Shit!

Well, of course.

Just when I think he's out, he drags himself back in.

And of course, don't think I didn't hear him mention "whatever sins he may have committed in his past," which sounded very much like he wasn't planning to confess to anything anytime soon.

Should I have stopped Anyanka from granting that wish, too? Maybe. But I'd run that particular bluff about as far as I could push it.

I must have let some of my irritation show – either that or I'd said the "shit" out loud – because Buffy looked at me and said, "Okay, I know why I would say that. It sounds like he's ready to start a vigilante group or something, and that's not going to make keeping a secret identity any easier."

Not to mention, it would probably disconcert Mayor Wilkins, who really doesn't want much more attention drawn to this supposedly sleepy little town. Bad enough he's got a software tycoon and a Hollywood star living here (and I had to wonder if the Adversary was purposely keeping some of the side effects of that under wraps, the way he obviously was keeping Dad from figuring out how unsafe Sunnydale was and hauling me out of here); he certainly didn't want that star bringing even more attention here than he already was.

"And this would be a vigilante group run by someone who attracts cameras like garbage does flies," I said, turning off the radio.

Buffy frowned; she hadn't thought of that. "Yeah. That too. But why does it piss you off? I know you're probably annoyed that our Spike hunt just got a lot more complicated, but that doesn't get people swearing like they just dropped their purse off a cliff. What about this's got you so pissed?"

A good question, and one I wasn't quite ready to be completely honest in answering, for several reasons, the most important of which was that I'd sworn off going after Aaron for the moment, and that telling even Buffy, who might not have known Lilly but had a strong enough sense of justice that there was a good chance that if I told her she'd beat the hell out of Aaron the next time she saw him, even if her personal code of ethics stopped her from killing him, would be adding to the riot atmosphere rather than cooling it down.

Fortunately, I had a good backup answer ready, which had the added bonus of being true. "One, he's an ass. He lied about what happened when Spike invaded the school, he hits on any woman over the age of puberty, and he's not remotely close to being father of the year, no matter how he might come across in public."

"And two?" Buffy asked. I was just pulling the LeBaron into the Sunnydale High parking lot.

"This is from the wish," I said. "Lynn Echolls said, 'I wish you were the person your image made you out to be.' And what kind of role does Aaron Echolls usually play?" That wish could have been interpreted a half dozen different ways by a creative wish-granter. Anyanka was nothing, if not creative. I would have gone the "concerned family man" route, but apparently the vengeance demon had had other ideas.

"Action hero."

"Action hero," I echoed.

"So that means he's likely to get himself killed trying to stop a vampire attack he thinks is a mugging," Buffy said.

"Or to actually get together that vigilante group you were so worried about," I said. "That would be problematic." I had a sudden flash to the events of Gingerbread. I didn't think this would have nearly the effect that did, what with the complete lack of child-shaped demons mentally influencing everyone, but I could see vaguely similar problems popping up.

Of course, all I needed to be worried about was the immediate repercussions, not the long-term ones, because I likely wouldn't be around for the long-term.

Still ,the short-term could be bad enough. I didn't think that the Adversary had warned me about the "riot in the stands" just because it might be a slight distraction.

If I pushed the analogy, a riot in the stands would stop the game and possibly, if things got really bad, spill out onto the field and permanently disrupt things.

How that would affect the bet, I wouldn't predict, but I doubt it'd be to my benefit.

I'd stopped the car by this point and Buffy was looking at me oddly. "Problematic?"

"Something wrong with the word?"

"I know what it means, thank you," Buffy said wryly, though I hadn't been implying otherwise. "I was just thinking that's that's pretty majorly understated." Which is also an understatement. But that I can't tell her.

Buffy stretched, then got out of the car. "I'd better go tell Giles before classes get started. His knowledge of pop culture ended sometime in the 1970s, so he probably hasn't even heard about this. If we're going to change things around, we need to start thinking about it as soon as possible."

"And I'll ask Logan," I said. "He might have some idea of what his father's doing." I wasn't going to excuse myself by not counting this as treating my friends – which Logan kind of was, at this point, in this universe – as resources, but I was going to partially excuse it as being an I have no choice situation, which I really didn't.

"Good idea." By now we were both walking to class.

"Let me know what the decision is," I said.

"Aren't you in charge?" Yes, she was mocking me.

"Only of detective work, not of scheduling home invasions. That's your territory."

"I think I've just been insulted."

"Think about it some more." I saw Logan duck around a corner ahead. "There's my target. Catch up with you later."

I hustled along and caught up with Logan within a couple of minutes. Along the way, I saw Duncan, to whom I made a promise to take some photos for the paper sometime in the next couple of days, a promise I would keep if I were still around to make it.

"Ah. Veronica Mars," Logan said, stopped outside a classroom. "Why do I imagine this isn't a social call?"

"Because you have psychic powers?"

"No; I used the stone at the magic shop too, remember."

"Right. Then I have no idea. Why couldn't it just be because I want the pleasure of your company?"

He gave me a steady look. Right. Even I wouldn't have believed that one. Yesterday he'd seemed like he was dealing with the whole his-mother-leaving-his-father situation a lot better than today, but of course that was before Aaron Echolls had vowed to become Batman incarnate.

"Point," I said. "I need to know what you know about anything your father has planned with this idea of his."

He stiffened. I'd expected he would. "And why would you think Daddy dearest confides anything in me?"

"I don't, necessarily, but you're the only one he might tell who'll give me the time of day."

He made a production of looking at his watch. "7:23. And as far as the rest goes, why do you want to know?" There was an undercurrent of irritation there, but not outright hostility. I might be able to convince him if I handled this right.

So, in keeping with the baseball theme, I threw him a curve ball and told him the truth, or a fairly close approximation of it, anyway. "Because there's something I'm going to be doing in a couple of days and I need to know if there's a chance that the Aaron Echolls League of Justice is going to interrupt."

"Something?" He said.

"Something. I really can't get more detailed. But it's fairly important -" understatement -"and if I'm going to have to be dodging private foot patrols, I'd like to know about it."

"Okay," he said. "Best answer I can give you is that I don't think he's going to be able to screw up anyone's life that quickly. Except mine. But that, he has a 16-year head start on." A pause, then, "Though he is putting a lot of pressure on the mayor."

Since the last thing Richard Wilkins wanted was to have Aaron Echolls get a lot of publicity by trying this stupid stunt, this, defying logic, might actually be a good thing; Wilkins would do his best to channel Aaron's efforts away from any grand gestures and into maybe donating some money to the police department.

Whether Mayor Wilkins, who could be fairly persuasive, would be able to overcome a Wish-determined personality change was another issue entirely. Still, I had to hope.

"Pressure to do what?" I asked.

"Improve the police department. Maybe set up some civilian patrols."

"You know why the second one is a bad idea," I said.

He nodded. "Yes. I believe the local undead population would be thrilled by the concept of meals who deliver themselves. Though the first isn't a bad idea."

"Well, we had someone competent in charge . . ."

Logan laughed a bit bitterly. "So we did. And perhaps, had dear old Dad gone on this kick then, instead of right now, things would be a lot better around here." Or Keith Mars would be dead. The blending of the two universes had given Richard Wilkins exactly what he couldn't have wanted: A genuinely competent man in charge of the police department. The tumult over Lilly's death and Dad's accusal of Jake Kane was exactly the excuse he needed, but 99 years into a 100-year plan wasn't the time you wanted one of your subordinates to start making waves.

"He couldn't have gone on this kick then," I said. The hallway was filling up, but no one was interrupting or eavesdropping.

"Why not?"

"Well, I suppose in theory -" by the same theory that Gary Coleman could have been a successful NBA star, granted – "He could have, but remember what happened at the party?"

"Hard to forget," he said. "It provided the lead-up to what was truly one of the more hellish evenings of my life."

"Well, that lead-up is why your father is acting the way he is, remember?"

"No," he said with a bit of anger in his voice. "I do not. What do you mean, Mars?"

Shit. I'd assumed he'd known that Anyanka had granted that wish at the end. "We managed to stop that demon from granting a wish that would have erased you from existence – but she wasn't going to leave without granting some kind of wish, and I'd pushed bluffing her as far as I could possibly go."

"Wait," Logan said, his face darkening. "So that's why Dad's been acting half like Ward Cleaver and half like Charles Bronson? You let that – that demon wish him into it?"

I hadn't had a choice. I reiterated this to Logan.

At this point, though, he wasn't buying what I was selling. "No choice? Of course not. Of course you didn't have a choice when it came to screwing around with my life." He slammed a fist into a nearby locker, not his, and then stormed off.

I yelled after him, "And it's because of me you have that life at all."

I got no answer, but since he was well down the hall at this point, I really hadn't been anticipating one.

And, of course, by this point, people were glaring at me, including our not-particularly beloved principal. "Veronica Mars. I should have known," he said.

"I suppose you should have," I said, in no mood to put up with any of his crap but not wanting to spend half the day in the principal's office. Dad, I should note, was completely not fooled by Snyder, but still expected me to extend him the respect due his position except when he'd done something to warrant otherwise. "If you'll excuse me, Principal Snyder? I have to get to homeroom."

I could practically see him have an internal argument about whether it was worth his effort to harass me, and the decision this time was apparently "no." Thanks the gods for favors, however minuscule. "This is not in keeping with the running of an orderly school," he said as he turned to go. "You watch yourself."

"I will," I said.

"I'm certain," was his response.

Lovely. Aaron Echolls might ruin the best-laid plans of Mars and men; Logan was ready to disembowel me; and Snyder, well, he was just being himself, but that was enough.

And it wasn't even 7:30 yet.

X X X X X

Logan pointedly looked away from me in the classes we shared for the rest of the day. I noticed, but tried not to let it distract me.

Of course it did distract me; how could it not? But I tried to think about other things, and it wasn't like I didn't have a lot else to go over.

Sheila caught up with me between morning classes and dragged me into my "office," but she wasn't there to complain about being antsy; instead, she wanted to show me something. She muttered a couple of words and concentrated and her right hand began to glow.

"Cool, but I've seen it before," I said.

She grinned. "'swatch, manhunter. I got something else for you."

A couple of more words, and her left hand filled up with a ball of darkness.

I applauded lightly, and she said, "Keep watchin'."

And the darkness expanded to take up a full half of the restroom, with the light expanding to take up the other half. Not so bright that I had to close my eyes, but bright enough that I had to squint. A couple of seconds later, and they both disappeared.

I bowed to her, and her grin grew wider. "Told you 'dbeen working on the darkness spell."

"Yes, but you didn't tell me you'd managed to expand them. Well done."

"Thanks." After a second, "Want to try to the tracking spell after school?"

"Depends. Our schedule might get worked over by this stunt Aaron Echolls is pulling."

She frowned. "Heard about that. Last thing this town needs. An expert, yeah. Your dad, Slayers, maybe Dirty Harry. Him? No fucking way."

The bell rang at that point and we had to skedaddle to get to our next classes. Well, I skedaddled; Sheila just kind of moseyed.

X X X X X

Willow and I sat together at lunch, and she waved off Xander and Buffy when they came to join us. "Sorry, guys," she said, "It's just that we're working on the narrowing thing and this is kind of a working lunch."

"The narrowing thing?" Xander asked.

"Yeah, to find where Spike -" she stopped. "You haven't told him yet, have you?"

"Well, I was going to . . ."

"Tell me what?" Xander asked. "Are you guys keeping me away from the fun?"

"Come on, I'll explain it," Buffy said. "And has anyone ever told you you have a strange sense of fun?"

"Has anyone ever told me I don't?" Xander said as they walked off.

Willow had done an excellent job of further narrowing; using assorted criteria from postal deliveries, to actual recent photographs, she'd managed to get the list down to about fifty places or so. Pretty damn good.

Whatever we couldn't cross off the list by the end of lunch, I was going to take home and use my detectifyin' skills to eliminate as many more as I could. Then we'd see where we need to go from there.

X X X X X

As it turned out, we were about to cross only five more off the list, which left me 46 to go over. As lunch ended Buffy caught up with me.

"I assume Xander isn't ready to explode?"

"Xander? No. He's a little annoyed but I think he knows we weren't trying to keep him or Cordy out of the loop. Actually, I came over because I forgot to tell you something this morning."

"What?" The way my luck had been running, it was that Joyce had decided to take her on an impromptu vacation for the next two weeks.

"When Angel gets done setting our 'interrogation room" up – which should be tonight – we're not going to waste any time. We're going to catch a vampire tonight and we're probably going to want you to interrogate him tomorrow. You up for it?"

"Of course," I said. Maybe Aaron Echolls wouldn't have time to disrupt things.

And maybe, as the great man once said, the moon will fall out of the sky. "What's the address?" I asked.

"74 Breaker. Abandoned store."

Looking down the list, I saw that that was one of the ones we hadn't already ruled out, and crossed it off.

One down.

Forty-five to go.