Weakest Link (1/?) - Andrew.
Title: Weakest Link. (1/?)
Author: Amber (bentley)
Pairing/Characters: Andrew.
Rating: PG.
Disclaimer: Not mine! :(
Summary: The First Evil is forever - as Andrew comes to realise on the bus out of Sunnydale.
Warnings: BtVS spoilers (S1-S7).
It is the absolute silence that wakes Andrew up. He rubs his face, left cheek sore from where it has been resting against the seat in front of him. It is twilight and the bus is motionless; the long shadows and the dark red dust that covers everything lying still.
“Hey, guys?” Andrew pushes himself up and stretches, wincing at the cramp in his legs. Only silence replies. “Guys?”
The fear kicks in swiftly. He thinks: they’ve left me, and then: something’s happened to them, and isn’t sure which is worse. He knows which is more plausible. If there’d been a fight he would’ve heard it - if they’d stopped to stretch their legs they would’ve left someone on guard. But there’s only him.
He could never survive on his own and they’d know that. Maybe this is his punishment, for surviving so long. For surviving where others (Anya) didn’t.
He moves to the front of the bus. What little possessions they’d had are gone. The Slayers’ weapons, Giles’ bag of books, the rucksack filled with food. Gone. The fuel gaubge reads empty. His own bag is still where he left it, under the seat he’d been sleeping on, and his first instinct is to go through it. A bruised apple, a twinkie, a half-empty water bottle… he can’t survive on these things. He flicks his camcorder open and turns it on, the blue of the screen eerily bright in the growing darkness.
“Well, this is it,” he says, and he’s Alice from Resident Evil, all hospital gown and bemused bewilderment. “They’ve gone off to make their last stand somewhere and left me to the vampires.”
“Not very nice of them, was it?”
Andrew whirls around. Warren is leaning over the back of one of the seats, his lips twisted in sympathy.
“We- we killed you.”
Warren laughs. “Andrew, don’t you remember? You strike me down…”
“You’re not Warren.” The fear in Andrew’s voice is audible now, higher and with a hint of whine. “Go away. Go away and-“
“Hey. Hey.” Warren leans forward, eyes solemn. “None of that now. Didn’t I promise you I’d never leave you? Didn’t I promise we’d always be together?”
Andrew turns his head so he doesn’t have to look at Warren. But he can still hear his breath, smell the soap and musk and deodorant that Warren has always smelled like. Had. “You’re the First,” he says. “You’re not him. Stop trying to trick me.”
“I’m not trying to trick you,” the First-as-Warren says. “Just trying to give you a little hope, you know? I thought, since they abandoned you, you deserve to be with someone who cares.”
“Shut up! You so don’t care, otherwise why did you make me murder my friends?” Tears sting the corners or Andrews eyes.
“Oh, you’re right, of course,” says the First, and he’s moved so Andrew has to look at the face that is so familiar. “But he cares. Even now, even dead, he still cares about you.”
Andrew doesn’t want this to be a lie, and doesn’t want to believe anything this spirit says.
“I’m taking a shape that’s familiar to you. A shape you loved.” Andrew cringes. “Hey, don’t be like that. Look at me. Look at me, Andrew. You and your buddies, you won. But I am always here, and I am always waiting. The Slayer may be strong, but she’s not forever. Better to be with me, who loved you, don’t you think?”
Andrew shakes his head, part denial and part frustration. There are two people before him, Warren and the First. They are the same. They are not the same. It merges, shifts - one sounds so like the other, he doesn’t know what to believe, doesn’t know who is really standing before him.
“They’ve left you, Andrew - I heard them planning, talking about how you were a weakness, how you weren’t enough to face whatever was out there.”
The shape changes into Anya, who smiles at him. “You weren’t enough to save me, Andrew, how could you be enough to save yourself?” She twirls a little and sits down next to him. “You see Andrew, I know all your secrets. And I forgive you them. Forgive us our sins, and we forgive those who sin against us. Will you forgive me Andrew?”
It shifts - Jonathan this time. “I forgave you for what you did, so can’t you forgive me and help me be strong?”
Warren. “We can make each other strong. I need you, Andrew.”
Anya. “There’s no hope for you anyway, the others don’t care.”
Jonathan. “We’ll leave you to think about it.”
Then just Andrew again, sitting on the bus with his head in his hands, alone.
He must’ve drifted off to sleep, because he’s woken by a hand shaking his shoulder and a light in his face.
“-Can’t keep watch forever. A girl’s gotta get her beauty sleep. Hey, supernerd, wake up.”
His eyes blink open to see Faith standing leaning over the seat in front of him. “Rise and shine, kiddo,” she says, and he notices the bus is still quiet and unmoving. It’s much darker, too; he can’t see outside the light thrown by the torch she’s carrying.
“Okay, I’m up,” he says. Faith may be trying for gentleness, but she’s still a Slayer and his teeth feel slightly rattled. “Where is everyone? I thought you guys had abandoned me.”
Faith laughs. Robin Wood appears behind her, looking slightly chagrined. “You woke up earlier? You were sleeping the sleep of the dead.”
“Buffy and the Wonder kids are hotfooting it to the nearest town to get us some gas… and maybe a decent ride,” explained Faith. “They said not to wake you unless things got hairy.”
Andrew’s first sleep-fuddled thought is that Spike would have had to stay behind as well. Then he remembers.
“So um, where were you earlier?” He sounds like a wuss, he knows it. “I mean, the bus was completely empty.”
“Faith thought she saw something, er, outside,” Wood said. “We went to investigate.”
Faith shot him a raised eyebrows look. “Nothin’ but a couplea birds, of course,” she said, and smirks. It takes Andrew a moment to realise she’s lying, and blushes. Of course, they were off having sex, while he’d lain here all vulnerable.
He doesn’t want to argue, though, especially not with Faith. “Sure,” he says. “Is there anything to eat?”
“Not ‘til the crew get back. And they sure are taking their sweet time.”
“Either way,” Wood informs him, “You and I are going on watch together, let Faith get some rest. I’m not sure how much use you’ll be…”
Faith jumps off the seat and punches his arm. “Hey, with that chest wound you’re not exactly Mr. Invincible. At least if some Big Bad shows up you’ve got a tasty treat to toss it.” She grins at Andrew, the kind that means she’s kidding-but-not.
“Glad to see you’re so concerned with my welfare,” Wood deadpans. “Come on, Andrew, I’ll show you our lookout post.”
It turns out they’ve pulled over next to a tree, and Wood helps Andrew scramble up to the roof of the bus. Even in the desert it’s hand-numbingly cold. Andrew scratches absently at a cut on his arm. “Y’know, when you and Faith were out looking at birds…”
Wood chuckles, but looks a hint abashed. “Yeah?”
“I kinda thought I saw… nah. It doesn’t matter. I mean, it was probably a dream, right? I was super tired and I don’t even remember falling asleep again so I probably just thought I saw it.”
“Andrew.” Wood has on his My-Other-Job-Is-Principal-At-Sunnydale-High face. “What did you see?”
“I…” Andrew bites his lip, scans the horizon as though being on watch is actually to be taken seriously. “Warren. I mean, the First again, I guess. As Warren. And Jonathan. And…” He didn’t want to say Anya’s name. He didn’t have the right. “And some other people. They talked to me, tried to make me all minion-y again. I mean, will I ever be free? I’m redeemed now, I don’t deserve to be taunted like this, haunted by the ghosts of my past misdeeds and…” he breaks off.
A hand moves to his shoulder that is obviously meant to offer comfort. “It’s still out there, then. I suppose it’s crazy to think we could ever actually kill it.”
“We won the battle, but not the war,” says Andrew.
“Something like that. But don’t let it get to you. We decimated its army, and by activating the Slayers we showed it couldn’t ever end the line.”
Andrew blinks. “It still can, though. I mean, um, now it has to kill off lots of Slayers instead of weak potentials but… it can still do that, right?”
“Not if Buffy has anything to say about it,” says Wood, and that seems to be the end of the discussion. It’s given Andrew a lot to think about though, and he can’t help but muse over the futility of a battle against absolute evil. Evil’s everywhere, right? Eventually Buffy would grow old, and die, but the First never would. It would always be there, waiting, biding its time…
Still. No point worrying about that now.
Andrew sits in silence at scans the horizon for any sign that Buffy might be returning.
Author: Amber (bentley)
Pairing/Characters: Andrew.
Rating: PG.
Disclaimer: Not mine! :(
Summary: The First Evil is forever - as Andrew comes to realise on the bus out of Sunnydale.
Warnings: BtVS spoilers (S1-S7).
It is the absolute silence that wakes Andrew up. He rubs his face, left cheek sore from where it has been resting against the seat in front of him. It is twilight and the bus is motionless; the long shadows and the dark red dust that covers everything lying still.
“Hey, guys?” Andrew pushes himself up and stretches, wincing at the cramp in his legs. Only silence replies. “Guys?”
The fear kicks in swiftly. He thinks: they’ve left me, and then: something’s happened to them, and isn’t sure which is worse. He knows which is more plausible. If there’d been a fight he would’ve heard it - if they’d stopped to stretch their legs they would’ve left someone on guard. But there’s only him.
He could never survive on his own and they’d know that. Maybe this is his punishment, for surviving so long. For surviving where others (Anya) didn’t.
He moves to the front of the bus. What little possessions they’d had are gone. The Slayers’ weapons, Giles’ bag of books, the rucksack filled with food. Gone. The fuel gaubge reads empty. His own bag is still where he left it, under the seat he’d been sleeping on, and his first instinct is to go through it. A bruised apple, a twinkie, a half-empty water bottle… he can’t survive on these things. He flicks his camcorder open and turns it on, the blue of the screen eerily bright in the growing darkness.
“Well, this is it,” he says, and he’s Alice from Resident Evil, all hospital gown and bemused bewilderment. “They’ve gone off to make their last stand somewhere and left me to the vampires.”
“Not very nice of them, was it?”
Andrew whirls around. Warren is leaning over the back of one of the seats, his lips twisted in sympathy.
“We- we killed you.”
Warren laughs. “Andrew, don’t you remember? You strike me down…”
“You’re not Warren.” The fear in Andrew’s voice is audible now, higher and with a hint of whine. “Go away. Go away and-“
“Hey. Hey.” Warren leans forward, eyes solemn. “None of that now. Didn’t I promise you I’d never leave you? Didn’t I promise we’d always be together?”
Andrew turns his head so he doesn’t have to look at Warren. But he can still hear his breath, smell the soap and musk and deodorant that Warren has always smelled like. Had. “You’re the First,” he says. “You’re not him. Stop trying to trick me.”
“I’m not trying to trick you,” the First-as-Warren says. “Just trying to give you a little hope, you know? I thought, since they abandoned you, you deserve to be with someone who cares.”
“Shut up! You so don’t care, otherwise why did you make me murder my friends?” Tears sting the corners or Andrews eyes.
“Oh, you’re right, of course,” says the First, and he’s moved so Andrew has to look at the face that is so familiar. “But he cares. Even now, even dead, he still cares about you.”
Andrew doesn’t want this to be a lie, and doesn’t want to believe anything this spirit says.
“I’m taking a shape that’s familiar to you. A shape you loved.” Andrew cringes. “Hey, don’t be like that. Look at me. Look at me, Andrew. You and your buddies, you won. But I am always here, and I am always waiting. The Slayer may be strong, but she’s not forever. Better to be with me, who loved you, don’t you think?”
Andrew shakes his head, part denial and part frustration. There are two people before him, Warren and the First. They are the same. They are not the same. It merges, shifts - one sounds so like the other, he doesn’t know what to believe, doesn’t know who is really standing before him.
“They’ve left you, Andrew - I heard them planning, talking about how you were a weakness, how you weren’t enough to face whatever was out there.”
The shape changes into Anya, who smiles at him. “You weren’t enough to save me, Andrew, how could you be enough to save yourself?” She twirls a little and sits down next to him. “You see Andrew, I know all your secrets. And I forgive you them. Forgive us our sins, and we forgive those who sin against us. Will you forgive me Andrew?”
It shifts - Jonathan this time. “I forgave you for what you did, so can’t you forgive me and help me be strong?”
Warren. “We can make each other strong. I need you, Andrew.”
Anya. “There’s no hope for you anyway, the others don’t care.”
Jonathan. “We’ll leave you to think about it.”
Then just Andrew again, sitting on the bus with his head in his hands, alone.
He must’ve drifted off to sleep, because he’s woken by a hand shaking his shoulder and a light in his face.
“-Can’t keep watch forever. A girl’s gotta get her beauty sleep. Hey, supernerd, wake up.”
His eyes blink open to see Faith standing leaning over the seat in front of him. “Rise and shine, kiddo,” she says, and he notices the bus is still quiet and unmoving. It’s much darker, too; he can’t see outside the light thrown by the torch she’s carrying.
“Okay, I’m up,” he says. Faith may be trying for gentleness, but she’s still a Slayer and his teeth feel slightly rattled. “Where is everyone? I thought you guys had abandoned me.”
Faith laughs. Robin Wood appears behind her, looking slightly chagrined. “You woke up earlier? You were sleeping the sleep of the dead.”
“Buffy and the Wonder kids are hotfooting it to the nearest town to get us some gas… and maybe a decent ride,” explained Faith. “They said not to wake you unless things got hairy.”
Andrew’s first sleep-fuddled thought is that Spike would have had to stay behind as well. Then he remembers.
“So um, where were you earlier?” He sounds like a wuss, he knows it. “I mean, the bus was completely empty.”
“Faith thought she saw something, er, outside,” Wood said. “We went to investigate.”
Faith shot him a raised eyebrows look. “Nothin’ but a couplea birds, of course,” she said, and smirks. It takes Andrew a moment to realise she’s lying, and blushes. Of course, they were off having sex, while he’d lain here all vulnerable.
He doesn’t want to argue, though, especially not with Faith. “Sure,” he says. “Is there anything to eat?”
“Not ‘til the crew get back. And they sure are taking their sweet time.”
“Either way,” Wood informs him, “You and I are going on watch together, let Faith get some rest. I’m not sure how much use you’ll be…”
Faith jumps off the seat and punches his arm. “Hey, with that chest wound you’re not exactly Mr. Invincible. At least if some Big Bad shows up you’ve got a tasty treat to toss it.” She grins at Andrew, the kind that means she’s kidding-but-not.
“Glad to see you’re so concerned with my welfare,” Wood deadpans. “Come on, Andrew, I’ll show you our lookout post.”
It turns out they’ve pulled over next to a tree, and Wood helps Andrew scramble up to the roof of the bus. Even in the desert it’s hand-numbingly cold. Andrew scratches absently at a cut on his arm. “Y’know, when you and Faith were out looking at birds…”
Wood chuckles, but looks a hint abashed. “Yeah?”
“I kinda thought I saw… nah. It doesn’t matter. I mean, it was probably a dream, right? I was super tired and I don’t even remember falling asleep again so I probably just thought I saw it.”
“Andrew.” Wood has on his My-Other-Job-Is-Principal-At-Sunnydale-High face. “What did you see?”
“I…” Andrew bites his lip, scans the horizon as though being on watch is actually to be taken seriously. “Warren. I mean, the First again, I guess. As Warren. And Jonathan. And…” He didn’t want to say Anya’s name. He didn’t have the right. “And some other people. They talked to me, tried to make me all minion-y again. I mean, will I ever be free? I’m redeemed now, I don’t deserve to be taunted like this, haunted by the ghosts of my past misdeeds and…” he breaks off.
A hand moves to his shoulder that is obviously meant to offer comfort. “It’s still out there, then. I suppose it’s crazy to think we could ever actually kill it.”
“We won the battle, but not the war,” says Andrew.
“Something like that. But don’t let it get to you. We decimated its army, and by activating the Slayers we showed it couldn’t ever end the line.”
Andrew blinks. “It still can, though. I mean, um, now it has to kill off lots of Slayers instead of weak potentials but… it can still do that, right?”
“Not if Buffy has anything to say about it,” says Wood, and that seems to be the end of the discussion. It’s given Andrew a lot to think about though, and he can’t help but muse over the futility of a battle against absolute evil. Evil’s everywhere, right? Eventually Buffy would grow old, and die, but the First never would. It would always be there, waiting, biding its time…
Still. No point worrying about that now.
Andrew sits in silence at scans the horizon for any sign that Buffy might be returning.