Unwinding, thoughts, and a conversation. Nothing too strenuous for the moment. They've earned a break, no?
Disclaimer! All mine! All mine, I say!
I wish. Only the storyline, Sheila (mostly), and Rae.
X X X X X
Dad was suspicious of Sheila for a while, not entirely buying my explanation of how my shirt got ripped, but he couldn't find anything conclusive to prove that I hadn't been just helping Sheila with a Macbeth paper.
He didn't go quite so far as to call the school to check with the teacher, for which I was profoundly grateful. He was busy with work, anyway -- not just Lilly's murder, though that was always important.
And then, of course, there was my tracking of "Epimetheus." And I suppose, if I'd had a strict work ethic, I would have immediately confessed to Giles, except that confessions of this sort are usually followed by "explained all," and I can't explain all.
I can't even explain some. Not that they'd likely believe me if I could. "Hi, where I'm from you're a TV show?" Not likely to do anything more than get me beaten up, committed, or simply given a wide berth (which I'm used to, of course. Sucks, but, again, time travel really isn't an option).
And that wasn't even counting in the Adversary's condition; this speculating I'm doing right now is more or less just for the exercise.
Speaking of, the Adversary kept a low profile in my dreams. Good for him. Despite his power I might not have been inclined to give him the respect due his position.
Lilly showed up again. After all, just because I'd come closer to getting killed than at any time since Aaron Echolls locked me in that refrigerator was no reason to, you know, cut me a break or anything. Dad still had yet to track down the prostitute Abel Koontz spent the night he'd been allegedly murdering Lilly with, and pretty much everything else there was in a holding pattern.
I suspected it would be for a while, yet.
One of the good things there, though, is that apart from my burglary of the Kane estate back on Halloween I'd been letting Dad take the lead in the investigation. And it would take a lot more effort for Clarence Weidman to put one over on Dad than on me. I wasn't under their radar, but I wasn't "shields up, red alert," either.
Trust me, always good to not be high on Clarence Weidman's list of "people to keep an eye on."
I also didn't tell Logan about my thrilling adventures, either. No point in worrying the boy any more than he already was. I also didn't let Buffy and friends know that he was the other one who knew about the supernatural.
Hey, a girl has to keep some secrets.
Shut up.
Otherwise? Life gave me enough time to catch my breath.
X X X X X
At least it wasn't anything demonic; no, the first thing was the discussion Sheila and Buffy and I had. I'm guessing I was there as moral support, but for whom I don't know.
Sheila wasn't one for coffee, and at this point she pretty much knew about the whole Scooby gang, anyway, so we had the conversation in the library after school a couple of days later, while Giles courteously kept himself in his office.
A couple of people came in looking for books, but at triplet glares from me, Buffy, and Sheila wisely decided to go elsewhere.
"I wouldn't have pegged you as the type for big emotional conversations," Buffy said.
"'You'd've been right," Sheila said. "I don't talk about what you saw. Only reason we're talking about it now is because you kicked the door down."
"I sort of had to," Buffy said.
"'m not saying I blame you, Summers. I couldn't. Someone had to. All things considered I guess I have to say I'm glad it was you. You get secrets."
"Oh yeah," Buffy said. "Speaking of --"
Sheila almost looked offended. "Already got people around here thinking I'm crazy. Don't really want to give them reasons to actually have me committed."
Buffy winced very slightly at the mention of being committed. No one who wasn't up on the whole Normal Again retcon would have had any idea that she might even have a reaction to the phrase, much less be looking for it; but it was there.
Possibly one of the other reasons she didn't care for hospitals, incidentally. Being involuntarily and unwarrantedly committed can tend to turn one off to psychiatry and the medical profession, I'd imagine.
"Unless you really are a psychopath," I said. "In that case, all bets are off."
Sheila smiled slightly. "Don't tempt me, manhunter."
Buffy said, "To get this conversation back on track -- "
"If you need it spelled out, then, no, I'm not going to tell anyone."
"Good," Buffy said. "And to be completely fair, I won't tell."
"And everyone else?" Sheila asked
"I don't think you need to worry about Giles," I said.
"Wasn't," Sheila said. "Don't really think Rosenberg and Harris're going to tattle, either."
"Cordelia."
"Cordelia."
"Yeah," Sheila said. "Chase. 'sweird she was there with you in the first place. Hard to think she's volunteering to go slug it out with vampires. Isn't she scared she might break a nail?"
"Cordelia's . . . willing," Buffy said. "Mostly. She knows and she's trying to help. She saw what was going on and she was able to accept it. Most people pretend they don't. I think you can trust her."
"About the supernatural, sure," Sheila said. "Gossip?"
"She won't," Buffy said. "Veronica and I asked her."
Asked wasn't really the right word. I'd invited Cordelia into my office, and Buffy was standing there to make sure she knew it wasn't actually a request.
"That's enough?" Sheila asked.
Buffy said, "Cordelia's got a ton of faults, but being a liar so most definitely isn't one of them. She said something on the order of, 'Please! Like I care what her and her mother do in their spare time."
Actually, she'd then gone on to say, "It's not like it's not obvious that a psycho bitch like her came from a psycho bitch mother, anyway," but Buffy and I had figured that telling Sheila that? Good way to guarantee a fight.
Sure, Xander might enjoy it, but not surprisingly, that's not really my priority.
Anyway, Cordelia had left rolling here eyes that we though she'd waste her time on something like that. I find myself quite able to live with the notion of Cordelia's disapproval; like I've said, it's open disapproval, and she's always been open about it.
(Anyway, "Grace" Kelly wasn't a psycho bitch, really; she was an alcoholic and probably a brick or two shy of a load, but nothing I'd seen or heard gave me any evidence that she was violent or heartless. Negligent, yeah. Bad parent, yeah. Still probably better than Xander's father.)
Sheila said, "Good. Case you were wondering if I might want to talk about it after today, I don't, I won't, and I probably never will unless you have me at gunpoint. Manhunter already knows about this. 'snot something I discuss. Ever."
Buffy said, "No plans. I like a big emotional discussion as much as the next gal, but shoving it down your throat's really not my style."
"Again, good." A minute or two of silence, and then, "Something else you wanted to talk about, Summers?"
"Magic."
A moment of silence, then Sheila said, "What about? I may have skills, but mind reading's not one of them. You want me to know what you're talking about, you're going to have to tell me."
"You can do it."
Before Sheila could respond, I said, "I think that's pretty much already been established. What do you want to know about Sheila's ability to do magic?"
"Whether she -- you'd -- be willing to help us, if we needed it," Buffy said.
"It ain't like I'm an expert on the subject," Sheila said. "If you need a witch, ask; I'll do what I can. But right now most of what I know about's knocking stuff down and throwing stuff."
"You kicked a church bench to splinters with one kick."
"Simple focusing spell," Sheila said. "Not hard, really."
"I think I'd have trouble doing that."
"Naah. Not like I'm hitting with the force of the Hulk or anything. And it ain't something I can do for a whole fight. Might get off one blow if I was slugging it out with someone. Not two." She stretched. "Still. You need help, you've got it. If I don't think I can handle it, I'll let you know. Anyway, a lot of magic can be done by anyone -- almost anyone," she said, looking at me.
"It's not my fault," I protested mildly.
"Actually, I can see times when that would be a big help."
"All I know is, I've watched a lot of TV. If this ever gets to one of those scenarios where I'm the only one not under the influence of some mad sorcerer's insidious spell, and it's up to me to save the day, my next option? Checking out flights to San Diego. Maybe Guam."
Buffy chuckled. "Let's hope Sunnydale never reaches that particular cliché," she said.
"Hello, ladies," came a familiar voice from the door.
We all turned to look.
Logan, naturally.
Since I didn't know if we were done yet, we all glared at him. "We're kind of busy here," Buffy said.
"Yes, I can see that. So, is today's research the cure for cancer or are you simply plotting world domination?" He paused and then added, "And, by the way, just for your information: The glares don't work on me. Noble effort, though. But I'm long since immune. The benefits of growing up the son of Aaron Echolls."
"You mean in addition to the money and the fame?" Buffy asked.
"Not quite the perks they seem to the adoring public," Logan said.
"I think I could put up with some of that," Buffy said.
Buffy, you have one of the few good parents in Sunnydale at this point. Trust me. Not a trade you want to make.
In the meantime, Logan said, "Mars. While I have you here, I was wondering if we could reschedule this weekend's meeting."
"For when?"
"Sunday afternoon good? Say, around 2?"
I didn't have any active cases at the moment, discounting my search for Epimetheus.
I couldn't exactly discount that, of course. I'd been looking for this master manipulator for a couple of weeks now, and so far didn't have much to show for it except a couple of deductions.
I was fairly sure that Giles couldn't use magical means to track me down, but that didn't mean he couldn't have someone else use nonmagical methods --
Such as, say, Willow, whose technical skills might actually be of some help in that regard.
I hadn't quite painted myself into a corner yet. But it was getting more difficult to find an easy way to leap to safety.
Anyway, Logan was patiently waiting for a response. "That okay for you, Sheila?" I asked
"Have to check my social calendar. Think the Kendalls're having me and mom over for tea. Might have to reschedule."
"That would be a no," Logan interpreted.
"Think I don't like tea, Echolls?" Sheila asked.
"I'd be surprised if you knew how to spell it, Kelly," Logan said. He mock half-saluted, turned around, and left the library.
"Meeting?" Buffy asked.
"Logan knows about the nocturnal inhabitants of Sunnydale," I said. "He does not, however, know your place in fighting them though, like Sheila, he knows there is such a thing as a Slayer."
"Good, 'cause I think Giles is about to have a coronary. This Slayer gig of mine's supposed to be a secret. Right now I think the only people who don't know that I fight crime by night are Logan, our parents, and Snyder."
"No one'll be learning it from me," Sheila said.
"Nor me. Unless I really need to blackmail you. In that case, all bets are off."
Buffy said, "I thought we were friends," in a mock whine.
"Hey, business is business," I said.
"We done?" Sheila said.
"We done," Buffy said.
As we stood up, Sheila said, "You know, Summers, it strikes me that there are far worse people I could've gotten stuck doing the snacks with back at Parent-Teacher Night."
She walked out; I lingered behind to say to Buffy, "From Sheila? That's a compliment."
"I got that," Buffy said. "Really."
X X X X X
I parted ways from Sheila before we hit the parking lot. I had school paper chores to get to, today. For the Neptune Navigator,I'd been strictly photographer only. Here? Photographer, proofreader, occasional anonymous column writer.
I owed Duncan that much.
Our relationship was still the dictionary definition of "strained," but at least we had one, and we knew we weren't related.
He still loved me; that was one of the things that clearly hadn't changed in the universe shift. When I'd gone through this the first time -- well, it hadn't been until he'd known that we weren't brother and sister that he dared to allow himself to hope that the two of us could have a relationship again -- and it wasn't until Logan and I were well and truly broken up that he made a move of any sort.
It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Now, with the hindsight of several months (in my timeline, and this one), I can see that things were never going to work out with the two of us. Not that I didn't care for him, greatly; but ours was not a great all-time romantic love.
Assuming there was such a thing. This being the Buffyverse, I had my doubts.
He hadn't yet made any kind of move, discreet or otherwise. But I got the impression it was only a matter of time.
It's not like I was holding out for Logan, necessarily. I had no idea how to define that relationship, at the moment, but "romantic" wasn't it.
I was shaken out of my musings by a tentative hand on my shoulder. I turned around and found Willow Rosenberg standing there. "Yes?" I asked.
"Um, I was wondering," she said, "About Sheila and magic and how she learned."
Of course. By all means, let's begin the corruption of Willow Rosenberg several months early.
Well, better she learn it from me than on the streets.
In Sunnydale? Not an idle threat, what with Rack wandering about out there.
"You know, you could actually ask Sheila," I said.
"She's all big with the scary."
"And I'm not?" I said. "I'm going to have to work on my reputation. People are supposed to be afraid of me, dammit."
"Veronica --"
I sighed. "Okay. Look. I have some work to do at the paper -- meet me outside the magic store at, say, 5:30?" I'd get there by 5:25 and ask Rae to try to stress slowly to Willow.
"Roger wilco," she said, and we parted ways as I turned a corner.
And grinned, for just a second.
Along this hallway, there was a janitorial closet.
Guess who I'd just seen entering one of them?
Damn. You guessed.
Good to know not everything's on my shoulders.
Almost is bad enough.