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(no subject)

Who: Andrew Wells, Jonathan Levinson, Warren Mears
What: The Trio reunited.
When: Afternoon of the 8th
Where: Andrew's apartment.
Summary: Former Friends Face off in Fiendish Frenzy.
Rating: PG
2001, three friends meet and decide to take over their home town over a game of dungeons and dragons. They have fun, finally getting a chance at the things they'd been denied all their lives.

2002, it all goes wrong. Murder. Betrayal. 33.3 percent of that group is flayed alive. The remaining 66.6 flee to Mexico in hopes of surviving.

Haunted by nightmares, they come back.

Fall 2003, one kills the other.

The last surviving member of the Trio joins their mortal enemies and changes all his way.

2005, he has established himself as a confidante and loyal friend of the Good Guys. He's become confident and honest, placed in a position of authority. He's respected. He no longer bends to the will of others and does what it takes to get his job done.

He's a better person.

He's good now.

2011, the three are reunited and nothing is how it should be.

Andrew isn't sure what to do. How to handle it. He's lying to Buffy - no, not lying, he argues even in the middle of panic and thoughtless rushing - he's concealing information from her. It's like the Ragna. He's doing good, he knows he is, but he has to keep it concealed or everything will go to hell.

After talking with Buffy he'd explained the situation to Jonathan on their way back to his apartment. They'd stopped and grabbed clothes, grabbed food, grabbed items - and Andrew had told him the 'sitch'. It had been a rushed explanation, consisting of only the bare minimum of info. He'd kept his tone clipped, business-like, and as British as Mr. Giles would have and felt proud.

And that was it.

"Well, um... this is it."

And into the apartment they went.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Warren was more or less glued to the journal. The pain in his back was virtually gone and he really, really wanted to get out and look around. BUT THERE WERE THINGS ON THE JOURNALS. THINGS THAT WERE AWESOME AND WRONG AT THE SAME TIME. Like catching the conversation earlier with tribbles in the background. Warren was too busy trying to find out who else would be here to even think about anything else. It was like a nerd's fantasy.

Before he thought Andrew was lying, really he did.

He didn't even hear the door open....

Jonathan had always been a man who was prone to settling. If you can't have what you want, might as well want what you've got, right? But what he had was a companion in his friend-who-was-also-his-murderer, a confirmed fibber and compulsive teller of nontruths, telling him stories wholly incongruous to the way Jonathan understood the world functioning as a whole. He was willingly allowing himself to be led into a den inhabited by both the man who'd killed him and the other former friend who'd spent the better part of two years convincing Andrew that turning Jonathan into a knifeblock might not be such a bad idea at all.

This would not end well. There was no way for this to possibly end well.

But Jonathan went along anyway. Maybe this would be a second chance to keep either one of them from hurting anyone else. Maybe he would have the opportunity to stand up to Warren and tell him where to shove his stupid plots. Maybe...

Maybe he just didn't have the courage to face being alone in a village of strangers otherwise.

"...Yeah. This is it all right."

Fantasies had once dominated his life. He drifted through the halls of Sunnydale High, trying so hard to be oblivious to deconstruct the world around him and rebuild it into a place where he got dates and the football players who shoved him to the ground were his friends. This wasn't even covering the horror that was home with Tucker and the absentee-parents who may-or-may-not have been. Followed by the aunt that didn't care.

The only thing he had were his friends. More aptly, the only person he'd really had was Jonathan, even if all they'd done was squabble and bicker. They'd argued, but they'd been a united force up until... Up until something in Warren broke. Then he wasn't arguing against Warren, he was arguing for Warren and the Trio was a Duo. Warren was the leader, but Warren was the reason he'd been sitting close to Jonathan on a truck headed for Mexico, trying to ignore the awful smell of the driver and avoiding his horrible leering gaze.

And Warren had abandoned them. He reasoned with himself that yes, that is indeed what happened. Warren had used him and was now one of the people who were on the other side. But it wasn't his fault, he didn't know - all these years later, he couldn't help but think these thoughts. And -- and this Warren hadn't done anything wrong. He hadn't killed Tara and Kat- that had been an accident.

He just wanted things to go back to normal.

He wanted Jonathan to look at him without fear. He wanted Warren not to be crazy. He wanted to argue about Bonds and pretend that nothing bad had ever happened and they'd be back to being the inseparable group. It was only then, at that moment, standing in the doorway of his apartment and gazing over the life he'd constructed for himself, that he realized that maybe they'd stayed together because they had simply had no one else.

"Warren? You up?"

Unlike the other two, Warren was a bit oblivious to what all was going on. He heard a vague conversation Andrew had with the Slayer's sister. At the moment he wasn't sure if he was hallucinating due to the drugs in his system at the time... But it made him wary all the same. There was a chance that Andrew was an enemy and not an ally. That didn't sit well with Warren at all. However, he was too focused on his own thing he didn't really notice Andrew calling for him.

No... Warren was in one of the bedrooms, journal and guide in hand. Between entries by others and what was written in the guide... He was coming up with ideas. Sure, there wasn't technology here at his disposal. Who was to say that he really needed it? Apparently there were spirits here or something that could grant magical powers to people. Warren was mighty interested in that...

It presented a whole new world of possibilities for him.

Hearing Andrew invoke Warren's name sent a shiver down Jonathan's spine. It felt wrong somehow. Even if he could take everything at face value and this Warren hadn't yet committed any serious crimes, that was just prolonging what would happen. Didn't this place have some kind of jail? Couldn't there be some alternative to.. well. This?

"He'll come out when he's ready. Let the man sleep all he wants." He resisted the urge to add a bit about how much more good could be done by bringing him an extra pillow to smother him with.

Perhaps he shouldn't have given him something so strong. The drug had been inspired purely by panic and not thinking the situation out properly. In reality, there probably wasn't a plausible alternative that would have kept him out all night. The Watcher toed the carpet, shutting the door behind him and heaving a short sigh. "Yeah, I guess so... Um. Hey! You can meet my pet. Like, properly. You kind of spooked her last night."

Stalling. He gestured towards the tiny black animal nestled on the couch. "That's Babe. She's, uh, kind of new. The crazy scientists just gave her to me for Christmas."

...Okay the pig was adorable. And not Warren, so infinitely less frightening.

"Is she radioactive?"

"I don't think so." Andrew sat down next to her, petting her back. "I mean, she bit me once and I didn't develop radioactive pig powers."

"That sucks. Might've been cool." He tentatively settled on the far end of the couch.

"What would a pig superpower even be?" Gaze sliding slowly upward, towards the mural he'd painted the first week he'd moved in. It was easier than looking at Jonathan. Easier than counting every minute was he stalling.

"Maybe you wouldn't sweat anymore. That could be awesome." This was the most awkward conversation since the last awkward conversation they'd had. Not talking about anything of importance was work.

"I think that would actually make you overheat and start panting like a dog, and then people would start staring at you like you're some kind of crazy half-dog-pig person." Oh... what was that sentence even? He bit the inside of his cheek.

"I think I'll go get Warren... Um..."

"But the smell would be better..." Jonathan trailed off at the renewed spectre of Warren.

"If you have to."

"I think I do."

Slowly getting to his feet, the Watcher gave himself a few moments to simply come to terms with the fact that this was really happening. His dead best friend was really on his couch, his soon-to-be evil friend was in his spare bedroom, and he hadn't told anyone jack about this.

That done, he shot Jonathan a twitchy smile and made his way to Warren's room. Knocking once before opening, "Hey, Warren?

The knock tore him away from the page he was thinking on. Setting the book down, he sat up a bit in the bed. Some people had the best timing...

"It's unlocked."

There was something to said about the effect Warren had on him. Andrew could be so certain of something, ready to go through with it without hesitation - and then he would see Warren. Hear Warren. Be reminded that Warren existed, and suddenly the apartment was a basement and they were on the run from the Slayer again.

He hated that... but he wasn't going to give in. No, he wasn't that boy anymore. He bowed to no one's will. He worked for the greater good.

He opened the door, offering a falsely cheerful smile. "Hey, uh - looks like we're all here now. Um. Jonathan showed up last night. So, hm, I was thinking, meeting? Like, uh, the old times."

That had been a far more impressive speech in his head.

"Sparky?" Warren asked, genuinely interested.

See, having Jonathan may work to his advantage. Or disadvantage. There was that tricky thing called the timeline he had to contend with. Already there were different scenarios in his mind on how this would work and what methods he could use. Jonathan would be able to use a tracking spell.

And Andrew was on thin ice.

"A meeting huh? Just like old times..."

"Yeah." He tried to smile. Succeeded, marginally. "So, um, we're in the living room. I'm gonna go make some popcorn and grab some pop, so, uh, yeah. Just head out when you're ready."

Now he rolled off the bed as best as he could. These wings were taking a little bit of time to get used to. They got in the way of just about everything...

"Be right out."

"'kay."

He lingered for a moment, unsure, before turning and disappearing down the hall into the living room. In the corner of the room was an old fashioned popcorn maker and a small fridge - Dr. Pepper and popcorn for all.

They'd need something to get through this in one piece. He didn't turn to look at Jonathan. "He's coming."

"Now do it over, but this time make it sound more Poltergeist." Jonathan shifted and squirmed, unconsciously running a hand along the place in his middle where he knew his scar was.

"He's heeere," he singsonged, trying to add a creepy waver to his voice. It would have been slightly more effective if he hadn't been fighting to get a can of soda open.

By now Warren was standing in view. Oh he heard all of that. He just snorted.

"I think I deserve a better entrance than some horror film, girls."

This is all too surreal.

Andrew tilts his head and takes a long swing of the soda. There were no words for how much he was dreading this - he had no plan. This wasn't a lecture for Italy Squad that he could just run with. This had to be done carefully.

He should have told Buffy.

Probably.

Definitely.

But this was his mess and he had to fix it.

"I dunno. You, um, have the scary entrance down." Could he get a bell for that guy? Also, faking that everything was normal was... hard, to say the least.