Between Seacrest and Revello
Summer in Neptune

by Pat Kelly

Copyright © 2006

pat2082@verizon.net

Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: All Buffy-related characters and such, belong to Joss Whedon and FOX. All "Veronica Mars" related characters and such, belong to Rob Thomas and Warner Bros. I make no money.
Distribution: The Mystic Muse http://mysticmuse.net
Just ask.
Feedback: Thank you.
Spoilers: Between S2 & S3 for BtVS; between S1 & S2 for VM. Bewaaaaarrre!
Author's Notes: I obviously changed dates for this to work. So, instead of being born in January 1981 like in the show, in this story, Buffy has been born in January 1988, making her 17 in June of 2005, when this begins.

Part 1    Part 2    Part 3    Part 4    Part 5    Part 6    Part 7    Part 8    Part 9    Part 10    Part 11    Part 12

At 2:52 AM, a knock came on Veronica Mars' apartment door, waking her from her dream. It involved Lilly and a swimming pool. Closure through slumber. It happened.

Would the media circus begin this early? She got out of bed to discover. It couldn't be her father; he was still in the hospital, with Wallace's mother at his side. It wouldn't be Duncan, because he went with his software mogul father to the station. There was a chance it could be Wallace, which would be sweet of him, but really, she held out hope that it was Logan. She needed to know he was all right.

But when she opened the door, it most definitely was not her troubled (ex?) boyfriend standing on the other side. She was taken aback at first. "Oh my god. Buffy?"

"Hey, Marsipan." A desperate-looking Buffy Summers greeted her old friend. "I'm sorry it's…it's really late, isn't it?" She said apologetically. "But I just heard on the radio –"

"How are you even here?" Veronica wondered, and then did something she didn't do very at all – she hugged her fellow, petite blonde. "No…more vital question: why are you? 'Cause people lucky enough to miraculously escape Neptune's stranglehold don't tend to come back and re-surrender their throats. Not of their own free will, anyway."

"Didn't used to think it was so bad." Buffy smirked, hugging her back. "But I guess things change."

After a beat, both laughed at the enormity of that understatement. Their embrace broke as the laughter grew in intensity, before slowly dying. It was a welcome release.

"Okaaay…on *that* note," The teen PI spoke after a deep breath, "let me show ya around the new, slightly more compact, digs."

"And here we are back at our lovely, kitchen/living *and* dining room combo." Veronica announced as they exited the small hallway, having just come from her room. "Exciting, no? Dad and I perfected designing on a dime…with cero ayuda from Cable, thank you very much."

She sat on the couch, Buffy following. "Upside – at least you're not homeless."

"True. But how come I'm sensing that the actual end to said upside is, 'Like me'?" Veronica filled in what she perceived to be blanks left by her friend. "I've heard being almost burned alive can completely throw your 'social ESP' out of whack though, so…"

"You're not wrong." Buffy sighed. "About the first part, I mean. I kinda ran away." Then Veronica's words registered. "Whoa, 'burned alive'?" The radio left that detail out.

"'Ran away'?" Veronica questioned back when there was another knock. "Damn." Her hand went to her friend's knee, to secure attention. "That thought? Vice grip. Because catching up suddenly became priority on my 'To Do' list."

This time? Logan Echolls was at the door.

"This could be the concussion," Logan prefaced, lying prone on the couch, head in his maybe girlfriend's lap, "however, I'm fairly certain there's major B.S. happening in your apartment right now, Veronica."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Yeah, hasn't gotten any funnier since 7^th grade, Logan."

"Or less lame." Veronica added, even if it was obvious.

This was the first time Logan appeared to notice the slayer. She'd stood out of the way for the most part, hearing him recount to Veronica how he'd knocked out Weevil on the bridge where his mother committed suicide, bringing the wrath of the PCHers down on himself. He was beaten unconscious, and when he came to, he had a bloody knife in his hand, and one of the bikers lay dead.

There'd been someone there, some bystander who called the cops. Logan tossed the knife into the water and came straight here. On the way, he heard what Buffy did – his father was apprehended and charged with the murder of Lilly Kane, as well as the attempted murder of the once sheriff and his teenage daughter.

Logan was claiming not to have killed anybody, and being in a similar situation herself, Buffy felt inclined to believe him. But when did he and Veronica…?

"Wow, you mean we're *not* in junior-high?" Logan asked with faux-surprise. "Darn, and I really thought we did the time warp again. You remember, don't you, Summers? Back when my dad hadn't slept with and killed our best friend, and you didn't leave town without even going near her funeral?" That stung as he knew it would, and Buffy hung her head. "Wait, there's more. Other bonuses include: yours truly not being framed for murder, and Veronica not getting drugged, trashed on, and one, wrong guy away from raped. Thanks to me. Golly, wouldn't that be just swell?"

Buffy's head shot up at the last event, and when Veronica met her eyes she mouthed, "He drugged you?"

Veronica looked down at the hurt, angry young man using her as a pillow. "Logan…" The latest knock of the pre-dawn hours seemed loud in the apartment. She was getting annoyed. "Geez, where's Monty Hall when you need him?"

Eight minutes later, Deputy Leo, the third man who'd dared to fall for her charms and got burned for his trouble, was putting a handcuffed Logan in the back of his Crown Vic. Veronica didn't see any of this, however. She remained in her apartment, too confused and exhausted to do anything else. She and Buffy sat in a bit of awkward silence, as neither expected such complicated developments, until Buffy had to break the tension.

"So…you obviously got over Duncan." She commented lightly, having noted the way the young, handsome deputy talked to her. "Exactly how many guys have you dated while I've been not here?"

"FYI? When someone finds out they've been cleared of murder charges…traditionally? The most common reaction falls somewhere in the ballpark of 'ecstatic.'" Veronica told a not-so-relieved Buffy, a half-an-hour later as she sat at her laptop in her bedroom. "They might even aspire to go to that magical place where poor, defenseless wallets get rodgered coming and going. You know, 'Disneyland'?'" Nothing. "C'mon, I'll settle for a simple 'Yabba Dabba Doo.' Work with me here, Dum-Dum."

Buffy looked over her shoulder at the screen, while petting Backup. "Are you sure you're reading it right?"

"Which one of us was 'Spelling Bee' champ five-years running in elementary school?" Veronica asked rhetorically, tooting her own horn. She held up her hand. "That's right, folks." She sighed in exasperation. "Buffy, trust me. I learned how to crack police report code a long time ago." She whipped out her (dad's) "Mars Investigations" business card, and passed it behind her. "These days? This is how I make my bread.

"Three witnesses – uh, 'Rupert Giles,' 'Alexander Harris,' and 'Willow Rosenberg' – all told the cops the same story. That you were nowhere near the scene at the time of the murder. Instead, the fingered guilty party was…an addict on PCP, who'd broken into Sunnydale High School with a gang. All of whom were also apparently on PCP." The detective's eyebrows arched as she continued to search.

Considering that Logan had admitted he was wanted for murder, Buffy quickly figured, what the hell, and tore the Band-Aid off. Besides, her attempt to act casual when Leo entered the apartment was seen through by everyone present. She had to come clean, or Veronica would've simply gotten her to spill.

Once it was out of the bag, Veronica went straight to work seeing if there was indeed an APB, and was prepared to help clear her name. Yet she didn't seem so gung ho to believe in Logan's innocence. The girl was certainly different. Tough. A little hardened. Like Buffy herself.

"I can't be in Sunnydale, Veronica. I…my friends, my mom…I messed up pretty bad, and I can't face them. Except now I have no legit excuse for hiding."

"Wanna talk about it?" Veronica offered gently, rousing long-atrophied skills to do so.

Buffy put that question back to her, "Do you wanna talk about your year?"

"I can honestly say…one-hundred percent, nope. Throwin' in a 'hell no' for good measure, too. At least, not until I've slept for the next forty-eight to seventy-two hours. I'm aiming for the 'seventy-two,' just so you know." Her yawn had perfect timing. "Are you staying anywhere?"

"I've been at the Camelot for the past, two days." Buffy said with a cringe.

Veronica matched it and then some. "Tell me you're joking." Buffy was not. It took every ounce of self control for her to avoid throwing up every time she walked into her motel room – there were stains. "Well, all those fine, upstanding adulterers doing the 'Walk of Shame' to their cars in about five minutes are gonna be awful disappointed when they don't have you to ogle." She smirked. "You're crashing here."

The slayer smiled. "Your dad won't mind?"

Veronica made a "pshaw" sound. "Oh, only when we lie to him about *why* you're crashing. And we've got a whole week before that has to happen." That's when Keith would be discharged. "Plenty of time to think up one that'll make him proud. If we sell it, that buys you a two, maybe three-day window. Then he calls your mom, and I'm grounded till college. Which, hey, might not be such a negative."

Buffy's smile had weakened a bit.

Veronica got out of her chair, and headed for the hall. "I'll get you a pillow and some blankets…we can pretend it's a slumber party. Unless you'd rather sleep on the couch."

"Nah," Buffy shook her head, "I miss slumber parties."

"Yeah," Veronica smiled softly, memory lane calling, "me too. Be right back."

Soon she was friends with her bed again, and Buffy was lying on the floor, Backup at her feet. Veronica tried to fall asleep, but she had to know; it was nagging at her. Wouldn't let her rest. All those files on PCP gangs and the related deaths…

"So either Sunnydale isn't saying 'No' to drugs just to spite Nancy Reagan, or –"

"It's vampires."

There were several moments of quiet breathing, and then –

"Had a feeling you were gonna say that."

She asked for it. Some stops on memory lane they weren't proud of, and each girl dozed off thinking about them.

It was sometime in the afternoon when Veronica's cell phone woke her up to the tune of Salt'N'Peppa's, "Push It." Below her, Buffy giggled groggily and soon enough uncontrollably at the music, the ringing waking her up as well. Groaning, Veronica grabbed the phone off the bedside night table, and answered it.

['Bout time you picked up, V.] Wallace Fennel said on the other end.

"Wallace? Pal'o'mine, B.F.F, brother-in-arms against a cruel and unjust world? It's because we're so tight that you're even receiving an advance warning – the next time our paths cross, I will shave you bald, then force you to eat your own 'rows. And we both know your shiny noggin can't be like Mike's, so just, keep that in mind, k?"

[…Woke you, didn't I?]

"What gave it away?" Veronica wondered, sarcastically. "Yes, the plan was three, solid days of deep, *deep* REMs – which would have been a better music choice, by the way – but I'm betting I fell well short of the mark."

[Sorry, my bad…just told your dad I'd check on you, 'cause my mom ain't lettin' the man move a muscle. Not even for a phone call to his baby girl. And hey, what's wrong with a couple of "old school" sistas layin' it down?]

Veronica slowly broke into a wide smile. "I have total respect for the beats of *all* 'old schoolers,' you should know that by now." He laughed. "But if I've told you once, I've told you a million times, it's 'Shoop' or nothing. Until you learn, you've never touching my ring tones again." She paused to exhale. "And I suppose, since it was a parental decree, that that means you're off the hook. Skin of your teeth though, Fennel, skin of your teeth."

[Got a generous heart, Veronica Mars. Anybody ever tell you that?]

"No, you're probably the first." She grinned. "Listen, can you tell my dad I'll stop by in a little while and have a late lunch/early dinner with him? I'm entertaining a guest at the moment, and we have errands to run."

[What kinda guest?] He asked, and she could practically hear his teenaged, male brain thinking thoughts of the naughty.

"Not *that* kind." She rolled her eyes. "Still, mum's the word until further notice. Remember, 'lying' isn't the same as 'withholding,' so hold strong, Black Stallion."

When she hung up, she leaned over to see Buffy still giggling, but muffling it with her pillow. Veronica threw hers at the slayer. "Shut up."

Buffy threw her duffel bag of clothes and Mr. Gordo that she took before leaving home, into the trunk of Veronica's LeBaron. It was parked in the Camelot's lot. She shut the trunk, and got in the passenger side. Veronica was already behind the wheel, turning the key.

"Cool, is that everything?" Veronica asked before she pulled away. "Because seeing the inside of that place during the harsh light of day? It's like 'Scared Straight' for hos, and I really have no desire to come back ever again."

"Yep." Buffy nodded, reaching into her pocket. "Unless you think I should give this back." Veronica glanced over at the torn, white page Buffy showed her. "Ripped it out of the phonebook at the front desk. S'how I tracked you down."

Veronica was impressed. Her hazel-eyed friend had some sleuthing ability. "You always were a better Girl Scout than I was." She smirked, reversing the car. "But I'm afraid it's too late; we're already on the move. You're just gonna hafta eat the evidence." Buffy nearly laughed, but Veronica's face was discouraging. "Seriously. Lamb's fined senior citizens for less."

Buffy balked at this tidbit. "No way can he still be sheriff."

Veronica looked both ways before turning onto the street, and tried to suppress the angry tick she developed whenever Lamb was a topic of conversation. "Don't get me started." At the red light, while impatiently tapping her fingers on the wheel, she said, "Am I the only who needs a coffee?"

"Now that you mention it, I could get us free ones." Buffy spoke offhandedly. "Legally, even."

"Ooh, free *and* legal? Tell me more of this fairytale."

"I'm sorry I doubted you, Wise One; I beg forgiveness." Veronica apologized to Buffy when they were sitting in the back corner of Java the Hut drinking lattes free of charge. In back of her mind, she wondered if Logan was out on bail yet. "The caffeine high just feels purer, don't you think? All upper and nary a trace of downer. Plus, the adrenaline rush?"

"Rushes to the max." They echoed the same thought aloud, and chuckled.

Rough-edged, kick ass, independent females they might've become, but they were also still dorks. Especially together.

"Like I was saying," Buffy continued the previous line of conversation, "you oughta get a job here. I'd put in a good word, but I only started yesterday. My pull's less than zero. And the fact that I missed my shift today probably isn't helping in that department, either." She looked ashamed. "But the manager's nice."

"Hey, if sampling the product is a perk, that's all the incentive I need." Veronica wasn't opposed to the idea one iota. "Besides, Dad would love if I got a 'joe' job like the rest of our generation, y'know?"

"Oh yeah. My mom, too."

That surprised Veronica. "She knows about…?" Buffy cast her eyes downward. "Took it as well as I did, huh?"

"More or less threw me out. Hence the 'homeless.'"

"Oh…" Veronica's heart broke for the girl across from her, whose hand she took in hers. "Offer's still on the table. I'll listen, if you want. I promise."

Buffy looked up again, staring her friend right in the eyes. "What's gonna make it any different than last time?"

"For starters? I saw those puncture marks on your neck last night, and I can't figure why you'd voluntarily stab yourself there with a barbeque fork, leaving us with a single option, as far as I can tell. Lot more open-minded than I used to be." Veronica squeezed her hand now. "And if hindsight's taught me anything? It's that you're the one person from this town, who I should've believed without question. I won't squander a second chance; I'm not stupid."

You know what? Buffy believed she wouldn't. Flashing Veronica half a smile, she pushed aside her cup and decided where to begin. "Well, the bite was from this Master vampire who drowned me, but things started going downhill when I had a boyfriend who –"

"Wait. You *drowned*?"

"Ssh!" Buffy admonished. "You're failing to listen. No squandering now."

Never again – she had a rapt and attentive audience.

"I know what you're thinking." Veronica told her father as she walked into his hospital room and he smiled at her. She held up the plastic bag in her left hand. In her right, she bore the delicacies of Roy Rogers. "You're thinking I just strolled into the gift shop and purchased that same, stuffed bear with the 'Get Well' balloon hearts in his paw every daughter gives her recovering, hero father." She sat in the chair beside his bed, put the bag on the floor, and put the food on the small, swiveling tray attached to the bed.

"No, actually, given the quality of the gene pool that spawned you – which is pretty impressive just from the Y end alone – the bar's automatically been set kinda high." Keith said, his face awash with the second oldest form of male pride.

The first oldest being something she tried not to think about in conjunction with her father. Ever.

"Done puffin' up your chest there, King of the Jungle, or do I need to lure a gazelle in here so you can maul it?" Veronica smirked. "And how come I'm imagining my birth as an event not unlike crawling out of the Black Lagoon?" Beat. "Mental scar #572? Cataloged."

Keith ignored all this. "You may go ahead and wow me now." He stated in his best, "kingly" voice.

For a second, she stared at him like maybe he'd bribed a nurse for morphine, but she continued. "All right," She reached her hand into the bag, "while I *am* aware that 'They' say you shouldn't feed people's addictions, I'm officially making your case an exception to the rule. If 'They' don't like it, 'They' can bitch to my LJ."

She pulled out a "Neptune Sharks" bobble-head of their shark mascot, Manny. He carried a bat and wore a baseball uniform. The front of which said, "YOU'LL BE…", and the back of which said, "…OFF THE DL IN NO TIME!"

"Viola!" She proclaimed proudly, giving it to him. "Do I know how to leave my laughable competition weeping shamefully in the muck or what?" She spit on those less thoughtful daughters. Spit.

"Words cannot express how I feel at this moment." Her father held the object with reverence. "Thank you, honey."

"Welcome, Pop." She got up and kissed his forehead, then snatched the control that raised and lowered his bed, before he knew what was happening. "Bed goes up…"

She pushed a button, and the top half of the bed angled, sitting Keith up so he could eat. Though she was about to push "Down" when he glared warningly. She sheepishly handed it back over, turning her attention to getting his burger. "So how are you? Don't see any third degrees, so that's a big thumbs up."

"Yeah," He assured her, taking it, "thanks to my quick-thinking cub-child from the Black Lagoon, the jacket got the worst."

Her smile was bashful and warm. "Eh, wasn't your most flattering shade, anyway." But as she grabbed her chicken nuggets, there was something she didn't understand. "Then why are they trapping you here for so long?"

"Lamb's trying to keep me from the media as long as possible." His expression read, "Why else?" He unwrapped his burger and took a bite. "Wants to put his own spin on it first…where he comes out looking like he had a hand in bringing Aaron to justice."

She coughed out, "Jackass."

"Careful…always told you you'd choke if you ate too fast, didn't I?" Keith tried to maintain a straight face, and eat some more to occupy his mouth. "Did you see Alicia and Wallace in the cafeteria?"

"Uh huh." She said, mouth full.

"And did you remember to say hello?" He followed up in that fatherly way.

Swallowing, she laid her hand on her chest, offended. "Gasp. Are you suggesting that I'm anything other than demure and courteous with my fellow homo sapiens? 'Cause that calls *your* parenting techniques into question, you know."

"Who's suggesting?" He innocently denied. "I was merely wondering whether you might've been too preoccupied to notice them, because of something you might have on your mind, that's all." Uh oh. She sensed danger approaching. "Like, for instance, maybe an old friend's come back into town recently. Or, y'know, whatever." Caught off guard, her face betrayed her instantly. "Appreciate the confirmation, sweetheart."

"Curses!" She gritted melodramatically. Laid up, and he was still ten steps ahead.

It was just after ten at night, when Veronica and Buffy entered "Mars Investigations." After they exchanged war stories at the Hut, trying to one-up the other's emotional traumas, guilt forced Buffy to remain behind and make up the early shift she'd missed (albeit sans uniform), while Veronica went to the hospital. She swung by to get Buffy fifteen minutes ago, telling her the news on the way.

"He just knew?" The slayer was anxious. She still wasn't clear on what was happening from this point.

"No, he's sat through one too many viewings of 'Minority Report,' and therefore, likes to *pretend* he's an all-knowing pre-cog. But you've gotta hand it to him – does give a surprisingly convincing first impression." Veronica replied, leading them into her dad's office.

"But weren't the pre-cogs basically prisoners who lived in like, a vat? And weren't they also real sick?" Buffy pointed out as Veronica sat behind the desk and booted the computer. Then she blanched. "Plus, Tom Cruise."

"All valid points, which I've attempted to bring to his attention countless times…with no luck whatsoever. The 'blissful ignorance' just has to run its course." Veronica double clicked on the email client. "Who am I to crush his quaint, boyish fantasies of omnipotence and power?" She put in Terrence Cook's batting average and RBI percentage from his rookie season as the password to his account, then searched through the inbox to find the first message from, JSummers@sungallery.net.

"Here's the skinny. My dad said your mom emailed him pretty soon after she saw that you left, thinking this is where you might go. She asked him to be on the lookout, let her know if you came through." She explained. "Since we sorta had a packed queue, he couldn't exactly spare his full, 20/20, eagle vision," There was another understatement, "but he tried a blind stab at the hospital. It's my fault he knows."

"It's okay, Veronica. If I'd been in your shoes, I would've given me away, too. Which I could pull off, 'cause we're the same size." Buffy tried to relieve her of any culpability, seeing the pained, "puppy dog" look on her face. "Yet I am resisting the urge to yank your hair and call you 'Martian Mars-y McFartsy.'"

Veronica's eyes narrowed, as she rose out of the chair. "Dad said there's another email she only wanted you to read," She walked out from behind the desk, "so while you do that, I'll just be getting the Taser out of my glove compartment…Barfy Dumbers!" She stuck her tongue out at her friend, before exiting and shutting the office door behind her.

"Hey, I said 'resisting'!" Buffy called after the girl.

Next, with some reluctance and trepidation, she sat at the desk.

"Hi sweetheart,

"I really hope you're seeing this, because it means Mr. Mars found you, and that you're okay. I read your letter…the one you left on your pillow? I realize I said some awful things (which I ABSOLUTELY did NOT mean for even a second), and handled things badly, and I don't blame you if you don't want to hear anything I have to say right now, but please, keep reading mine?

"I just got back in from having coffee with Mr. Giles. I asked him to meet me and tell me everything. He did. I know about who you are, what you've had to do, and why there's no one else who can. It still sounds so unbelievable, but I saw it with my own eyes, and if I keep pretending I didn't, then I'll just drive you further away. You were telling the truth, Buffy, and I'm so sorry for that fight, and for all of the times…

"I love you more than anything. I need you to know that, sweetie.

"But, and I understand it was to protect me, I wish Mr. Giles had let you tell me sooner. It makes me so angry that he had you keep secrets from your own mother, and that he's known you better in the past two years than I have, because of it. I don't know if I can forgive him for that…still, he promised he wouldn't stop until he finds you, which I'm very grateful for. So if you are in Neptune, let us know, so we can stop worrying, all right?

"Oh, and speaking of men who make me angry, Mr. Snyder called to tell me you've been expelled because of what the police think you did to that poor girl (but your friends are going to tell them who's really responsible, so you have nothing to worry about). Once he learns you didn't have a thing to do with what happened, he'll have to let you back into school.

"And if he doesn't, I'm going make sure he loses his job, and that the board hires a principal who will. How he got the job in the first place I'll never understand. I could honestly…that man…never mind.

"I don't know what else there is to say, except, we want you to come home. Willow, Xander, Cordelia, and Mr. Giles all wanted me to tell you, that their being hurt wasn't your fault. They don't want you to blame yourself. Everyone's fine. But if you need time away, go ahead and take it.

"If he hasn't already, Mr. Mars is going to offer you the chance to stay with him and Veronica for the summer. He said they'd be happy to have you, and that Veronica's really missed you. I'm not surprised – the two of you were practically joined at the hip when we lived there. It sounds like she's had a rough year, too. Don't ever think I'd run out on you like Veronica's mother did, because I never would.

"If you decide to stay, remember to thank them both, and have fun. Forget about slaying for a little while, and just be you. When you get back, we'll start over…I promise to be a better mom from now on. But please call. Can't wait to hear your voice.

"Love,

"Mom"

"Yeah, I have no idea what you just said." Buffy said to Mac later at Wallace's house. "But I have a friend back in Sunnydale who would've loved every one of those words."

"It's cool, I'm used to it." Cindy "Mac" Mackenzie replied, grinning. She never expected her to really understand about the benefits of OS X over XP Service Pack 2, but she felt the need to try and convert anyone new. "Just make sure the next computer you buy has an 'apple' logo on the box. Guaranteed? You'll thank me later."

Buffy nodded. "Don't doubt it for a second."

Veronica wanted her oldest best friend to meet her newest best friends, and since Wallace had the biggest TV *and* a satellite dish, his home got voted, "Late Night Summer Party Central." Whether he actually had a vote was up for debate, but she saw this as his way of graciously making it up to her. "It" being, the waking up of her prematurely. Mrs. Fennel was rooming with her father again tonight.

Rooming platonically. At least, that's what she and Wallace told themselves. Because the alternative was not to be entertained.

Wallace was putting some "movie trivia" DVD game on, which she was thankful about, because the TV went right to Extra. Their top story? "Did Aaron Echolls Pass 'Murder Gene' to Teenage Son?" Logan was back at his father's estate. Did she go see him tomorrow? Did she play the supportive girlfriend? She knew she owed him for jumping the gun (twice) and hurting him badly. She wanted to believe the best, yet it seemed like she always thought the worst when she had to make a choice.

And what did it say when she was more ready to believe that Buffy was a superhero who battled monsters (and occasionally had soul-losing sex with them), rather than believe Logan was framed? She had no idea. Honestly. But she did believe Buffy, trusted her…had witnessed honest-to-goodness superpowers being used.

Except, believing in her friend was different than believing in monsters; no, she wasn't being thickheaded. Seeing was believing, as they say, and she hadn't. Or, in the absence of sight, tangible evidence. She couldn't help being wired that way.

Which was maybe why she couldn't completely believe Logan. She needed proof that he didn't do it, and being Veronica Mars, that meant she would have to dig it up. "Crap." She exhaled as this realization hit.

"You all right, Veronica?" Wallace asked, setting up the game with the remote.

"What?" She hadn't realized she said anything. "Oh. Mmhmm. Except for the friggin' Tourette's. But I'm hoping it burns itself ass. Burns itself out, *out*."

Crickets.

"Uh, good luck with that." Mac slowly encouraged.

Buffy knew she had Logan on the brain, and Veronica knew Buffy knew, so it was time for Veronica to focus and get into the spirit of the evening.

"I say we three P.Y.T's team up against the Neptune High Pirates' very own baller god. He's their meal ticket, their clutch, their golden boy. Why, he's already a legend in his own time." She watched Wallace's grin get wider and wider, then, "When's Caz Truman supposed to get here again?"

His grin went into freefall. "That was cold."

"But you hafta admire the timing." Mac had to admit.

"Sorry, Wallace…you really do." Buffy shrugged, and he just shook his head, while she finally noticed Mac's T-shirt. "You like 'Dingoes'?"

"Yeah, I saw 'em at the Pit last year. They could only play like three chords, but they were pretty decent." Mac critiqued. "Why?"

"'Cause that friend I mentioned? Her boyfriend's the guitarist."

"You mean Oz? Dude, that's awesome." Mac suddenly wanted to possess this fellow computer-master's guy-attracting mojo. "You know, I think they're coming back to play over Fourth of July weekend."

"Hey, you oughta make your friends hitch with the groupies and have 'em drop by then." Veronica suggested. "My posse, meeting your posse…we could so totally have a rumble. Your guys can be the Jets."

"That's a great idea." Buffy said, wondering why she hadn't thought of it. "Except maybe the 'rumble' part. Too 'West Side Story.'"

"Duh. That's the *point*."

"Hold up." Wallace interjected, still irked. "I ain't part'a no one's posse."

"But I already bought you a shirt!" Veronica complained. "Sure, it's just white right now, but I was gonna design custom iron-ons and everything!" He was fighting his face muscles hard. "C'mon, Wallace, you know you wanna." After a few seconds, a smile broke out. "Ah, there's that ray of sunshine."

"Can we just play the game now, please?" He asked, hopefully. "I need to get down to business and whoop you all, get some of my pride back."

"Play the first couple without me? I need to make a call." After Buffy announced that, she looked around for the how.

Veronica took her cell from her back pocket. "Here, use my phone."

Smile. "Thanks."

"Anytime, Barfy."

She went to Wallace's front porch and dialed. While it was ringing, she heard Mac ask, "Isn't 'pride' a sin?"

"Not tonight." Wallace answered back.

Buffy finally heard a 'Hello,' on the other end and smiled. "Hey, Will…Yep, it's me…Really…Yeah, I called her earlier…Me too…How you feeling?…Good, I'm glad…" She sat in one of the chairs. "I'm in Neptune…No, not the god, the town. It's up the PCH…"

While news reporters of TV and paper shouted behind the gate, Veronica waited somewhat impatiently at Logan's front door. What was she doing here? The right thing, she hoped. And who should answer the door? Dick Casablancas, of course.

"Yo, Logan, your hooker's here!" He jibed with a smirk.

Veronica just smiled tightly, because some cameraman probably climbed the gate and was hiding in the bushes. "Might wanna think about getting a new shtick, Dick."

His eyes went immediately to his crotch. "What? Who said…?"

And the universe got dumber. But she went with it. "Do we ever know who starts those small balls of rumor rolling? But it's utter hearsay, really – my advice? Pay them no mind…even if they get a little blue."

Cassidy emerged from inside, pushing past his older brother. "Let's go, Dick."

"Hi, Cassidy." Veronica greeted kindly.

It was hard to believe the two were related.

"Hey, Veronica." He shyly returned.

Dick ignored his sibling and spoke again to Veronica. "Hey, is that 'Buffy' chick seriously around somewhere? 'Cause, *damn*. I remember how we had this total, 'sexual magnetism' thing going on between us. It was powerful; like the Force, y'know? But not the one those Jedi guys use for doing gay flips and crossing their rainbow swords or whatever – no, it was the 'Horny Force of Love,' baby."

"Huh." Veronica crossed her arms over her chest, and cocked her head to the side in wonderment. "She must've played it real close to the vest, then."

"I know, right? But her bringing down that shoe outta the air that time? Before it like, lodged into my brain? Complete booty code for, 'Tap. This. *Ass*.'" He continued, leaving Veronica and Cassidy thinking that perhaps a shoe in his skull would be an improvement. "I could tell she was high maintenance though, that's why I passed her up. Decided to just step aside and let you take her; Duncan was the beard, got the message. Bet you two're already back in that familiar rhythm, aren't ya?"

The petite, blonde teen was dumbstruck. Cassidy once again urged his brother to get a move on, as Dick was the one who insisted on seeing the volleyball tournament on the beach. The women's volleyball tournament on the beach. Dick, however, wasn't quite finished.

"Relax, Beav. Not only do I applaud their lifestyle choice, I wholeheartedly encourage it." He misinterpreted Veronica's silence as paralyzing fear because she'd been outted. "And personally? I always thought summers on Mars would be *hot*.*

It took Veronica a good minute after the brothers Casablancas were on their merry, to snap out of it and walk into the Echolls' household.

"I looked everywhere outside, and you know what I didn't see?" A recovered Veronica rhetorically asked Logan when she found him vedging in front of the TV, whose multi-Picture-In-Picture displayed the 24-hour surveillance of his abode. "A bear in a beanie riding a unicycle. Not *one*." She flopped down next to him on the couch, sighing. "Circuses today…what happened to standards? Barnum and Bailey have to be turning over in their graves."

"I'm sorry…I missed the part where I invited you into my house." He said rather standoffishly.

"Yeah, but then the door was there, all wide open. Isn't my fault you forgot to tell your guest monkeys to close it when leaving." She retorted. "Also? You didn't *not* invite me in…an apathetic, non-gesture, which throughout the world, has continually come to mean, 'Please enter my fridge and raid it.' Yeah, some small nuances get lost in the translation, but regardless, I believe the point's been made."

"Man, it must be exhausting loving yourself so constantly." He snarkily responded, grabbing the seven-iron that was laid across his coffee table prior to leaving the couch with it.

"Only if I do it right." She quipped, turning around to see him taking practice swings.

"How many would you guess I could ace from up here? Rough estimate." Logan wondered, each swing getting stronger than the one before it. "Been working on my fade shot, and I really wanna concuss the douchebag from 'E! News.'"

Veronica got up now, and clicked off the television. "That's probably not the best goal to strive for right now."

"But think of the ratings spike that's just waiting in the wings." He tried to tell her. "They'll be able to milk the footage for weeks, and this homicidal, racist, Tinsel Town wild child, gets to have a small moment of immense, personal satisfaction." Veronica frowned. "So…where's your bitch? Get loose?"

She bit the inside of her cheek. "Working."

"Which corner?"

"At the Hut." She enlightened him. "And just to clue you in, we're equal opportunity bitches; we take turns."

"Just assumed, you know, now that she's decided to grace our little cesspool with her presence again, you'd finally do it." Veronica's jaw dropped – not him, too. Had there been undertones she was unaware of? "Go to Siam, have yourselves sewn together, maybe join a freakshow…hurry, though. Her mind could change on a dime."

Oh.

"How's that saying go? 'Assuming makes an ass outta you'?" Her dry wit soon gave way to a more serious tone. "Buffy didn't leave because she suddenly hated us, Logan, or why ever you think she did. She was expelled –"

"That's crap. I lost count of the number of expulsions Weevil's racked up, and yet, whaddaya know? He still manages to find his way back into those hallowed halls every year, sparkling with 'Pirate Pride.'"

"*And* her mom wanted to move," Veronica pressed on, getting quieter, "and you don't know the whole story."

"So what if I don't?" Logan said angrily, nearly planting the club into the wall. "In fact, I could give a rat's ass. All 'whole stories' are good for, is helping crappy situations that kind of inherently suck anyway – as the adjective, 'crappy,' implies – to plummet to fun, *new* levels of suck. One such story features my dad in a starring role. Can hear all about him…during the twelve hours a day they're bored with me." He smiled grimly. "Father and son, competing for airtime. Who knew I'd be following in the old man's tracks? I really hope the next step is taking Phoebe Cates from behind in the bathroom at the Oscars."

Veronica was prepared to reverse at a moment's notice. "My dad and I are the ones who put together that whole story, not Buffy. We're who you should be mad at."

"At least you stayed." Were there tears in his eyes?

Halfway through a swing, he stopped. As the club began to lower, she began to move closer. "You're not really mad at her, are you?" She reached her hand out to touch his arm as it clicked for her. "You're mad at Lilly." He didn't want to be, she was dead and it wasn't right, but he was. "Because she didn't stay."

The club dropped to the floor, and for the second time, Logan Echolls was breaking down in her arms. "If she'd never had sex with that son of a bitch…" That was as far as he got, but the rest was going to be something like, "She would've kept us all together, and my life wouldn't be this shitty mess."

When the crying stopped, he asked, "Why are you here, Veronica?"

Hmm. Good question. "Because I know," More like hope, "that if we can find out the truth about what happened on the bridge, maybe track down that witness who called 911, you'll be –"

"I don't need a detective," He interrupted her, and not just because his lawyers were going to crush the bikers even without the whole story, "I need you."

His words hung in the air for what seemed like an eternity, until Veronica, almost inaudibly said, "Okay."

Now was this because she owed him, because she couldn't say no to a broken, weeping boy who needed someone to care, or because she sincerely wanted this? Veronica chose not to dwell.

Two weeks and change after Buffy had suggested to Veronica that she get a job at "Java the Hut," she was on her second day. Seeing as how Lilly's murder was solved and Logan didn't want her help, she bit the bullet, and was more than ready to join America's bottom dollar workforce, thereby hanging up her PI hat. Much to her father's delight, obviously.

She'd left the detecting to Nancy Drew, and adopted "normal" as her watchword. Well, as normal as possible when you had a boyfriend eighty-seven percent of the country believed committed murder, and when you had a vampire slayer for a bosom buddy. A term which was not a euphemism. Besides, she'd committed to the aforementioned boyfriend.

Life had certainly calmed. Her father was back at work, and she and Buffy were joint, willing slaves to the service industry – though they drew the line at a cat-o'-nine-tails. She liked having Buffy at the house after the slavery ended for the day, too. While she cherished the company of Backup and her father, having the other girl there was…different. In a way that was just…different.

Which shed light on nothing, but hey. She was on the clock, anyhow. No time for dallying and dillying with her thoughts.

Krista, Java the Hut's manager (who was indeed nice), had been on the phone all morning dealing with some supply crisis, so Veronica was supposed to turn to the next, senior person at the Hut today, if she had any questions. That person was "Anne." A.K.A. Buffy.

"Soon you are to be explaining for why 'between name' is known here, yes?" Veronica asked in a mock Russian accent, once she gave a customer his change and receipt at the register. "Because Fearless Leader's patience shrinks tiny by moment, dahlink."

"What do you say we just make Moose and Squirrel go boom? Then maybe he care no more, eh, Natasha?" Buffy did her best to play her role.

"I wouldn't count on it, Boris." Veronica's accent was gone. "Seriously, explain? Because I seem to recall years of groundings. Groundings usually beginning with a certain moniker-pair, that slowly drove you to hate 'Anne.' Passionately."

"But she was useful when 'Buffy' wanted to disappear." The slayer reminded, wiping off the counter as Veronica came next to her.

"For the running away! Of course! How could I forget?" Veronica smacked her forehead. "Funny how quick disappearing into a new life became your average, run of the mill, 'summer vacation' though, isn't it?" She stage whispered, "Eensy tip? Next time, try dropping off the face of the earth to a place your mother *wouldn't* instantly think to check. Like Kazakhstan."

"Maybe I only wanted to see if she'd bother, and try clearing my head a little." Buffy put forth, and if that was the case, she was quite happy with the results. "And maybe I wanted to re-bond with you…which, so far? I'm glad I'm doing. So far."

Veronica knew Buffy meant that, despite trying to undercut the sentiment. So she did the same, slugging her on shoulder good-naturedly. "Back at ya, 'Anne.'" Then she winked, and went to play hostess for the new arrivals.

And to repeatedly say, "How is everything?" until it lost all meaning.

When she returned, Buffy was waiting for a new pot of coffee. "Where is the point in having a kitschy name if no one's gonna ask me if I speak Huttese? Where, I ask you?" She was very disappointed. "Tell me I haven't already missed the 'fanboy' crowd this week."

"Wait till Friday night."

"Sci-Fi Channel?" Veronica asked looking at the Hut's TV, and received a nod and an eye roll when her gaze returned to Buffy. "Ooh, 'Who's the hottest Cylon?' debates! Don't you just love those?"

"You've seen 'Battlestar Galactica'?"

"Nope, not a frame. Just a crapload of online polls asking, 'Who's the hottest cylon?' Still, knowing a smidge of 'Geek' does often come in handy."

Chuckle. "All I care about, is that's the night the tips get good." Buffy replied, knowing the reason for that was her feminine shape.

Veronica smirked as the coffee maker dinged. "And if you knew what planet the Goa'uld came from, they'd get *great*. Only gotta flash some cred, and," She snapped her fingers, "putty. In hand. I'm just sayin'."

"So you've had previous experience? With flashing?" Buffy bemusedly questioned, grabbing the pot and moving to do her rounds. "Other than as a dare, I mean."

"A girl has to be prepared to make sacrifices." Veronica said enigmatically to Buffy's back as the girl went to do refills. But when Buffy stiffened, a memory triggered, she berated herself. "Brilliant, Veronica. Way to dig right in there and just tear open that emotional wound." She hurried over to prevent the dropping of a scalding hot beverage. "Here, I got it." She freed the pot from Buffy's grip, and saw that the manager was back. "Krista, can we, uh –?"

Taking the coffee from Veronica, Krista gave the okay immediately. She'd seen Buffy's face. Sigh…just when the head-fog was starting to lift.

They entered the storage room, and Veronica led her to the bench that sat to the side of heavy, metal door that opened to the alley and dumpster. "I wanna kick my own ass, which means I wouldn't blame you if –"

"I'm fine; it's fine." Buffy uttered on autopilot, and knew how false it sounded. There was a beat, and then an exhale, "Well, I should be; have to get over it, don't I? Saved the world, greater good, can't go back…"

"…plus other 'blah, blah, blah.' Doesn't matter." Veronica said, sitting beside her on the bench, and draping an arm her shoulders. "What have we repeatedly learned, huh? Trying to set a timetable for getting over a *traditional* breakup becomes pointless before it's even off the ground." She paused a moment. "So, given this proven absolute, color me pretty confident as I hypothesize." She went on, unable to stop it from sounding like a college lecture. "Trying to timetable after sending a boyfriend to a non-metaphorical hell? *Has to* increase the pointlessness exponentially." She would've subjected her hypothesis to the scientific method, if it were possible. "If there's any lovelorn female who oughta be allowed Infinity to wallow – while listening to 'The Virgin Suicides,' naturally – it's you."

Buffy smiled gratefully, resting her head on Veronica's shoulder. "'Cept I'm already tired of wallowing. I don't wanna keep remembering the look on his face, or kissing him just before…" She sniffed, fighting off her natural inclination to succumb to tears. "I'd like to stop now, please."

Not even fleeing to her childhood home could erase those painful, final seconds with a re-ensouled Angel. But at least she had Veronica to help take the edge off. Which counted for a lot, even when, like now, they both were simply mulling over their complicated relationships in comfortable silence. As much as she enjoyed this more mature, quick-witted Veronica Mars who turned her defeats into fuel to move forward, the quiet one who just knew how to be there, was equally enjoyable.

There'd been hundreds of moments just like this through their lives, but one in particular surfaced all the sudden. Eighth grade Christmas break had just started. She'd been thirteen (soon to be fourteen; Veronica had been for four months), and they were sitting down by the waves on the beach – because winter didn't happen in California – counting hermit crab tracks in the sand. Until –

It felt like a long time before she'd responded to that, but she had wanted to gag.

It wasn't that Buffy ever hated Lilly; she just hated how Veronica worshipped her. And it was at that moment when Buffy had been on the verge of pinpointing a feeling that had steadily grown over the years. She remembered Veronica grabbing her hand, then.

But Jason lasted about a week. All her "boyfriends" up until the destiny kicked in lasted about a week. Then no one wanted to go near her, except Veronica.

"You having lunch with Logan today?" Buffy questioned once she came back to the present.

Despite the murder charge, Clemmons couldn't deny him the right to summer school. Yet. Veronica went to the campus daily, on her break, to eat with him. Being the girlfriend.

"That's the routine." Veronica stated, then was going to volley the necessary, "Why," but instead it came out as, "Do you not want me to?"

"Why wouldn't I want you to?" Buffy picked her head up and looked semi-quizzically at her friend.

"Uh, because you don't think I'm happy with him?" Veronica saw that plainly over the last two weeks. "Might not be actively detecting anymore, Buffy, but a girl never forgets how."

Buffy didn't deny Veronica's observation of her observation. "*Are* you happy with him? In between the 'making out,' that is – when the hormones sleep."

"I'm guessing this isn't the best time to ask if it's okay to invite Logan along when your friends visit." Veronica was being evasive, and Buffy glared, so she sighed and got to it. "Not…completely, no. But who's *ever* completely happy? Honestly."

"The dwarf." Buffy quipped.

"Ha." Never had a "ha" drowned in so much sarcasm. "We should get back out there." Veronica subconsciously brushed her fingers over Buffy's as they left the bench. "I know it appears like I'm avoiding –"

That feeling was back again…

"No, you're right. We should."

…but it would have to wait.

"And how're my little 'minimum wagerers' doing this evening?" Keith asked as he put on his jacket, and was looking ready to leave as they arrived.

"Hmm…a sixty-six-year-old geriatric in a wheelchair kept calling me 'sugar lips,' and then gave my caboose a friendly 'hello' when it was time for his check." Veronica offered in answer, collapsing in the zebra striped chair. "Think he was a veteran." If the stickers on his wheelchair weren't just decoration. "Who's still making America proud." She added, chipper.

Buffy collapsed on the sofa. "I wanted to break his catheter."

"Which ultimately would've been no fun for anyone."

"Did your elderly Casanova at least tip well?" Her father queried.

"Forty-percent." Veronica said with a smile, even if he did only have a piece of $3.00 cake. "Can you imagine if I'd let him do some honking?" She gestured to her chest.

Keith addressed Buffy, speaking as the cop he was at heart. "If that man touches her again? Report him. You also have my permission to break his hip; I don't care how patriotic and enfeebled he is."

"Will do, Mr. M." Buffy promised happily.

"I'm sure I don't need to tell you this, but, if it comes to that? Just don't forget how strong you are." He amended, watching her and his daughter exchange disbelieving looks. He could've been referring to the age difference, but he wasn't, and his expression said so. "I have a couple friends in the Sunnydale P.D. who like to talk about things they shouldn't. And your name's come up every once in a while."

"You knew?" The girls asked simultaneously.

"About Buffy? Only within the last year." He revealed. "But I've heard stories about Sunnydale since I was a rookie. And Vinnie, who'll take anything, hasn't touched a case even *remotely* connected to that town ever since the philandering husband he followed there one time, got eaten by the prostitute he was sleeping with." He grabbed his keys off the counter. "I'm just sorry I wasn't in a better position to help you a couple years ago; I held you when you were six weeks old – I knew you weren't a bad kid."

They were rather stunned, but Buffy managed to say, "Thank you."

"Hold it," Veronica said, finally realizing he was going out the door, "where ya off to? Bail jumper? Club-hopping? Power-walk?"

"Draft." He was going to have a beer?

"What kind? Yingling? Heineken? Miller Genuine? Samuel Adams? Coors? Foster's? Bud?" She rattled off.

"Wise?" Buffy jumped in.

"Er?" Veronica completed, nodding in respect at her friend for picking that up. "And precisely how drunk will you be getting?"

"Should I be frightened that my underage daughter knows the names of all those alcoholic beverages so readily?" He wondered.

"I'd be more frightened by the amount of TV she absorbs." The slayer advised him.

He smiled when his daughter held up her fist. "If you must know, the second draft of the book is finished, and the guy from the Tribune wants me to go look it over." He kissed the tops of both girls' heads. "I'll try not to be too late, Backup's been fed, and I bought stuff for homemade pizza. Dough's in the fridge…Adios."

"The second draft of the book you wanted absolutely no part in?" Veronica had to yell as he vanished, but she knew they needed the money.

Then she and Buffy did a double-take. "Did he say –?" Buffy began.

"– dough?" Veronica finished. Her father needed to stop watching the DIY Network.

But shrugging at one another, they assumed there had to be instructions, so how hard could it be?

Well, see, here's the thing. There were some problems with the flattening and the flour application and the flipping and the tossing…basically, the whole process was flawed. Skilled they were at many things, but 'culinary prowess' was sadly not among the many. There was white and red everywhere. However, at least they'd had the good sense to wear aprons over their work uniforms.

It was like a bad sitcom scene, with Backup just licking away at this rare opportunity for people food. Surveying the damage, they were frustrated, exhausted, and starving. They'd thought about calling Mac and begging her to come over and help – her family always did "homemade things" together – but it was "MythBusters Wednesday," and you didn't interrupt Mac while she was nerd-crushing on Jamie Hyneman and his moustache.

Maybe Veronica's dad was right now getting a sadistic thrill out of imagining their predicament. They wanted to scream, but when they looked at one another, the absurd humor of the whole mess came crashing down, and they lost it, falling into one another for mutual support. It must've gone on for five minutes or more; each time they thought they'd laughed their last, it began anew.

When their stomachs hurt too much to continue and their eyes were too wet to see, the feeling was there. As was the proximity and that moment of forgetting sauce and flour-stained cheeks and noses, when there was the wanting to kiss. Where it came from they knew not, but they did know there was no Angel, no Logan, and that they kept waiting for score to a John Hughes movie to swell in the background.

When their lips met, it was good; when their mouths opened, it was better; and when it was just getting great, they caught up to what their mouths were doing, and everything ceased. Except the feeling. This time, it wouldn't go away.

What does one say when such an unexpected thing occurs?

"Um, you know, Corny delivers for 'Cho's Pizza.' We could call and, um, you know, order." Veronica said in a daze. "A pizza."

"Ordering pizza is…an idea of the good." Buffy's mastery of the English language was no better.

"Then I'll just…get the phone…number."

"I'll help dial."

You know what the strangest part of kissing, and enjoying kissing Buffy Summers was for Veronica Mars? Having to acknowledge, even if only to herself, that Dick Casablancas had in this instance, been astute. That was terrifying.

Buffy "went home sick" from her shift today. It was one-hundred percent bull-honkey, but no one at the Hut raised any objections, so she split before her lie could be exposed. Veronica would've known, but Veronica had chosen just not to come in at all, as it was Saturday, and she was now a plain, irresponsible teenager enjoying the breezy days of summer, who refused to be confined by the Man's work-a-day world. Also a lie. It all had to do with avoidance – nothing more, nothing less.

They got through Thursday and Friday, but had reached the point where the fact that they'd crossed into new territory, so to speak, was getting harder to mutually ignore. Their comfort level, while not shattered, was shaky; they weren't sure how to act. And that sucked. But it was an inevitable consequence, Buffy kept reminding herself as she walked along the surf on Dog Beach, of kissing a person with whom you've had a friendship since your mothers trapped you in a playpen together.

When Lianne Mars and Joyce Summers met as college roommates at Hearst freshman year, Buffy bet they never thought back then that they'd be able to even stand each other, let alone that they'd have daughters who would become as tight-knit as she and Veronica were. Or had been. Or were again. Or weren't because of one, small, literal slip of the tongue. Honestly, she didn't know what their situation was now, or who kissed who first. Did it mean anything? Should it?

Gah. Things could change so fast. Suddenly, being in Neptune wasn't so familiar anymore.

"Ho! Do my eyes deceive me?" Out of the blue, Eli Navarro's voice was coming from somewhere. "'Cause if they are, I promise to say a couple Hail Marys for breaking your stride. But if I'm seeing who I think I am? Then what the *hell* could she possibly be hanging around here for?"

Strike that – some things still were familiar. Some people, too.

"Oh, hey, Weevil." Buffy had been watching her steps, so she hadn't seen Weevil and the young, five-year-old girl with him, building a sandcastle away from the water.

The leader of the PCH biker gang was without them; given his current company, she figured it was a family outing. She watched as he told the girl something (part of it was probably apologizing for cursing), and then the girl nodded and ran to a woman sunbathing on a beach towel.

He came over now. "'Oh, hey'?" He parroted Buffy's distracted tone. "Naw. Hafta know that's not gonna cut it, Hazel Eyes." Spreading his arms out, he went to go hug her in greeting. "Don't try to fight it, girl…just let Weevil do his thing, make it easy on yourself."

She smirked and let him envelop her in a loose but warm hug, which she returned. "Still the most charming bad ass in Neptune, huh?"

Ending their hug he said, smirking back at her, "All got our crosses to bear."

"Ain't that the truth." She agreed after a slow breath. "So who was the little girl?"

"My niece. Ophelia. Her mother's kind of between employers right now, so we thought we'd use her time off to take the kid here for the day, you know." He explained. "Can't get enough of her 'Uncle Eli.'"

"I can see why – he builds a mean castle."

"Oughta see my drawbridge." He added suggestively, gathering up broken seashells in the sand at his feet. "So not only does she return, but she heads straight for the barrio, too." He chucked a shell into the ocean. "I'd be careful if I were you. Picked up some new members while you've been gone…who don't know the history, and don't know you got a pass." And he chucked another. "They spot a white girl on our turf, that's gonna cause a problem."

"When I beat them down for trying to gang-grope me." Buffy filled in the blank.

"And another headache like *that*? I don't need. Not when there're so many other pressing concerns that require my attention." His next throw had a bit more "oomph" to it.

"You really think he did it?" Buffy asked, knowing he was referring to Logan and the upcoming trial. The look he gave her said quite clearly that he wasn't willing to talk on that subject. He just pointed to the fading bruise on his head, and she held her hands up in peace. "Well, I just came here to, um, have some quiet, reflecting-time, that's all."

He handed her a couple shells. "How long you been back?"

"About three weeks; needed a break from my life. I've been staying with Veronica." She said, taking her turn and throwing a shell into the sea. "Reconnecting and…uh, basically just reconnecting." There was a loaded word.

"This break have something to do with a bloodsucker, by any chance?"

The next shell got launched with full, super-force behind it. They both lost it in the sun. "Something, yeah."

Yes, Weevil knew. She was the first, tiny, blonde girl – who he wasn't getting to know intimately on the side – that he ever gave the time of day to, as a matter of fact. Not long after she discovered her new talents, she used them, almost instinctually, to get a couple '09er jocks away from one of Weevil's female cousins. It freaked her out, but she earned his gratitude and respect, and the respect of his gang.

So he took her at her word when she told him why she needed to get to L.A., night after night, and was able to turn to him for transportation. Or, if he was otherwise occupied with Lilly Kane, then it was usually Chardo. To start, anyway. A few times, she couldn't avoid them getting involved. The PCHers were surprisingly religious; when the rest heard the stories, they started making the drive as a whole, and when they had an opportunity to take down a vampire, they didn't waste it.

Which meant, when she went up against the vampire who murdered her first watcher, and needed to cook him and his cronies inside that gym, she had backup to help light the fire. Some people died, a lot got hurt, but for those who survived, it was probably the first time they felt like they'd done something truly good. Going through a battle like that tied people together for the rest of their lives…race, gender and wealth be damned.

"Hope you gave 'the fang' hell." Weevil said, his hand absently tracing his thigh over his jeans, where they both knew the scar was from that night.

"Hit the nail on the head, actually." She admitted with a twinge of sadness. "I lost my boyfriend because of it." That was as much truth as he was getting.

"Sorry…" He offered, while holding onto his masculine exterior. "Guy treat you right?"

"Better than I treated him." She said, regretfully blaming herself again. "I guess I'm waiting for…I don't know what I'm waiting for. Things to be okay again? Me to feel okay?"

"And you thought quality time with Veronica Mars would be the cure."

She eyed him cautiously. "Was that an innuendo? I think it was; I'm getting a definite 'innuendo' vibe. Do you know we kissed? How do you know we kissed?" She covered her mouth several words too late. She was easily taken by paranoia.

While he eyed her like she'd gone loco. "Figured that was old news. You sayin' you weren't before?"

"No!" Buffy was thrown by this. "Who else thought –?"

"Lilly, for one." He saw her about to disbelieve, but kept going. "Oh yeah. Talked me to death about the two'a you. Said you 'shared the same brain,' and that you'd both give 'The Look' every time the other one was turned. Dunno what that meant, but it really ticked her off."

"But there were male people; we liked male people. How could we give off a –?"

"Y'know, there's actually a term for that." He interrupted, and then a light-bulb lit. "Ah…so now that you caught up to the rest of us, you're worried about giving your boy his due." Grinning, he was proud of himself. "I have you figured, Hazel Eyes."

"Congratulations. Unfortunately, I'm fresh out of medals." She told him sarcastically.

Of course it was Angel. If she was kissing Veronica, then she wasn't grieving. And if she wasn't grieving, she wasn't punishing herself, either; as far as she was concerned, regardless of whether or not she was tired of wallowing already, she had much more to put herself through before it would be right to kiss *anyone* else.

Besides, what drove the "Veronica Kiss?" Her wanting to, her not wanting to be lonely, or her wanting to transfer her feelings for Angel to Veronica, because she *was* grieving, and more often than not, bottling it up? Every option except the first was unfair to Veronica, and a surefire way to ruin a lifelong friendship.

"Unca Eli! Take me in the water!" Ophelia yelled, running towards them.

Buffy smiled. "Go ahead, Weevil. I'll be fine. Say 'hi' to your family for me."

"Look, if he was good to you, then the guy'd want you happy and whatever, right?" He asked, pulling off his tank top, then his shoes and socks. His jeans stayed on. After her brow was done rising, she had to nod that that sounded plausible. "Doesn't add up sometimes, I know – you think I ever, in a million years, *wanted* to fall for Lilly Kane hard as I did? But you feel what you feel." He put his fist up, and she knocked it. "Don't be a stranger, hear?"

"I won't." She promised, as he gathered up his niece onto his shoulders.

"And by the way, I never said –"

"Sexist, woman-using bad ass. Gotcha." She winked.

Then it was right back to reflecting. Albeit with some more food for thought.

What was Veronica doing? Much the same as her friend, except stationary and indoors. She was in her room, lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling. At a time like this, she'd usually lose herself in a case, but she wasn't doing that anymore, so this "laying and staring" thing was the best she could come up with.

Naturally, Lilly wound up beside her. "Just because we're in bed together, that doesn't mean you can just go ahead French me without asking, okay?"

"I thought you were…" Veronica didn't look away from the ceiling.

"At peace?" Lilly finished her living friend's sentence. "Yeah, well, nobody bothers to mention it? But peace is boring. That, and I *had* to get away from Cobain – he still thinks he's alive, ya know. I mean, seriously…he's been worm food for what, like eleven years? And it was suicide! Get a clue."

"So you came all the way from the afterlife just to tease me?" Veronica asked grumpily.

"No!" Lilly objected vehemently. "Geez, you solve a girl's murder and all the sudden it stops being, 'Oh, poor Lilly, words can't describe how much I miss you,' and then the bitchy attitude starts. Does that come with the G.L.A.A.D card or something?"

Veronica turned her head and glared. "What was that?"

"Uh, a question?" Lilly responded, professing ignorance. "Hey, I was saving myself for college; it's not my fault I never got the chance to join." When her friend frowned, she poked her on the head. "Relax, I'm over it. I got killed by Aaron Echolls! Do you know what that means? I'm gonna be famous forever!"

Veronica smirked. "Yes, because *that's* why I spent a whole year of my life finding out who really killed you." Of course Lilly would think like that. "Why're you here?"

"To apologize…and help you out." Lilly answered, and then Veronica sat herself up against the wall of her room looking puzzled. Lilly sat up, too. "I kept trying to bring you into the wild, no strings, twenty-four-hour music video that was my life. I loved it, obviously, but even as 'La Femme Nikita' as you are now, that's not your thing." She informed the blonde, knowingly. "And you can pretend to be as hardboiled as you want, Veronica Mars, but that doesn't change the fact that your heart's in everything you do. Even in the total lust fest you're having with *my* boyfriend."

Veronica averted her eyes. "It just sort of, uh, happened –"

"Didn't anybody ever tell you to respect the dead? 'Cause when they talk, you're supposed to shut up and be all like, reverent." Lilly cut her off, staring her down until Veronica made a zipper motion over her lips. "K, then." She sighed like she felt very put out. "Buffy's on the exact same wavelength, and I could've seen you two clicking from Napa. But since she refused to realize how awesome I was and follow, especially in high school, I didn't encourage 'young love' like I should have."

"You knew?" Veronica was wide-eyed.

"The *janitor* knew."

"Okay, ew."

Lilly laughed, and she continued when she was done. "So…I'm sorry." Her hand went to Veronica's knee. "Now this part? Easy process of elimination." She began counting off on her fingers. "My brother, even though I love him because I'm obligated, wouldn't work. There was a time when you were the perfect couple, but that's long past. You're on a different level, while he's the same-old Donut. Besides, you can't expect lightning to strike twice."

"Plus he's dating Meg." Veronica pointed out. "At least, I think he still is."

"Manning?" Lilly's face twisted in horror. "God, he *needs* to move on from the 'Ken and Barbie' fantasy. Like, soon." She shuddered. "Anyway…where was I going? Oh, right – Logan." Pause. "Remember how I said your heart was in it? Well, his is in it more; you hafta see that. He's clinging to you like a life preserver, Veronica; both swimming in dangerous waters if you ask me." She said, seriously. "*And* he's got serious anger problems to work through. Believe me, I saw 'em first."

Veronica knew this, but she still didn't like it. "But I don't wanna hurt him; he doesn't have anybody anymore, Lilly. And Dick doesn't count."

Lilly nodded sadly, understanding that. "Still, better get prepared – 'cause ya may have to."

After taking a moment to accept that, Veronica asked, "Lemme guess – Buffy's next?"

"Bingo. She went and got herself just damaged enough to be interesting. Like you." Lilly stated. "I know you like her, you know you like her, so quit being a dumb ass and trying to figure out why. You live in your head way too much; do yourself a favor, and go with it for once." She smiled, taking that one, last shot. "Feel what you feel. Don't have to act on it right away, but at least acknowledge the truth." Then she looked at Veronica's clock – it was blinking "12:00 A.M." "Oops, gotta go."

Veronica, still lying on her bed, woke up from her dream.

Buffy was standing in Veronica's doorway. "Hey."

Veronica sat up, for real this time, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed and turning to her friend. "Hey."

If there was a clock with minute and hour hands in Veronica's bedroom, you'd be able to hear ticking pretty loud. Veronica patted her hands on her knees, looking around the room and whistling Harmonica's theme from "Once Upon a Time in the West." It seemed appropriate given that they were both being inscrutable like Charles Bronson, and there was a severe lack of talk.

Buffy, for her part, was at least moving around the room keeping the blood flowing. She instigated this not-conversation without exactly knowing what she was going to say. Not one of her smarter moves, but she knew if she put it off, it would've just kept getting put off. Now she had no choice but to eventually say something constructive, or else walk out and look like a jerk.

What was that sitting at the rear of Veronica's bed?

"Isn't this how Mary Todd Lincoln went insane?" Veronica wondered as Buffy came over and grabbed what turned out to be a photo album.

"Her husband being assassinated right next to her on a balcony might've been a factor, too. Cut the woman some slack…" Buffy said in a preoccupied fashion, sitting on the bed's edge and opening up the album.

"Oh, it was just a tiny shot in the head, yeesh; over in a New York minute. Wasn't like he bled to death or anything…grow a spine, lady." Veronica declared, and when she went off like this, it meant she didn't know what to say, either.

Buffy felt less pressured. "I think New York minutes were slower in those days."

Veronica didn't let that deter her. "And I think you've got circumstantial buptkus for proof, so don't even try. Why do you always need to poke holes in my historical diatribes? Is this fun for you?"

"It's not 'need.' Or 'want,' even. But somebody eventually *has* to – why not me?" The slayer shrugged, more focused on the photos in the album she rested on her lap. "You finished?"

"I guess." Veronica moped. "Now that *it's* bleeding to death from all the poking…"

"Great, 'cause these're from when our parents took us to Six Flags, right?" Buffy asked semi-rhetorically, as she had eyes and could see the amusement park backdrop. She slid down next to Veronica. "Over Easter break in sixth grade."

"The first of many, 'If you get good grades…' payoffs. What a perfect system – we got trips, they got bragging rights that fit nicely on a bumper." Veronica smirked, staring down at the pictures with her. "I was looking at this earlier. Before I musta dozed off."

"So our memories are sleep-inducing?" Buffy questioned, sounding a step or two away from crushed.

Veronica coughed. "Yeah, since there's no way to backpedal out of this gracefully," She quickly laid a finger over a photo, "look! That Daffy Duck took this after you'd just thrown up in the trashcan by the exit to 'Goliath.' Doesn't it put you right back in the moment?" She received a dirty look. "I'm not the one who bought double prints on the way out. That's all on your mom."

"I shoulda stepped on his fat, stupid, webbed foot." Buffy grumbled, and then pointed her finger at Veronica accusingly. ""And *you*. It was your fault. Eat the corndog, you said. Let's go on the roller coaster, you said. What's the worst that could happen, you said." The dirty look returned.

"I held your hair back, didn't I?" Veronica reminded her, and switched her gaze to another picture. Then she gasped. "No. No way."

Buffy looked too. "Oh my god. That's 'The Look.' Right there."

There were two pictures of interest actually. Taken probably minutes apart. They were sitting on a bench, it looked to be dusk-ish, and they were obviously tired. One picture had Buffy staring at Veronica as Veronica was using the large, purple gorilla her dad won for her in the "Duck Shoot" game, as a pillow; the other was of Veronica staring at Buffy discreetly, when Buffy was focused on asking her own dad, why he didn't win *her* a gorilla. But you could see "the like" going on.

"Man, we were pathetic; I can't believe it was that far back." Veronica was shaking her head. "And now the question we have to ask ourselves is – how far are we talking here? I mean, when I gave you my juice box that one day because you forgot yours? *That* could've been a come-on. We don't know."

"No wonder the whole world figured it out." Buffy was finally getting it. "We should've just worn neon signs; woulda been the same thing."

Veronica looked up from the album. "Who's 'the whole world'?" Did Dick Casablancas give her his insight, too?

Buffy looked up as well, realizing she may have overstated. "Um, Weevil. You may not think so, but he's got the whole wide world in his hands. There's even a song about it."

"You talked to Weevil? Today?" Veronica asked, her mind going to Logan and the bridge as Buffy nodded. "How is he?"

"Like he always is. Tattooed and Mexican." Buffy said, because, what else could she have said? "Except with a bruise." Then she anticipated Veronica's next question. "He wouldn't talk about it; but he did say Lilly knew too, though. About our repressed attraction."

"I know, she told me." Veronica came out with, without going over it in her head first. It earned her a strange look from Buffy. "She may or may not be a ghost who haunts me in my dreams, all right?"

"A real one? 'Cause, you know, I've met some. Well, a poltergeist, more specifically. And one wasn't so much a ghost as just invisible."

"Must've been special – did you call Zelda Rubinstein or Dan Aykroyd?" Buffy childishly stuck out her tongue, and Veronica tried not to misinterpret that. "Sorry, but unless they're ghosts with the most played by Michael Keaton, how is this helping us?"

"Right, you're right." Buffy had learned to accepted sense when she heard it. Hey, wait a second…"We've acknowledged the mutual attraction. Out loud. To each other. Am I the only one who realizes that?"

"Huh." No, Veronica now realized it, too. "Well that went well. This is how everyone should have their awkward, relationship-changing conversations from now on."

"By not knowing they're having 'em?" Setting the album to the side, Buffy wanted to be clear.

"S'just smoother sailing." Veronica believed. She waited a beat, then, "So…we're okay with this attraction? I'm a girl, you're a girl, best friends, yadda yadda yadda?"

"It was never really the 'girl' thing that worried; more the 'best friend' thing. Once you date a vampire, other taboos kinda pale." Buffy told her. "But yeah, I'm okay with it. I mean, you're with Logan –"

"– and you're with your issues –"

"– so, it's not exactly the best timing, but in the future, or near future, I think it'd be nice to try. Not that I'm saying you're gonna break up with Logan, or that I want you to…" Buffy was babbling, but hopefully not as bad as Willow. "…okay, maybe I do a little, but I'd never ask. And I don't know how we'd manage the 'long distance' aspect after the summer, but I seriously doubt, if we didn't work out, that that would suddenly implode seventeen years of friendship."

Veronica waited until she was sure Buffy was out of steam. "I'm with ya. There was a kiss, a great kiss, and with our current situations it can't happen again right away, but I'd also like to keep the door of possibilities open. For later. I'm already out on the fringes socially, so it only means they'd have a new word to write on my locker every day." She tacked on that "later" for herself. "And you'd think, a seventeen-year foundation would be beneficial to the future relationship."

"Excellent point." Buffy was proud of this logical behavior they were exhibiting. "'Course, it isn't that we *can't* kiss."

"It's that we shouldn't."

"Just thought I'd make that distinction."

"No, it's an important one." Veronica agreed. "But I'd be cheating – and you'd feel like you were – if we, as an example, kissed right now. We could explain the kitchen, but –"

Buffy's head tilted in question. "We could?"

Veronica gave her an "Of course" look. "Given enough time, you can explain anything." She resumed her original sentence, then. "But if we let it happen a second time, it just gets grayer and murkier. And very much like a 90210 plot development. Or, to a lesser extent, an 'O.C.' plot development."

"And our relationship should get off on the right foot. Something like, 'Say Anything,' where you hold a stereo outside my window that's playing that Peter Gabriel song?"

"I get to be Cusack?" Veronica said with a grin. "I gotta say, I like where your head's at, J.F.F.N."

"'Just Friend For Now'?" Buffy guessed. Maybe they did share the same brain. "That works. We can do this."

"Feel like we've accomplished something, don't you?" Veronica stuck her hand out. "Shall we shake on it?"

"Yes, yes we shall." Buffy put her hand in Veronica's, and they shook firmly.

But the entire agreement was sort of negated. Their faces somehow kept getting closer and closer together, and just like that, they were connected by the mouth area. Which forced them to re-agree, but this time with a slight addendum that said the agreement would be in effect, once they left the bedroom.

And fifteen minutes later, they were as good as their word, by golly.

"Buffy, honey?" Keith was trying to get her attention. "If your friends find you passed out on our floor, there are a hundred, different scenarios they could report back to your mother that'll say something about my ability to care for her firstborn – all of them bad."

"My grandfather, before he died a couple years ago? Had to use this portable respirator." Mac said from the couch, concerned. "She looks like she needs it…fast."

Wallace, whose hair was returning to its natural, afro-like state, nodded from his spot next to her. "Sure does." He side-whispered to her, "Sorry about your gramps."

"Thanks." She whispered back.

Veronica had been beside her father at the door, but walked over to where Buffy was standing next to the chair, got in front of her, and put hands on her shoulders. "Breathe." She instructed. "Breathe or I get the tape. And play it."

Buffy's nervous eyes became nervous for a whole other reason now. She released the air she'd been holding in. "You swore."

"And now it'll continue to hold." Veronica told her before smiling. "Sorry, drastic measures." She switched gears to assurance. "They don't hate you; you know they don't, because you've talked to them. They miss, and wanna see you. That's why they're coming."

"What happened?" Mac mouthed to Wallace. "And what tape?" She tried to make a "tape" shape with her hands.

He shrugged, in the dark.

"I know, but…" Buffy starting saying, but tapered off.

The phone was different than facing them, which is what she came to Neptune to not do. She was imagining all the ways this could go wrong, and she just didn't want to screw up. She couldn't lose their friendship – it would devastate her to have driven away the only people in Sunnydale High who'd wanted to know her. They were going to be here any minute, so she'd find out how this was going to go real soon.

Another two weeks had gone by. It was Saturday, July 2nd, and yesterday – at Logan's preliminary hearing – the D.A.'s PCHer witnesses were so thoroughly discredited by the defense, that at the end of it he conceded, and the judge threw the case out. Logan was free, and Veronica told Buffy that when she got in the limo with him outside the courthouse, the town wasn't happy. Half of it, anyway.

And earlier today, while she was in Logan's yellow Hummer, someone took a shot at them. Which Buffy was not happy about. Her natural, protective instinct wanted to hunt down and hurt the shooter. Veronica was visibly shaken up, but Keith didn't know. Buffy also wasn't happy about her and Logan, especially if he was somebody's target, but they were maintaining their resolve not to cross any lines (again).

Tonight was for fun. Everything else would still be there in the morning.

"But you just like to amp up the drama; it's like panicking about the 'Acid Rain' speech all over again." Veronica teased. "And what happened?"

"I got the hiccups." Buffy mumbled.

"*Chronically*. Couldn't even get past your own name. So stop the stress; it doesn't help." Veronica half-advised, half-ordered. "Besides, we don't wanna hafta pretend not to know that weird girl in the corner who sounds like she swallowed a frog on meth. Which we're more than prepared to do." She looked to her friends for support.

"We-we can be cruel." Mac nodded, and spur of the moment, did a "Vanna White" gesture over Wallace's face.

His, "'Cuse me? Am I supposed to care who you are?" expression was on display.

"Satisfied?" Veronica asked when Buffy looked back at her, and not over her shoulder.

The slayer giggled, and her tension slowly evaporated. "I don't ever wanna be anywhere near the receiving of *that*."

"Learned it from my mom over the years." Wallace said, once he broke "character." "She sees Jehovah's Witnesses coming up the block? Forget it. Freezes 'em on the spot, then they turn tail'n'*run* – Watchtowers' go flyin'."

"Speaking of the woman who strikes fear in the hearts of mobile, religious organizations," Veronica turned around, speaking to her father, "what time is she picking you up?"

"First of all," Keith began, "we're leaving together. She just happens to be meeting me here because Darryl's babysitter for tonight, lives in the complex. Mrs. Walker? I recommended her – you were present." Veronica, Buffy, Mac, and Wallace were all looking at each other silently saying, "She wears the pants in the relationship." He sighed at this. "Seven-thirty."

"Okay, but I don't want you staying out till all hours – people might talk. Then I'll just have to defend your honor every time some random person on the street calls my dad, 'That Keyed-Up, Tripped-Out, Slice of White-Bred Man-Whore…Who Used To Be Sheriff.'" His daughter said, exhaustedly. "My analyst bills are already gonna be high enough without that."

"And I don't want you thinking even abstractly, about the *idea* of intoxication." He warned, reclaiming his role as parent. "I worked an embezzlement case for 'The Pit's' owner; he knows what'll happen if I find out he served any minors related to me. By blood or otherwise." He made sure she knew that. "All of you promise not to drink, and I promise not to sell myself around town. Also, keep in mind that I do have a breathalyzer lying in wait."

They knew Keith Mars wasn't to be taken lightly, which was why the quartet chorused, "We promise."

"Good. As do I." He could hear voices getting closer outside. "Anyway, I think we're spending most of the night in. At her place."

Instantaneously, like they'd been sucker punched, Veronica and Wallace exclaimed a disturbed, "AW!"

"Avon calling!" Xander Harris said cheerily through the screen door.

Cordelia Chase smacked him. "Stop – I'm getting 'Worm Guy' flashbacks."

"Ow!" He rubbed his arm where it stung. "You act like it was your first, horrifyingly traumatic brush with squirmy death…and he's why we're together today!"

"Yeah," Her eyes went skyward, as if begging the heavens for strength, "don't remind me."

Willow pushed past both of them, rolled her eyes, and knocked. "Hi, um, can we come in?" She asked the people inside the apartment, who'd just been kind of staring at the odd couple's back-and-forth.

Veronica put her hand on Buffy's back and pushed her forward. This nearly made her trip, but she recovered, and went to let them in, smiling broadly. She hadn't realized how much she missed them, and Willow and Xander communicated that as well, by smothering her in dual bear hugs.

"Hey, guys." Their cheerleader tag along gave a short, not quite as enthusiastic, wave. "Hi, Cordelia." This was getting painful. "Uh, lungs not expanding."

They both hurriedly and blushingly ceased. "It's just great to see you, Buff." Xander said sincerely.

"It really is. But I've missed you more. Super more." Willow started right after him. "Cordelia was supposed to go away with her parents again this summer, but she didn't so her and Xander could spend it making out in every closet Sunnydale has."

"That is totally false! I didn't go because Las Palmas is like, the Motel 6 of all-inclusive resorts, and if I wanted to go to a Motel 6 – which, *no* – they're a dime a dozen here. Literally. Why should I fly all the way to Mexico for a knock-off?" Cordelia ranted, setting the record straight. "Xander wasn't even a variable. Whatsoever."

"*09er*!" Mac coughed into her hand.

Veronica and Wallace shielded their mouths, while Xander was busy being offended. "Hey!" He exclaimed. "No, ya know what? 'Double hey!' With a side of, 'See if you ever taste these lips again' oats!"

"What?" Cordelia asked, not seeing the problem. "No offense, baby."

Buffy looked like she'd eaten some bad fish…*Baby*?

"They were like this the whole drive, Buffy." Willow complained, frowning. "I can't take it anymore."

"Don't worry, it'll be okay now…and did you cut your hair?" Buffy noticed, turning herself around and placing her arm over the redhead's shoulders. "Wait, wanna introduce you first." She pointed everyone out as she named them. "That's Veronica, Wallace, and Mac. And that's Mr. Mars – he's Veronica's dad." Willow's wave *was* enthusiastic. "Everybody? This is Willow. You already pretty much know who 'Ozzie and Harriet' are."

There was a string of "Heys" and "Hi"'s bandied about between the teenagers, while the adult said, "It's nice to meet you, finally; Buffy and her mom have both spoken very highly." He might've been trying too hard with his first impression. Due to previously stated concerns. "Any friend of hers –"

"– is a little weird." Mac interrupted with a smirk. "You'll fit right in."

"That Beetle outside? It's hers." Buffy told Willow, encouraging her over to the girl with the red streak in her hair. "Ask her to tell ya how she got it. She's very…capitalist with her computing skills." Pause. "Where's Oz?"

"He came last night with the band." Willow answered. "He-he's probably been at the club since this afternoon rehearsing and setting up stuff. Cordelia drove us in her car." It was hell, but her "geek curiousness" overpowered the memory as she asked Mac, "Capitalist?"

Mac, having not forgotten that she wanted to discover this girl's secret to attracting cool guys like Oz, was seizing a golden opportunity. "I think we can learn much from one another."

"Xander, d'you know Wallace likes 'MAD Magazine'?" Buffy said to him, after leaving the girls to chat.

"See? Weird." Mac commented to Willow.

Wallace's gaze went to Veronica, and it accused her of leaking information. Veronica played dumb. Xander was elated.

"Finally! Someone who shares my secret shame!"

Cordelia stood alone, and was feeling very "odd-woman-out." "I don't get paired up?" She asked, and as if knowing a punch line needed supplying, Backup had managed to nudge open the bathroom door (they'd put him in there so he wouldn't freak at all the new people), and rushed directly to her. "Oh, that's really great. Not."

Buffy went back over by Veronica, who couldn't stop herself. "Aww, Backup's found himself a bitch!"

"Shhh!" Buffy uttered, trying not to give in to the funny.

"Told ya the hate wouldn't be there." Veronica said with a bit of a cocky grin.

"Yeah, yeah." Despite the words, Buffy was smiling. "So Logan *isn't* coming?"

"Said he had plans 'with the boys.'" While Veronica worried he was going to get himself killed if he wasn't careful, she was less than bothered that he turned down her invitation. "And not to wait up. I didn't ask." Buffy's hand slipped into hers. "C'mon…we better scram before Backup starts humping her leg."

At the other end of the living room, Xander was asking Wallace, "Is Neptune really vampire-free? 'Cause in Sunnydale, they could have their own union."

"Huh?" Wallace and Mac sputtered together.

"I…wasn't supposed to ask that question, was I?"

Oops.

"How's the vampire situation?" Buffy asked Xander later at their group's chosen table in The Pit, which lived up to its name, being even danker and smaller than the Bronze.

"Quiet, like last summer." He said, and they watched Willow and Mac in the crowd, watching the Dingoes play.

"And you guys aren't patrolling, right?"

"The thought was mulled over, but then Giles did his 'British Guy Lecture and Stare Down' routine, and the thought decided to die."

"With glasses or without?" She tread fearfully.

Gravely, "*Without.*" He had all her sympathy. "There are no words." Pushing it from his mind, he went on. "So Willow's just been putting up flyers telling people to stay by light and crowded places after sundown. And you know how 'Dog With a Rawhide' she gets over a new hobby."

She grinned. "How many have you had to hang?"

"Lost track around, oh, let's see, a cotillion?" He sipped his Sprite.

"Xander? A cotillion is a ball. For, y'know, debutantes-to-be?" Buffy informed him with a small smile.

"I knew that." He said after a long pause. "But enough about boring old Sunnydale, what's up with you, my super-powered pal? How's the hometown treatin' ya?"

"Good. I'm working, gaining valuable life experience…that's teaching me people are rude, annoying and stupid –" She'd just about had it with customer service.

"That was actually in the first draft of the Constitution…fun fact."

"– but I've been hanging out with Veronica even then, so it's bearable. We just make fun of them when they leave." She needed to get off topic for a second. "I told Willow already, but, I'm sorry I took off like I did, and you have no idea how glad I am that you're here."

"We get why you had to; thanks for saying it, though – I *guess* I can forgive. And we too, felt much gladness for the invite. A total, Buffy-less summer woulda been the worst drag in the long history of 'em." He smiled, and now she didn't have to worry. "You and Veronica are close, huh? 'Me and Willow' close?"

"Uh huh…" They both looked over to wear Veronica and Cordelia were standing together in the drink line. Unhappily. "More or less." It was possible that they might have to be separated. "Cordelia really sprung for suites at the Neptune Grand till Monday?"

"Yep, she does love her some luxury. They have a masseuse!" Then he sighed in disappointment. "Whose name is Shawna, and whose services I'm forbidden to enlist." She chuckled. "And before you go getting any crazy notions, it's me and Oz in one suite, and Cordelia and Willow in the other. Sadly, there is no hanky or panky." Wallace came back over to the table, then. "Did you answer nature's call?"

"Better believe it." The young man responded, getting himself settled. "K, I gotta hear more about that 'Praying Mantis Lady.'"

"'Just be myself'?" Mac repeated back to Willow over the loudness of the music and the crowd. "That can't seriously work!"

"I know," Willow understood the reaction to her advice, "I couldn't believe it, either! But now I have a boyfriend! Who's doing a solo!"

Mac couldn't deny the evidence in front of her face. Yet, Willow's boyfriend was also a werewolf, so she had to take that into account as well. Too hairy for her tastes.

A little while later, in between the band's sets, Veronica slumped into a chair next to Buffy at the table.

"You too, huh?" Buffy said, handed her the bottled water she left behind.

Veronica took a healthy swig. "My dogs they are a'barking."

"What's the latest?"

As arrangers of this evening's activity, they felt it was their duty to be the hostesses, and make the rounds. See that everyone was jiving and such. It was generally going as good as they'd hoped it would.

"Xander and Cordelia are dance-grinding, Wallace is hitting on a 'hottie,'" Yes, Veronica did make air quotes, "because if Xander can snag one, he can snag one, and, Willow, Mac, and Oz are over on the couch debating the pros and cons of 'Digital Rights Management' as it relates to the downloadable music market. I chose not to jump in." Buffy looked their direction, saw the heated discussion, and figured that was wise. "But I'm about ready to shove Cordelia's 'fashion sense' right up her…" At the last second, she bit her tongue. "She called my boots butch; the old me would get incriminating photos of those who have that misconception."

"Well, they are semi, uh…"

Veronica gasped. "I am *not* the butch one."

Was she implying something? "Are you saying I am?"

"You do lift cars."

Now Buffy gasped. "That's not even…shut up."

Seconds drifted by.

"We're gonna hafta decide which one of us is, you know." Veronica said, because one them had to. "Gina Gershon and Jennifer Tilly taught us that."

"Didn't one of them die at the end? Or both of them?"

"I think that's 'Thelma and Louise.' But I have to admit, the plot always kind of escapes me." Veronica took another sip.

"Maybe we should find out, 'cause I don't think modeling our future relationship on two people who die is the way to go." Buffy suggested rather sensibly, drinking her iced tea.

"And plus, as soon as Romeo and Juliet went that route, it became so 1597." Veronica quipped. "Not to get all, rom-com before 'the humorous obstacle scene' or anything, but, I want to kiss you. Just puttin' it out there."

"Me too, but you can't just say it like that!" Buffy admonished, already thinking about it. "Remember what happened last time?"

"Vividly. That's sorta why I want to."

"Fine, stupid question." Buffy conceded. "But we agreed." The Pit's sound system suddenly cut out, and everything hushed. "We absolutely cannot kiss until…" And she suddenly realized how loud her words sounded, and saw that the trio of Willow, Mac, and Oz had walked over to the table. Willow was the only one rendered mute in wide-eyed surprise. Mac and Oz were mute by default. "Heh." Buffy forced a laugh. "Been standing there long?"

"The 'humorous obstacle' everybody." Veronica smirked, trying to shrink into a non-existent shell.

No one else had any time to pay attention to the possible lesbian activity about to occur at their table, because somebody by the bar was yelling at the bartender to turn the TV up. The news was on. As a group, they went to watch.

"…is breaking news at this hour." The announcer was saying, over footage of a burning fire. "Twenty minutes ago, a frantic phone call brought almost the entire fire department of Neptune, to the Neptune City Park, where an unknown party or parties, has as you can see, set the community pool ablaze. Little else is known right now, but one could speculate that this is just the latest incident in a rapidly escalating class war, sparked thirty-six hours ago by…"

Veronica and Buffy looked at each other, and didn't like the feeling in the pit of their stomachs. "Unknown Party." Right.

Sunday morning, July 3rd. Willow followed Buffy as she walked down the block on the not-rich side of Neptune. Last night's arson kind of changed the weekend plans.

"Sorry about this, Will." Buffy apologized, meaning it. "It's just, things're kinda crazy right now, and I wanna make sure Veronica's gonna be okay."

"We're hanging like best friends do; that's all that matters." Willow smiled, trying not to notice all the nice Mexican families looking at the Caucasian girls strolling through their neighborhood. "And sure you'd wanna be sure. Especially 'cause you like her so much. So much you…wanna kiss her. Wh-when did that happen?"

"The wanting? Couple weeks ago." Buffy said, and if she didn't have a goal she was heading towards while having this conversation, she would've found it harder. "The feelings we're still trying to come to a consensus on. We think we've got it down to somewhere between 1996 and 1998."

The romantic Willow sighed, while the innocent brain was struggling. "But isn't she kinda…uh…girl-like?"

"She is?" Buffy asked with faux-shock, and she was treated to the redhead's resolve face. "K, you're still scarier than Wallace." She exhaled. "It's never been about…it's about the fact that she's *Veronica*. I like Veronica. Her being a girl is almost…not part of the equation." They turned up the next block. "But obviously, because she is, that means part of me is attracted to the girlish…shape. The shape of girls. And I dunno what I'm saying anymore."

"No, I-I understand."

"You do? Wanna explain it to me?" Buffy smirked.

"Well, it's…it's like me with Oz, I think. I love Oz. Who he is and all. And if he was him, except as a girl? I still would have to. Because he…*she*…would still be Oz. Inside." But Willow quickly added, "Not that I *want* him to be a girl; I'm just, you know, illustrating. A way extreme possibility."

"Wow, you love Oz?" Buffy wasn't expecting to hear that.

Willow's lips spread into a huge smile, as if she was just realizing that herself. "Yeah, I do."

The summer had been good to Willow Rosenberg, Buffy surmised. A new 'do, a new visible confidence, new love…"You're cloud-bound, aren't you?"

"You betcha." Willow's smile became a grin.

Buffy laughed. "Enjoy the air up there; you deserve it. M'happy for you, Willow."

"Ditto." When her friend looked at her, she wordlessly asked, "Really?" "Really. And Angel would be, too." Willow didn't know where that came from, but it was out, and Buffy lost half a step. "That's…duh. Why'd I say his name? Bad. I'm…that was bad."

"No, it's not that…" Buffy pointed to the Sherriff's car sitting in front of Weevil's house. "It's *that*." Fudge.

When the girls reached Weevil's walk, Sherriff Don Lamb was exiting the house, Weevil on his heels. "Why would we torch our own pool?" The biker asked.

Lamb turned around on a step. "You know, that's a great question – why would you?" He gasped like he just had a brilliant thought. "Maybe, because you were so enraged by how Logan Echolls got let off the hook for gutting one of your crew, you felt compelled to manufacture another crime…and then to set him up to take the fall." He was so smug. "How's that for a motive, amigo?"

"Oh, it's a good one." Weevil admitted, nodding. "And if I thought for one second that a jury in this town couldn't be bought, and would actually convict an '09er kid of anything other than stealing golf tees from the country club? I mighta considered it. But we both know it would've been a waste of my valuable time."

"Now that I'm thinking about it? I'm probably wrong." Lamb said, and something was fishy, because he never admitted to the possibility of his being wrong. "Your people don't really need an excuse to destroy public property, do they? And even if they wanted to find one, I bet they wouldn't quite be able to manage it – I mean, stereotypes are around for a reason, right?"

Weevil gave the universal symbol for "Fuck You" to Lamb's back. "Hope you weren't counting on many votes from us stereotypes come November, Sherriff. I don't know if we'll be able to find the polls."

When Lamb passed the fence and ran into Buffy and Willow, he grinned like a Cheshire Cat. "Buffy Summers. I've been wondering when I'd run into you; I just didn't expect it to be here. Are you in the wrong part of town, or the right one?"

"Don't exactly see how that's any of your business, Deputy Lamb." Buffy said, steel-faced.

"Cute." The grin was now a smirk. "Hey, now that you're back – and this should've occurred to me much sooner – you qualify as a suspect. Close to the number one, actually. If I remember right, arson was kind of a hobby for you back in the day."

"Buffy wasn't anywhere near that pool." Willow came to her aid. "She was with us at The Pit last night. An-and about fifty other people can say so, too."

Lamb was bemused. "Who's the redhead?"

"A friend from where I live now. She's visiting…and leave her alone." Buffy told him in preemptive warning.

He was still mad that, at the time when he was "investigating" Lilly Kane's murder, representatives from the Watcher's Council threw their weight around. He was pressured to let Buffy and her mother leave town so they could head for Sunnydale, where the Council needed their slayer to be. Of course, Buffy wasn't aware that that had been done, but it didn't matter to Lamb. He hated feeling like his authority wasn't total.

And currently, he didn't find her so cute. "See this badge?"

"Not really…I've had this major blind spot lately so…"

Oh, she'd obviously been around Veronica Mars.

"That's a shame." His sympathy was as false as you could get. "Well let me tell ya what it means, then. It means I can do whatever I want within the law. And right now? The law's saying I can take you in for verbally threatening a police officer."

He grabbed her arm – that was a mistake. Because that forced her to knee him in the groin.

"I'm busy…maybe another time." Buffy said to him as he collapsed to the sidewalk. Weevil had been coming down, and he was highly amused. "There was inappropriate touching. You saw that, right, Weevil?"

"Whole street did. Clear as day." He confirmed with a smirk. "His conduct was highly unbecoming of an officer of our fine county."

"Will?" She checked.

"He was certainly naughty." The redhead spoke, and then the three of them watched him hobble painfully into his car, taking what remained of his dignity, and driving off. "I can't believe you did that! I mean, okay, he was a poop-head, but…you're the S-L-A-Y-E-R."

"Not here I'm not." Buffy said, and it was the truth. God that felt good. "Besides, it isn't like I staked him. He'll just need ice; lots and lots of ice." Focused her attention on quick introductions, then. "Weevil, Willow; Willow, Weevil. Say that three times fast."

"Hi." Willow said to him, somewhat shyly. "I, um, like your tattoos…they're very…arty."

"Gracias." He winked, and she blushed. "You come lookin' for me, Hazel Eyes? Or are you just in search of a well-stuffed taco?"

Buffy shook her head at that. "We wanna know something. Straight-up."

"After the show I just got to see? For you? I'm an open book."

"Yay for us." She smiled. "Okay, here it is: yesterday morning, someone fired at Logan and Veronica while they were in his car. With a shotgun. Veronica said she thought she heard a motorcycle driving away." She laid out the back story. "Was one of your guys the shooter? And just in case you missed it – *Veronica* was in the car."

"And A.I. jumps for the three…" Wallace commentated on his own play from inside of his house, where he, Xander and Oz were competing in "NBA Live 05." The Sunnydalians were on the same team. Cordelia was tanning on the beach somewhere. "…Nothin' but net! You feel this controller, fellas? Burnin' up so much I can't hold it; that's how on fire I am."

"I don't get it." Veronica called to them from the porch, where she was sitting with Mac. "There're plenty of *actual*, live, non-virtual basketball courts around on which to trash talk *and* show off physically to we of the fairer sex…who might just swoon."

"Yeah, but, two of us are extremely pigmented. And pigmented men can't jump. The movie said…and movies have never lied to me." Xander replied. "Except 'Meatballs.' You know what I kept waiting for? *The meatballs* – where were they? There wasn't a single one consumed."

"We just don't like to." Oz said after a brief silence, referring back to the jumping skills of his race.

"No, that's better. What he said."

"Well then, please, flick away on your analog sticks." Veronica turned to Mac. "What am I doing here? Other than forcing my dad and Wallace's mom to flee, because we disturbed them from their slumber – that they were having in the same bed." She closed her eyes, and then opened them a few second later. "Nope, not dead yet."

"You're here because you're hiding from Logan, while your Love-AH," Mac said, doing an impression of Rachel Dratch's character in that SNL sketch, "hits up the leader of a biker gang for info. To try and protect you." She was a little jealous, truth be told. "You're so lucky."

"Does Tina Fey know she's losing you as president of the Neptune chapter of her fan-club?" Veronica asked mock-seriously.

"Hey, I use whatever quote best fits the situation at the time." Mac explained her selection process. "Tina understands that, and she's totally cool with it. That's what makes her Tina."

"If you say so." Veronica smirked. "So that's it? No strained back-and-forth? No, 'How to Say Nay to Gay God's Way' pamphlet? Nothing even a *little* condemning?"

"Um, Veronica," Mac was saying low, "I run the Pirate's S.H.I.P. message board. Student, Homosexual, Internet, Posting?"

Veronica was surprised. "There's a…?" She hadn't even known. Mac nodded. "Does that mean you're –?"

"Nah, I'm just their tech-for-hire. But nobody else from school knows about the site except the people who're supposed to, so you can't say anything, okay?" It was Veronica's turn to nod. "As to your first line of questioning – other than rewinding through every conversation we've ever had to see if you were flirting with me – I honestly couldn't care. And if you want my outsider's take? You and Buffy seem to work."

"We do, don't we?" Veronica had to admit, smiling. "Thanks, Mac. But, re: the flirting? I have a slight confession to make." The girl looked at her, confused. "When you told me how many RPMs your hard-drive cycled? I was so tempted to skip right to rounding Second with you."

After Mac laughed, they listened to the boys again.

"When are you gonna go 'Teen Wolf,' and start making this a game, man?" Wallace said to Oz.

"He would," Xander answered for his laconic friend, "but he has too much respect for Michael J. Fox to horn in on the guy's hard-earned racket."

"It's true." Oz validated.

"Unlike someone who shall remain nameless…" Xander grumbled. "Oh, what the hell? *Justin Bateman*!"

Veronica's cell rang. For the fifteenth time, it was Logan. And for the fifteenth time, she let him talk to voicemail.

"So is there a next phase of your plan?" Mac wondered.

"I had a plan?" Veronica wondered back. "Why didn't somebody tell me that?"

She had a very strong feeling that Logan, Dick, and Cassidy burned that pool, but she didn't want to accuse him. She also knew she wanted to, and had to, end things if he was involved…and because she wanted to be dating Buffy. Pretending otherwise while they were together was unfair. She had let it go on too long, and the guilt was eating away. She was just procrastinating.

The phone rang again. This time it was her dad. Calling from home. "Hi, Dad…" Her eyes went wide. "He's in our living room? Right this second?…No, I'll take care of it…Did Alicia leave?…" She sighed. "I'm really sorry, Dad. I know I completely ruined your morning…Yeah, I'm leaving Wallace's now. Bye." She got up and walked off the porch, heading for her Le Baron.

Mac stood up, prepared to follow. "Do you want me to come with you?"

"No, someone should stay here and keep the testosterone in check till Mrs. Fennell gets home." Veronica got in her car.

"Are you gonna call and tell Buffy, at least?"

"I think I can break up on my own – it's not like I haven't had the practice. On both sides." Veronica turned the key. "I know the steps well."

Then Mac watched the car drive away.

Keith stood just outside the apartment. Logan and his daughter were inside; he was giving them just as much privacy as he felt comfortable with. He believed in not punishing the son for the sins of his father, but when that son was involved with Veronica, he felt okay about bending that belief. Up until now, however, he stood aside because he knew his child was intelligent, and he trusted her judgment.

Recent events in which Logan might have had a part, and the way he frantically banged on the apartment door twenty minutes ago, asked where Veronica was, and then sat on the couch and called her with a tone in his voice Keith didn't like, made him begin to consider getting in the middle of Veronica's love life. Thankfully, she seemed to be in the middle of cutting him loose.

He wasn't taking it very well.

"I'm not asking if it was you…" Veronica was telling him, and she was intelligent, because she knew Keith was listening, and had a duty to tell Lamb anything criminal that he heard. "…even though we both know the answer. And seeing as how we do, I'm noticing that you don't seem very upset or conflicted about what happened. Like, at all."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Logan asked in response.

"It means, I don't think you want this to stop with a pool." She replied. "It means I think you'd be happy if it got worse; I think you don't care about what it could do to Neptune, or about what you could be bringing down on yourself." There was a pause. "And it means I can't be your lifeline, because if you don't wanna save yourself, what's the point? I wanted to be there for you, but I can't be the girlfriend who just waits around to clean the latest wounds, casts a blind eye, and then kisses you like everything's fine. I'm sorry."

"*Fine*?" Logan's voice rose. Keith tensed. "My mom is dead! My girlfriend is dead! My dad is a murderer! And the only person I still care about is dumping me. Nothing is ever gonna be fine!" He shouted angrily. "And you think I haven't realized how you pull away when I go to kiss you? I see the way you and Buffy look at each other – rather put your tongue somewhere more southerly these days, huh? I thought her hair was getting shorter."

Keith was too focused on the situation to react to that piece of news just yet.

"Yes…" Veronica admitted slowly. "I have feelings for Buffy. Feelings I can't do anything about. I don't blame you for being angry, because I should've had the guts to do this sooner – I'm sorry for that too," Her voice turned icy, "but don't ever –"

Logan let out a frustrated yell, and then Keith heard the lamp break. That was it.

"Oh, it's so great that you're s –" Logan was cut off by Keith bursting into the apartment and shoving him up against the wall.

"You don't talk to my daughter that way. You're leaving now and you're never coming back." The ex-sheriff instructed him, and then grabbed him by the shirt collar and led him outside, where Buffy and Willow were hurrying to the door.

When Logan was freed, he yanked on his shirt, and gave Buffy a cold stare. Her stare in return communicated, "Don't." He kept walking. The girls followed Keith back inside, where Veronica got up off the couch into the arms of her dad.

She looked at Buffy over his shoulder, while Willow looked at everyone. When the father-daughter embrace broke, Veronica went to stand by Buffy, and they clasped hands at their sides. Buffy was still trying to catch up, but she was getting the gist.

Keith looked at both teenagers, expectantly. "Is there something you girls wanna tell me?"

Willow had snuck out there, deciding it was best to get a soda from the machine just then.

"Is there?" Veronica asked her friend sincerely, upon hearing her father's question.

"I dunno…are you ready?" Buffy returned. "I mean, that looked pretty intense – a lamp was sacrificed. Do you really wanna plunge in right away?" Was *she* ready?

Her mind went to her conversation with Willow. Willow had thought that speaking Angel's name brought back that familiar pang for her. And it hadn't. Not even a pinch. For the first time, Angel hadn't been hovering. Well, he hadn't been hovering during the two kisses either, but she didn't count those, because kissing shut off a person's brain, no matter what might weigh down on them.

Veronica was her sole thought, and she knew that meant she'd moved on. Like everything else, it was coming to her in hindsight, but at least this time the hindsight only took about forty minutes to arrive instead of nine years…if their timeframe was correct. She would never stop feeling horrible about what she did to Angel – there wasn't a way to ever "get over" that – but neither of them had known what would happen when they slept together. They loved each other, so they expressed it.

Angel would want her happy and not blaming herself for what eventually had to be done – Weevil was right. Those were the choices a slayer had to make so someone else wouldn't have to. She'd kissed him and told him goodbye, and only now was she ready to mean it. Goodbye to before, and hello to what was ahead. She was starting over, like her mother intended to do. When she got home, she'd start over with her, school (hopefully), and the night job, which she'd do better.

But currently, she was starting her love life over. With Veronica Mars. If Keith Mars didn't kill her, of course.

"I know it was intense; I was there." Veronica remarked, in her smart-alecky manner. "But I went through it to be ready. So…I am if you are."

"I'm very 'are.'" Buffy confirmed with a half-grin.

Then Veronica grinned, and then Buffy grinned some more, and then Keith "ahem'd."

"This feels like stalling to me." He observed.

"No, it's not. Honest." His daughter assured him.

"Really not." Buffy nodded, backing her up. "We just weren't officially –"

"– a couple before –" Veronica took the middle part of that sentence.

"– and now we are." While Buffy brought it home.

"Do I wanna know what you were unofficially?" He asked them.

They looked at each other, trying to decide. After a moment or two, Veronica volunteered, "Friends with benefits?" That look Veronica usually got when he implied things about him and Alicia to mess with her? He donned it now, and as he gestured for her to go no farther, she realized her error. "*Oh*. No. Not *those* benefits."

She didn't do it intentionally, but now he knew how it felt.

Buffy looked at her, face wondering, "Are you crazy?" "That was a wrong phrase; she picked a wrong phrase." She tried to recover ground. "We were just, discovering. Discovering where a thing we were feeling…might come from. Through talking." She went on. "And some kissing. *Just* kissing. 'PG' kissing. Twice."

"PG-13 at the most." Veronica added in the name of full disclosure. "And one kind of lasted –"

Buffy couldn't understand it. "Why are you being not helpful?"

"He's gonna know we're lying." Veronica defended herself. "He was a cop, remember? If we give him the whole truth, that earns us brownie points come sentencing."

"In theory." Buffy amended to the logic.

Keith wasn't saying anything – in fact, he looked lost in thought.

"You're not getting ready to tell us you saw this coming, are you?" His daughter asked him.

It threw him a bit. "Wouldn't it be easier if I told you I had?"

"Maybe," Veronica said, "but so far? Almost everyone else has seen it but us, and I dunno about Buffy, but my craw's had just about enough of having that info repeatedly stuck in it."

Buffy nodded in agreement. "It would just be refreshing if you didn't."

"Then allow me to make your day…I didn't. Looking back though, maybe I should have." He went over to the chair, sat in it, and gestured to the couch. "Sit. And watch the shards." Talking about the lamp.

They complied, waiting patiently for him to say what he was going to say.

"So you wanna…go out. As something other than friends." He stated.

"Something other than *just* friends, yeah. That's the idea." Veronica spoke, nodding with Buffy.

"And you're both absolutely sure this is what you want?" He continued. "Even though you're going to have to put up with a lot of…unkind talk, from what you can bet'll be a healthy number of your peers? Daily? It could you wear you down; better be prepared for that."

"Most of our peers already aren't kind, Mr. Mars." Buffy explained to him. "They think we're freaks, and don't want anything to do with us."

Veronica smirked. "They're also afraid, so all the biting comments are mostly behind our backs." Her next words were plain and straightforward. "Anyway, the only peers we care about, don't care."

"Except Xander and Wallace. But that's only 'cause they haven't found out yet."

"We're blond, what some may describe as 'hot,' and we like to make out with each other…they should fall in line no problem."

"Well," Keith took a deep breath, "I appreciate not being th