Disclaimer: Rae Mistwood and Sheila Kelley are mine. Everything else belongs to either Rob Thomas (Veronica Mars) or Joss Whedon (Buffy et al).

Author's Note: WML, finally over in another part. Maybe two. Long, yes; but an important part of the show, no?

X X X X X

Throwing up one's hands and giving up? Not really in my vocabulary. Still, if I was to say that the possibility of losing my bet with the Adversary didn't have something to do with the speed and urgency of my reaction, I'd be lying.

And while I've never been one to cavil at lying to people, lying to myself? I try to avoid.

Okay. Think, Veronica.

First thing to do: Getting out of Mars Investigations. Hard to at least try to save the day if I'm stuck here typing up case notes on Dad's latest bailjumper. (There's a reason he has me to. Dad's handwriting is tolerable, but his note-taking style? The guys who invented the Klingon language would have a hard time figuring it out.)

I also couldn't stick around to answer questions from Dad, either. Right now he was likely to lean on the side of keeping me here, where he could keep an eye on me.

Sheila was still on the other end of the phone. "You're having an academic crisis."

"What?"

"Work with me, Sheila," I said. "You need my help desperately."

She was no dummy. " 'scool. You need an excuse. Right. This Shakespeare paper's giving me a hard time."

"And damn if it isn't due tomorrow." I paused, then said, "Thanks."

"'swhat I'm here for, manhunter."

I hung up and knocked on Dad's office door. "Come in," he said. "Oh. What is it, Veronica?"

"I have an academic emergency."

He frowned. "I didn't hear the town's academic emergency sirens go off."

"They're in for repair. Look. Sheila needs my help on a Macbeth paper -- she's having trouble coming up with an argument."

"Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing," Dad declaimed.

I hadn't chosen Macbeth by accident. Dad's not really an academic, but he's fond of that play. "So is that a yes, or a no?"

"Just as long as you're not writing it for her, you can go," he said. "And as long as you're not meeting at her apartment."

I gave a shudder that wasn't entirely faked. I had no desire whatever to meet Grace Kelly again. "No plans to go inside her apartment at all," I said. "We'll work somewhere else. And, do you really think I'd write someone else's paper for them?"

"Depends. How much are they paying you?" I gave my best glare. It was, to some extent, killing me to have to banter like this, but if I didn't, Dad would figure out something was up. And now was not the time to try to explain what was going on.

Okay, no time was the time. But now was worse than most.

"Not enough for that," I said.

"That's my daughter. Hold out for the big money," he said. "Go. Just call me if you're going to be late."

I got.

X X X X X

The first call I made when I got to the car was back to Sheila. "Yeah?"

"I'm clear. Stay near the apartment. Try to avoid your mother." I didn't want her to be trapped in her bedroom -- actually, never, but definitely not now.

"'snot a problem," she said.

Now came the first part of my developed-on-the-fly-oh-my-god-I-hope-it-works plan. "Have you studied tracking spells?" I asked, crossing my fingers.

And toes.

I would have crossed my eyes if it wouldn't have likely gotten me wrapped around a telephone pole.

"Yeah. Never cast any. Don't have the materials I need."

"What do you need?" She explained it. "Thanks. Leave that up to me," I said. "Stand by."

I hung up and placed my next call. "Raven's Magic Emporium," came the voice at the other end.

"Rae? Veronica. I need your help." I told her what Sheila needed.

"That's for a fairly complex tracking spell," she said when I was done.

"It's a fairly important situation. Someone was just kidnapped preparatory to some kind of dark ritual, and we need to track them down. It can be done any time after sunset on the night of the new moon." Close timing, but in the original timeline Giles had puzzled this out the morning or afternoon of Patrice's attack on Buffy anyway, so it was in the past, not the present.

I could hear the puzzlement in her voice. "I thought tonight was the night of the full moon. Stupid Sunnydale High calendars. Anyway, if Sheila's going to do this, she's going to need me to walk her through it."

"Would you?" I asked.

A semi-mock sigh from the other end of the phone, and then, "Sure. But only because you're a good customer and, if this is as important as you say it is, it's probably not something you want to have messed up."

I gave her Sheila's address, hung up, and placed my next call.

"Miss Mars," Giles said. "What can I do for you?"

I explained what Sheila had told me. When I was done Giles said, "It's probably too much to count this as coincidence. Remember that dark ritual we were discussing?" I allowed as I did. "It requires Angel's presence on the night of the new moon. We need to find where that ritual is taking place, and we need to find it quickly."

"I didn't realize that part of it," I lied. "Still, I figured that anyone kidnapping the only good vampire in existence probably isn't up to much that could be called good. I'm having a friend get ready to cast a tracking spell."

"That should be a great help. Tell me when and where and we'll all be there as soon as we can."

Hmmm. So at this point he didn't know Angel's address. The only one I knew for sure did was Xander -- and me, of course, though I could hardly claim coincidence as brilliant detective work. I told him where and hung up.

Me, I was there five minutes later. Sheila was nowhere in sight.

I was just starting to get worried -- a process that took all of about three seconds, this is Sunnydale, after all -- when I heard her say, "Hey, manhunter. Over here." She was shadowed in the door of Angel's apartment. I walked over and she said. "Sorry for the disappearing act. Mom walked in and I didn't want her to see me."

"I understand."

"Magic book's upstairs, though. Was about to go upstairs to get when Mom came in. Can't get it now, obviously."

Shit. At this point? Waiting, not so much an option. And I'm not exactly built to kick down doors. I'm the short blonde outcast without the superhuman strength.

Not like we could do anything until Rae and Buffy and crew showed up, anyway. "I don't suppose there's any chance you have it memorized?"

She just looked at me steadily. "I told you. I'm more into the break it/knock it down side of magic. You need someone to punch a hole in the wall, I'll do it." She smiled slightly. "Shit, manhunter, I might not even use magic for that. But tracking down I'm going to need the book for. Sorry."

"Not your fault," I said. "Still, we need that book."

"I ain't getting it," she said. And the look on her face told me that she wasn't going to, even at gunpoint.

Rae showed up three minutes later. I explained the problem, and then said, hoping against hope, "I don't suppose you know it from memory?"

"I wish I did," she said. "Most of what I have memorized is ritual magic. This isn't one of the exceptions. Sorry." Walking over to me, she said, sotto voce, "Do you want me to go up and get the book?"

"The door's probably locked," I said. "And you probably don't have superhuman strength any more than I do."

She said, "Have you seen these doors? You could probably blow them open using your breath."

"I'm trying to get it open, not go through it like a knife through cellophane," I said.

A couple of minutes later, Buffy and her entourage came in -- the Scooby gang, plus Kendra. Before anyone else could say anything, Kendra said, "And what are they doing here?" pointing to Sheila and Rae.

(Once again, I'm not going to do the accent.)

I bit off the urge to give a flip response and said, "They're here because they're the only ones who know how to track down Angel in the time we apparently have remaining. Unless you have a superhuman nose as well as strength I'd suggest you be quiet and let them do their job."

Angrier than I usually get, I know. But I didn't really have a whole lot of time here to stop something very bad from happening, and I didn't want to put up with the perfect Slayer's attitude at the moment.

"Hold it," Xander said. "Sheila Kelly? You're the one who's going to track down Angel?"

"'less you want to call the cops, yeah," Sheila said. "Turns out I'm a witch. Summers. You're the vampire Slayer the manhunter told me about?"

Everyone except Rae looked at me. I said, "I didn't give out names. Just that one existed."

"Two," Willow and Xander said in unison. Cordelia just rolled her eyes. She really was quite good at that.

"And in any event," Giles said, "None of that is important that the moment."

"Damn straight," Buffy said. "Now that all that's out of the way, can we get on with this?"

"Love to," Sheila said. "But my spell book's up in my apartment. And so's my mom."

"And the reason you're not getting it is why?" Willow asked.

"The reason's none of your business, Rosenberg," Sheila said. "But I ain't going up there."

Everyone started talking at once, except for Rae, who seemed to have long ago mastered the art of when not to say anything. I wouldn't have talked except the consensus seemed to be "jump down Sheila's throat" and it's not like I was going to let her fend off the attacks by herself. Not that she really needed my help.

Finally Buffy whistled loud enough to get everyone to quiet down. "Thanks," she said once the place had stopped resembling the trading floor of the NYSE. "This book. Is it in your room? And does it look like every other spell book I've ever seen?"

"Trade paperback," Rae said. "Why --"

"No!" Sheila said, as Buffy charged up the stairs.

I held out an arm. "Don't," I said.

"But --"

"Well hash it out later. I promise."

She closed her eyes. "Yeah. You're damn right we will."

I walked halfway up the stairs, only to have to dodge a middle-aged man running down trying to pull up his pants --

One of Lamb's deputies. None of the ones I was familiar with from Neptune; no Sacks, no Deputy Leo. Under other circumstances, I would have probably thought it was funny. He kept going out the front door, heedless of the people staring at him.

A half minute later, Buffy came bounding down the stairs. I stopped her. "Don't talk about anything you saw. Don't ask questions now or ever. And try not to spread it around."

"Wasn't planning to," she said. Grace Kelly stuck her head out of the apartment, but a glare from Buffy sent her back in. Sheila was out of sight. Good. One less thing to deal with.

Dozens to go, unfortunately.

"Good," I said. "Do your best to make sure no one else says anything, either." It didn't take a genius to figure out that I wasn't exactly worried about Willow, Xander, Giles, or Rae, and the idea of Kendra gossiping was ludicrous.

Buffy caught my meaning immediately, and promised to threaten Cordelia with severe bodily harm if she blabbed. Good enough.

We went downstairs. Over towards the broken-down front door of Angel's apartment, Rae was helping Sheila to regain her focus. I held Buffy back for a second. "Veronica --" she began, a bit impatiently.

"No," Giles said. "The ritual will take a couple of hours at least to set up. That doesn't give us much time, but, as Miss Kelly is the only one who can safely track Angel, it behooves us to give her some time to be able to perform the spell correctly. It will do us no good at all if the spell fails, or leads us in the wrong direction. And it will do Angel even less good."

Buffy nodded, apparently getting it. I got her impatience, believe me. No, it wasn't someone I loved being tortured, but then, it wasn't her life directly at stake either. I took the book from Buffy, walked over, and handed it to Sheila.

Then I stepped back.

Willow leaned over my shoulder. "Who is the woman with Sheila?"

"Her name's Rae Mistwood," I said. "She's co-owner of the magic shop in town. She's been helping Sheila train."

Giles said, "I didn't realize she was, herself, a practicing witch."

"She's not," I said. "But she's been a good teacher."

"We'd better hope so," Cordelia said unexpectedly.

"And you got your expertise on magic where?" I asked.

"I'm just saying --"

I knew what Cordelia was saying. "You want to run? There's the door. Maybe you'll be able to outrun the apocalypse if you get a good enough head start." Sheila had begun casting the spell. She was holding onto a stone of some kind with one hand, and throwing some kind of semi-sparkly dust in the air with the other.

"Maybe I should," she said. But she didn't move. "Look, I get that she's the best we have -- But still, it's not exactly filling me full of confidence."

"It's this or nothing," I said. "Take your pick."

Sheila'd had her eyes closed. Right then, they snapped open. She clutched onto the stone and, for just a brief second, gave a typical Sheila I'm-happy-with-me-and-to-hell-with-the-rest-of-the-world grin. "I see the trail," she said. "All we gotta do is follow the dotted line."

And then, for the first time since I'd realized that Willy wasn't available for convenient beating up and betrayal, I was confident, too.

We'd find Angel in time.

And then the second thoughts kicked in, like they always do. Finding Angel meant finding Spike.

Looked like it was time for my first big Scooby Gang fight.

Where am I going, again?

And why am I in this handbasket?