I have no idea what the exact timeline was, but Ted Buchanan ("Theodore Buchanan Jr.," the same name he used on his computer company's website) was listed as being 29 in 1957, in the wedding announcement, when he married his first wife. So he doesn't look exactly the same; he looks a bit younger in the photocopy. But only a bit. Not forty years younger. And he sure as hell doesn't look to be around seventy now, no matter how much plastic surgery and Grecian Formula might have been involved.
There is a second wedding announcement, in 1972, and a third, in 1981. I wasn't able to locate a fourth -- but that doesn't matter. He looks pretty much the way he does now in both of them as well, which means we have at least a little Picture of Dorian Gray action going, if nothing else. Certainly enough to raise suspicions, certainly in Buffy, probably even in Xander and Willow, once they detox.
In the meantime, I still needed to fake my way through a round of miniature golf -- not from the physical side of things, in which I am reasonably competent, but from the friendliness side, knowing what I know about Ted Buchanan and his plans for Joyce and Buffy.
Telling him off now would not only get me nowhere, it would get me and Buffy in serious trouble, and I think we'd probably both be better off avoiding that.
I followed everyone else onto the golf course.
Everything was fine; the "par five cuckoo clock" hole conversation went more or less as I remembered it from the show, except that I managed to tap Buffy on the shoulder and say, "Hang back a second," when Ted steadied Joyce's swing. I found it as revolting as Buffy did, though for different reasons, and I managed to keep my look of horror off of my face.
I realized we were doing this, probably, about a week earlier than in the original timeline; working from memory as I was, it still seemed to me like the miniature golf outing occurred on a weekend, and since Buffy hadn't come home last night to find Joyce making out with Ted, I knew their initial encounter had come, at the earliest, next Monday morning.
Still, the only really different thing about this encounter was my presence, it seemed.
"What?" Buffy said.
"I found something."
"What?"
"I can't tell you about it now. Let's just get through this so I can show it to you and everyone."
"Everyone?"
"Not your mom."
Before Buffy could answer, Ted peered from around the curve ahead and said, "You girls coming? Not right to keep us waiting, you know." The tone was light, friendly; nothing anyone reasonable could object to.
"On our way!" I yelled out in a friendly manner. As we caught up with the group, I muttered, "Be civil, at least, while we're here. You don't need to be his best friend, but we need to wait until we're away, and not make anyone suspicious. Okay?"
"Okay," Buffy said, and though she wasn't the jolliest golfer on God's green earth for the next half hour or so, she was polite and did her best to avoid sounding like she'd rather be "anywhere but here."
And then came the hole with the little castle. I'd debated with myself (because, really, who else was I going to debate? I bring this up to anyone else and the Adversary declares himself the winner of our little wager and I get shipped off to wherever he's going to ship me off to, be it Hell, oblivion or Pittsburgh) whether I should specifically try to forestall the upcoming confrontation between Ted and Buffy or let it go.
What was my decision? Observe:
Buffy hit the ball wildly into the bushes; Ted set about convincing Joyce to count the shot:
"The rules are the rules," he said. "What we teach her is what she takes into the world when we're not there, whether it's at school or an unchaperoned party."
He smiled at Buffy. "I don't mean to overstep my bounds; this is between you and your mother. I just think right is right."
Joyce said, "He has a point."
Before Buffy could respond, surlily or otherwise, I said, "Come on, Buffy. I'll go help you find it?"
"Yeah, well, yours ended up right in the hole," Buffy grumbled as we headed off into the bushes.
At which point, I turned on the tape recorder I had in my pocket.
Tape recorder? I hear you asking. Where did that come from?
Japan.
Assuming you're not satisfied with the continuing exploits of Veronica Mars, girl smartass, I'll just say that this was my intention all along, assuming that things went more or less the way they had in the first timeline, which so far they had.
And where had I gotten it? My dad's a PI, remember? Even at our comparatively low-budget operation we have a dozen or so recording devices, ranging from pocket tape recorders to "wires" that wouldn't be found on a cursory patdown. I'd had enough time on my ride here to pick it up and set it so it was ready to go on a moment's notice.
In the meantime, we'd found Buffy's ball. She looked at me sheepishly as she picked up the ball; I shrugged, to indicate "I won't tell if you don't." Then she dropped the ball near the hole and knocked it in.
"Hole in two!" I yelled out.
"Beg to differ," Ted said from behind me. I don't think I've ever stepped to the side faster in my life.
"Okay," Buffy said, "So fine my score, or whatever."
"I think you're missing the point here, ladies," Ted said, tapping the golf club rhythmically against his show. "Right is right, wrong is wrong. Why don't people see that?"
Yes," I said, "And if we were playing for money, honor, or in any kind of organized league, I'd be right up there with you. But we're not. We're playing for fun. There's a big difference." Yes, I was deliberately trying to press his buttons, to see if maybe I could goad him into something tremendously revealing then and there, I wasn't counting on it -- thus the tape recorder -- but it was kind of nice for a secondary plan. It did require some guts, though.
"Yeah," Buffy said. "It's not like this means anything in the long run. It's just a game."
Golf club still tapping in rhythm, Ted said. "Right. Big difference. Just for fun. It's just a game. What's the big deal?" He stepped closer to Buffy, though he spared a glare or two for me as he did so. "Ladies, I'm not wired that way. Let me tell you: There is no difference. It's not a game and it's not just for fun and I don't stand for that kind of malarkey in my house."
"It's a good thing I'm not in your house," Buffy said.
"And I'm definitely not," I said. "You don't get to give me moral lectures." I took a step forward, intentionally, still trying to goad him.
"Do you want me to slap those smart ass grins of yours off your faces?"
Okay. Here's where the guts came in. I stepped forward and said, "I'd like to see you try. My Dad would kick your ass from here to Santa Monica."
He raised his hand --
And right then is when Joyce, Willow and Xander walked up. Ted moved his hand smoothly to the back of his neck and started to scratch.
Shit. Almost. Almost, I got him to demonstrate what he really was.
Horseshoes and hand grenades, unfortunately. Back to plan A.
"Everything okay?" Joyce asked.
"Everything's great!" Ted said. "Veronica and I were just having a philosophical discussion on cheating and morality. Right?"
Buffy started to answer, but I said, "Right is right," and stepped back towards Buffy to calm her down.
"Oooh!" Willow said "Philosophical discussions? Where were you going?"
I whispered, "Wait," to Buffy, and then, and then, to Willow, "Ted was arguing for a rigid form of morality -- black-and-white, no shades of gray."
"That is the way the world works, little lady," Ted said.
"And I was saying that there was such a thing as right and wrong, but that it didn't necessarily apply to all situations, all of the time. That's all."
"Odd place to get into that," Joyce said.
"Not really," Ted said. "Now, who wants some chocolate chip cookies?"
"I do," Willow said.
"Chocolate chip cookies? You've been holding out on us, man," Xander said.
"Veronica? Buffy?"
Buffy shook her head no. Ted said, "Veronica? I made too many; you guys are going to have to take some home with you."
I stepped forward, took a baggie, and said, "Thank you."
After Joyce's unsuccessful attempt to coax Buffy into trying just one yummy cookie, we moved on to the next hole. I clicked off the tape recorder once Ted was out of sight.
"Why didn't you tell them?" Buffy said.
"No point in bringing it up now," I said. "Haven't you noticed how everyone else has been acting weird?"
"You think it's some kind of spell?" Buffy asked.
"No, then you and I would be feeling the love, too, and right now, I feel the loathe. Once he didn't slap me, there was no point; it would have taken him actually doing it to convince them of anything."
"So what, then?"
"I'm not sure," I lied. "Maybe it's in the cookies. You haven't eaten any?"
"Hell, no," Buffy said. "I'd sooner eat dog food."
"Buffy? Veronica?" Joyce said from ahead.
"Coming!" I called.
Only ten more holes to go.
X X X X X
Ten, of course, of the longest holes of Buffy's and my lives. And if I'd thought I was going to get to talk to Buffy immediately afterwards, I was sadly mistaken. Once we were done, Joyce, not looking particularly happy with Buffy, asked me if I could take Willow and Xander home. I said yes, and she, Ted, and Buffy took off, leaving me no more than one "I-promise" look to let Buffy know that yes, she was right, and yes, at some point, I would tell her everything.
For the moment, though, I had happy Xander and they call her mellow Willow hanging out in my car and, in Xander's case at least, starting to munch his way through even more cookies.
Lovely.
Still, mellow was good for me, to some extent, anyway. I said, "You guys in a hurry in to get anywhere?"
"No," Willow said.
"There's really way too much hurrying in this world," Xander said. "What we need is more chances to slow down.
"Good," I said. "Because I have a call to make and then we have a stop to make."
"We do?" Willow said.
"Yup. Just trust me."
They trusted me. Of course, with as much tranquilizer as they had in their systems right then, they probably would have trusted me if I'd invited them to a three-way with Spike, while Drusilla and I watched and compared notes.
I called Giles and, by invoking the Hellmouth and all of its effects, managed to convince him to meet me at the library as soon as possible.
Cordelia was even easier to convince, though I wasn't particularly happy why.
"What do you want?" she said.
"I need you to come to the library," I said.
"Is it about fangy things?" she asked.
"No," I said. "I just know that you'll tell the truth if you think I'm being an idiot. I'll owe you one."
"Oh, hell no, Veronica Mars; you'll owe me two."
"Huh?" I said.
"Don't huh me," she said. "I know damn well you wanted us to spread that rumor last night. You don't gossip. Not to anyone, about anything, and if you're passing on information for one of your cases you sure as hell don't do in the women's room at the Bronze. You're not that stupid. So. We did what you wanted last night --"
Boy, was I glad this phone didn't have a "speaker" option. "And now I owe you? Why you and not them?"
She laughed. "You think they figured it out?"
"Hell no. I'm surprised they figure out how to dress in the mornings."
"Better than you do," Cordelia said. "Okay. I'll be there."
"Thank you," I said, ignoring the casual insult, "But I'll still only owe you one."
"Right," she said. "Me and loserboy in the closet. I was hoping you'd forgotten that. One it is."
I hung up.
Thirty-three minutes later, I began my presentation. I explained everything from the beginning, not exempting Buffy's obvious bias against Ted -- in fact, I emphasized it, but made sure they knew that I hadn't started out that way (lying through my teeth, of course, but they didn't know that). I presented the evidence, detailed the encounter where Ted nearly slapped me, and finished by handing over the cookies. "I don't know how to scientifically test these --" I said.
"I do," Willow said. She and Xander had objected at the beginning to my characterization of Ted as a definite son of a bitch and possible magic-influenced bad guy (couldn't bring up robot, because honestly, even given Malcolm/Moloch, who the hell expects robot, even in Sunnydale?) but after I presented my evidence, they got quieter and quieter.
"Please do, then," I said. "The two of you and Buffy's Mom came across Ted when he was less than half a second away from slapping me and you bought our explanation about 'a philosophical' discussion. I think Harmony would have known he was going to slap me. You guys, though --"
"Sorry," Willow said sheepishly.
"Nothing to be sorry about," I said. "Under the influence of whatever means you get a pass from woulda-shoulda-couldas, at least at the moment. So. Mr. Giles. Cordelia. What do you two think? Am I onto something?"
Giles nodded. "Something, most definitely," he said. "What it is remains to be seen. Certainly you've proven, to my satisfaction anyway, that he's not a fit companion for Buffy's mother. Whether you've proven he's in Buffy's specialty rather than yours remains a bit, well, nebulous."
"Yeah. Sounds like a major-grade loser," Cordelia said. "Though I think you're wrong about one thing." She directed that last part to Giles, not me.
"Really?" Giles asked. "What?"
"He looks what? Maybe ten years older now than he did in 1957 but otherwise the same? No way that's plastic surgery. I mean, come on! Why would he just look like that if he'd had surgery? No chance. He could have seriously studded himself up. No, I think this definitely falls into Buffy's freakoid category to deal with."
"Certainly, there is enough there to be worth investigating," Giles said.
"Glad that you all agree with me. So," I said with mock gung-ho enthusiasm, "Who's up for a little breaking and entering tomorrow morning? Huh? Huh?"