No dreams that night – none I remembered. Not even about porcupines. I guess Lilly's final warning had come last night, and with two outs and the bases loaded in the bottom of the ninth the Adversary was more interested in umpiring than in giving me any final messages.

I woke up, slowly – it was 7:15 AM. Of course I wouldn't get to sleep late, today of all days, but there was no damn way I was going to get back to sleep now.

I tiptoed over Sheila – still there, of course, since Mabel aka Grace Kelly was still on the clock – and, after throwing on some sneakers and sweatpants, took Backup out for a morning run.

I have my priorities. No matter what happens, the dog comes first.

Backup, being a good dog, was kind enough to never take advantage of this. We walked briskly for about fifteen minutes and then headed back home.

They say dogs can tell when things are wrong. If Backup could tell, he gave no sign.

I actually would have been more worried had he been worried. He's a confident dog. If something makes him nervous, it means there's a lot to be nervous about. So maybe he had read the situation and wasn't showing anything to make me feel better.

Okay, I'm overanalyzing again. You face the culmination of a bet with a power who could probably take down the Justice League, the X-Men, and every Jedi Knight ever without breaking a sweat, you see how you handle it. I hadn't run screaming into the wilderness or gone out of my mind, so I was counting that as a victory.

Dad was up when we got back. He'd shown no signs last night of having any idea that I'd been to the Echolls estate the previous day, and this? Wouldn't have been something he would have hidden or tried to trap me on. His opinion of Aaron was more or less mine: That the man was a dangerous, sociopathic killer. His desire to keep me safe (and then figure out what the holy hell I'd been thinking, going over there on my own) would have trumped any desire to catch me in the act.

And in his position? I would have felt exactly the same way. Under 99.9% of circumstances being with Aaron Echolls, alone except for a handful of skulking servants who would probably do anything their boss paid them to do, would have been mind-blowingly stupid. Even knowing that his personality had been altered by the wish Anyanka granted, it wasn't exactly in the top fifty percent of smartest moves ever.

But it was all I could think of.

Anyway, Dad said, "You're up early."

"It's deductive abilities like that that made you the ace detective you are, Dad. Next you'll be telling me what I was doing outside."

"It has something to do with the dog, right?"

The dog looked up at him as if to say, I have a name, you know.

"Everything. As you well know."

He reached down and skritched Backup's head. Backup accepted the skritching with pleasure, but the look on his face was clearly This Isn't Over. "Anyway, while you were gone I got a call about a bail jumper who was spotted in Santa Carolita, so I'm heading up there as soon as I'm done my coffee."

"So I'm on my own today?"

"Yup. Anything on tap?"

"No business, today, anyway," I said. "We tracked down the homeless man yesterday, so today's wide open. Probably do some homework, hang out with Sheila, plot an invasion or two." Of course, I'd blown off my homework this weekend. If there was ever a weekend to blow off homework, this was it. In the unlikely event I made it to Monday, I'd bluff my way through the day.

"Just try to stay to the rear, honey," Dad said.

"I will, I promise," I said. "And you be careful with the bail jumper, okay?"

"Same promise." He kissed the top of my forehead, swigged down the remnants of his coffee, and left.

Well, that was a relief, at least. One potential source of "improvise your plan B" problems gone.

This being Sunnydale, that was one out of dozens. But I would take whatever I could get.

X X X X X

After Sheila woke up, I considered asking her to throw together a tracking spell on Dad just to see if he was trying to set me up, but I reminded myself that Sheila was my friend, not someone to be used on a whim.

She would have done it, I think, had I asked. That's not the point.

As she gulped down a bite of cereal, she said, "So. Plans today? Besides the obvious?"

"Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln?" I asked.

And there was that evil grin. "Something like that."

"A brief planning session with you, me, and Xander."

"Why's Harris coming along? You never said."

"For a reason. Xander and I know something that only two other people in Sunnydale know."

"And?"

"And distracting Whitestone isn't the only reason we're going to the Echolls estate."

She nodded. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Said you'd tell me. I can wait a couple of hours. Till then, though, you think I'm going to let you sit here and start thinkin' up ways this can go wrong, you're out of your skull, manhunter. It's unbecomin'. Now, when and where're we meetin' Harris?"

"Library. Final war council, around 11."

"And Snyder?"

"Let him try."

"Alright," Sheila said. "Gives us two hours. We'll find something to do."

X X X X X

Sunnydale on a Sunday morning? Not exactly action central. We found nothing to do but talk, which was something to do –

And enough. True to her word, any time I started drifting into thoughts of the ways today could go wrong, she yanked me back by talking about the ways things could go right.

Her optimism wasn't infectious, but it was distracting. Distracting enough to get me to the library without letting me go too far on tilt.

I've said it before, I think, but it bears repeating: If today's events were in the course of the normal run of this universe – had I been part of the Buffyverse all along instead of shoehorned in rather awkwardly – then the nervousness? Gone. Anxiety isn't a normal watchword for Veronica Mars. Overconfidence, now, that's another story.

So I was really damned glad Sheila was here.

We walked, we talked, we stopped for coffee, and we came back to my place and drove over to the high school for the "war council."

Of all people, Duncan called me as I was pulling into the Sunnydale High parking lot, wondering if I had the time next week to take a couple of pictures for the paper. He'd "apologized" by talking to me again and not once attacking my father, or me. It hadn't been what I'd hoped for, but the last few weeks? I needed as few big emotional confrontations as I could get. Duncan talking to me without trying to snap me or my father's head off was the best I could do.

I told him I'd take the photos, hung up, and we headed inside.

Xander, defying stereotype, had brought neither donuts nor Twinkies.

Okay, he brought danishes, so the basic concept still holds, but still, good to see him stretch.

It was a full house, not counting Rae, who wasn't showing up till later. "I see we're fashionably late," I said.

"'scool," Sheila said. "You know how much I like to make an entrance."

After greeting and being greeted, I said, "Mr. Giles. Is the VCR set up?"

"In my office."

"I did the setting up," Willow said.

"I wasn't claiming to have done it myself," Giles said mildly.

"Good. Xander?"

The good humor immediately left his face. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

He nodded. "Okay. I'll trust you on this." The undertone was, and you'd damn well better not be wrong.

I wouldn't be.

"What's going on?" Cordelia asked suspiciously.

"We're going into the office to watch a videotape," I said. "No, you can't come."

As Cordelia opened her mouth, Buffy said, "Chill out, Cordy. I'm not going in there either. Neither's Willow, or Giles, or Angel." Cordelia shut her mouth, sulkily. I didn't blame her for being annoyed. I still wasn't going to tell her. Neither was Xander, though it had taken me some time to convince him why we needed to tell Sheila and not Cordelia.

We shut the door behind us. I didn't bother scanning the room for bugs – I'd taken the one out of the main room of the library weeks ago, anyway, and the recorder attached to the office phone wouldn't record unless the phone was off the hook.

I put in the tape and paused it. "This is important," I said. "There is a reason what's on this tape has stayed secret. Only four people know what's on it."

Xander said, "Me, you, your father -"

"The other guy doesn't know we have the tape," I said.

"Right."

"'son this tape has you and Harris conspirin' and Harris, you're more serious than've ever seen you. 'sgotta be important. Roll the tape. I'll keep the secret."

Nothing more needed to be said. I pressed play.

Three minutes later, Sheila said, "'ve seen enough. What the holy fuck –?"

Xander said, grimly, "You know we hate Aaron Echolls. Now you know why."

"He killed Lilly Kane," Sheila said.

"Yep." I gave her a thirty-second precis of my theory why. That theory happened to be true, but I had plenty of justification, so no reason for the Adversary to declare I'd violated the terms of the bet.

"Okay. 'dja want me to kill him with magic or something?"

"No," I said firmly. "Not unless it's a last resort." Faith in the criminal justice system? Don't be ridiculous. Anyone who knew Don Lamb, and who had seen Aaron Echolls buy his way out of an open and shut murder charge, had damned little faith in the justice system.

But killing him before proving him guilty? It would make him a martyr. And death becomes martyrs.

"Then why?"

"Because we're really trying to distract him. While Rae's busy giving the folks from Whitestone a briefing on the high-risk areas of the town – you know, pretty much anywhere not within 100 feet of Buffy, my Dad or Clarence Weidman – we're going to be talking to Aaron and trying to break him down."

After a second or two of thought, Sheila said, "Like the idea, but if he's psycho enough to kill Lilly for why you thought, what makes you think he ain't gonna whack us too?" A pause, then, "Or is that why I'm there? Defense?"

Xander said, "Because he's a changed man."

"Huh?"

"The wish Lynn Echolls made," I said. "Seems to have given him a conscience now. Not enough of one to make him confess, but enough that it's bugging him."

"So we're going to try to make him confess?"

"Yes."

What's that, you say? The Adversary told me to stop concentrating on Aaron Echolls?

And so have I done. Ever since, I've been the support crew at best to my Dad's attempt to prove him guilty.

But this fell into my lap. With a Wish, true, but under the circumstances I would have had to try to distract Aaron Echolls anyway.

And what better way to distract him than by accusing him of murder?

Okay, I may be spinning things heavily in my favor. But not ridiculously so.

Sheila, meanwhile, was nodding. "I can get behind that."

"We needed you to be on board," Xander said. "Actually, we kinda needed you not to be shocked when we tell the bastard off."

"Like I said. I'll kill him if you want." She was absolutely serious.

"And once again, no," I said.

"Okay. You gonna tell Rae?"

"No. She'll be spending most of her time with the Whitestone people."

"Good. I'm in."

We spent about fifteen more minutes hashing out our own strategy. Sheila kept refusing to let me speculate on things that could go wrong, and Xander wouldn't, for some reason, so that put is in the odd position of Sheila inventing problems and Xander and I figuring out ways around them.

Once things were settled, we headed out to the main room, where Buffy and Giles were having a polite argument about tactics and strategy. Giles was arguing for stealth, while Buffy was going for the "kick the door down and startle them" angle.

Angel was simply providing expertise where asked, Cordelia was clearly bored out of her gourd, and Willow was following along with interest but not really saying anything.

"Veronica!" Buffy said. "You're smart, right?"

"Yeah, but you're planning something kind of military. I'm not exactly Douglas MacArthur. You're looking to con Spike and Drusilla, I'm your woman. Looking to invade their headquarters? You guys are the experts."

"The 'experts' are disagreeing," Cordelia said sarcastically.

"And the amateur isn't going to be able to settle the issue," I said. Then I had a thought. "One thing, though. At least with a couple of the decisions, flip a coin."

"Why would we do that?" Giles asked.

"Because you're dealing with an enemy who's capable of predicting the future. Even if she's not exactly consistent about it. I've been here for part of this, and God knows my presence screws her up there, but I don't know if I've been here enough to completely throw her off. Flip the coin."

Nodding, Angel said, "She's right. Dru could know we're coming. Or she could have just seen the weather. And none of this means she would actually tell anyone, or that they'd understand her if she did. She might think it's whimsical to tell them in French. Still, why risk it? Flip a coin."

Buffy looked at Giles. "Heads for me, tails for you?"

Giles said, "Agreed. Cordelia?"

"Why me?" Cordelia asked.

"Because you neither know nor care who's right," Giles said.

"Isn't that the truth," Cordelia said.

"Cordelia's been pushing for them to burn the depot down," Willow said.

"Well, duh! Lot less likely to kill any of you losers, and a lot more likely to kill all of them, and you could even stay in the sewers to make sure they don't get out that way."

"We've explained -"

"Yeah, yeah. I don't know why I'm here if you're not going to listen to anything I say anyway. Just give me the damn coin."

Cordelia took it, flipped it. Tails. "Happy?" she asked.

"Delighted," Giles said. "Now -"

Twenty minutes later their plan was also settled, with everyone contributing. Giles was going to get things started by shattering the blacked-out front windows and then firing crossbow bolts into the building, staying in the sunlight the entire time, and away from any sewer entrances. (Shattering the windows had been Sheila's idea.) Buffy would wait about thirty seconds, kick in a side entrance, then run around and come in through another door. Angel would wait in the sewers for a couple of minutes, taking care of anyone retreating that way, and then would come up and attack. Fire, to Cordelia's delight, would be used as a last resort, with Giles ready to call the fire department if necessary. (The bus depot was reasonably isolated.)

Buffy and Angel's scouting the previous evening had seen ten vampires, counting Spike and Dru, so they were figuring on fourteen or so, to be on the safe side. Coins were flipped a couple of times along the way, and I reiterated that Spike and Drusilla were the main targets, so that the other vampires could be ignored if absolutely necessary.

Rae came in as Cordelia and Willow were leaving. "Is everything ready?" She asked.

"Everything is," I said.

Exeunt omnes.

Showtime.