Author's Note: The takedown begins. Read that in the same fashion as "before season one is over, we will definitely show you what's under the hatch."

X X X X X

"I believe one of America's great thinkers put it best," Giles said, "When he said, 'Gentlemen: Include me out.'"

"Samuel Goldwyn," I said. "Always appropriate." A father with a passion for classic movies has broadened my horizons considerably. Goldywn, for those who have no clue, was one of the great old-time movie producers, whose talent for Zen-like lines was matched only by Yogi Berra.

And that concludes the educational portion of our show. I added, "Are you going for plausible deniability or do you genuinely disapprove?" I was hoping it wasn't the latter.

"I believe answering your question would mean that the first option could not be correct," Giles said, and then stood up and went into the office.

"Wait," Xander said. "I'm confused."

Cordelia rolled her eyes. She really was a master at that. "It means, tofu-for-brains, that if Giles knew we were about to break into someone's house, he'd have to tell someone, so he doesn't want to know. Sheesh."

"Giles wouldn't abandon us!" Willow said

"He's not," I said. "This is him approving without actually saying he approves. It'll be okay." After a second, "Does that mean the rest of you are up to it?"

Xander said, "Yeah. But why wait?"

"Because I said so," I said.

He shrugged and leaned back in his chair. "Good enough," he said. Exactly what I thought. Still under the influence of the tranquilizer; too much so to be of much help in an actual break-in, even if there wasn't the possibility of Ted coming home any time.

Which applied to tomorrow morning, as well, but Ted seemed like the kind of robot who went to church on a regular basis, given that he seemed to be driven by his nostalgic pseudo-1950s morality (Our Lady of Perpetual Motion, anyone?)

"And that's why we're waiting." I said. "Plus, I'm sure Willow wants to get to analyzing these cookies as soon as she can."

"Yeah," Willow said. "I'll go and check that as soon as we're done here."

"So are you good for tomorrow?" I asked.

"Oh, of course!" Willow said. "I don't want someone messing with my head, or Buffy's mom!"

"Cordelia?" I asked, not expecting anything other than the equivalent of, "Hell no." Not that we needed her; this wasn't one of those situations where her presence had been vital in the original timeline.

Once again, Cordelia Chase thrived by both living up to and confounding expectations. "I'm not going to break in anywhere," she said, "Who do you think I am, Veronica Mars? Sheila Kelly?" and, just as I was about to say, "Well, thanks for your help," mixed with a defense of Sheila, she added, "Besides, you numbskulls are likely to still be inside when creepy-guy gets back if you don't have someone outside keeping an eye out for him. Not that I care if you people end up in jail, because I'm kind of expecting that anyway. But it might upset Buffy, and what she does is kind of important."

"So you're volunteering to be the lookout?" I asked.

"Yeah," she said, as though talking to the dumbest person on earth (but really, when doesn't Cordelia Chase talk like that?).

"Thank you," I said. "I do appreciate it." After a second, I added, "But I still only owe you one."

She rolled her eyes again.

X X X X X

Willow found, as I knew she would, the fictional (but not in the Buffyverse) tranquilizer in the cookies; we confiscated the portions Willow and Xander had left, printed up multiple copies of the impromptu report Willow wrote out (no, she's no Gil Grissom, but she could whip out a page of analysis that looked convincing enough to me, anyway, and probably would have convinced Dad), and then left the school building. No one wandered by to ask what we were doing there, including, fortunately, any vampires, because now was not the time for Spike and Drusilla to put in any surprise appearances.

They'd been laying low for the last couple of weeks, thank goodness, except for Drusilla's conversation with me in Dad's office. Buffy had been trying to track them down, but none of the vampires Buffy caught knew anything about where they were, and neither did Willy, for that matter. Vampires healed faster than humans did, but an arm broken as badly as Spike's had been would still take a solid month or so, according to Angel, and it was just over two weeks at this point.

(Of course, this meant he'd be ready for full-time action again sometime around Christmas. Nice bit of irony, that, but not one I could worry about right now; and anyway, Giles and Buffy were already worrying about it. Which meant that I still was, of course, just that it wasn't at the top of my list.)

Still, while Willow had most of the cookies and one of the reports, I had one of each as well, just in case I needed to send it on to someone who could do a proper lab report. I was working to make sure this wouldn't go the route of "criminal trial," but I wanted to be prepared on the off chance it did.

And so, home for a couple of hours, where I spent an hour or so doing necessary homework, and another hour or so relaxing as best as I could, which involved paying attention to backup and making myself a quick dinner, which in the Mars household when I was by myself typically involved microwaving something.

That left getting in touch with Buffy. Now was patrolling time, but I didn't know whether "Ted, disciplinarian" has put in an appearance, or even whether anyone was home.

Simple way to check that. Around 9:30 or so, I headed out and parked by 1632 Revello Drive to see what I could see.

What I saw was a dark house with no vehicles in the driveway. Okay, so Joyce was out and Buffy, unless she'd sacked out awfully early, was out, either patrolling or Bronzing.

Safe option first. I headed to the Bronze. Willow and Xander were there. So was Sheila, to my surprise, and though she grinned when she saw me, she definitely didn't want to be interrupted, and neither did the guy she was with.

(I didn't have a vampire sense, but he didn't come across as someone who'd arrived in a time machine, and I assumed Sheila was being careful. She'd told me she was cutting way back on the wild life that had nearly gotten her killed, but that apparently didn't mean she wasn't up for a camping trip every now and again.)

So I dropped by the table where Xander and Willow were and said, "Any signs of Buffy?"

"Nope," Xander said. "She's out keeping the streets of Sunnydale safe."

"You make it sound like she's an actual superhero," Willow said. "And you're picturing her in spandex right now, aren't you?"

After a second, Xander said, "No. And please don't tell anyone."

I wasn't sure who would be more upset, Buffy or Cordelia, but they weren't going to hear about from me, anyway.

Buffy finally did put in an appearance about 45 minutes later, looking furious. I almost felt sorry for any vampires she'd run across tonight.

Almost.

She practically accosted me, half-dragging me to the upper level, where she said, "Okay. What the hell's going on?"

"You sure this is where you want to have the conversation?" I asked.

"Do you see Ted anywhere?" she said. I said that I didn't. "Then yes. Please."

I told her everything, starting with the wedding announcements and ending with Willow's discovery of the tranquilizer cookies.

"He. Drugged. My mother?" Buffy said angrily. "He drugged my friends? Oh no. That's it. I'm going over there and pounding him into the pavement."

She started walking, as though she was going to do it this very second.

This was definitely not what we needed to have happen. We needed proof positive, not righteous anger, and all Buffy storming out to find him was likely to do was earn us a rerun of the original timeline, only this time in public instead of at Revello Drive.

Sure, it might reveal that he was a robot. But it hadn't the first time. And I couldn't take that risk. Not yet. I wasn't going to chance Buffy's and my futures on a roll of the dice.

"No. Hold it," I said. "Bad idea. You wanted me to look into this. Let me finish looking into it. Tomorrow morning –"

"Tomorrow morning?" Buffy said. "Who knows what he might have done by tomorrow morning? No. I have to stop him tonight."

Terrific. "I'd say you have to go through me, but I know me, warm butter, and you, knife. Wait. Let's figure out if he's someone the cops have to deal with, or someone you need to." I grabbed her wrist, not that this would do anything more than slow her down for a few seconds if she decided to take off.

"Veronica," Buffy said in the calm before the storm, "Let go of my wrist."

"Are you going to go half-cocked off to beat the hell out of Ted?" When she didn't answer, I said, "Then I'm going to keep hanging on until you come to your senses. I get how angry you are," I said.

"Really? How?"

"My best friend was murdered," I said. "I have a reasonably good suspicion who did it. But it's not enough for me to know it. Everyone has to. Or there won't be any justice. I'd just be another loon who killed someone for no reason."

"We have the tranquilizers."

"In this town? Thee and me need ironclad proof. Willow's analysis of some cookies isn't even going to fall on Don Lamb's radar, no matter that's enough for you, me, and our friends. I have the same kind of evidence for my killer, and it would get me exactly the same treatment. If we don't find anything tomorrow –" I knew we would – "We can figure it out from there. Until then, calm down, pretend like nothing's going on, and keep taking it out on the vampires. Okay?"

A few seconds of silence (from her, anyway; we were in the Bronze, after all), and she said, finally, "Okay."

"severything okay?" came a voice from maybe eight feet away. Buffy and I looked up and saw Sheila standing there, looking ready to do violence, and possibly even looking forward to it.

"Everything's fine," I said, not wanting things to get worse than they already were. "Buffy and I were just having a discussion."

"Looked to me more like an argument," Sheila said.

"Okay, an argument," I said. "But we settled it. Right?"

"Right," Buffy said. Good. She'd calmed down enough that this wasn't going to be a problem.

"Good," Sheila said. "Watch yourself, Summers. I like you well enough, but I don't want to see it if even looking like you might be hurting Veronica again. Got it?" Whoa. I hadn't realized how serious this might have been until I heard Sheila use my name. I think she's only actually called me by it once or twice.

Buffy might not have recognized that particular sign, but she did figure out that this was no time to brush Sheila off. "Got it," she said.

"Good," Sheila repeated, looking down. "Shit. He left."

"The guy you were flirting with?" I said. "Sorry –"

"Not guy. Vampire." What? "I was trying to hold him here until you got here, Summers. He was over there--" she pointed – "Until about three minutes ago.

You sure?"

"Yeah," she said, and described him.

I noticed him first; he was walking towards the door with another girl. "I'll be right back," Buffy said, and sprinted down the stairs.

"No lectures, manhunter," she said. "I wasn't going to go after him myself 'less I had no choice. But I didn't want him goin' after anyone else, either."

I could understand that. And Sheila was better equipped to defend herself than 95% of Sunnydalers. Still.

I hit her on the arm. She said, "Ow!" and then glared. "What was that for?"

"You told me once not to go and get myself killed. I'm returning the favor. Next time, set this up with Buffy in advance."

"So let someone else die?"

"No .It's still fine to save people from the path of speeding trucks. But you don't need to stand out in the middle of the highway just in case."

I'd come to the realization – one that, no doubt, everyone else came to a long time ago – that I actually liked Sheila. Having her die, or hurt, would hurt me – just like my pain apparently would hurt her, if her willingness to challenge a known vampire Slayer was any indication.

"You have friends, Veronica Mars." Words of wisdom from someone who never existed, in this universe, anyway.

Yeah. I do. Still, why do I always seem to figure this out after everyone else does?

X X X X X

Night? Uneventful. Not even the Cheese Guy in my dreams, though the cheese grater I was carrying might have had something to do with it.

Dad didn't call; he had called, earlier in the day, while I was golfing, and left a message, and I left him a return one, not mentioning Ted at all, because really, my choice there was either to lie or spin, and Keith Mars would have picked up on that before I put down the phone.

His lead, tonight, was very promising. Good. Very good.

Next morning, less uneventful. Early calls to Willow and Xander got me an alert and angry Willow, and a male voice I couldn't make out but that kept asking me if I was cute, until Xander snatched the phone from what I presume was his father's hands and indicated his anger, embarrassment, gung-ho-attitude, and readiness to be picked up, all in the span of eighteen words that Fowler couldn't have diagrammed in two hours with help from Strunk and White.

As for Cordelia? She took the initiative, as you might have expected, and called me about five minutes after I got off the phone with Xander and got the time, the place, and how long it was expected to take.

Mental note: If this wasn't clear enough already, never underestimate Cordelia Chase. Even in season 2.

I gave her a time that gave me enough time to take Backup for a quick walk, feed him, make sure he understood that he was the best dog on the planet, yes he was, and that I very much appreciated his not destroying the apartment while Dad and I were away, yes I did.

I swung by, picked up Xander, whose father was still yelling at him as he walked out the front door, then Willow (and heard her astonishingly-there mother tell Willow to 'have fun with that girl Vanessa!'), and headed off.

Ah, Sunnydale. Home of parents who were simultaneously present and absent at the same time. Once again, I thanked any deity who might be listening that I had at least one good parent, which put me one up on everyone else except Buffy. (I sometimes wondered how Fred Burkle had managed to have two good ones. Maybe she'd lied on her application.)

We met Cordelia about five minutes later, a couple of blocks away from Ted's house.

"Okay," I said. "Now here's what I need you to do. You watch Ted until he leaves, and then follow him."

"Why me? You're the weirdo who thinks she's a detective."

"Because I'm the weirdo she's met, and you're the weirdo he hasn't. Me, Xander, and Willow? Guaranteed to raise suspicion in four out of five psychotic boyfriends. You, though --"

"I get it," she grumbled. "Okay." She drove off, and I chatted with Willow and Xander for fifteen minutes before Cordelia called the first time, saying that Ted had left, and prepped them until she called the second time, when Ted got to his church.

"Here's the hard part," I said. "Now you're going to have to park yourself there until church lets out -- and to be sure he's not trying to throw us off. Call us if he leaves and we'll call you when we leave."

An aggravated noise, but she'd volunteered, and she'd pull through, if only so she could bitch about it later.

"You guys ready?" I asked.

"Ready, willing, and somewhat terrified," Willow said.

"Xander?"

"Yeah. Let's figure out what this guy's deal is, so we can . . . undeal it."

"Let's go, then."

We stepped out of the car.