TAuthor's Note: I quote from VM what I think is the best-delivered line Kristen Bell has ever uttered. It comes towards the end.

I don't want to spell out why Veronica said, "Oh, shit," at the end of the last chapter, not yet anyway. But I don't want to overly confuse you. Let me know if you want me to spell it out sooner rather than later.

X X X X X

I congratulated Dad again -- somehow managing to make it non-perfunctory -- hung up, and cussed and swore until I ran out of breath.

(David Eddings called this process 'inventing new swearwords.' Not the greatest writer on the planet, but he had his moments.)

Lilly, in her dream, had told me to stop worrying about her; that she could take care of herself, and that I didn't have to anymore.

"For once, it isn't all about me."

And the Adversary had told me to listen to her, when I dreamed about him.

All of this less than a day before Dad called to say he'd found the witness who would permanently clear Abel Koontz and allow us to go after Aaron Echolls for murdering Lilly.

And if you think that's a coincidence, you're out of your mind.

Put it together yourselves, okay? I really, really don't want to think about this right now.

X X X X X

Tired, beyond irritable, I went to bed early, before Dad even made it home. I knew he'd want me up, but I couldn't take it at that point. Maybe by the time tomorrow morning rolls around, I'll be up to the conversation. And I'm not even getting into "looking up information on a serial killer," though there at least I can plausibly claim coincidence.

The Adversary didn't have the guts to show up in my dreams Monday night. Good. I might have done something monumentally stupid. As it was, all I dreamt about was forks and tree branches, and if you can get a meaning out of that, then bully for you.

When I woke up the next morning, Dad was in the kitchen, whistling a happy tune, and making breakfast. "Pancakes!" he said "Ready in ten minutes!"

Even Dad's pancakes couldn't put me in a better mood, though I did manage to get ready in ten minutes.

"Why didn't you stay up, sweetheart?" he asked. "I'd have thought you'd have been bouncing off the walls in excitement."

"I was," I said. "Superball Veronica, that's me. But I had a horrible night's sleep Sunday night. I felt your accomplishment deserved happy, alert Veronica, not falling asleep in her chair Veronica."

So why am I having trouble detecting excited Veronica?" he said.

"Oh, trust me, Dad. I'm thrilled. Abel Koontz is getting out, Aaron Echolls is in the sights, and, as an added bonus, Jake Kane is in trouble his own damn self." The Mayor wouldn't throw any weight around; he wanted less attention paid to Sunnydale, not more, and "corrupt software tycoon" pointed in a different direction from "corrupt local official." Jake was going to have to face the music.

(And the Kanes didn't use Wolfram & Hart. Counting my blessings on that one, believe me.)

"Your words say you're thrilled," Dad said, "But your eyes don't match."

Shit and shit again. Dad would need some story, and I couldn't tell him the real reason I was so upset; I can barely tell myself that.

Dad was sharp, here. He wouldn't buy nebulous stories about being in a bad mood, or even "bad dreams," though he was fully aware I had detailed dreams about Lilly that tended to upset me.

So I would have to go to the weekend.

"Remember that guy Buffy's mom was dating?" I asked. "The one I was looking up?"

"Yeah," he said.

"Did you see the stories about how our wonderful Sheriff's Department tracked down a serial killer living right here in our fair city?"

"Yes," Dad said sharply, not liking where I was going.

"It was the same person."

"I'd already guessed that," he said sharply. Okay, this was somewhat angry Dad. I needed to make him somewhat sympathetic Dad.

"I had no idea," I said. "Really. My investigations had turned up nothing more than four previous marriages and a house that didn't look particularly well-kept, and though I didn't like the man when I met him –"

"You met him? Dad said.

"Miniature golf on Saturday. Buffy wanted me to get a closer look at him. He seemed to have a sharp temper and an absolutist version of morality, but I went from there to 'creep,' not 'serial killer.""

"You had no idea?"

"None," I lied, I hoped convincingly. "It's a sharp jump from short-tempered multiply married moralist to homicidal lunatic. It's not a jump I made. If I'd found anything leading me remotely in that direction, I would have pulled out and called you. Murders are outside my purview."

"Damn right they are," Dad said. "Is that why you had such a hard time sleeping?"

"It was like that crazy woman a couple of weeks ago," I said. "I was looking directly into the face of a psychopath. This time I only found out afterwards, but still, it was scary to think about."

"I can understand that," he said, coming over and hugging me. "Are you okay now?"

"More or less," I lied, "Though I'm going to be extra careful when I do investigations like that from now on."

He sighed. "I suppose if I told you not to you'd ignore me."

"Probably," I said.

He shook his head and went back to eating a pancake. "What is it about this town? Two psychopaths, a gang invading the school –"

"This didn't happen when you were sheriff," I said. Remember, I did the research. Keith Mars. Sheriff, did a good job reducing the crime rate. Not as good as Buffy, but for a normal human? Pretty damned good. "I'm sure that's it. You couldn't have known about Ted Buchanan because you weren't even a deputy here the last time he killed someone."

"Maybe," he said. The Adversary was definitely messing with Keith Mars' head; I was sure about it now. Dad was too good a detective not to figure out what was going on in Sunnydale when he was thinking clearly. "So," he said after a brief silence, "You're still excited?"

I forced a smile. "Oh, yeah. You are the man, the man and a half."

"You helped," he said.

"Damn right I did," I said. "But I'm not the man. That would be you."

I'd convinced him. He grinned and said, "Yeah, I am." Then he said, "Now comes the hard part."

"The hard part?" I said. "You already overcame a conspiracy by one of the richest men on the planet and his ubercompetent henchman to cover up who killed Lilly, all by your lonesome. Taking down a world-famous movie actor?" I snapped my fingers. "Piece o'cake."

"Let's hope you're right, sweetie," he said.

"I am," I said, and hoped like hell I was right.

We'd see if Dad could pull it off.

God and the Adversary knew I wouldn't be involved.

X X X X X

I wanted to growl my way through the rest of the day, but I really, really couldn't, no matter how foul my mood was.

My Dad had just proven that he was right, and that the Sunnydale Sheriff's Department and Jake Kane were wrong; worse, they were criminal.

"Proud, manhunter?" Sheila asked.

"To the point of bursting," I said. "I would keep a spare spell ready in case you need to clean up later."

"Plan on bragging all day?"

"Oh, yeah." It was torture, feigning the excitement, but I had to. There was no one I could talk to about this, nowhere I could turn to vent my anger.

Most of my days in Sunnydale involved acting, going through the motions, to some degree or other. I can safely say that this was one of the worst.

"'scool," Sheila said. "Good for your Dad. Town was dumb to get rid of him."

"Thanks," I said.

I was approached by a dozen different students and teachers, and forced myself into "excited, proud, nay smug" Veronica mode for every one of them.

I also managed to dodge Xander. That conversation, with him champing at the bit to go after Aaron? Not now. Couldn't handle it now.

There were only two people who weren't happy with me, the first of whom I was glad to see.

I was finishing describing my Dad's amazing accomplishments (and no matter how hard you try to find sarcasm in that line, there is none, because that's the way I really feel) to yet another random Sunnydale High denizen when everyone suddenly went quiet and tried to hurry away.

I turned around and found myself face to face with Principal Snyder. And apparently, I was his target du jour, because he let everyone else scurry off. Not that I blamed them. I was one of the few people at this school he couldn't intimidate, and wanted to.

"I suppose you're pretty proud of yourself today," he sneered.

"You got that right," I said. "Even prouder of my Dad."

"Well, it stops now."

"Really?" I asked. "And why would you want me to stop being proud of my father for exposing a frame-up?"

"Because it's affecting the orderly running of this school," he said.

"Really?" I said. "I hadn't noticed any cheering mobs. Or angry mobs with pitchforks and torches, for that matter. Just people walking down the hallways, talking."

"Listen, Mars," he said. "Jake Kane was a great benefactor to this school. And your father has jeopardized that."

This was what I needed right now. "So you would have preferred seeing an innocent man die?" I asked angrily.

"Watch your tone," he said. "And Abel Koontz wasn't so innocent. He was a worthless piece of garbage. The world would have been better off without him anyway."

"There's a difference between 'not a good person' and 'the world is better off without,' though I can see why you'd have trouble telling the difference."

"There's that tone again," he said.

"What tone?" I asked angrily. "What tone would that be?"

"Disrespect."

"I'm giving you all the respect you deserve. You're a petty authoritarian. Nothing more. A two-bit tyrant with delusions of importance. You're a high school principal, Mr. Snyder. You'll never be anything other than a high school principal. I have no more respect for you than I do for dead fish. This is nothing to do with the orderly running of the school. Maybe, maybe, you're upset about the funding, but unless you think Celeste Kane's going to stop giving money while her husband's locked the hell up in jail where he belongs, you can't possibly think the money flow's going to give out anytime soon."

He opened his mouth, but I kept going.

"So, no. You're not concerned with the orderly running of this school. At least, not right this second. I wasn't being disruptive, I wasn't plotting mischief, and I wasn't spewing obscenities. So the only reason you came to me – pretty much the only reason you do anything – is because you wanted to jerk me around. Which I don't think is in the job description of high school principal anywhere, but fits petty dictator very nicely. So go. Go do your job. And leave me alone."

By this time, everyone who'd scurried off had returned, although, impressively, they were all watching while not watching. The only people I saw staring directly into the trainwreck were Logan Echolls, Duncan Kane, and Cordelia Chase. Eventually, Snyder sputtered out, "Okay, Mars. Detention –"

"Oh, go ahead," I said. "Give me detention. I dare you."

I'd say I didn't know what had gotten into me that day, but I knew damn well. I couldn't take out my anger on the dictator I wanted to, so I settled for taking it out on the dictator at hand. Yes, he could give me detention, even expel me, but at this point I honestly didn't care, and yes, I probably should have.

"Don't tell me what to do, Mars," he said, snorting. "Just get to class."

Then he turned around and walked away.

I turned to one of the students I'd been talking to before Snyder had so rudely interrupted and said, "So. Where were we?"

"Um—"

Right then, Snyder turned a corner and walked down another hall, and I heard the loudest burst of applause I'd ever heard in my life.

Which would have been nicer if I'd been telling off Snyder for any purpose other than the one I'd been telling him off for.

Still, some of the steam had been blown off, at least, so my smile and subsequent laugh weren't entirely faked.

Snyder poked his head back around the corner and said, "All of you. Get to class. Now!"

And we got.

X X X X X

Remember, there was a decent-sized crowd watching me tell off Principal Snyder. And a lot of applause and cheering.

Two people weren't applauding.

One was Logan, who I'm fairly sure wasn't applauding because he was standing next to the other person who wasn't:

Duncan.

One of my periods on Tuesday was set aside for working on the school paper, which went to press Monday morning and was distributed Monday afternoons.

So, Tuesdays was the start of a brand new cycle for the newspaper, so there was always a meeting on story ideas, columns, etc, and even though I pretty much only did occasional photography and proofreading I was as much a staff member as anyone else there.

Duncan barely looked at me the whole time, though he was professional enough otherwise. After the meeting, Duncan asked me to stay behind for a bit.

Once the room was clear, I said, "So, I take it this isn't about a picture you need taken?"

"You know damn well it isn't," he said. "Veronica -- why?"

"Why what?" I knew where he was going but I was in no mood to let him be vague about it. The round of applause aside, grumpy Veronica was still very much in charge, even if I was less cranky than I was when I started the day.

"Why did you have to bring my father into it?"

"First off, give credit where it's due: Keith Mars, not me. I only did a little bit."

"I really don't think that's the important part!"

"Duncan," I said patiently, "Your father helped get my father fired, concealed evidence in the murder of his own daughter, and paid another man to take the fall, and all the time the real killer's still been loose. I don't have a hell of a lot of sympathy for him. You want to blame someone? Blame him. My father was just doing his job."

"So you think one of us killed Lilly," he said.

"No. Me never, Dad not anymore. So think about this, Duncan: Who did think you killed your sister?" No answer. "Well?"

"My parents," he said reluctantly.

"So go yell at them. Because me? Not so much interested in being a target. It sucks to hear it, I know, but your father was the bad guy here. I know you love him; you have to. But it's his own damn fault."

"He could have left him out of it!"

"No, he couldn't," I said. "You could have told him to stop; to let my Dad do his job. Did you even try to stop him? Did you? Or did you do what you always do?"

"What do I always do?" He demanded.

I'd said it before, in the original timeline, but it worked here as well. "You. Stand. Idly. By."

"Veronica --"

"No," I said. "We're done. Let me know when you're ready to apologize."

I turned and left.

I managed to finish out the day without tearing anyone else's head off, called Dad and told him I'd be a bit late getting to the office, and drove around trying to clear my head.

I couldn't do what I wanted to do next. Dad would have to handle it himself.

So I had to find something else to do, or I'd go crazy.

Bad Eggs was around a month away; I still couldn't think of a way to prove Warren had been the one who raped me; and I wasn't fool enough to try to find Spike and Drusilla.

That pretty much left me with only one option.

I was supposed to improve the future.

And taking out Rack would do that.