad you were here?"

After I came back from dumping the contents in the neighbor's trash, Buffy was pouring cereal into a bowl. While we sat and ate, she thanked me again. "So," I asked. "Could you have outrun him?"

"Probably," she said. "I don't have superhuman speed, exactly, but I can keep a dead run up for a long time. I could probably do a mile in under three minutes if I had to."

"Okay." I'd always been curious about that. She couldn't outrun Glory, but she did seem to move around Sunnydale pretty quickly. "So I think you pretty much know all of my superpowers. How about you?"

"Huh?"

"Besides being the best detective around," she said. "Do you have any secret abilities?"

"Second best," I said. "My father comes first. And no." Wait. I couldn't give up my knowledge of the future, but I could tell them this. "Actually, hold that thought."
'

"Huh? I was kidding."

"I'm not. And I don't know if you'd call it an ability. More like a lack of one." And I explained about me being magic-null. "Naturally, I haven't exactly tested it. I only know a couple of friendly magic-using types around here, and I'm not sure I want someone to shoot a jet of fire at me just to prove a point."

"Where did you get your costume from on Halloween?"

"I made it myself. Why?"

"I was thinking maybe that would explain why you didn't start acting like your costume." After a second. "You did realize that's what was going on, right?"

"Of course," I said. "As soon as the kids around me started turning into werewolves and demons, that is. I scrambled over a fence and hid out until things seemed to settle down."

"Hmm. Damn. I was hoping that you'd gotten it from Ethan's. The guy who ran that shop had cursed all of his costumes." After a second, "So what were you doing in costume? You managed to avoid Snyder's draft."

Casual conversation, or was she suspicious? Either way. "What do you think? I was working a case and I blended in better in costume. That happens more often than you think. Not full costume, but wigs, different clothing, etc. It's the different attitude that usually sells it. My Dad's had to do the same thing a number of times."

"Okay. Just curious." We finished our cereal, and when we were done I said, "I realize you may be able to sprint to school, but if you want to avoid raising suspicions, I can drive you."

"Thanks," she said.

While she went to quickly dress and collect her things, I thought. Were they suspicious?

That was the reason I'd called myself this morning -- to leave a phone trail on my cell, just in case -- but that might not be enough.

I'd have to lay off for a while. Not that they'd need my -- Epimetheus -- help anytime past the immediate crisis for a while. They were perfectly capable of taking care of Ted on their own.

As for the bad eggs: Mine was getting hardboiled as soon as I got the chance.

I might try to manipulate Xander and Cordelia, but I could just as easily do that as me as as Epimetheus. As for Buffy and Angel, the seed had clearly already been planted. Whether it was planted deep enough to keep them from having sex on her birthday, I wasn't sure.

Still, that was a month and a half away.

As for what I'd do if I was found out: Hell, what could I do? My "deal" with the Adversary barred me from discussing the matter. I don't remember any outs being left for possible discovery. All I could do is shrug my shoulders and tell them I didn't know what they were talking about.

No matter what they did.

So add something else to my list of things to do, or in this case, avoid doing: Getting caught. Not that I wanted to, in the first place, but questions, even causal ones like this, could be indicating that someone was getting suspicious.

"Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain" tends not to work. Not unless you can give them something bigger and shinier to look at. And I wasn't going to arrange for a vampire invasion or a plague of frogs just to get them off my back.

Maybe I didn't have anything to worry about.

Still. Better to be on the safe side.

The ride itself had no awkward questions. After I asked about the fate of the one-eyed man from last night -- he hadn't said anything; apparently the order of Taraka lived up to its reputation. I asked what they did with him next, and Buffy said, "That's what we're trying to figure out. I can say that he's not going to regain consciousness for a long time."

Then we chatted about pop culture and cute guys.

I am a teenage girl, after all. I think I'm entitled to do that occasionally.

Of course, ordinary teenage girl life and the lives of the two people riding in my LeBaron rarely intersected.

We got to school more or less on time, and I said, "Let me guess: Giles is going to want to hear about this right away?"

She said, "And you said you wouldn't make a good Scooby."

Something struck me, and I laughed. "What?" she said as we rounded a corner.

"I just think it's funny that I'm the detective, and I'm the one who's only an honorary member of a group named for a group of kids who did what now?"

"Figured out mysteries."

"Give the girl a cigar."

"I don't smoke."

Giles looked up as we entered the room. Had he gotten any sleep? In the original timeline, I think he spent the entire night looking up information on the Du Lac Cross. Kendra was asleep in the office.

Willow, however, wasn't with him this morning. "Ah," he said. "Buffy. Veronica."

"Got a little present for you," I said, and handed him the envelope.

He looked inside, saw the worm, and said, "Though this does appear to be a fine specimen, I am not an entomologist."

Buffy looked at me. I said, "Person who studies insects."

"Thanks. This isn't a normal insect," Buffy said to Giles. "The thing that attacked us this morning was just chock full of little goodies like this."

"He could spontaneously generate insects?"

"He was insects," I said. We explained what had happened, from Epimetheus' "call" onward.

After he digested that, he said, "And you're quite sure he's dead?"

"As sure as we can be," Buffy said. "I dumped a vacuum-bag and a couple of trash bag's worth of dead insects in a neighbor's garbage. And, before you ask, I'll be tracking down the number of the phone Epimetheus used to call me. Definitely female. Didn't seem to be using any particular accent. It'll probably be a dead end, but I'll let you know."

"Good," he said. "In the meantime, I've discovered what the Du Lac cross does. It restores a weak and sick vampire back to full health."

Buffy threw her hands up in the air. "And that answers all of our questions."

"It does?" Giles asked.

"There's a fairly prominent weak and sick vampire in town right now. Spike's honey. Drusilla."

"Then Spike must have been the one to call in the order of Taraka," Giles said.

"It'd be a pretty damn big coincidence otherwise," Buffy said.

And I'd done my part. I excused myself and headed into the halls. I nodded to Logan and Duncan. Logan smirked and saluted, while Duncan smiled.

He smiled. Good. He might make his way through this with no more psychological damage than normally comes from being a member of the Kane family.

That was one thing I didn't have to worry about.

One down. Dozens to go.