SThere was no one else at the library when we got there; of course not. They were all out looking for me.

I had about an hour before I was supposed to be home.

"Miss Mars?" Giles said after he wiped off the back of my head as best as he could. "Are you feeling up to talking?"

I sighed. "Of course not. Still. What do you need?"

Giles shook his head. "No. I was asking if there was anything I could do for you."

I held up a finger, took a piece of paper, and wrote on it, "Kill Drusilla." After a second, I added, "And Spike." Then I crumpled up the paper and threw it in the trash.

"A worthy goal, to be sure, but I was thinking of something more immediate."

"So was I," I said.

"If I may ask? Why did you write it?"

"She was watching me, Giles," I said. "For all I know she's watching me right now." Paranoid? Maybe. But in this case, justifiable; someone is out to get me, even if she'd be offended if someone told her that. "And please don't tell me that you doubt it."

"On the contrary. While it may not be likely that it is occurring right this very second, it would probably be wise of you to assume that at any given moment, at night, she is watching you, and plan and speak accordingly."

Not what I wanted to hear right then. That Giles was probably right didn't make what he'd said any more appealing in the least. I growled in frustration, loudly enough to summon nearby mountain lions, and said, "Damn it to hell! If I wasn't overloaded enough already now I have to worry that my least utterance is going to piss off a lunatic murderess who makes the San Andreas Fault look stable."

"Well, only at night."

"Lovely. There goes sleep," I said.

"She still cannot enter your abode without an invitation."

"That doesn't make me feel a whole lot better." How had Buffy managed to sleep through the night? How had any of them?

I hadn't had a problem because until now I hadn't realized what form, and how intense, Drusilla's interests were. It had nothing to do with the realities of life in Sunnydale, which I'd been aware of since a couple of days after I got here.

"There is nothing requiring you to remain in Sunnydale," Giles said. "While we have appreciated all of your efforts, this is not your fight."

Oh, Giles. You have no idea how wrong you are. And I can't tell you any of it.

"Yes. There is," I said. "Lilly. I need to be around when we find her killer."

"That badly?"

"That badly." Which was true, and a fraction of the complete picture. The Mona Lisa's smile, by itself.

And enough to satisfy Giles, at the moment.

"Very well. Under the circumstances, there are other things you can do --"

"I know about them. Thank you, though. Believe me, I do appreciate everything you've done to help me, here and especially earlier. I was already in a bad mood and this has made it worse, plus I haven't been able to let the shock set in and whether that's mental or physical I don't know, but I think my willpower has just about run out." A part of me realized that I wasn't quite feeling the same things I had when Drusilla had confronted me in Dad's office a few weeks back; my heart wasn't racing and I wasn't gasping for air or feeling like I was about to faint.

But I was definitely done being in control. This was where I needed someone to hug and there was no one around.

And right then fate, for once in its miserable life, smiled on me for just a second. Buffy and Willow came in. Sheila, right now, was my best friend here in Sunnydale; but her idea of emotional support was punching me in the arm.

Buffy would be willing to hug me. And she did, after she and Willow said they were glad I was alive, or something like that; my memory of the words is fuzzy.

I don't know what let me stay at least semi-in-control until this point, whether it was sheer willpower or something metabolic or whether I had a little outside assistance, but I was extremely glad that it had. Dealing with Don Lamb while I was in hysterics would have more or less been the final straw. He would have had less sympathy than Spike. And I mean Spike now, not Spike later.

"What happened?" Willow said. "Are you okay? What –"

Buffy said, "Will, I don't think she's really up to answering a lot of questions right now." I shook my head, because yes, I wasn't up. If I was lucky, I'd be up to talking with my father without worrying him. Right now? No.

"Miss Mars told me what occurred," Giles said, and gave Buffy and Willow a five-minute summary. By the time she was done, Willow's eyes had bugged to the point that I were amazed they didn't fall out of her head, while Buffy, who had held my hand sympathetically the entire time, got grimmer and grimmer until, once Giles was done the encounter with Deputy Lamb, said, "Is he a demon?"

"Not that I could tell," Giles said. "You may not Slay him without proof."

"And Drusilla?"

"You may Slay her the second you find her," Giles said. "In fact, I think it might be a good idea to make that our next absolute priority – killing her and Spike. I suppose we should be thankful that his injury has kept him out of commission, or at least away from committing public mayhem."

If they pulled this off, now, this would have even bigger repercussions than Amy's death, and who knows what that even that could do? Still, that, maybe subtle, but this, if they do it? Major, major, major. No Drusilla past this season, bad enough, but no Spike? That would change things pretty much completely beyond recognition once you got past season 3. No Spike, no early recognition of the Initiative, not as many hints that maybe not all's kosher down there. No Spike, maybe Glory tortures someone else. I know the way I'm thinking right now I'm missing dozens of repercussions.

And maybe I should be thinking about what if anything I should do about it but right now I can't, I just can't. I've been thinking too hard and too long and I'd like to stop now, for just a little bit.

"Veronica?" Buffy said, and from her tone it sounded like maybe it wasn't the first time. "You there?"

"Barely," I said.

A humorless snort. "I get that. Look. Giles said you need to head home soon –" I looked up and somehow nearly 45 minutes had slipped by, and she was right, I needed to be home in about fifteen, and somehow, tomorrow, be ready to go to Aaron Echolls' Christmas party and not explode, at him, at the Kanes who would no doubt be there, at pretty much anyone in the building except for Dad, Logan, and possibly Cordelia, who wasn't my best friend but was still a hell of a lot nicer to be around than Jake and Celeste Kane always, and Duncan right now.

I needed to be ready to talk with Dad in fifteen minutes, and not have him more than annoyed at Lamb that he'd kept my car on a flimsy excuse.

I needed to not have made the bet with the Adversary in the first place, but I doubt even D'Hoffryn could get me out of that one.

"And he's right," I said. "It's later than I thought."

"I think I'm going to do tonight what I did a few weeks ago," she said. "The first time. And if I see her—"

In terms of the bet I suppose I should have said no; I also could have said no and said it was being a good friend and not wanting Buffy to put herself out that much for me.

But that was the only way I was going to get a good night's sleep, so I simply said, "Thank you."

"Miss Mars? Are you ready?"

I said, "Of course not. But I have no choice."

There are parts of me that would just like to curl up into a ball and cry for a week. Yes, me. Tough-as-nails Veronica Mars. And the 'vampire' part of the equation has almost nothing to do with it.

I don't have that luxury.

X X X X X

Sheila, thankfully, wandered in, along with Xander, as Giles and I were leaving. (Buffy was going to patrol and show up later. Her Mom – and remember, it was less than a week ago that we handled Ted – had headed off for a weekend to herself, with Buffy's connivance and encouragement.)

To note: Xander was happy to see me alive as well. I don't think he'd ever wanted me dead or injured, but it was still good to see.

Sheila surprised me, a little. No, she didn't hug me, but she did pull me aside for a second and ask quietly if I was okay, and who she needed to kill.

"No, I'm not okay," I said. "I was just protected from a gang of angry magic-users by one of the most dangerous beings on the planet. But if you mean will I be okay? I don't know that either. But I'll try."

"'sgood. Now, who hurt you? Because I'm sure as hell going to hurt them."

"Ask Giles who," I said. "And don't. Don't try. She killed ten witches, some of whom were a lot more powerful than you are." I almost forgot, but – "You okay to go home tonight?"

"Yeah. Mom's on an all-nighter in Santa Carolita. Thanks for letting me stay last night."

"Anytime," I said, and meant it.

"I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you," she said fiercely but quietly.

"Is that sentiment?"

"Yeah. It is. That should tell you something, Veronica."

It did. Even more than "Veronica."

X X X X X

I used the ride back to my apartment to collect myself as best as I could. This wasn't easy and I was convinced that Dad would notice something was wrong immediately and demand a full explanation I couldn't give him.

I turned and waved to Mr. Giles once I got inside. He nodded and drove off.

Now came the crucible.

"Who was that, sweetie?" Dad asked from his position at the kitchen table. (He'd clearly been going over evidence.) An absolutely neutral question, but one that could go any way depending A, my answer, and B, what he thought of it.

"That was the school librarian, Mr. Giles," I said. "He's the one who hired me to find that person sending him odd messages, remember?"

He nodded. "I remember. Why is he driving you home on a Saturday night?"

"You didn't hear?" I said.

"Veronica –" he said in his mildest "you'd-better-not-be-about-to-make-a-joke" tone.

"A couple of blocks from the Bronze, there was a big crime scene. More than one person was killed." So far, so good.

"When?" he said, alarmed but not seeming particularly suspicious.

"A couple of hours ago, I think. Lamb was there when I got there but he didn't look like he'd been there long. The Le Baron was parked maybe forty feet or so away from the scene – not inside the tape. Lamb stopped me, tried to get me to confess to the murders –"

"You'd better be kidding."

"I'm not, but don't get up, roar down to the sheriff's office, and try throwing him through the window; he was just yanking my chain because I happened to be there."

"In the middle of a crime scene?"

"Yup." Iron. I am iron. I am in control. I must be in control. I will not allow Dad to get involved in this or think I was any more involved then I'm telling him now.

Dad shook his head. "That man shouldn't be allowed to write traffic tickets."

"And yet," I said, "He's still probably the most qualified person currently on the force."

"Do I need to tell you how much that frightens me?"

"Not really," I said. "I called his bluff and in a fit of pique he told me I could leave but my car had to stay there in case there was any evidence on it." I let the littlest bit of my emotions out. Let Dad think it was irritation at the never-ending nuisance that was Don Lamb.

"So that's why you don't have the Le Baron," Dad said. "How'd Mr. Giles get involved?"

"Sheer good luck. He happened upon the scene, saw the Deputy harassing me, and got out of his car in time to make certain that Lamb knew that there was a witness to the current state of my car, just in case he got any ideas of trashing it and saying 'Gee, it must have been like that when I got here.' Once Lamb went away, he asked if I could use a ride and I told him yes."

"And that's all? You don't know anything more about the crime scene?"

"I'm not giving you every detail," I said. "But no. I didn't see anything that could help him and believe me, I'm not going to start any investigations on the subject." No point, of course.

"It didn't take you over an hour to get home."

"Well, remember Sheila? How she stayed here last night? I needed to track her down to see whether she needed to stay here again and Mr. Giles was nice enough to let me do so."

"Sounds like you took advantage of him," Dad said. Good. The last thing I wanted, now or ever, was a confrontation between Dad and Giles, because they were both one of the few people the other one couldn't intimidate, and while that might sound fun to contemplate, the safest place for any bystanders to be should they ever choose to lay into each other would be on the moon.

Of a planet in another galaxy.

Not that a discussion would necessarily lead to a confrontation; I live in the Buffyverse, not Marvel Comics. Still, something to be avoided if at all possible.

I realized that I hadn't thought about Drusilla in at least five minutes. Good. Thousands and thousands more to go.

"No, Dad, it was more like not having a choice, and Mr. Giles was happy to help. He understands Sheila's situation as well. And anyway, you'll notice Sheila's not with me. Turns out Mabel aka Grace has an all-nighter somewhere else, so she should be okay for the night."

"Good to know," Dad said.

"I thought so," I said. And right before Dad could start in on his best Columbo impression -- and it's a horrible impression, let me tell you -- "Oh. And while I was at the Bronze earlier I got clocked by a serving tray. In case you were wondering why I had this nasty gash on the back of my head." No way was I going to bluff him if he saw it, and if I tried to hide it he'd assume it was for a reason.

"Let me see that," he said, and I say down and let him examine it. "You were bleeding."

"Only a little," I said.

"More than a little. Who cleaned this?"

"Buffy," I said, and made a mental note to tell Buffy I'd fingered her for this. "Why?"

"She did a pretty good job," Dad said. "You might want to wash your hair before you go to bed tonight, though."

"I will," I said. "How are you doing?"

"I have it down to three women," Dad said. "I talked to two of them and they both tell stories of what a bastard the man is -- and one of them mentioned the camera system in the poolhouse. I'm going to go over that, tomorrow, when I do a final check of the rest of the house, and see what else I can find. I also took their pictures and I'm going to distribute then to the private security force. I don't have high hopes for that."

"Yeah," I said. "The people who work security in Sunnydale are those who couldn't make it into the police department. You still want me there?"

"Eyes only, but yes," he said. "There has to be someone there I can trust."

"I'll be there."

I went into the bathroom and got in the bathtub for a good long soak.

Eventually, I'm not sure when, I got out and went to bed.

And tried to sleep.