Author's Note: A slightly longer part than normal -- I didn't want to try to pad it out to two parts.
I told you this wasn't going to end well. Now you see how.
X X X X X
"He wants what?" Giles asked. We were all sitting in the library, of course.
"He wants to sit down and negotiate," I said.
"Yeah. Couldn't believe it either," Sheila said.
"Do you want to know what I think?" Cordelia asked.
"Almost never," Xander said.
Cutting off Cordelia's retort, I said, "Actually, yes I do, Cordelia."
Xander looked at me like I'd grown another head, and actually, so did Cordelia, but she recovered quickly enough and said, "I think he's lying through his teeth. Hello! Even I can see this is a trap."
"When we have the choice of when or where?" Buffy said. "I don't know. Ms. Calendar? You've read more about the man than anyone here. What do you think?"
"He's perfectly capable of trying to read the future," she said. "It's not an exact science, and where Veronica's concerned it's a lot less exact, but he could have seen a future where everyone was dead. For the rest, well, I never got the sense that he was particularly confrontational," she said. "This seems in character from what I know, but I'm not claiming to be an expert here."
"Not confrontational?" Xander said. "Didn't he burn a vampire from the inside out?"
"Protecting your customers makes sense," I said. "Doesn't make him confrontational."
"You sound like you believe him," Buffy said.
"My instincts say he was telling the truth," I said. "But they also say Cordelia's making a lot of sense. Even if this isn't a trap, if we decide to have the meeting it would make a lot of sense to prepare for it like it was one."
"Okay," Buffy said. "Let's go by that assumption at the moment. That Rack really wants to negotiate with us. The question then is –"
"Ooh! I know! The question is, what does he want?" Willow said.
"He wants us not to kill him, duh," Cordelia said.
"That wasn't even on the table," Buffy said firmly. "But Cordy's right in general – I'm sure part of what he wants is for us not to attack him, whether he's telling the truth about our futures or not. But that wasn't the question I had in mind, Will."
"Oops," Willow said. "Guess I can't predict the future yet."
"A matter of time," Buffy said. "Anyway, the question I was going for was, should we negotiate at all? Wouldn't this be like talking with the local drug lord instead of sending in the SWAT team?"
"Confront the drug lord, everyone dies," Sheila said. "Talk with him? Dunno. But not everyone dies."
"Can I make a suggestion?" I said.
"Of course, Miss Mars," Giles said.
"Ms. Calendar? I realize that the spirits and such don't necessarily perform on cue, but is there any way for you to doublecheck Rack's predictions?"
She frowned. "You're involved; it'll probably be as vague as his were, if I can get anything."
"Is it worth a shot? It's one thing we can do to confirm whether he's telling the truth," I said.
"It may be out best opportunity to determine whether Rack's proposal is even worth considering," Giles said.
She still seemed dubious, so I said, "Include me out, then."
"Excuse me?"
"Odds weren't that I was going to be involved in any assault, anyway," I said. "I know my limitations." I may ignore them a lot of the time, but believe me, I'm aware of what they are. "Don't factor me in. Assume I'm sitting at home, tending to my knitting."
"You knit?" Cordelia asked in the tone one might use to ask "You dumpster-dive?"
"Figure of speech," I said.
Ignoring the exchange, Giles said, "Perhaps – if possible – both viewpoints might be utilized?"
Nodding, Ms. Calendar said, "Yeah. I can try that. It'll take me a while, though."
"So, meet here tomorrow morning?" I asked.
"Morning as in 1 in the afternoon, right?" Xander said. "I mean, it is the weekend. Who wakes up early on a weekend?"
Willow, Giles, Cordelia and I all raised our hands.
"I believe, under the circumstances," Giles said, "That you can forgo sleeping until noon and settle for waking up at 9 AM."
"Will there at least be donuts?"
"Yes, Xander," Giles said tiredly. "There will be donuts. And possibly even coffee."
X X X X X
As we drove back to the apartment, I told Sheila, "I know getting up early isn't your favorite thing to do on weekends –"
"I've been in your apartment, manhunter," she said. "You and your Dad up by 8, even tryin' to keep quiet, 'll wake me up."
I said, "I haven't actually had the time to ask him . . ."
"'scool. I'll find somewhere."
The hell she would. Too much of a risk, in Sunnydale. The gods knew she wouldn't be going home.
As I stood outside, I had the feeling someone was watching me, but when I looked around I couldn't see anyone.
I opened the door to find Dad there watching a movie. "Hi honey," he said when I got in. Then, seeing my companion, he said, "Sheila."
"Mr. Mars," Sheila said. Then, after flashing me a glance, she said, "Can I use the bathroom?"
I pointed her to it, and once the door closed, said, "So whatcha watchin'?"
"The Man Who Came to Dinner," he said. I'd actually seen that one; you pick a few things up from a Dad with a love for classic movies. A movie about an uninvited guest wreaking havoc? Not exactly what I wanted to be at the top of Dad's mind right now. "What do you want?"
"What makes you think I want anything?" I asked innocently.
"Long and bitter experience," he said. "Spill."
"Can Sheila stay here tonight?"
"You haven't had a sleepover since – since Lilly," he said. "And somehow Sheila doesn't seem like the hair-braiding type."
Hair-pulling, maybe. "Got it in one," I said. "Her mother's making up for lost time."
Grimacing, he said, "Yeah. You know, maybe one of these days I'll go down to that station and shove the situation in Don Lamb's face."
And Lamb's response would be to tell Dad to fuck off, and possibly die. A situation like this wouldn't be on Donny's radar at the best of times, unless the Mayor personally ordered it.
"Worth a shot," I said. "But unless you're planning to storm down there tonight –"
He sighed and said, "Sure, sweetie. She can stay."
"You do realize you're the best father on the planet, right?"
"I've been told that on occasion," he said. "Always by you."
"And who knows you better?" I hugged him and then headed to the kitchen to fix Sheila and me something to eat.
X X X X X
She forced me to sleep in the bed; I was going to take the floor, but she said, "Then we'll both be on the floor. And I bite."
"And punch."
"Yeah. So: I'm not sleepin' in your bed, Goldilocks, and you aren't sleepin' with me on the floor. Do the math."
We did do something that's done at slumber parties: we stayed up and talked. But not about boys (well, okay, a little, but hardly at all) and not about clothes or hair or anything. I think it's pretty obvious that Sheila and me? Never getting on the cover of Cosmo. I would dress up if the situation called for it – I wasn't quite a Daria – but by and large I always go by the principle that as long as people aren't laughing and pointing when I walk out the door, I'm dressed well enough.
We talked magic, and vampires, and books, and things, until we fell asleep.
Once, I thought I saw someone looking through the window, but when I pulled the shade, nothing.
X X X X X
Up and out early enough the next morning to make Dad wonder what was going on. "We're planning to take over the world," I said. "You want to be cut in?"
Sipping his coffee, he said, "Depends. What'd you have in mind? Court jester? Official dog walker?" Backup perked his head up.
"Lord High Executioner," Sheila said.
Raising my eyebrows, I said, "I was going to go with chief cook and bottle washer, but I like the way you think, Sheila."
We picked up coffee for everyone on the way in; the meeting began promptly at 9, with people in various states of bright-eyed and bushy-tailed-ness, from Cordelia, who was completely alert and perfectly coiffured, to Xander, who was drooling on the table.
Ms. Calendar looked like she'd been up all night, as well, but then, she probably had been. "Well, then," Giles said. "I see we're all in our places with dull, grumpy faces. Shall we begin?"
Cordelia must have kicked Xander under the table, because he immediately bolted upright and said, "The answer is twelve!"
"Ah, Xander," Giles said. "I see you've decided to join us this morning. Excellent. Ms. Calendar?" He gestured for the computer teacher to begin.
"I tried several different ways," she said, "And I did them traditionally, as well. I checked my system thoroughly and I don't think anyone hacked in, but just to be on the safe side I wanted to be sure no one would try to mess with my perceptions."
"And?" Willow asked.
"As near as I can tell, Rack was telling the truth – and he was telling it whether you're involved or not, Veronica. Of course, when you're there it's a lot more vague – a lot more margin for error. So it's possible that you're involved we win and everyone's happy."
"But you don't think so." I asked, not making it a question.
"Never say never," she said. "Especially when you're involved. I had to make the questions broader to get any kind of coherent answer at all."
"Anything more specific?" I asked.
"An overdose of magic and a massive fire," Ms. Calendar said. "I couldn't get anything more detailed than that.
"So we have a rough idea of what happens when we don't negotiate," Cordelia said. "Did you think to check what happens when we do?"
"No, I didn't," Ms. Calendar said.
"Well, why not?"
"Because," Ms. Calendar said grumpily. "There's this little thing called sleep. Perhaps you've heard of it?"
"Got eight hours last night," Cordelia said triumphantly.
"Bully for you," Ms. Calendar muttered. "In any event, this is the best we're going to get. And for the record, I'm not going to do this every time. There's a difference between a quick check and a thorough one, and this one was as thorough as I could make it. Checking multiple ways, catching the attention of the right powers, and doublechecking, is beyond exhausting.
"We've done well enough so far without any firm knowledge of our futures," Giles said. "I believe we can continue on our own, as well."
"Yeah," Xander said. "We're just glad you did this much." He shot a glance at Cordelia. "Well, most of us are, anyway."
"So it appears our answer is yes, correct?" Giles said.
"Yeah," Buffy said. "But there's no reason we have be dumb about it."
"Trust everybody, but cut the cards," I said.
Buffy nodded. "Yeah. Nothing's saying we all have to be here. Me, Giles, Xander and Willow will do the negotiating. Cordy, you, Ms. Calendar, Sheila, and Angel, go hide somewhere and don't tell us where. Veronica, you stay out of sight somewhere in the library. If things go to hell, you can bolt for the back door and let Angel and them know. Seem like a plan?"
"Hide somewhere?" Cordelia said.
"Yeah," Xander said. "Why not in a bookstore? No one would ever think to look for you there."
"'scool with me," Sheila said.
Ms. Calendar and Cordelia did agree to go along, and when Sheila went home (briefly, to change clothes; her mom had to sleep sometime) she explained the situation to Angel as well.
I went to the magic store and told Rae that the meeting was that night at 6 PM in, yes, the high school library.
In the afternoon went to see if there was anything I could help Dad with, in his investigation, and found Xander in his office, talking to him about his relationship with Lilly. Dad hadn't in fact known about it, but didn't seem inclined towards thinking of him as a suspect -- certainly not where Lilly was concerned, though he did bring it up as a possibility, I suspect just to cover all the bases.
Last night he'd managed to get Aaron Echolls to give him a list of the local women he'd had affairs with, and most of today was spent checking that list to see who was capable of sending the notes, which helped not only that case but the possible one against him for Lilly's death.
Good. Good, good, good.
The party itself was tomorrow evening. No poker game this go-round, but I was still, unofficially, on the guest list. We'd see what happened. I still wasn't actively investigating. I couldn't help it if I ran into anything.
X X X X X
The negotiation, that evening, proved the definition of anticlimax. Rack showed up right on time; I hid in the stacks and used my book-bug (yes, it was still there, and still untouched) so I could hear the discussion clearly; without it, I would have been able to make out maybe every other word).
Above all things, apparently, Rack was a businessman, and it was bad business to stay in a place where there were people who, if they tried to drive him away, would apparently succeed.
It killed me not to deal with him permanently, but they weren't going to be able to get him agree to stop his business, and we all knew it. They did agree to get him to not go after minors, and to stay out of Sunnydale for -- hah! -- four years. Which meant he'd be back right in time for season 6, when neither Willow nor Sheila would be minors any more.
He also agreed not to attack us or any of our relatives, unless we attacked him first.
They, in turn, agreed to let him leave town, and not to go after his clients unless they went after us first. What happened in four years was anybody's guess, I guess.
It wasn't a happy ending. Not at all. Not what I'd hoped. But it was, apparently, the best we were going to get. Buffy had evaded a prophecy about her death, but she wasn't going to try to buck one that led to other people dying.
He got back into his TARDIS and left.
And that was, apparently, that.
X X X X X
Later in the evening, we were at the Bronze. Willow was talking to Oz, in a corner. Sheila was talking to a guy. "Not a vamp this time. 'm sure." Buffy checked and pronounced him human, if skeezy.
Cordelia and Angel weren't there. A couple of times I'd felt I was being watched again, and asked Buffy, who also didn't find anyone.
"Nothing obvious," she said. "Want me to look around?"
"Would you?"
She did, and found a vampire, but he'd been way away from me anyway, so it wasn't him. Still, by the time she was done, I no longer had the feeling.
The conversation eventually turned to Rack. Over and over again.
"You think he's gone?" Xander said.
"What I think," I said, "Is that that's the fourth time you've asked that question. Which means it's time for me to go home. See if my Dad's made any progress on his case."
"I hope not," Xander said.
"Wrong case," I said.
"Ah. That one, I wish him well in."
"Do I want to know what you're talking about?" Buffy said.
"Probably not," I said. "Goodnight."
My car was a couple of blocks away; I had my holy water pistol at the ready just in case.
When I was maybe a block away from my car I felt someone watching me. I whirled around --
And found someone.
More particularly, someones.
Maybe ten people were standing there, ranging in age from fourteen to sixty. And not a single one looked happy.
The only one I recognized for sure was Amy Madison, and that more from the show than the brief encounters we'd actually had. "What do you want?"
"It was you," one of the older people said.
"It was me, what?" I said, though I knew. These were Rack's customers.
And they'd never agreed to do anything. And Rack hadn't agreed to have them not do anything.
Shit.
"You're the reason Rack left us," a woman said, as though Rack were the second coming and I'd had him crucified.
"He left on his own," I said.
"After you attacked him," Amy said. "Do you know what he did for us?'
"Addicted you?' I said.
"He gave us power," Amy said. "And now, we're going to show you some of it."
As all ten people began to chant, I turned to run. I might be immune to magic, but if one of these people set my car on fire or something, I could sure as hell burn.
I got maybe ten feet when I felt the first blast, then the second. I couldn't tell what they were and had no desire to turn and find out. I passed my car, but had no time to get in and start it. Ten people could overwhelm me even without magic.
I heard a faint voice say, indignantly, "No." It wasn't Amy; but it was familiar.
Unfortunately, I was running in the wrong direction to find Buffy, or even to make it to my car, and Dad? No way was I getting him involved.
Angel, maybe, assuming he was at home. His apartment building was in this general direction, maybe a mile or so away, and while I might not be a Slayer, I'm capable of running a m--
X X X X X
Ow.
Ow, ow, ow.
My head felt like someone had smashed me in the back of the skull with a baseball bat.
I opened my eyes -- I was lying on the sidewalk, face down. I felt the back of my head -- blood. Not a lot of it, but enough to make me worry.
What had happened?
I'd been running from the mob of witches --
Ignoring the pain, I got to my feet as quickly as I could -- if they were still around --
No.
God, no.
This --
This --
There were bodies everywhere.
Worse: They'd been sliced to ribbons. The street was littered with dead and bleeding bodies.
"Do you like it?" an almost shy voice came from behind me. "I did it for you, you know."
It was the voice I'd heard earlier, only now I could recognize it.
Drusilla.
Before the shock set in, one oddly abstract thought occurred to me.
I no longer needed to worry about whether my presence was causing major changes in the Buffy timeline. I was.
Because everyone who'd been chasing me was dead.
Including Amy Madison.