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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.

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"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.

"You guys just chatter like teenage girls is all, Andrew," he threw out there.

God knew it was true. Jonathan and Andrew acted like little children all the time, in Warren's eyes. Warren wasn't budging from where he stood, but his hands found his pockets.

Jonathan stood upon Warren's entrance, hands balling into fists at his sides. "You're right. You'd probably be more suited to a slasher flick."

Being civil might have been a bit of a stretch for him presently.

"What? Like Halloween?" Pfft. "Overrated."

Now he looked at Jonathan and wondered what that was all about. It wasn't like that was applicable to Warren. At least... Not as far as he was concerned.

"Don't tell me I've got another Future Boy on my hands..."

"Not that much farther than you. You're not missing out." Except he was. Warren hadn't yet taken any of the important steps. He'd been missing out on everything. That didn't mean he shouldn't be blamed for them still. It was getting harder to swallow back the fury creating a lump in his throat.

"How much did Andrew tell you?"

"Why don't you ask him?"

Warren looked over in Andrew's direction.

"I've been more or less unconscious for days."

"It was just a Tylenol." But the protest sounds weak. He stands up and holds out the unopened drinks. "Dude, are you allergic or something?"

Jonathan would have been more inclined to believe Warren was just lying if Andrew wasn't suddenly radiating Guilt.

"...Andrew?"

These guys... Future or not this wasn't that hard. Andrew made a mistake in not letting Warren just deal with the pain himself. Now... Well look what it opened up to.

"You know, I remember not wanting to take it in the first place..."

It had kept him quiet. That was what had been important. It had kept Warren in and all of the bad possibilities out. A quick, ill thought out solution he was dealing with now.

He shrugs, suppressing the urge to shoot Jonathan a pleading look. "I didn't know. Um... maybe you're just more sensitive to it than I am? I mean, um. I travel a lot and I've always been on medication for allergies and infections in stuff, so I take something pretty strong. Um. I should have gotten a small dose. Sorry. But, um, the wings are better now at least?"

Strictly speaking, if Warren had just been drugged against his will for several days it was something kinder than Jonathan probably would have thought to do. It was more worrisome that Andrew was trying to backpedal his way out of it. And that Jonathan still wasn't positive Andrew didn't have a reason to do worse to him if given half a chance. He keeps quiet, wringing his hands behind him.

The little seed of doubt had been planted. It was good enough for a start. He didn't know what was going on. Warren shrugged, testing out those wings of his a little. Yeah, they didn't hurt now.

"They get in the way, man."

Then he looked serious.

"Now are we going to stop avoiding telling just what's going on? You got to avoid the subject for days, Andrew."

No more running. No more pretending or dodging the subject. Andrew closes his eyes for a moment, taking a moment just to orient himself.

"Okay. Sit down. Both of you."

If Warren was looking for a Doubt Seed, then it's a shame he wasn't awake last night for all the shouting. He would have had plenty of ammunition to use.

But Jonathan sat when Andrew prompted. For now.

Right now he didn't trust either one of them. Warren was too on edge for that, all things considered. He still wasn't sure when Andrew grew a pair, but it was rubbing him the wrong way. No, no... He didn't sit. That would be listening to Andrew. Allowing him some authority..

So what did Warren do? Meander behind the couch. He wouldn't sit down, but he would be leaning against it.

"Okay." He clasped his hands together behind his back, squeezing his fingers together. "Okay, so... First things first - I'm from 2005. I mean, it's 2005 where I come from. By the way, all those movies we were excited for kind of sucked."

No. No stalling.

"And... um. Things are pretty different. For me."

"Can't imagine why," retorted Jonathan with just a little bit of snark.

"Let 'im talk, Sparky."

Warren was sort of finished with distractions.

Edited 2011-01-10 20:06 (UTC)

"I kind of deserve that."

A slow exhale. "The villain thing -- it didn't work out, so. Um, I'm reformed. I mean, I don't -- I don't do that stuff anymore. It's my redemption. Una questa." A nervous smile. He can't look at either of them. This is so hard.