One
At 2:52 AM, a knock came on Veronica Mars' apartment door, waking her from a dream involving 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, 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 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," greeted a desperate-looking Buffy Summers. "I'm sorry it's...really late, isn't it?" She said, apologetically. "But the radio--"
"What the hell are you thinking?" Veronica asked, and then did something she didn't do very at all--she hugged her fellow, petite blonde. "If I'd been given the once-in-a-lifetime chance to tap out of Neptune's chokehold, my throat would never be put at risk again. Knowing you got free, I almost believed in miracles."
"Wow. Didn't used to think it was *that* bad," smirked Buffy, hugging her back. "But...things change, I guess."
After a beat, both laughed at the enormity of that understatement. Their embrace broke as their laughter grew in intensity, hit its peak, then slowly died out. It was a welcome release.
"Okaaay...on that note," spoke the teen PI 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 bedroom. "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 suit and commenting, "Upside--at least you're not homeless."
"Like you?" Veronica filled in what she perceived to be blanks left by her old friend. "If you aren't, and I'm wrong? One, that never gets out. Two, it's only because being almost burned alive is throwing me off my game."
"You're not off," sighed Buffy. "I kinda ran away." Then Veronica's words registered. "'Burned alive'?"
The radio had left that detail out.
"'Ran away'?" Veronica questioned back just when there was another knock.
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, "but it's hard to miss that B.S. smell. You should let your apartment air out."
Veronica rolled her eyes. "Yeah, hasn't gotten any funnier since 7th grade."
"Or gotten lame any less," Buffy 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 PCH bike gang that Weevil led, 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, movie star Aaron Echolls, was charged with the murder of Lilly Kane, as well as the attempted murder of once sheriff Keith Mars, 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...?
"Mean we *aren't* in junior high?" Logan asked, faux-surprised. "You remember, don't you, Summers? When my dad wasn't screwing our best friend or bashing in her skull? And you hadn't left without even going near her funeral?"
That stung as he knew it would, and Buffy hung her head.
"But, back to the future." Could he sound less earnest? "All the practically perfect Pats-i out there...and who gets plucked? Who gets Veronica drugged, almost raped?" Here, he at least sounded remorseful. "Starts with a 'yours,' ends with a 'truly.'"
Buffy's head had 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 right then. She was getting annoyed. "Geez, where's Monty Hall when you need him?"
Eight minutes later, Deputy Leo D'Amato, 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, until Buffy had to break the tension.
"So...you obviously got over Duncan," she commented lightly, having noted the way the young, handsome, Greek-Italian deputy talked to her. "Exactly how many guys have you dated while I've been not here?"
________
"The traditional reaction when cleared of a major felony? Falls anywhere in 'ecstatic's' ballpark," Veronica told a not-so-relieved Buffy a half an hour later, sitting at her bedroom's desk, in front of her laptop. "Some might even try to reach that magical kingdom where innocent, unsuspecting wallets find ‘Deliverance.' From a giant, freaking rodent. Oh how they squeal."
She heard nothing but silence. "Wait...I think it's all starting to come back. Is someone still traumatized by what was *really* under the sea on her favorite, childhood VHS?"
Buffy looked over her shoulder at the screen, while petting Backup, the Mars family dog. "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 as 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," she said, then read the contents of her screen. "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 broke 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?" 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, prepared to help clear Buffy's name. Yet she didn't seem so gung ho to believe in Logan's innocence. The girl was certainly different these days. Tough. A little hardened.
Like Buffy herself. "I hafta be not in Sunnydale, Veronica. People got hurt 'cause of me. My friends, my mom...can't face them. Except my excuse for hiding...doesn't actually exist now."
"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?"
"Before these eyes get some shut? Let me answer that with..." Veronica yawned, which was perfect timing. "Are you staying anywhere?"
"Been at the Camelot for two days," said Buffy, cringing.
Veronica matched her cringe and then some. "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 them fine fellas doing the 'Walk of Shame' to their cars in about five minutes are gonna be awful disappointed when they don't have you to eye-pluck," smirked Veronica. "Crash here--I insist."
The vampire slayer smiled. "Your dad won't mind?"
Veronica made a "pshaw" sound. "Oh, only when we lie. And there's an entire seven days before that's gotta happen."
That's when Keith would be discharged.
"Plenty of time to think one up one that'll make him proud. Sell it, we buy you a two, possibly three-day window. Then he calls your mom, and I'm grounded till college. Which might just be the perfect way to survive through next year." She didn't much like high school.
Buffy's smile had weakened a bit upon mention of her mother being called.
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 want the couch."
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.
________
Two
It was sometime in the afternoon when Veronica's cell phone roused her with Salt'N'Peppa's, "Push It." Below her, Buffy giggled groggily (and soon enough uncontrollably) at the music, the ringing rousing her 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 advance warning--the next time our paths cross, I will shave you bald, then force eating of your own 'rows. And we both know your shiny noggin can't be like Mike's, so just, keep that in mind."
#...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 that's kind of been shot to hell."
#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're never touching my tones again."
She paused to exhale. "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 green 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, that everything?" Veronica asked before she pulled away. "Because seeing inside 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 outta 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 we're already on the move. You're just gonna hafta eat the evidence."
Her passenger nearly laughed, but Veronica's face discouraged this.
"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 one who needs coffee?"
"I could get us free ones," spoke Buffy offhandedly. "Legally, even."
"Ooh, free *and* legal? Tell me more of this fairytale."
________
~Last Week of September, 2003~
"You wanted me to tell you the truth, and even though a pretty like, gigantically-ancient rule says I shouldn't, I did. 'Cause you're my best friend," a fifteen-year-old Buffy said, pacing her bedroom and running her hands over her face. "Why would I make *this* up, Veronica? God, believe me, I so wish I was."
Veronica had just seen the contents of the top drawer of her friend's vanity. It was filled with stakes, crosses, and holy water bottles. She backed away and sat on the mattress, unable to reconcile what she'd heard and seen. Two weeks ago, they'd been making Spirit Boxes and everything was normal. That's what she'd thought, anyhow. It all started the third day of school, according to Buffy.
Now things were bad. Beyond Duncan Kane having broken up with her.
"Have I ever been religious?" Buffy asked her, to which Veronica shook her head. "Then why would I have those? Why can I lift up the back of my dad's Lexus with one hand? How did I catch Shelly Pomeroy's heel before it hit Dick in the back of the head during lunch that time?"
"I-I dunno." That was the best Veronica could come up with.
"And I don't know how else to explain that I'm a freak who was ‘chosen' to kill already dead guys till she's dead too!"
Buffy knelt in front of Veronica, her eyes starting to water. "Everyone else can think I'm nuts as long as you don't. Please, Marsipan. We've known each other forever."
It was just...it was crazy. Rationally impossible. Yet Buffy had never not told her the truth when she asked for it.
There was too much pressure.
Veronica stood up and put some distance between them. "I really wasn't...I was expecting you to say you've been taking drugs or steroids or something. Like when Andrea Decker got addicted to Speed last year studying for finals."
Any hope Buffy held began to deflate.
"That way I'd have something to tell Lilly, and once you got out of detox--"
"Like I care about not being in Lilly's orbit anymore," Buffy brushed that aside, an edge to her tone as she stood up again. "She's been looking for any excuse to cut me out since we hit high school and she went all diva."
"That's not true," Veronica objected, who was rather naïve for a sixteen-year-old.
"You know it is. She's always been jealous that we've been closer longer; she just didn't wanna piss you off," Buffy argued, picking up Mr. Gordo off her pillow and holding him tight.
It wasn't her fault Lianne Mars and Celeste Kane couldn't stand one another long enough to let their daughters have play dates ten years ago.
"But I'm the ugly duckling now, and if she doesn't dump me, she looks bad. That's how it works. Clemmons is going to," she knew. "My mom's fighting it, but he hasta expel me. Can't have an arsonist for a student. His gym might be next."
That's right. Just Mom fighting for her. She was the straw that broke her parents' backs. Joyce and Hank Summers had officially separated last week, and when her dad left Neptune, he took the '09er lifestyle they were all accustomed to, along with him. This town was practically screaming she wasn't wanted.
Veronica hadn't realized expulsion was a possibility, though she should have.
Her eyes shone with a mix of sadness and fear. "Did you really do it? Burn down that school's gym in LA?"
Buffy closed her eyes and sighed. "Had to. It was full of vampires."
"Okay," Veronica was going to try this, "if vampires are real, how come there aren't any in Neptune?"
"Because Neptune's a small town and not on a Hellmouth? Maybe they'd run out of people to bite too fast," the vampire slayer shrugged. "They love L.A., though. That's why I had to constantly lie to my parents and--"
Veronica interrupted with a knitted brow, "What's a Hellmouth?"
"No idea. My...my 'Watcher' said it's some mystical hoozit...that attracts evil things." Buffy had held that man while he died.
She could see that Veronica was even less convinced than before, and that, coupled with the horrors she'd seen recently, made her want to cry.
________
"I should have known better," Veronica apologized to Buffy in the back corner of Java the Hut as they drank lattes free of charge. "And so, I beg forgiveness--you spoke true, my friend...you spoke true."
In the 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 me missing my shift can't be helping, either."
She looked ashamed. "But the manager's nice."
"Hey, if sampling product is a perk, that's all the incentive I need." Veronica wasn't opposed to the idea one iota. "He'd never go this far aloud, but Dad would love if I became one with the Pod People and conformed."
"Oh yeah. My mom, too," agreed Buffy.
That surprised Veronica. "She knows about...?"
Buffy cast her eyes downward. "Hence the 'homeless.'"
Veronica's heart broke for the girl across from her, whose hand she took in hers. "Last night's offer? Still on the table."
Buffy looked up again, staring her friend right in the eyes. "What's gonna make it any different than last time?"
"For starters? Saw your neck last night. And since I can't work out why you'd stab yourself with a barbeque fork voluntarily, I'm left with a single conclusion to jump to. Lot more open-minded than I used to be."
Veronica squeezed her hand now. "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 don't squander second chances. Ask anyone."
You know what? Buffy believed her friend didn't. Flashing half a smile, she pushed aside her cup and decided where to begin.
"Well, the bite was from this 600 year-old vampire who drowned me, but things started down-hilling ‘cause I had a boyfriend who--"
"Wait. You *drowned*?"
"Ssh!" Buffy admonished. "No squandering."
Never again--she had a rapt and attentive audience.
________
Three
"I know what you're thinking," Veronica told her smiling father as she walked into his hospital room. "She 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 held up the plastic bag in her left hand. In her right, she bore the delicacies of Roy Rogers. Then 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, Simba, or do I need to lure a gazelle into this Circle of Life 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, and stated in his best, "lion kingly" voice, "You may go ahead and wow me now."
For a second, she stared at him like maybe he'd bribed a nurse for morphine.
"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" mascot bobble-head. Manny the Shark carried a bat and wore a baseball uniform. The front of which said, "YOU'LL BE...", while 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 back the controls, turning her attention to getting his burger.
"So how are you? Don't see any third degrees, so that's a big thumbs up."
He accepted his food, assuring, "Thanks to my quick-thinking cub-child from the Black Lagoon, the jacket got the worst of it."
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 so long?"
"Lamb's trying to keep me from the media as long as possible." His expression read, "Why else?" as he unwrapped his burger and took a bite. "He wants to put his own spin out there first...so it'll look like he had a hand in bringing Aaron down."
She coughed out, "Jackass."
"Careful...always told you you'd choke if you ate too fast." Keith tried to maintain a straight face, and ate 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," he continued.
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 marathoned 'Minority Report' one time too many, 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," replied Veronica, leading them into her dad's office.
"But weren't the pre-cogs prisoners, basically? Who were real sick? And living in like, a vat?" Buffy pointed out as Veronica sat behind the desk and booted the computer. Then she blanched. "Plus, Tom Cruise."
"All valid points, which I *have* brought to his attention. Repeatedly...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 dreams of omnipotence and power?"
She put in Terrence Cook's batting average and RBI percentage from his rookie season as the password to her father's 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," she explained. "Since we've sorta had a packed queue, he couldn't exactly spare his full, 20/20, private eye, 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. "Still, kinda 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 for your eyes only," 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 behind the desk.
________
"Hi sweetheart,
"I really hope you're seeing this, because it means you're with Mr. Mars, and you're okay. I read your letter... the one you left on your pillow? I realize I said some awful things (which I DID NOT MEAN for even a second), and handled things badly, and I don't blame you if you don't want to hear me right now, but please, at least keep reading mine?
"I just got back from having coffee with Mr. Giles. I know about who you are, what you've had to do. 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 all of the times... I love you more than anything.
"I need you to know that.
"Even though I understand it was to protect me, I wish he'd let you tell me. It makes me so angry that he had you keep secrets, that he's known you better than I have. I don't know if I can forgive him for that.
"But he did promise he wouldn't stop until he finds you. So if you are in Neptune, let us know so we can stop worrying?
"Oh, and speaking of men who make me angry, Mr. Snyder called to say you were expelled because of what the police think you did to that poor girl (your friends are going to explain everything, 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.
"If he doesn't, I'm going make sure he loses his job, and that the board hires a principal who will.
"I don't know what else to say, except, we want you to come home. Willow, Xander, Cordelia, and Mr. Giles all wanted me to tell you that it wasn't your fault. They don't want you to blame yourself. Everyone's fine. But if you need time away, take it.
"If he hasn't already, Mr. Mars is going to offer to let you 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 do what Veronica's mother did. I never would, sweetie. Ever.
"If you 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, 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 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 on the box. You'll thank me later."
Buffy nodded. "Have zero doubt. Less than."
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 this morning up to her.
They were without parental supervision, as 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?" That son 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. Nor did she have tangible evidence. She couldn't help being wired the way she was.
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, saw them at the Pit last year. They could only play like three chords, but they were pretty decent," critiqued the hacker. "Why?"
"My friend? 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. "I think they're coming back to play over Fourth of July weekend."
"Say...your friends oughta hitch with the Band-Aids," Veronica suggested. "My posse, meeting your posse...we could so have a rumble."
"That's a great idea." Buffy wondered why she hadn't thought of it. "Except maybe the 'rumble' part. Too 'West Side Story.'"
"Which would be the point. I call 'Sharks.'"
"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 mine."
Buffy smiled. "Thanks."
"Anytime. Dumbers."
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 again. "Hey, Will...Yep, it's me...Really...Yeah, I called her earlier...Me too...How you feeling?...Good, I'm glad..."
She sat down in one of the porch's chairs.
"I'm in Neptune...Nope, definitely 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 the next day. What was she doing here? The right thing, she hoped. And who should answer the door? Dick Casablancas, of course.
"Yo, Logan, you order a hooker?" He jibed with a smirk.
Veronica just smiled tightly, because some cameraman had 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 Casablancas 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. "Hey, is that 'Buffy' chick seriously around somewhere? 'Cause, *damn*. Till she went nuts and turned ‘pyro,' she kinda had an intense obsession with the Kid." He pointed at himself. "She was like this force, y'know? But, uh, not the gay one those Jedi guys use when they cross swords--"
"Sabers. Cross sabers," interjected Veronica pointlessly on behalf of pop culture geeks everywhere.
"--or whatever. No, she was like, a Sex force. Pulling me in deeper and deeper."
"Huh," Veronica's arms crossed over her chest as she cocked her head to the side in wonderment. "She must've played it real close to the vest."
"Right? But her bringing down that shoe that time? Before it almost lodged into my brain? Yeah, she so wanted me to tap that."
Veronica and Cassidy were thinking that perhaps a shoe in his skull would be an improvement.
"Got the message, though. Duncan was your beard. That's the only reason I passed her up," he grinned, making "V" shapes with his fingers on both hands, and bringing them together.
More than once.
The petite, blonde teen was dumbstruck. Seeing that, Cassidy once again urged his brother to get a move on, as Dick was the one who insisted they go watch the volleyball tournament on the beach. The women's volleyball tournament on the beach. Dick, however, wasn't quite finished.
"Relax, Beav. I'm totally cool with their lifestyle choice." He misinterpreted Veronica's silence as paralyzing fear because she'd been outted. "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.
"But, the door was there, practically almost wide open...how could I resist?" She retorted. "Isn't my fault you forgot to tell your guest monkeys to close it on their way out. Also? You didn't *not* invite me in...an apathetic, non-gesture, which throughout the world means, 'Please enter my fridge and raid it.' Yeah, some small nuances get lost in translation..."
"Man, it must be exhausting loving yourself so constantly," he snarkily responded, grabbing the seven-iron that 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 you think I could ace from up here?" 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 and clicked off the television. "That's probably not the best goal to strive for right now."
"But think of the ratings spike 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 so there's no misunderstanding? We're equal opportunity bitches; we take turns."
"Just assumed, you know, now that she's cannonballed into our home-sweet-cesspool again, you'd finally do it," he said.
Veronica's jaw dropped--not him, too. Had there been undertones she was unaware of?
"Go to Siam, have yourselves sewn together...join a freakshow, perhaps. Hurry, though--her mind could change on a dime."
Oh.
"How's that saying go? 'Assuming makes an ass outta...' who?" 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 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."
"Never did like to read those much...so why would I give a rat's ass?" Logan said angrily, nearly planting the club into the wall. "All they prove, is that whatever we think can't *suck* any more than it already has, hasn't even begun to. One of 'em? Cast Pops in the lead. Can hear all about it...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."
She was dead and it wasn't right, but he was.
"Because she didn't stay," she continued.
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 go 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 she hoped, "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 did she say that 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.
________
Four
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.
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 that slowly drove you to hate a certain moniker-pair. And it was a passionate hate."
"But when 'Buffy' wanted to be not found..." The slayer reminded, wiping off the counter as Veronica came next to her.
"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,' isn't it?"
Then she stage whispered, "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 would check, 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's 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."
Buffy simply responded, "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'?"
"Not a frame. Just a frightening number of online polls. Still, knowing a smidge of 'Geek' does often come in handy."
"All I care about, is that's the night the tips get good." Buffy knew 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. "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.
When Buffy's back stiffened, Veronica knew she'd triggered memories, and thus she set about berating 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 and having seen Buffy's face, Krista gave the okay immediately.
________
They entered the storage room, and Veronica led Buffy to the bench that sat to the side of heavy, metal door that opened to the alley and dumpster. "I feel like kicking 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 she exhaled. "Hafta get over it, don't I? Saved the world, greater good, can't go back..."
"...and other 'blah, blah, blah,'" Veronica said, sitting beside her on the bench, and draping an arm her shoulders. "What have we repeatedly learned? Trying to set a timetable for getting over a *traditional* breakup becomes pointless before it's even off the ground." She paused a moment. "Given this proven absolute, color me pretty confident as I hypothesize."
She went on, unable to stop it from sounding like a college lecture.
"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 to wallow till the end of time--all 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. "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 already), 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--
{"Duncan kissed me today," Veronica had revealed, almost guiltily. "I didn't believe Lilly when she was saying he liked me, but...he kissed me. At his house. Under the mistletoe."}
It felt like a long time before she'd responded to that, but she had wanted to gag.
{"So you're gonna like...be a couple?" Her tone was hard to nail down, though it sure hadn't been excited.
"I dunno. I guess we hafta be," Veronica had answered, unsure, as this would be her first boyfriend. "I mean, he's totally sweet, *and* cute, so why not? Besides, Lilly says you *have* to have a boyfriend in high school. Everyone'll be like, insanely jealous."
"Yeah. They will."}
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, but Veronica had grabbed her hand all the sudden.
{"We're still gonna hang out, though. We won't stop being friends just 'cause I'll be dating him."
"I know. I just think," For some reason what she'd been on the verge of slipped out of reach, and she said something she didn't actually want to, "I'm gonna ask out Jason Martin."
Veronica had seemed to expect something else, but let it go. "Oh my god, you should! He so checks you out in Chemistry. We could all...triple date!" Then they laughed, and that was it.}
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. 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, 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'--when the hormones sleep."
"I'm guessing this isn't the best time to ask if Logan gets extended an invitation. For 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," quipped Buffy.
"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 this looks like avoidance--"
That feeling was back again...
"You're right. We should."
...but it would have to wait.
________
"And how're my two earners of California's least, legally-allowed wage this evening?" Keith asked as he put on his jacket, looking ready to leave as they arrived home.
"Swell. 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. Who's still making America proud," she added, chipper.
Otherwise, what were all those stickers decorating his wheelchair for?
Buffy collapsed on the sofa. "I wanted to break his catheter thingy."
"Which, again, ultimately would've been unpleasant for everyone," Veronica reiterated.
"Did your elderly Casanova at least tip well?" Her father queried.
"Forty-percent," said Veronica 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 a hip; I don't care how patriotic and enfeebled he is."
"Will do," promised Buffy happily.
"I'm sure I don't need to say 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."
"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 *remotely* connected to that town ever since the philandering husband he followed there one time, got eaten by the prostitute he'd picked up."
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--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?"
Keith wondered, "Should I be concerned that my underage daughter can name all those alcoholic beverages so easily?"
"I'd be more concerned by how much TV she soaks in," 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 Lloyd wants me to 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?
________
Here was how. 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. 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 absurdity of the whole mess came crashing down. 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" from earlier was there. Coinciding with it, was a moment where they forgot sauce/flour-stained cheeks and noses, and just wanted 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 a John Hughes movie soundtrack 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.' We could call and, you know, order," said Veronica 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.
________