Chapter Text
One:
"I don't want to go!" Andrew repeats.
Tucker smacks the back of his head. "Shut UP! God! You're driving me nuts!"
"It's the bad part of town! And, and it's a bar! We're not even supposed to be here! We can't even get in!" Andrew looks at the empty warehouses and chain-link fences all around them and gets the shivers. Mom said to never go in the bad part of Sunnydale, because bad things happen there. Andrew really wishes Tucker would sometimes listen to their mom.
"I can SO get in!" Tucker says. "It's the Bronze. It's the place to be!"
Andrew makes a face. "You mean it's the place where Cordelia is. You do her math homework, she's not going to date you!"
"Shut UP! Or I tell Larry on the football team why you're called An-DROOLY."
"You shut up!" Andrew says, but that's it, because football Larry is really big and even meaner than Tucker and Tucker does his math too.
But then when they finally get to the Bronze the guy at the door says "We're at the limit. Fire code says we can't let anyone else in."
"Come on, man," Tucker pleads, but the door guy stands firm.
Tucker charges back down the street with his hands stuck in his pockets. Andrew follows him. "So what now?"
"So shut up, An-drooly." Tucker grabs his shirt and pulls him down an alley. "We're going around the back."
And it's dark in the alley. It's dark and spooky and when Andrew was in the fifth grade, his class went to UC Sunnydale for a field trip and he was standing in line waiting for the bus and his last name is "Wells" and the boy behind him's last name was "Zimmerman" and when they all got into the bus that boy was gone and it was dark then and spooky and they never found Charlie Zimmerman ever and Andrew really hates the dark. "Mom said not to go in alleys," Andrew says, walking closer to Tucker. "Kids disappear when they go in alleys."
"I'm not a kid. You're a stupid kid. All the monsters will eat you." Tucker pokes him.
"That's not funny!" He steps on the back of Tucker's shoe accidentally and Tucker elbows him hard in the ribs.
"That's the Bronze," Tucker says. "What we do is, we wait for someone to come out, and then we go in, right?"
Andrew stares at the handle-less steel door. "That's a stupid plan! I don't want to go in! I want to go home!"
"We're not going home!" Tucker says. "You got it?"
"No!" If he has to be in this stupid dark scary alley one minute more he's going to freak out. He turns around and starts walking away, because while Tucker wasn't even supposed to leave the house tonight, he really isn't supposed to let Andrew be alone at night.
But when he looks back, a girl and guy are running hand in hand down the alley away from him and the door is hissing closed and he can't reach it in time and he can't see Tucker anywhere. "Tucker?" he says.
And Tucker doesn't step out of a shadow and tell him to shut up. "Tucker?" he says again.
And the door doesn't open, and nobody lets him in. Andrew bites his hand, crouches down on his heels and wishes he were home. Home, with the safety bars on his windows and the big locks on the door and his old He-Man figure under the pillow so he can touch it when he's dreamed that he's somewhere horrible and scary and he has to remember that he's actually in his bed.
He sniffs. He rubs his eyes. He hunches into the wall and chews on the side of his thumb.
If he's alone, nothing awful can happen, right? It takes people to do horrible things.
Right?
The door opens and Andrew jumps up. A girl steps out and pauses in the doorway. She smiles at him. "Hey, darling," she says.
"Hi," Andrew says. "I need to go inside."
"Oh no... you're so fresh and sweet, you need to come with me." And she grabs his wrist and she's very very strong and as she pulls him closer he sees there's something really wrong with her face.
"You get to meet the Master," she says, and when she smiles she shows fangs.
She's a monster. Mom was right, he's going to disappear, and Tucker is going to get all his Star Wars action figures so he'll probably be glad.
He throws all his weight backwards trying to escape, but the girl grabs him and slings him over her shoulder.
The girl meets up with another monster just outside one of the cemeteries. "No food for the Master?" she asks.
"Everyone is inside tonight," he complains.
"You hunt in the wrong places, dumbass," she says. "I went to the Bronze and look what a sweet fish I caught."
"It's trite," he grumbles. He kicks open the fence and he and the girl walk up into the cemetery.
There are some voices, some yelling. "What's that?" the monster girl asks.
Another monster girl, this one blond, leaps a gravestone and snarls: "Stop them!"
"Stupid humans, always running!" the guy growls. Andrew can't see what he's doing--can't see anything, between his tears and the girl's lacy dress--but he's suddenly dumped on the ground and another boy thrown on top of him.
"Oh man," the boy says, and Andrew realizes that he's all warm, not like the girl and her cold skin, and his face looks all right. "Jesse!" the boy shouts.
There's screaming. All kinds of screaming. The warm boy helps him up and they run and the monster girl knocks them back down. She snarls and grabs the boy and bends his head way back, exposing his neck, and she grins with her huge, sharp teeth so Andrew tries to hit her but slips. Instead he pokes her in the eye.
Tucker always tells him he fights like a girl. Eye-poking is fighting like a girl, he guesses, but it works.
She yowls and grabs his hand and bites it. Then suddenly she dissolves into dust with a funny noise, and there's a blond girl and a red-haired girl standing there and the dark-haired boy sitting beside him--hey, and he doesn't know the blond girl, but he knows Willow and Xander from Tucker's birthday parties; they're in the same class. Andrew can't see any monsters any more.
"Are the monsters dead?" he asks.
"Yeah," the blond girl says. "Who are you? Where's Jesse?"
"I don't know! They surrounded us," Willow says.
"That one girl grabbed Jesse and took off," Xander says.
Andrew's hand is cold. He feels dizzy, like he has to sit down, but he is sitting down. "Oh, crap," Xander says suddenly, grabbing Andrew's arm, and then Andrew has to faint.
He's dreaming of fish...
"Andrew? Honey?"
Big fish, with big teeth.
"Andrew, honey, you had an accident, but you're going to be okay. You're in the hospital now."
The fish all sound like his mom. It's kind of weird.
"Andrew? Baby?"
"It's not my fault! How can it be my fault?"
Now the fish sound like his brother. Lame.
"He is your little brother and you are supposed to look out for him. Especially when you go out after dark. Especially when I told you not to. You are grounded for the rest of your life, mister."
"Dad!"
He decides there must be three kinds of fish: mom-fish, brother-fish, and dad-fish.
They all have big teeth. He doesn't like it.
"Mr. and Mrs. Wells? Can I talk to you for a minute?"
It occurs to him that he might be awake. He tries cracking his eyes.
He sees Tucker leaning over his bed. He doesn't like it, so he closes his eyes again.
"I know you're awake, dumbass."
Andrew opens his eyes again.
"It's not my fault you got in an accident," Tucker says.
Andrew blinks at him.
"I brought you something." And he takes Andrew's He-Man figure out of his pocket and lays it on the bed beside him.
Andrew just blinks. He's feeling very floaty, and if he opens his mouth and lets his breath out he might float away.
Tucker looks down and sticks the figure under Andrew's pillow. "So--you'll tell Mom and Dad it wasn't my fault, right?"
Andrew closes his eyes. He tries to tuck his hand up under his pillow, but it's all wrapped in bandages like another pillow. Why does he need two pillows on his bed, and why is one on his hand?
"No, no, that's not acceptable!" he can hear his father saying. "No!"
When he sleeps again, he dreams of dogs.
With great big teeth.
...and a quarter:
Andrew has an alarm clock by his bed that tells him when to take his pills. He has little painkillers and big antibiotics all dosed out into dishes by his mom every morning since he can't open a pill bottle one-handed.
He's reading a lot. He re-read Tolkein and Gibson and Pratchett and all his DC comics and he's starting on his dad's stack of Patrick O'Brian novels because he's really bored. He could watch TV, but that's downstairs, and he's kind of woozy with the pain medications.
Also the hand rail is on the right.
The doctor says he'll be able to write and hold things and type when he's healed up some more. He'll have physical therapy and later maybe prosthetics and other stuff. His mom says definitely prosthetics now, but his dad says wait until he's all the way grown.
Tucker just wants to see the stumps. Andrew won't let him.
It's his middle and ring finger. Andrew wonders--what if he wants to wear a ring?--but a wedding ring would go on his left hand. So if he can still type and write and wear a ring and hold things, then he's not really disabled, right? It's just a scar, like having his appendix out or something. It's like the big gouge his grandfather has up his forearm where he got shot by a Nazi. It's a war wound from living in Sunnydale.
His mom said a dog bit him, but Andrew knows it was actually a vampire. He saw her. She had fangs and was about to bite Xander Harris on the neck. All the bad stuff in Sunnydale is starting to make sense--and there's a lot of it. He looked. You can surf the internet one-handed if you switch sides on the mouse.
The front door creaks open and bangs closed and Tucker stomps up the stairs. "I brought your books, shorty!"
Tucker rounds the corner and tosses his backpack onto the bed. Andrew looks at him--the guilt-making look, the one he just got really good at--and Tucker scowls and starts pulling books out of the bag. "They have a ton of this stuff at the school. The librarian guy has some kind of special collection or something. It's freaky," Tucker says.
Andrew is just staring at the books, because they're all huge and old and straight out of the horror movies. These are the books the vampire hunter has in his bag.
"Cool," Andrew says.
Andrew is reading the books he got yesterday. Last night he read until he fell over with his head on the page, and this morning he started right where he left off.
Tucker is home, talking to someone downstairs. Andrew ignores him.
Andrew has finished all the books about vampires and is now reading the ones about magic. It's all true. He can feel it. There's a fight between good and evil and it's being waged in Sunnydale. There's an evil leader, the Master, and a great hero, the Slayer--and he knows she's here, because where else could she be?
It's like she's Aragorn, leading the fight against Sauron's orcs in Gondor. Andrew could be her--Gandalf?
Andrew stops and thinks. No, definitely not Gandalf, because he doesn't have the skills and wisdom already. He will be learning and growing into his abilities as a fighter for the cause of good. So maybe he's Pippin.
He braces the book on his knees and reads about summoning spells.
As he gets to Fyarl demons he hears feet on the stairs--two sets. Andrew looks up as Tucker and an old guy come through the door.
"Mr. Giles wants his books back," Tucker says.
Andrew hugs his book to his chest. "You said they were library books!"
"He's the librarian. Give them up," Tucker says, rolling his eyes and heading back down.
Mr. Giles looks after Tucker, then looks at Andrew's hand. He quickly removes his glasses and rubs them with his handkerchief. "Those books are non-circulating, I'm afraid, and should never have been checked out. I--was not clear to one of my student helpers. I'm terribly sorry for the mistake. I must have them back immediately."
Andrew looks at the book in his lap, all thick and old like books in vampire movies. This must be the vampire hunter! "Is there some evil you need to vanquish?"
"Excuse me?" Mr. Giles puts his glasses back on.
"That's why you have the books, right?" He sits up. "You're Gandalf! You help the Slayer fight the vampires!"
"I--well--er?"
"I want to help!" Andrew says. "I've fought the vampires already and I want to, um, fight them even more!"
Mr. Giles looks at his hand again. "You were the other boy in the cemetery, weren't you. I'm sorry--what's your name?"
"Andrew Wells. I'll be back in school soon!"
"Andrew--it's very important that you keep this a secret, all right?"
Andrew widens his eyes. "This is your secret identity? Like Bruce Wayne?"
"No, no, well, yes, but, listen--other people, who haven't been touched by events so directly, aren't going to listen or understand. I--" Mr. Giles looks around for a minute, maybe looking to see if evil spells or demons are spying on him. Andrew hadn't thought of that, the infinite peril that surrounds the good. "--I do understand, and we can talk about this later, but just now I need those books."
Andrew stares up into his face, the face of the first real vampire hunter he's seen. He's weathered--rugged--he shows the sacrifice and toil of his noble cause.
It's a beautiful face. Andrew swallows and stares.
"I need them to fight evil," Mr. Giles says.
Andrew nods solemnly and closes the book. "Of course," he says, handing it to Mr. Giles.
...and a half:
Giles rubs his eyes.
He can see the letters on the page but they carry no meaning. It's Greek to him--except that he could read Greek.
He trusts Buffy's intuition. She is the Slayer. The Handbook--which he still wonders if he should show her--says that the feminine animal instinct of the Slayer is more powerful than a team of philosophers and their abacuses.
The Handbook is rather old.
Giles trusts Buffy to find the truth, as long as she doesn't pass a good shoe sale. He sighs and rubs his temples.
Unable to read. He's had dreams like that: he gets lost in the stacks, is unable to read the books, can't remember spells, and then something really dreadful happens, usually to Buffy.
A student bangs through the door backwards and staggers into the check-out desk. He looks over his shoulder at Giles and his eyes are huge and filled with terror.
Then Giles notices his hands, clothed in fingerless gloves to disguise the space where two fingers are missing. Andrew Wells. "Can I help you? Is something wrong?"
Andrew points at the door with his damaged hand and twitches the other over his face. "I think I got lost. There were trees and things looking at me and I was all alone right in the middle of the hallway! I shouldn't get lost in school!" His voice rises with hysteria.
"Good heavens. Sit," Giles says, hurrying over and taking his arm. "Have a nice cup of tea."
"Tea?" he asks, sniffling back tears.
"Earl Grey. It does wonders. Sit, please." Giles pushes on the boy's shoulder and he collapses onto a chair, hugging his bookbag to his chest.
Giles fetches a thermos and two cups and saucers from the office, thankful that he thought to bring tea this morning. "Things have been very strange today for everyone," he says, "but I'm quite sure it will be all right."
"You're sure?" Andrew asks. "Of course you're, uh--" He takes a deep, shaky breath.
Giles opens the thermos and smells the sharp reek of beer. "What on earth--this is not what I put in here this morning!"
"Is it the evil? Is the evil playing tricks on us?" Andrew asks, sitting up and rubbing the backs of his gloves over his cheeks.
Giles sniffs the thermos and winces. American. "Yes, very likely," he replies. He replaces the top and sets the thermos aside. Hopefully he can discard it before Snyder discovers it.
"How can we fight it?" Andrew asks. His eyes are widening. He's quite serious, apparently.
He has to let the boy down gently. Willow and Xander have attached themselves to the Slayer, but enough is enough. "Well--each situation requires a different solution, and--it's rather tricky."
"I want to help. I, I want to learn magic!"
"Magic!" Oh, no. No. No, no, no. But the library doors bang open, then, and Willow and Xander run through. "We'll discuss this later," Giles tells Andrew.
With any luck, the boy will forget all about it.
The boy isn't even saying anything, simply sitting there, reading his textbook and sipping his juice box. He's taken to lunching in the library. Giles has every authority to toss him out--and has several times--but he remains undeterred.
"All right," Giles sighs, and Andrew jerks his head up and grins. "All right, if you're really serious in this course, I'll give you a lesson."
"Yes! I am! I'm ready and able!" Andrew stands half up, then sits again and slams his textbook shut, gathers up the remains of his lunch into the brown paper sack and shoves everything back into his satchel. Giles looks through the books in the special collection, meanwhile, searching out a particular volume.
Ah. He pulls it from the shelf and carries it to the worktable. "We fight more than just vampires," Giles says, and drops the book to the table like a cannonball. "Malegg's Demonology--a comprehensive listing of the inhuman and the unholy. This is a start."
Andrew is grave and close-mouthed when he nods up at Giles.
"Learn it. Know it." The book is four inches of tissue-thin paper. If that won't derail the boy, nothing will.
"Research. I love research, the books and the dust and the sneezing. Makes my day complete!" Xander says.
"Yes, I've always found," Giles says, glad they can agree on something.
"Uh--you know I'm being sarcastic, right?"
"Oh." He blinks. "Quite."
"So are we thinking that the baseball bat is possessed or that it was held by something invisible? Because, you know, wood you can burn, but invisible people you need a big ink pad for them to walk across and leave little Family Circus footprints all over town. Hey, do you have a big ink pad in the library?"
Giles removes his glasses and rubs an eyebrow as they walk along. "No--oh, I'm terribly sorry," he says after running into some poor girl. He replaces his glasses.
"What about angry tree spirits?" Xander says as he pushes open the library doors. "Possessing the wood to revenge their fallen brethren. Maybe Mitch insulted a tree once, did you think of that?"
"Xander? Kindly stop thinking and start reading and oh, dear." Giles says as he sees the boy sitting at the library table. Again. Still. Clutching Malegg's Demonology. Giles should never have given in.
"I heard there was evil afoot! I thought I could help," Andrew says.
"Who's this mook?" Xander mutters to Giles.
"Andrew Wells. The other boy in the cemetery when you were attacked. He's decided that he's going to be the Slayer's sorcerer," Giles whispers.
"Cemetery?" Xander looks confused for a moment--but the light dawns across his face. "Hey," Xander says to Andrew. "Uh. Thank you."
It isn't the response Giles would have expected, but he remembers that Xander was the one who stopped the bleeding and carried the boy to the nearest phone. Being drenched to the elbows in the blood of another person makes an impression even on sixteen-year-olds.
"For what?" Andrew asks. He looks more puzzled than usual.
"For saving my life with the thing with your hand." Xander sits next to Andrew. "And I didn't even know your name. It's been a little hectic."
"Lots of evil," Andrew says, nodding. He shifts in his seat, resettling the enormous book against his chest, and his fingers rub over the stumps on his opposite hand. "When you're a warrior for good it, uh, it keeps you very busy."
"Uh--yeah." Xander looks to Giles, but Giles examines the stacks of books on the main desk. It isn't as if he understands the child either.
"Buffy Summers is the Slayer, right? And you help, right?"
Xander opens his mouth and looks at Giles again. "Yes, he figured it out and I confirmed it some time ago," Giles says.
"Well, yeah! That's us. Total warriors for, uh, good, and puppies, and rainbows. And stuff. It's cool. And how are you doing with the. Hand?" Xander says.
Andrew holds up his right hand and Xander visibly pales. "It's, it's great!" Andrew says. "I can't hold a pen? But I can already type. And my parents got me a laptop computer to take notes. In class."
"That's great." Xander's voice shakes, barely audible.
"Oh! I have class." Andrew jumps up. "Mr. Giles, do you need help with the evil later?"
"No, no, Xander and I are handling it quite well," Giles says.
"I understand," Andrew says with an exaggerated nod. He slings his backpack over his shoulder and leaves.
"Hey, that was fun. Let's meet the guy who saved your life with his fingers," Xander says, some of his bravado creeping back into his voice.
Giles picks up a stack of books from behind the counter and sets them on the table. "And Buffy saved both of you with her stake. Casualties are inevitable in a war."
"Yeah, I know, his name was Jesse," Xander snaps.
Giles removes his glasses. "I'm sorry. I hadn't forgotten."
"We lost that first battle."
"You're still--"
"We lost. Big. And I'm not gonna lose again, so let me at the books, okay?" Xander holds out his hands.
Giles gives him a book.
...and three quarters:
All the really good books are locked in the cage, but there's a lot in the stacks, and Andrew is reading it all.
He already knew about the vampires and the werewolves. That's kid stuff. Now he's reading about demons and magic. The magic is cool, but the demons are really neat. Summoning demons is a lot easier than using magic--magical power comes from within, but demons can be controlled with bones and words.
Andrew tried a couple of spells but they didn't really work. The demon stuff sounds better. He just needs to know enough to be like Willow Rosenberg and Xander Harris: bosom companions of the Slayer, assisting in her heroic struggle against the forces of darkness while concealing it from the unknowing denizens of humble Sunnydale Town.
He sighs to himself. He knew he'd do something cool some day.
Mr. Giles is muttering to himself in the library below. It's really comfortable, after hours, just the two of them studying Important Things.
Maybe Mr. Giles could use some help.
Andrew weights the pages with another book and jumps to his feet to see what Mr. Giles is doing.
He's surrounded by notebooks and dictionaries and things and he's saying to himself: "And the Master will rise, and then... bugger."
The Master is the leader of the forces of evil in Sunnydale, Andrew is pretty sure. "The Master? Is rising? From where?" Andrew asks.
Mr. Giles jumps as if stung by a bee. "Andrew!" Mr. Giles shouts. "Dear God--don't do that!"
He slaps his own wrist mentally. He could have been a vampire or a demon or a bad witch or anything. "I'm sorry, Mr. Giles."
"What on earth are you doing here?" Mr. Giles asks. "It's nearly dark."
"Tucker has another study date with Cordelia that he thinks is a date date so he told me to wait here after school until he comes to get me." His brother is so lame. Andrew tried a spell to give him zits all over his face before the study date thing, but Andrew just ended up giving himself a rash all across his ankles. Stupid wishing spells.
Mr. Giles has a funny look on his face. "But you haven't been here, surely."
"I'm--always here," Andrew says. Hasn't Mr. Giles noticed?
Mr. Giles looks at him for a long moment and Andrew shifts and looks at the floor and the table instead. Finally Mr. Giles takes off his glasses and rubs his nose. "Andrew, it really isn't safe for you to be alone. This is a public place--there's nothing keeping the vampires out. If you need to be here, please read at the front table where I can see you."
Andrew nods. He guesses he's just too stealthy for Mr. Giles--he is kind of old. "I didn't want to disturb you. What you're doing for the Slayer is very, very important."
"Yes, well." Mr. Giles puts his glasses back on. "Do you want to help?"
Andrew sits across from him--he bangs his knee against the table leg but that doesn't matter, because he has work to do. "I am ready and able to assist you in the fight against evil, Mr. Giles!" he says.
Mr. Giles leans back a little, then pulls a book from the stack on the table. "All right. Look for references to the Master."
It's huge and old and bound in leather and iron. It's one of Mr. Giles's special vampire-hunter books.
This is it. Andrew--he's part of it. The big fight. The epic battle. He's riding the wing of the storm at the Slayer's side and he'll be there with his weapons and his encyclopedic knowledge of demons and Mr. Giles will say what a good soldier he is and maybe the Slayer will kiss him and--
"Did you have a question?"
Andrew blinks. "Um--no."
"All right then." Mr. Giles bends his head over his notebooks. He didn't say what he was translating, but Andrew bets it's important.
"La la la," Andrew sings, "la la la, someone doesn't have a date!"
It's Spring Fling tonight and they're both at home.
Tucker kicks the bathroom door. Andrew holds it closed with his good hand, bracing himself against the sink.
"Someone's a huge loser!" Andrew shouts.
"Someone is breaking his ass!" Tucker shouts back.
He guesses Tucker means him, but that doesn't even make sense. "You're so dumb! You don't even know good insults!"
"I don't have to, you little twerp! I can insult your head with my fists!" Tucker kicks the door again, but it's old and solid. Tucker once punched the plaster in Andrew's bedroom and broke his hand; maybe he'll break his toes now. That would be cool.
"I hate you!" Tucker shouts. "I hate you! God dammit!"
Then it's quiet for a minute. Andrew stays put--Tucker can be wily. He's giggling to himself, under his breath so Tucker can't hear him.
Then he hears Tucker say, "I hate you and your stupid gay toys," and then he hears plastic cracking. It makes an unmistakable sound against the wood floor.
Andrew stops laughing.
He hears the door slam. He opens the bathroom door.
His He-Man is fractured all over the floor. There are dirty boot prints on its soft plastic head; its arms and legs are all cracked and broken backwards.
Andrew sits on the floor and looks at it.
After a little bit, he hears the front door unlocking. He jumps up and runs down the stairs. When his mom comes through the door, he hugs her tight.
"Andrew! Hi, honey," she says. She drops her briefcase and hugs him back.
He's taller than her now, maybe. "Hi, Mom."
"What's wrong, baby?" She pats his cheeks.
"It's Spring Fling and I don't have a date." He didn't ask anyone, actually. He's busy with more important things.
"Oh! Aren't you--well, you boys are growing up."
"Yeah." He's almost fifteen. Tucker just turned sixteen.
"Well, we can have fun at home." Mom looks at her briefcase, but then smiles at him. "We can have popcorn and watch movies, okay?"
Andrew smiles.
"Where's Tucker?"
"Busy with stuff," Andrew says.
"Just the two of us." Mom locks the door and slides the bolt into place. "Pick out some videos, okay?"
"Okay." He's already thinking--Superman and Batman, because they're heroes.
He's digging through the video drawer on the entertainment center as Mom makes popcorn when he hears the creak on the stair. He turns and sees Tucker hanging over the railing on the landing.
Andrew stares at him angrily.
Tucker is all weird and pale, but he comes downstairs anyway, picks up his sunglasses from the table by the door, and goes back up like that's what he meant to do.
Jerk.
Andrew looks at the picture of Christopher Reeve on the back of the Superman tape. He knows real heroes. When the Slayer fights the Master he's going to be there by her side and then he'll be a hero too.
And stupid Tucker is always going to be stupid.
Andrew beams and goes to help his mom with the popcorn.
Andrew turns his robe over and over in his hands. "What's the fiber content on these? Because I'm not supposed to wear wool. It gives me a rash."
"Hair of virgin goats. They haven't got labels--stop manhandling it and put it on," Mr. Giles says. Andrew flinches away and pulls the robe over his head.
"How do they know the goats are virgins? What, do they ask them pointed questions about necking with the billies?" Xander says to Willow. Willow goes red.
Mr. Giles frowns at them both. "Do you all have your holy water?" he asks. They nod. "Right. We're forming a pentagram with the tree as one point. Andrew, come stand here." Mr. Giles beckons. "Willow, here, and Xander, here. Andrew, stop that!"
Andrew scratches his neck hard. "It's itchy!"
"It's sacred! And it's only for a few minutes. Xander, be careful with that candle! You're both flammable and the robes are borrowed."
Xander stops elbowing Willow. Andrew looks around nervously; he hasn't been in a cemetery since he got attacked, even though they're shortcuts from anywhere to everywhere. Even Tucker doesn't give him crap about it. Andrew hunches his shoulders to rub his itchy neck, feeling kind of wiggy.
"Andrew, stop that this instant. Willow, kindly don't call on the goddess Hecate during the ritual."
"I wasn't!" Willow says, her eyes round as pennies.
"Mind your fingers, then." Mr. Giles rubs his head. "Right. All of you, stand where I put you and don't move, for heaven's sake."
Andrew wrinkles his nose, trying to ignore the itchiness of the collar of the robe. He can't help twitching a little bit.
Mr. Giles gives them all one last look and then recites from a scroll in Latin. Andrew has just started his study of Latin, so he only recognizes a little bit... actually, pretty much just the fact that it is Latin. Mr. Giles stops reciting and points at Andrew, so Andrew unscrews his jar of holy water and pours it out over the grave of the Master.
The Master is really dead. Really, truly, in-the-ground-covered-in-holy-water dead. And he helped. Is helping. Even though he wasn't there for the epic battle.
Andrew smiles. Maybe he missed the battle with the Master, but there will be plenty of battles with the demons on the Hellmouth. It's going to be an exciting summer.
Mr. Giles starts chanting again. Andrew concentrates on not scratching his neck.