Andrew/Warren Fic
OK. emony keeps asking me for Warren/Andrew, so I thought I'd write Anya/Dawn/Andrew. So here it is. Joking! I wrote Andrew/Warren, although I've re-read and edited it so many times I have no idea if it's any good. Oh and I didn't exactly manage the happyish component. Still, it's Andrew/Warren so that has to count for something, right? Um, I hope you all like. And here:
Follow me where I am gone. Consider nothing, but I will be there. Andrew wakes in a sweat again. The jolting of the bus has stopped. Jonathan is snoring beside him. And Warren was there once more. Warren was always there - asleep and awake. The world Andrew lives in has never recovered from what he did. He wakes from reality into dreams. Then falls asleep while dreaming.
Andrew turns away from Warren and watches Jonathan, whose flesh resolves itself to nothing. He was gone and Andrew was alone in the half-dark with Warren. Jonathan wasn't dead; he was waiting for Andrew to join them.
Ignoring the Warren he couldn't touch, Andrew reaches for the knife, the one he'd used on Jonathan, last night or last year.
"Hey, you don't want to do that, Andrew. We've still got things to do. The master-plan."
Andrew's hands tremble as he makes the incision in his wrist, through the big vein, diagonally. The blood spurts out, red. He watches it until the red became mist and then black. It was what he deserved.
He was in bed with Warren. Andrew wants to reach up and touch the slightly distant features of Warren, to feel the deceptive warmth. He recognises the timing. Warren was lying beside him looking down at him. The one and only time. Andrew would then ask Warren if Warren loved him and Warren would say yes. Andrew would believe him; he would believe all the lies. He closes his eyes; he wouldn't ask the question this time. The need for Warren was painful, but he denies it and sinks once more.
Andrew doesn't know where he is; the dark is all he knows. He hates himself for denying the comfort Warren could have given him - however false. He thinks back to what had really happened.
Andrew was in bed with Warren. They'd had sex for the first time. Andrew's body ached terribly, but he was now deeply, urgently in love. He reached up to touch Warren, but paused and started to pull his hand back. Warren was lying beside him looking down at him. There was an expression on Warren's face that approached tenderness. Warren took Andrew's hand and held it, raising it to Warren's face. Andrew trembled and brushed it against Warren's cheek.
"Do you love me?" Warren didn't answer, but sank down on top of Andrew, kissing him intensely, driving all thought from Andrew's brain. Andrew was already hard again. Warren stopped and Andrew whimpered, trying to pull Warren back down again, but Warren shook his head and answered the question Andrew had forgotten.
"I love you Andrew. Of course I do. Ya know, when it's just you and me, think of all the things we can do. We can go to Mexico."
"Mexico?"
"Yeah Mexico, think of the sun and beaches, moonlight swims. We can ... do it in the surf." The thought of sex with Warren on a Mexican beach fascinates Andrew. His arousal deepens. Warren continues.
"We'll be together. Crime Lords of Mexico. Won't that be cool?"
"Yeah. We'd be like in Bandits - but without the girl. Or Butch and the Sundance Kid. Totally dude." Andrew gazed at Warren. This was the guy he was going to spend the rest of his life with. He trusted Warren so much. Warren grinned down at him and got out of bed. The loss of Warren's presence felt almost as painful as in that TNG episode, Attached, when Picard and Dr Crusher can't move apart. That was such a cool episode, even if no one else had agreed.
With Warren gone, Andrew went into the shower and jerked off. He couldn't stop thinking about Warren. One day soon it would be just them. They wouldn't have to sneak around waiting until Jonathan wasn't around. Just Andrew and Warren forever. Even if there were girls as well, Warren really only loved Andrew.
But the memory fades and the night is back. He is nowhere and alone. Andrew squeezes his eyes shut and prays to wake up somewhere else, anywhere.
Andrew wakes up. The scene soothes him. He'd fallen asleep on the beanbag. Warren was there, looking over at him, a slight frown on his face. Andrew stands up, walks over and reaches out for him, clutching Warren's shoulder with desperate intensity.
"Dude, what are you doing?"
Andrew waits to wake up again, but nothing happens. Warren shakes his hand off.
"Dude, what's the matter? You're not going all freakazoid on me are you?"
"Where's Jonathan?"
"I don't know where the little Hobbit is. Probably getting something to eat."
Andrew backs away.
"Have you killed him too?"
"Dude, I haven't killed anyone. What are you going on about?"
"You killed two girls, and Jonathan's dead and I killed him, and Anya died saving me and I think I must have died after all and this is hell. Except it's not a cool hell. And I thought if I went to hell I'd find Lex Luthor there and The Penguin."
Warren interrupts.
"They wouldn't be there. They're not dead. Plus what the hell are you talking about?"
Warren was suddenly clearly angry. He steps up to Andrew, who backs further away, and Jonathan walks in. He looks at the tableau of Warren and Andrew, seems about to comment, but doesn't.
"I've got the stuff." He holds up a small tube. Andrew stares. He remembers this now. For the cerebral dampener. Any girl they wanted. Andrew feels sick. The first time he'd insisted it looked just like powdered ginger and had accused Jonathan of raiding his mom's spice rack, at least until Jonathan had offered to let him taste it. This time he says nothing, then feels in his pocket. It was there, and Warren and Jonathan weren't looking. All he had to do was destroy it. Neither of the others would be able to get the musk gland of a Homja-Maleev demon. But he hesitates too long. Warren turns and sees him.
"Woah, I think I'll look after that. You're beginning to scare me you know, Andrew. Don't want you losing it, in the middle of having a fit or something." He takes the bag and puts it in his pocket.
"Now you keep quiet. I have work to do." Warren sat down at the computer and Andrew wanders over to Jonathan. Jonathan ignores him, to Andrew's surprise. He associated the break-up in their friendship from Katrina's death, but they must have split long before that. Jonathan - his childhood friend; the only older boy who had ever had time for Andrew. The guilt at killing Jonathan strikes him again and he looks at Jonathan, trying to memorise the boy, soaking him in. Jonathan glares at him.
"What do you want, buttwipe?" A year ago Andrew would have responded with an insult. He still would to someone he hadn't murdered.
"Nothing. Um look, are we like sure this is a good idea? The girl thing?" Jonathan stares at him.
"What's wrong with you? You wanted it most. I mean you keep going on about girls and bazoombas. You don't have a clue what to do with them, but you never stop talking about them." The insult almost makes Andrew react, but he doesn't. He can't think what to say. He looks at Jonathan helplessly. Jonathan is beginning to look disturbed.
"Dude, this isn't like a Mirror Universe episode, you're not evil Andrew suddenly swapped, are you? Except you'd be good Andrew. Or if you're evil Andrew you'd be really really evil. Um, I don't think this is..." Andrew interrupted.
"Like dude, I'd have a beard or something if I were evil Andrew."
"No you wouldn't, you couldn't grow one."
"I could too. Forget it. I just thought if we got caught." This is something Jonathan can relate to. He nods and turns away, ignoring Andrew. Andrew watches Warren. The way his hands run over the keys; the intense look on his face. The magnetism he exhibits, which has always affected Andrew. Andrew finds he is still intolerably attracted by Warren. This scares him. He has matured beyond the stage where he wants to find a murderer attractive, but this is Warren. Jonathan has headed off into the back room. Warren notices Andrew watching him. He opens his mouth to insult him, presumably, then notices Jonathan isn't there and smiles at Andrew instead. It had already started, Andrew thought. He should be angry, Warren was using him. Instead he smiles back, and they share a moment, a false moment, but it feels wonderful to have Warren there.
Andrew goes back to the beanbag. He has to think of a way to stop this, but strategic planning isn't Andrew's strong point. That was Warren's. Instead Andrew finds himself wondering who would win out of a fight between Dr No and Goldfinger. Before Andrew has time to decide, Jonathan is back and they're standing at the desk charging the cerebral dampener. Andrew watches events unfold as he remembers them. He even insists he is Mad-Dog Two, before realising it doesn't really matter.
Jonathan yells to Warren about girls and stares suspiciously at Andrew when he doesn't join in. Andrew gives in. Who had he said was attractive?
"Oh, the red-head. Choose the red-head."
"She's too tall." Andrew annoyed with Jonathan and having resisted responding to all Jonathan's barbs himself, can't avoid the temptation."
"Ah, just use a ladder, titch." They fight as before; everything happens as before and Warren still chooses his ex-girlfriend. Andrew looks at Katrina and sees her body dead, cold, with congealed blood and turns away.
Back in the lair and Warren is circling Katrina, filled with pride in his achievement. Andrew turns off. This isn't happening. They're joking together, just the three of them. Andrew watches Warren hopefully, trying not to see Katrina. Warren is not in the bedroom with Katrina; Andrew is alone in the basement with Jonathan, hanging out and playing Jedi knights.
When the dampener fails and Katrina runs off, he can stop it then. He's stronger now, he fought the oldest evil. He can stop a girl while they recharge the dampener.
Katrina runs out of the bedroom to escape. She shouts the truth of what they are doing, but Andrew already knew. The cerebral dampener fails, as he knew it would. Andrew tackles her, before Warren can say anything. They roll on the floor, and he is easily beaten. Katrina disgusted, runs for the stairs. Andrew can't watch.
"Charge the Dampener! Andrew ... get her up. Andrew, now. We can do it. It's gonna be all right. Everything's ... gonna be all right." Andrew finally moves, in a sick trance. He feels for her pulse, avoiding the blood.
"She's dead." He sits on the stairs and says no more, refusing to participate. He cries silently this time. Everything else happens as if in a dream. Warren as always is the controller. Andrew and Jonathan do as they are told. The Slayer believes she killed Katrina; the police believe it a suicide. It's a triumph of corruption. Warren turns to Andrew and Jonathan in elation.
"We're gonna get away with it. 'Injuries consistent with a fall.' The coroner's ruling it a suicide."
"What about Buffy?"
"Well, it wasn't that hard messing her game up. If she figures it out ... we'll take care of her."
Andrew looks at Warren. Buffy had helped him, sometimes she'd bored him. He'd lived with her for months, and Warren wanted to kill her. Warren was looking straight at him. The familiar planes. The dark eyes, flickering with shadowy glee, blaze into him. Warren puts his hand on Andrew's shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze, out of sight of Jonathan. The touch burns Andrew; he wants it there forever, but Warren removes it.
"Hey Andrew, we did it. How good is that?" Andrew looks at the dismayed face of Jonathan, then back to Warren. The scratches on Warren's face still stand out against the pale. His lips are slightly parted and Andrew remembers what it is like to kiss them.
"We really got away with murder. That's ... kinda cool."
From here it will all happen as it has happened before. Andrew no longer believes he can change anything. But he will have those weeks with Warren again. He will be held by Warren; he will be used by Warren. However unreal, he will once more have his lover. The end is far enough away that he doesn't have to think about it.
Follow me where I am gone. Consider nothing, but I will be there. Andrew wakes in a sweat again. The jolting of the bus has stopped. Jonathan is snoring beside him. And Warren was there once more. Warren was always there - asleep and awake. The world Andrew lives in has never recovered from what he did. He wakes from reality into dreams. Then falls asleep while dreaming.
Andrew turns away from Warren and watches Jonathan, whose flesh resolves itself to nothing. He was gone and Andrew was alone in the half-dark with Warren. Jonathan wasn't dead; he was waiting for Andrew to join them.
Ignoring the Warren he couldn't touch, Andrew reaches for the knife, the one he'd used on Jonathan, last night or last year.
"Hey, you don't want to do that, Andrew. We've still got things to do. The master-plan."
Andrew's hands tremble as he makes the incision in his wrist, through the big vein, diagonally. The blood spurts out, red. He watches it until the red became mist and then black. It was what he deserved.
He was in bed with Warren. Andrew wants to reach up and touch the slightly distant features of Warren, to feel the deceptive warmth. He recognises the timing. Warren was lying beside him looking down at him. The one and only time. Andrew would then ask Warren if Warren loved him and Warren would say yes. Andrew would believe him; he would believe all the lies. He closes his eyes; he wouldn't ask the question this time. The need for Warren was painful, but he denies it and sinks once more.
Andrew doesn't know where he is; the dark is all he knows. He hates himself for denying the comfort Warren could have given him - however false. He thinks back to what had really happened.
Andrew was in bed with Warren. They'd had sex for the first time. Andrew's body ached terribly, but he was now deeply, urgently in love. He reached up to touch Warren, but paused and started to pull his hand back. Warren was lying beside him looking down at him. There was an expression on Warren's face that approached tenderness. Warren took Andrew's hand and held it, raising it to Warren's face. Andrew trembled and brushed it against Warren's cheek.
"Do you love me?" Warren didn't answer, but sank down on top of Andrew, kissing him intensely, driving all thought from Andrew's brain. Andrew was already hard again. Warren stopped and Andrew whimpered, trying to pull Warren back down again, but Warren shook his head and answered the question Andrew had forgotten.
"I love you Andrew. Of course I do. Ya know, when it's just you and me, think of all the things we can do. We can go to Mexico."
"Mexico?"
"Yeah Mexico, think of the sun and beaches, moonlight swims. We can ... do it in the surf." The thought of sex with Warren on a Mexican beach fascinates Andrew. His arousal deepens. Warren continues.
"We'll be together. Crime Lords of Mexico. Won't that be cool?"
"Yeah. We'd be like in Bandits - but without the girl. Or Butch and the Sundance Kid. Totally dude." Andrew gazed at Warren. This was the guy he was going to spend the rest of his life with. He trusted Warren so much. Warren grinned down at him and got out of bed. The loss of Warren's presence felt almost as painful as in that TNG episode, Attached, when Picard and Dr Crusher can't move apart. That was such a cool episode, even if no one else had agreed.
With Warren gone, Andrew went into the shower and jerked off. He couldn't stop thinking about Warren. One day soon it would be just them. They wouldn't have to sneak around waiting until Jonathan wasn't around. Just Andrew and Warren forever. Even if there were girls as well, Warren really only loved Andrew.
But the memory fades and the night is back. He is nowhere and alone. Andrew squeezes his eyes shut and prays to wake up somewhere else, anywhere.
Andrew wakes up. The scene soothes him. He'd fallen asleep on the beanbag. Warren was there, looking over at him, a slight frown on his face. Andrew stands up, walks over and reaches out for him, clutching Warren's shoulder with desperate intensity.
"Dude, what are you doing?"
Andrew waits to wake up again, but nothing happens. Warren shakes his hand off.
"Dude, what's the matter? You're not going all freakazoid on me are you?"
"Where's Jonathan?"
"I don't know where the little Hobbit is. Probably getting something to eat."
Andrew backs away.
"Have you killed him too?"
"Dude, I haven't killed anyone. What are you going on about?"
"You killed two girls, and Jonathan's dead and I killed him, and Anya died saving me and I think I must have died after all and this is hell. Except it's not a cool hell. And I thought if I went to hell I'd find Lex Luthor there and The Penguin."
Warren interrupts.
"They wouldn't be there. They're not dead. Plus what the hell are you talking about?"
Warren was suddenly clearly angry. He steps up to Andrew, who backs further away, and Jonathan walks in. He looks at the tableau of Warren and Andrew, seems about to comment, but doesn't.
"I've got the stuff." He holds up a small tube. Andrew stares. He remembers this now. For the cerebral dampener. Any girl they wanted. Andrew feels sick. The first time he'd insisted it looked just like powdered ginger and had accused Jonathan of raiding his mom's spice rack, at least until Jonathan had offered to let him taste it. This time he says nothing, then feels in his pocket. It was there, and Warren and Jonathan weren't looking. All he had to do was destroy it. Neither of the others would be able to get the musk gland of a Homja-Maleev demon. But he hesitates too long. Warren turns and sees him.
"Woah, I think I'll look after that. You're beginning to scare me you know, Andrew. Don't want you losing it, in the middle of having a fit or something." He takes the bag and puts it in his pocket.
"Now you keep quiet. I have work to do." Warren sat down at the computer and Andrew wanders over to Jonathan. Jonathan ignores him, to Andrew's surprise. He associated the break-up in their friendship from Katrina's death, but they must have split long before that. Jonathan - his childhood friend; the only older boy who had ever had time for Andrew. The guilt at killing Jonathan strikes him again and he looks at Jonathan, trying to memorise the boy, soaking him in. Jonathan glares at him.
"What do you want, buttwipe?" A year ago Andrew would have responded with an insult. He still would to someone he hadn't murdered.
"Nothing. Um look, are we like sure this is a good idea? The girl thing?" Jonathan stares at him.
"What's wrong with you? You wanted it most. I mean you keep going on about girls and bazoombas. You don't have a clue what to do with them, but you never stop talking about them." The insult almost makes Andrew react, but he doesn't. He can't think what to say. He looks at Jonathan helplessly. Jonathan is beginning to look disturbed.
"Dude, this isn't like a Mirror Universe episode, you're not evil Andrew suddenly swapped, are you? Except you'd be good Andrew. Or if you're evil Andrew you'd be really really evil. Um, I don't think this is..." Andrew interrupted.
"Like dude, I'd have a beard or something if I were evil Andrew."
"No you wouldn't, you couldn't grow one."
"I could too. Forget it. I just thought if we got caught." This is something Jonathan can relate to. He nods and turns away, ignoring Andrew. Andrew watches Warren. The way his hands run over the keys; the intense look on his face. The magnetism he exhibits, which has always affected Andrew. Andrew finds he is still intolerably attracted by Warren. This scares him. He has matured beyond the stage where he wants to find a murderer attractive, but this is Warren. Jonathan has headed off into the back room. Warren notices Andrew watching him. He opens his mouth to insult him, presumably, then notices Jonathan isn't there and smiles at Andrew instead. It had already started, Andrew thought. He should be angry, Warren was using him. Instead he smiles back, and they share a moment, a false moment, but it feels wonderful to have Warren there.
Andrew goes back to the beanbag. He has to think of a way to stop this, but strategic planning isn't Andrew's strong point. That was Warren's. Instead Andrew finds himself wondering who would win out of a fight between Dr No and Goldfinger. Before Andrew has time to decide, Jonathan is back and they're standing at the desk charging the cerebral dampener. Andrew watches events unfold as he remembers them. He even insists he is Mad-Dog Two, before realising it doesn't really matter.
Jonathan yells to Warren about girls and stares suspiciously at Andrew when he doesn't join in. Andrew gives in. Who had he said was attractive?
"Oh, the red-head. Choose the red-head."
"She's too tall." Andrew annoyed with Jonathan and having resisted responding to all Jonathan's barbs himself, can't avoid the temptation."
"Ah, just use a ladder, titch." They fight as before; everything happens as before and Warren still chooses his ex-girlfriend. Andrew looks at Katrina and sees her body dead, cold, with congealed blood and turns away.
Back in the lair and Warren is circling Katrina, filled with pride in his achievement. Andrew turns off. This isn't happening. They're joking together, just the three of them. Andrew watches Warren hopefully, trying not to see Katrina. Warren is not in the bedroom with Katrina; Andrew is alone in the basement with Jonathan, hanging out and playing Jedi knights.
When the dampener fails and Katrina runs off, he can stop it then. He's stronger now, he fought the oldest evil. He can stop a girl while they recharge the dampener.
Katrina runs out of the bedroom to escape. She shouts the truth of what they are doing, but Andrew already knew. The cerebral dampener fails, as he knew it would. Andrew tackles her, before Warren can say anything. They roll on the floor, and he is easily beaten. Katrina disgusted, runs for the stairs. Andrew can't watch.
"Charge the Dampener! Andrew ... get her up. Andrew, now. We can do it. It's gonna be all right. Everything's ... gonna be all right." Andrew finally moves, in a sick trance. He feels for her pulse, avoiding the blood.
"She's dead." He sits on the stairs and says no more, refusing to participate. He cries silently this time. Everything else happens as if in a dream. Warren as always is the controller. Andrew and Jonathan do as they are told. The Slayer believes she killed Katrina; the police believe it a suicide. It's a triumph of corruption. Warren turns to Andrew and Jonathan in elation.
"We're gonna get away with it. 'Injuries consistent with a fall.' The coroner's ruling it a suicide."
"What about Buffy?"
"Well, it wasn't that hard messing her game up. If she figures it out ... we'll take care of her."
Andrew looks at Warren. Buffy had helped him, sometimes she'd bored him. He'd lived with her for months, and Warren wanted to kill her. Warren was looking straight at him. The familiar planes. The dark eyes, flickering with shadowy glee, blaze into him. Warren puts his hand on Andrew's shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze, out of sight of Jonathan. The touch burns Andrew; he wants it there forever, but Warren removes it.
"Hey Andrew, we did it. How good is that?" Andrew looks at the dismayed face of Jonathan, then back to Warren. The scratches on Warren's face still stand out against the pale. His lips are slightly parted and Andrew remembers what it is like to kiss them.
"We really got away with murder. That's ... kinda cool."
From here it will all happen as it has happened before. Andrew no longer believes he can change anything. But he will have those weeks with Warren again. He will be held by Warren; he will be used by Warren. However unreal, he will once more have his lover. The end is far enough away that he doesn't have to think about it.