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 a 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.

*

Two:

"Do summers get any more boring than this?" Xander asks nobody in particular. He's tossing a stake up in the air and catching it.

"Yes," Willow and Mr. Giles say together.

"Remember that summer you broke your leg when you went skateboarding down the stairs on the last day of school and your mom didn't let you outside until the day before school started again and we had to go run through every stream and then you got sunburn?" Willow asks him. "That summer was way worse than this one."

Xander has a funny look on his face. "Repressed memories... flooding back..." He sits heavily on the couch beside Willow.

Andrew is sitting at the worktable across from Mr. Giles, working through the witch chapter in Malegg's Demonology. He almost has the whole book memorized and Mr. Giles is really impressed. He said so. Right in front of the others. It makes Andrew smile secretly when he thinks about it.

Mr. Giles is reading old Watcher journals. Probably he misses the Slayer and all the excitement. Probably the Slayer is rescuing her sister from demons from hell right this minute in L.A. Xander has been telling him Slayer stories all summer--some of the real stories behind the weird stuff at Sunnydale High--like the one where the new science teacher was really a giant bug that wanted to eat the boys in her class.

Xander said she chose him because he was so big and manly that he'd make a good meal, and that makes sense to Andrew. Tucker really really liked her too and said that she'd invited him over to help her with a special project but that he hadn't been able to make it since he had a doctor's appointment that afternoon; Andrew figures it's just that Tucker wasn't as big or manly as Xander, so the teacher didn't dose him with as many pheromones.

"Okay, so this is the second most boring summer ever," Xander says.

"But it's much more entertaining now that we're listening to you complain," Mr. Giles says.

"Maybe when the Slayer killed the Master the spell of evil over Sunnydale was broken forever," Andrew says.

"I very much doubt it. The Hellmouth is still present, though closed," Mr. Giles says. "And it's getting dark, shouldn't you be running along home? Now?"

"If you're sure there are no demons for us to slay? Werewolves to trap? Witches to de-wart?" Xander makes a kung-fu pose. "Slayerettes in action!"

Andrew looks at Mr. Giles. "Do you have any conjuring powder?"

Mr. Giles gives him a hard look. "Why?"

"We could make a light. So it wouldn't be dark when we go home, at least where we are."

Andrew jumps as Xander claps him on the shoulder. "Don't worry, guy, we'll walk you home. Inner circle," gesturing to Willow, "very tough."

"Okay," Andrew says. Xander grins.

Xander's very tough--he's got all kind of stories. Andrew is sure that if the Slayer hadn't been there, Xander would have figured out how to kill all the vampires and save them. He's tried telling Xander this, but Xander always changes the subject--he's so modest.

"Off you go, then," Mr. Giles says. "I'll see you when school starts."

"Unless of course something exciting happens," Willow says.

"Of course."

Andrew closes his book reluctantly. Mr. Giles has such a great library. "I miss school," he says as he gets up.

"Sacrilege and heresy!" Xander opens the door.

"I think it's rather refreshing, actually," Mr. Giles mutters as they all file out.

Xander walks next to Willow and Andrew trails behind them a few steps. "Where do you live?" Willow asks. "I've never been."

"On Revello four blocks down from Buffy. And, um, you and Xander both used to go to Tucker's birthday parties. I remember you." Andrew fidgets the glove back and forth on his right hand.

"Tucker?" Xander says.

"My brother. He's in your grade."

"Brother?" Willow says.

"He's a big jerk."

"Tucker who fainted when they made us dissect the worms in science class?" Xander says. Andrew blinks. He never heard about that one.

"Ooh! Ice cream! They're still open!" Willow runs over to the Frozen Delights across the street. "Ice cream, guys!"

"Ooh!" Xander runs over beside her and Andrew follows them inside.

Willow looks very carefully at the buckets of ice cream behind the glass window. "They're usually not open when we're around, or there's an emergency or something. Oh look! Strawberry Surprise. I love surprises!"

"No, you hate surprises," Xander says.

"I like ice cream related surprises. Unless the surprise is licorice. Do you think it might be? Maybe I should get vanilla." Her forehead knots up with worry.

"It might be, those licorice-hiding bastards," Xander says, "but I bet if you ask the man, he'll tell you."

"They have coffee ice cream."

"No," Xander says.

"But it's yummy," Willow says.

"And you can't," Xander says. "Nobody likes a Willow-pancake on the ceiling."

Andrew looks over the buckets. He used to like bubble gum ice cream, but that's baby stuff.

Xander nods at the clerk. "Strawberry Surprise for her, pistachio for me, and what do you want, Andrew?"

Andrew jerks his head up. "Uh--pistachio," he says.

"Looks like you're the odd man out, Will."

"Oh," she says, sounding crushed.

The clerk dishes up their ice cream--"Special for the lady," he says, winking at Willow, who looks briefly panicked--and Xander pays.

Andrew tries the pistachio and decides he likes it. Willow looks at her cone from every angle as they start toward Revello Drive. "I still don't know what the surprise is," she says.

"It must be great to be an ice cream man," Xander says. "Ice cream, girls, striped shirt... what more could you want?"

Andrew licks his ice cream and looks in the storefronts. The Bronze is about ten blocks down the other direction and there's a cemetery on the other side of the little business district. Sunnydale isn't really big enough for there to be safe places.

Willow cautiously tastes her ice cream. "The surprise is that there are bananas inside," she says happily.

"Ice cream surprises are good surprises," Xander says.

"Tucker once put dirt in my chocolate chip ice cream and that's why I don't eat chocolate chip anything any more. There were bugs." Andrew makes a face, remembering that.

"Ew," says Willow.

"Ditto," Xander says.

There are a lot of people around; the college opened the dorms this week, so a lot of the students are back. They seem young and happy and healthy and none of them are looking warily into the alleys like Xander and Willow and Andrew are.

Obviously they're from out of town. Funny--so is Buffy.

"Do you think everyone has a destiny?" Andrew asks Xander, "like--maybe--there's a reason people come here to study on the Hellmouth?"

"They don't know it's the Hellmouth," Willow says.

"Well they wouldn't, if their destiny is to live on the Hellmouth unconsciously," Andrew points out.

"No. I don't believe in destiny. I think this is all random, and people do things because they do things," Xander says.

Willow points at Xander with her ice cream cone. "But the Master killed Buffy according to a prophecy. That's like destiny."

"You think Jesse was put here just to die?" Xander snaps.

They're all quiet for a minute. Andrew licks his ice cream and wonders about his destiny: is he supposed to be the Slayer's great sorcerer or her demon-master? Mr. Giles probably has the sorcerer job covered, so he'd better stick to demons.

"Maybe the Slayer has a destiny," Xander says, "but the rest of us are just regular guys and we totally don't. I don't think it's possible for everyone on the planet to be at exactly the right place at the right time for everything to go according to some big cosmic plan."

"Well--if you start something at a certain place at a certain time with a certain set of qualities, you can predict its interactions with other things. That's just physics," Willow says.

"Isn't it physics where the cat is alive and dead at the same time?"

"Well, yeah, but that's different."

"Did they use Hellmouth cats for that? Because vampires, alive, dead, undead, I see a theme."

"That's not really what the experiment was about."

"And what kind of physics experiment makes you kill cats anyway?" Xander asks.

"It's. Um. It's a thought experiment. They didn't actually kill cats." Willow starts to look worried again. "I mean, I don't think they did. Cute little kitties!"

They've reached Revello. Willow and Xander turn towards Buffy's house, so Andrew has to correct them: "I live this way. Near Buena Vista."

"Oh, right!" Xander and Willow switch back.

He knows where Buffy's house is; his best friend in 7th grade lived there before his dad disappeared and his mom moved them back East to be with her family. Brian wasn't ever really the same after his dad. He never wrote from Maryland.

Andrew walks with his right hand in his pocket and the ice cream in his left. "What do you think it's like not to live in Sunnydale?" he asks.

"Less vamps, I guess," Xander says.

"Definitely fewer field trips canceled because of demon activity," Willow says.

"Maybe people who don't live on the Hellmouth don't have a destiny, but people who do live on the Hellmouth all do. That would make sense. Because why else would anyone stay?"

The others don't answer. "That's my house," Andrew says, pointing with his ice cream.

"Okay. We'll see you when school starts, I guess." Xander waves with his cone. He and Willow turn back while Andrew is still walking up the driveway, so Andrew hurries. The sun is just a blue smear in the western sky and this is the time of the fell creatures now.

When he opens the door, Tucker is lying on the couch watching TV. Andrew looks at him for a second; they haven't really been talking all summer, just sort of staring. It's been great.

Tucker jumps up and marches over to him. "What flavor?"

"It's--pistachio." Tucker raps him on the head and takes his ice cream. "Ow!"

"That's a pistachio-flavored bruise," Tucker says, putting him in a headlock so he can't hit back.

*

This is going to be the best school year ever.

"Agriculture," Mr. Giles says.

"S," Andrew says.

"History."

"C through F."

"Bibliographies."

"Z!"

"Excellent!" Mr. Giles says.

"It's like I'm seeing double," Xander whispers to Willow.

"I heard that," Mr. Giles says, "and while being a librarian may not be the most storied of careers, it's unequaled in its potential for subterfuge."

"That means spying," Willow says.

Andrew grins. He knew Mr. Giles was special.

The library door swings open; Buffy walks in, followed by a younger girl. "Dawn?" Mr. Giles asks.

"Dawnie, what are you doing here? It's a Saturday, and it's the wrong school," Willow says.

"Dawn, Queen of Brats, says that if I don't take her to a special secret meeting with my Slayer friends then she's going to tell mom about me being the Slayer. So here she is. Show her how un-fun and totally boring it is to fight vampires all the time," Buffy says, throwing herself in a chair.

Dawn sits next to Andrew. "I always knew, I just didn't have proof. And you can't shut me out of stuff forever. I'm eleven. I have rights."

"Giles, tell her she doesn't have rights!"

"Ah. Well. Under the American Constitution, all citizens have rights..."

"Ha!" Dawn says.

"...but I'm afraid that none of them address Slaying specifically. Buffy, how--?" Mr. Giles leans over Buffy.

"She hid in the closet while I was talking to Angel, which is so gross!"

"I'm also telling Mom you let boys in your room," Dawn says smugly.

"Not if I duct tape your mouth shut and lock you in the basement." Buffy waves a fist at Dawn. Dawn sticks out her tongue.

"Ah." Mr. Giles straightens up. "Well, we were just discussing... the Library of Congress system. Works of fiction, Andrew?"

"P," Andrew says.

Dawn looks at Andrew. "What's that?"

Andrew sits up straighter. "It's the system of library book organization developed by the Library of Congress. It's very useful if you're going to be a spy."

Dawn's face lights up. "Cool!"

Mr. Giles takes off his glasses and cleans them as Buffy groans "Andrew!"

Andrew gasps. He encouraged the Slayer's sister, when he was supposed to discourage her! "I meant that--it's very, um--boring, to be like--be all British. And librarian... y. Like Mr. Giles," he says, trying to cover his mistake.

"Today we're fixing the card cabinet," Willow says, "making sure everything is in the right order. Tomorrow we get to re-shelve books."

"You guys are such bad liars. I'm telling Mom unless I hear the good stuff now," Dawn says.

Andrew looks to the Slayer in consternation. She rolls her eyes. "Fine. Want to hear about the time I died? Or hey! Andrew, show her your hand. It's fun to be part of this gang."

"Buffy--" says Mr. Giles, sounding kind of like he's warning her.

The Slayer called him part of the gang! Andrew tugs his glove off obediently.

"COOL!" Dawn squeaks when Andrew shows his bitten fingers.

"No! Not cool! Tragic! Painful! That's it." Buffy jumps out of her seat and stands over her sister with her hands on her hips. "You're out of here. Go ahead and tell Mom--she isn't going to believe you, anyway."

"Buffy!"

"No! Gone!" Buffy yanks Dawn up out of her chair and hauls her out of the room.

"She'll believe me about the boys," Dawn growls as the doors swing shut behind them.

*

Later that night, Andrew is having Spaghetti-Os in front of the TV when the doorbell rings. Andrew turns the TV off and checks the peephole carefully before answering.

It's Dawn--and it's dark out. Andrew unlocks the door as fast as he can. "Come in!" he gasps, "before the creatures of the night find you and incorporate you into their dastardly schemes!"

Dawn makes a face at him. "Does Buffy make everyone mental? I live four blocks away. There aren't any evil creatures between your house and my house."

"Creatures lurk everywhere, unseen and unsuspected," Andrew says.

"So--show me some stuff, and I'll suspect." Dawn crosses her arms just like her sister and glowers up at him.

Andrew opens his mouth--but she has him. That's a logical trap, all right. "You are wily, Dawn Summers," he sighs. "Come up into my study and I will show you the secrets of Sunnydale's dark underbelly of terror."

Dawn follows him upstairs. "This is your bedroom, not your study," she says.

He should have put up that screen painted with books like he was planning. He had some really cool ideas--he could split his room in half with a screen or maybe a backdrop like in a play, and then put up some wood paneling and get a lot of books--it would be really sophisticated, like Mr. Giles's house. He hasn't had time to do much of anything, though.

They both sit on the bed. Andrew slips on his reading glasses, licks his fingertips and opens Malegg's Demonology. "The first lesson, little Dawn--"

"Don't call me little!"

"But you are--" She punches his arm. "Ow! Dawn!"

"I'm fierce! And I'm a hair-puller, so don't call me little," Dawn says.

Everyone's always hitting. "Fine," he grumbles. "There are lots of different kinds of evil. There are witches and sorcerers who use magic and creatures who are magic like demons. The vampire is a kind of demon--"

"That's not how you say vampire," Dawn says.

Andrew scowls at her. "The vampire--"

"You're supposed to put the emphasis on the first syllable, not the second."

Andrew hits her on the arm. Dawn shoves him over sideways and sits on his chest. "This is America! There aren't any laws about--against being more sophisticated," Andrew says.

"Are so."

"Are not."

"Are so."

"Are not a million!" Andrew tries to elbow her but misses. Dawn picks up the book, but she overbalances and they both fall on the floor.

Andrew sighs. "Do you want to hear about evil or not?"

"Do." Dawn props herself up on her elbows as Andrew straightens himself up and examines his book.

"Then listen and learn."

*

Later, Andrew lets Dawn see his hand again.

"It was really a vampire?"

"Yeah."

"Were you scared?"

"Yeah." Andrew looks at the smooth stumps--it's almost like he was just never supposed to have fingers. "But your sister was there."

"She always is." Dawn wraps her arms around her knees while Andrew puts his gloves back on. "I should probably go home before she freaks out," she says.

It's dark out. And dangerous. And he's older and more experienced in the ways of good and evil. "I can walk you home," he says.

Dawn stands up. She tugs aside the curtains and looks out of his safely barred window. "Vampires and demons and witches, oh my."

She didn't grow up here. She wouldn't know like the natives know. "Yeah," Andrew says.

*

...and a quarter:

"Efnet demons are the ones from England," Andrew announces, "and Afnet demons are the ones from Scandinavia." He points to the passage and takes off his reading glasses. His eyes hurt.

"You're positive of that?" Mr. Giles hurries out of the office with a stack of parchment in his hand.

"Yeah--I think so. Ugra knows his area--right?"

"Yes. Good work." Mr. Giles rests a hand on his shoulder and reads the passage. "Very good, that's it exactly."

"It's late."

Andrew jumps and hits Mr. Giles in the chest with his head. They both turn and see Angel standing in the stacks. "For you," Angel says.

Angel. Tall, dark, and handsome, like the prince caught in evil's magical spell in the movies. He swoops in, fights for the cause of Light, and entangles the Slayer in the mystery of his eyes.

"We had a spot of research to do. An Afnet demon lord is going to rise next month in Copenhagen," Mr. Giles says.

Angel tilts his chin slightly. "Why is this an issue?"

"It's not rising here."

"Oh. Good to know."

"I find it comforting."

Angel stands silently for a moment as they all watch each other. "You can sleep tomorrow, at least," Angel says.

"Yes--Halloween."

"But isn't--won't that be--" Andrew looks from Angel to Mr. Giles.

"Popular with children and amateurs," Angel says, "but anyone who knows anything stays in on Halloween. I came to let you know I won't be around--but it shouldn't be a problem. Even Spike has enough pride not to attack tomorrow night."

"Of course," Mr. Giles says. "Buffy will have--a party of some sort, I'm sure."

"Do you want to sit down? There's tea and coffee--" Andrew swallows as Angel looks at him. "--but not any, uh, blood, so that's not--hospitable."

"I can drink tea and coffee. I just don't eat. And I'm not staying."

*

"I could be a robot," Andrew says, "with, with some foil and some cardboard."

"You're no good at building stuff. It always breaks," Tucker says.

Andrew looks at the sidewalk. It's true. "You could help."

"I don't want to help."

Tucker has the Halloween money. They're supposed to get costumes, then Tucker is supposed to stay at home and pass out candy while Andrew goes trick-or-treating. Andrew thinks he might be too old for that--he's fifteen and almost a half--but it doesn't matter, because Tucker has decided they're both going trick-or-treating and he's spending the rest of the money on a girl and if Andrew doesn't agree he doesn't get a costume at all.

Because he really isn't any good at making stuff. He could maybe cast a costume glamour--he's pretty sure he could do that if he could get the stuff. But Mr. Giles says that magic should only be used for terribly important things like saving the world because of, um, something about chaos and entropy.

Tucker yanks his arm and pulls him into Ethan's Costume Shop. It must be new--Andrew has never seen it before. "Wait here. I have an idea."

"I could be Indiana Jones. Then I could wear Dad's jacket and I'd just need a hat."

"Don't be stupid, Andrew! You couldn't be Indiana Jones. I said wait, so hands on the counter!" Tucker points to the makeup counter.

Andrew puts his hands on the counter and Tucker disappears into the store. Their mom used to do this when they were kids, tell them the glass was made of glue and they couldn't unstick their hands. Then it was kind of fun, and they giggled. It's not fun by himself.

An employee strolls behind the counter, head cocked, looking at Andrew. "Hello, my poppet. What are you looking for?"

Andrew swallows. "Nothing! My brother is looking."

"Everyone wants something," the man says. "When the priests of the Chaos lord Angharok cut the middle fingers from their hands, it was to emulate his sacred claws and allow them tap into his power over life and death. The priests of Angharok live forever."

Andrew looks up into his dark eyes and sees power. He can't look away. "My hand was an accident."

"There are no accidents, my poppet, only possibilities." The man touches Andrew's chin, shutting his mouth with a snap of teeth and lifting his face. Andrew breathes in deeply, smelling dragon's blood oil and other ingredients he recognizes but that Mr. Giles won't ever let him touch. He keeps his hands pressed flat on the glass. The man smiles like a snake.

Then Tucker rings the counter bell. "I want to check out!"

The man looks up with a small frown of irritation. "One moment," he says, and when he lets Andrew's chin drops Andrew exhales.

He feels kind of dizzy.

He stands there, hands on the glass, until Tucker grabs his arm and yanks him out the door.

He rubs his chin as he stumbles home, but it won't stop tingling. He forgets to ask Tucker what his costume is until it's too late.

*

Tucker is a ventriloquist and Andrew is his dummy. Andrew has a really ugly mask on that he can't see out of properly and he keeps making little kids cry.

He's miserable. Mr. Giles is tidying up the card catalog tonight; he wishes he were helping with that instead. He wishes he were scrubbing the bathroom instead.

But he's carrying a pillowcase and wearing the horrible mask and his suit he just outgrew and his brother is behind him in a suit and a straw hat with his hand on his back propelling him down Revello Drive.

Andrew knocks on the door. Buffy's mom opens it and smiles. "Andrew! Tucker! Look at you--isn't that cute?" She's wearing a retro peasant dress with leaves embroidered on it and she has a fake-vine wreath on her head.

"Hi, Mrs. Summers," they say together. Dawn bounces up in a pretty pink dress and tiara and Andrew smiles behind the mask.

"Thank you for taking Dawn out, boys," Mrs. Summers says. "I have to say I'm a little annoyed with the school requiring Buffy to be an escort."

"I could have taken myself out!" Dawn insists.

"I feel better if you're with someone. Oh, honey, wait a minute," she says, and she fixes a pin in Dawn's hair. "Have fun. Don't eat any unwrapped candy. Let me check it all first. Don't cross the street without looking. Use your flashlight. And, don't talk to strangers except to ask them for candy. Okay?"

"Okay, mom." Dawn pulls away from her mom and takes Andrew by the hand. They run down to the street together.

"Are you a princess?" Andrew asks.

Dawn nods excitedly. "This is one of Buffy's old dresses and her tiara from when she was May Queen. Isn't it pretty? And Mom let me use her makeup! But she took most of it off. Mom says she's a druid, like her friends used to be in the seventies? She had Buffy get her that wreath thing but the dress is hers, can you believe it? My mom kind of used to be cool. Did your parents dress up?"

"My parents are out of town." His dad is in L.A. and his mom is on a business trip.

"Oh. But that's cool, because that means you can go trick-or-treating! Buffy said she was too old! I don't think you can ever be too old." Dawn shakes open her paper treat bag happily.

Tucker catches up. "Okay, we're doing Revello first, then Grant, then First, then Gary. The best candy is on First, so hurry up." He pokes his hand into Andrew's back again.

*

Somewhere on Gary, Andrew starts to feel funny. Stiff and limp at the same time.

Tucker pokes him. "Hey, Andrew, what are you--"

"--doing?" Andrew says as he falls to the ground. "Hey! What's going on?"

He fell on his arm. He tries to push himself up but he can't move at all. "Andrew?" Dawn asks.

"Andrew!" Andrew says, and Tucker covers his mouth, which isn't moving. "Oh my God. This is too fucking creepy."

Dawn looks from Andrew to Tucker. "You're ventriloquizing him! Quit it!"

Tucker shakes his head and backs away. Dawn kneels beside Andrew and rolls him over onto his back. She touches the side of his face and Andrew feels it like the mask isn't there. "Tucker! Andrew's all woody!"

Tucker runs. "This can't be happening!" Andrew says.

"Yeah it is happening! Tucker!" Dawn shouts after him, but he doesn't come back.

He leaves them alone. "Oh, man," Dawn says.

Andrew wants to tell her to run home, but can't. He can see child-sized creatures running down the street, but the noises they're making aren't childlike at all.

"Oh, boy," Dawn breathes. She looks around, then grabs Andrew's arm and the collar of his jacket and drags him by heaves and jerks across someone's lawn. She sets him down and he hears her unlatch a fence gate, then she drags him again and latches the fence behind them.

She pulls his head into her lap. Then they wait. He wishes he could tell her thank you and that things would be all right. "This isn't real!" he says instead. "I'm waking up! I'm waking up!"

"Shut up, Tucker, you big jerk," Dawn replies.

*

They wait. They wait almost forever, while things make weird noises outside the fence.

"When I was little?" Dawn whispers, "And we still lived in LA? We had this huge house, because my parents were still together. It was way bigger than Mom's. Buffy and me had really huge rooms, and hers was yellow and mine was pink. And we used to fight a lot? Until, um--"

Andrew hears a rustle in the bushes and Dawn stops talking and hugs him close. She breathes into his ear, fast and scared.

After a long time, there isn't any more noise nearby. Dawn sniffles and tugs Andrew into a different place on her lap. "Anyway, um--this one day, like two years ago, I left my window open all night because it was really nice out. So I went to sleep? And in the middle of the night, I woke up because I heard these noises. And I turned on the lamp, and it was millions and millions of little tiny bats, and I screamed really loud."

Dawn tucks her hair behind her ear and brushes a bug off Andrew's face. "So, Buffy came running in first, and she looked at the bats, and she threw the blankets over my head and stood on my bed hitting them with a broom screaming 'you'll never eat my sister, you stupid vampire bats!' until Mom and Dad woke up. So I wasn't surprised when I found out she's the Slayer, because she was always, you know, like that."

It must be great, having Buffy for a sister. He wishes he had a sister like Buffy instead of stupid lamer Tucker.

She folds up, hugging him again. "I wish I knew where she was," Dawn says softly.

Andrew wants to tell her that she's probably fighting the evil and saving them all.

"But she's probably out fixing stuff," Dawn says. "And she'll come find us when she's done."

Dawn holds him for a long while, as demons and monsters squabble outside.

"Oh no, wait," Dawn says, "Buffy is in that Marie Antoinette costume. What if she starts making vampires, you know, eat tea and cake instead of slaying them?"

Andrew wants to say that there were Slayers in the eighteenth century too, and that vampires can't eat cake.

"Stupid Buffy! I hate her and stupid Angel for being all in love and stupid!" Huge tears roll off her nose onto Andrew's forehead.

He really wishes he could hold her back, enough that he gives it a really hard try, just in case willpower can break the spell.

And his hand moves. His whole body jerks and he accidentally hits her chin with his head. "Ow!" Dawn yelps.

"I'm sorry!" Andrew says.

Dawn touches her chin. "You're cured!"

Andrew wiggles all his fingers and toes. "Buffy broke the spell!" he shouts.

"Oh my god!" Dawn hugs him hard.

They venture back through the gate and find a bunch of kids and a couple of grownups sitting on the curb. One guy is on a cell phone. "Honey--I don't know. I'm on Gary Street. No, I can't leave all these kids. No, look, I don't know."

The other guy is looking at all the blood on his costume. His hands are shaking.

"That kid lives on my street," Dawn says, pointing at one little girl in a witch costume. Her candy bucket is full of little frogs. "Jessica?" Dawn says, taking Andrew's hand and pulling him over to her. "I'm going home, do you want to come with us?"

The little girl nods. She drops her bucket and the frogs hop away, beeping and ribbiting. She takes Dawn's other hand.

*

"I kind of want to embroider something," Buffy says. "I remember thinking, embroidery? Fun." She's in sweat pants and a t-shirt. They're all drinking hot chocolate: Buffy and Dawn and Willow and Xander and Mr. Giles and Andrew. Mr. Giles is really quiet; he's holding his cup and staring at a picture of Buffy and Dawn on the wall. Buffy's mom is upstairs, talking to someone on the phone.

Andrew is in Buffy's sweatshirt and the pants from his horrible suit. The jacket is ruined from lying on the grass all night, which makes Andrew really glad.

"I kind of want to shoot something," Xander says.

"You shot lots of things, Mr. Shooty," Willow says.

"No, I shot near things. Except for non-possessed-child things like houses. Specifically, like the house across the street." Xander jerks his thumb at the window.

Buffy kneels up and looks out. "Oh. Gee. Look at that. Good thing it's vacant."

Buffy's mom comes back downstairs. "Dawn? That was Mrs. Earl, saying thank you for walking Jessica home."

"Oh. It was no big deal," Dawn says.

"I just wish I knew how I ended up in a tree," Mrs. Summers sighs.

Mr. Giles smiles a little. The others all look at each other and shrug.

*

Mr. Giles drives them home: Willow, then Xander, then Andrew. They're all very quiet.

Andrew tries to think of something to say when they're alone, but mostly he's remembering being all stiff and dead. He goes inside the house without a word.

Tucker is hugging his knees on the couch. He has his dirty feet all over the cushions. Their mom is going to kill him.

Tucker takes one look at Andrew, jumps up, puts him in a headlock and gives him a noogie. Andrew stomps on Tucker's foot until Tucker yelps and lets him go; then he punches Tucker in the stomach as hard as he can.

Then they both go to bed.

*

"Steady. Steady. Look at the target." Mr. Giles holds Andrew's shoulders as Andrew looks down the crossbow at the school's archery target haybale. "Now shoot."

Andrew winces and pulls the trigger. The bolt lands in the ground in front of the target. Mr. Giles finally let him into the training sessions after Halloween, but he's not very good.

"You flinched as you shot. Wind it up and try it again," Mr. Giles says.

"I think--I'm probably more a thinker than an action type," Andrew says.

"Excellent defense. Tell the vampires that when they come to bleed you dry."

Andrew looks at his hand and flushes. Mr. Giles is right--the Slayer won't always be there, and with Angel mysteriously stripped of his soul and turned back to the dark side, they're all in great peril.

"I don't mean to be cruel, but we all must hold our weight. Now try again."

Andrew obediently fits another bolt in the bow.

"We come in peace!" Xander shouts behind him. Andrew tries not to jump--they were expecting the others any minute, after all. "Lower your weapons!" he says, arms held high in the air. Willow giggles beside him and Buffy almost smiles.

Oz looks like he's thinking. Oz always looks like he's thinking. He's deep like that.

Mr. Giles sighs. "Xander, you'll be sparring with Buffy. Willow, Oz, there are crossbows for you. Andrew--arms strong, legs braced, look at the target. Be the crossbow."

"Be the crossbow? Are we in an 80s training montage or a Kung Fu Zen master montage?" Xander asks as he and Buffy square off with staves.

"One has power chords. The other has gongs," Buffy says. Andrew looks at the target, narrows his eyes, pulls the trigger--and hits it! Nowhere near the center, but he hit it!

"Excellent! Keep that up," Mr. Giles says. "Willow, do you need help with the string?"

"I've got it!" Willow winches the string back. Oz, beside her, is already frowning at the target.

"Xander? You're never going to hurt me. So go ahead and try," Buffy says.

"Hey! I could get a few licks in! I have--skills and stuff!" Andrew looks over his shoulder and sees Xander take a few swings--not as clumsy as they used to be--at Buffy. Buffy ducks out of his way easily and takes a few swings at him in return.

Oz fires. "Well done," Mr. Giles says--Oz hit the red ring right outside the black center.

"That's a dusting for sure!" Willow says.

Oz cocks his head and regards the target. "I'm not so sure. It might just be stomach cramps."

"Willow--"

"Oh, right," she says, and she lets Mr. Giles guide her stance. She hits low in the blue circle. "Totally missed."

"Well, no. See, my shot dropped him to his knees, and yours finished him off." Oz gives her a small, secret smile, and Willow grins back.

"HAH! I am Xan-Dar the Mighty, destroyer of worlds!" Xander has Buffy down on the grass and has a foot resting lightly on her hip. "Bring to me your nubile women and high alcohol content mead--ahh!" Buffy yanks his foot off-balance and he tumbles into the grass beside you.

"I worry about you, Xander," Buffy says.

"De nada. All that's broken is my dignity and pride."

"So, nothing important, is what you're saying."

"En garde, Slayer--I'm getting them back."

Mr. Giles eyes Buffy and Xander, then turns back to Andrew, Oz and Willow. "Go ahead, then. I want a dozen bolts from each of you."

Andrew aims his crossbow and fires--still low, almost off the target. "Keep your wrists strong," Mr. Giles says.

"Maybe that's why you're so good," Willow says to Oz, "strong wrists from the guitar!"

"Eeee-YAAH! Eat hot staff, Slayer--oh that's not what I meant and ow!"

*

Things keep changing. There's another Slayer, Angel turned evil again, and now Oz is a creature of the night. All Andrew can do is document events for posterity: be a diligent recorder of the supernatural side of Sunnydale.

"Do you remember anything during your time as a wolf?" Andrew asks.

"Nope."

"Mm-hm." Andrew writes that down in his notebook. "Did you notice any changes to your person?"

"Got scratched up," Oz says.

"Fascinating." Minor abrasions to skin post-incidence of transformation, he writes. "Do you find that your taste in food has changed?"

"Yeah. I started eating red meat."

"Really?" Mr. Giles says, looking up from his book.

"Never did before--Mom has this diet thing. But it's tasty."

Change in dietary requirements. "Hmm," Andrew says.

"Very interesting," Mr. Giles says. "Do you know, I don't know if that is normal or not. We have no baseline for the werewolf. Good thinking, Andrew."

"Thank you, Mr. Giles," Andrew says, smiling at him and Oz.

*

"Did you get the mail?" Tucker asks halfway through the X-Files.

"No..."

"So, get the mail." He doesn't even look at Andrew.

"It's dark!"

"It's right there," Tucker says.

"You get it!"

"I'm older." He reaches over and flicks Andrew's ear, which really hurts.

"You suck," Andrew grumbles, but it's easier to just go get the mail than to keep arguing and right now it's a commercial. He slides off the couch and goes to the door.

The mailbox is three feet from the door, at the front of the porch. It's just--three feet.

He hasn't gone outside alone at night since he was attacked. If he asks Tucker to come with, though, Tucker will just make fun of him and refuse. And it's just--three feet.

Andrew wedges a shoe in the door so it stays open and ventures outside.

There aren't any streetlights on his block and nobody has their porch light on but him. He feels like a great big target--but if he just moves he can get the mail and get back in in one minute so he rushes, almost runs--

A cold hand closes on his wrist as he reaches for the mailbox. Another closes over his mouth before he can yell and Angel pulls him into his embrace. "Hey, kiddo," Angel says.

Andrew kicks wildly but it's like kicking stone--Angel doesn't budge. He yells as hard as he can, but nothing makes it past Angel's hand.

"You little girls and boys--that's all you are. Not a warrior in the lot, not even Buffy, not really. She had the chance to kill me and couldn't do it. And you? You don't even have a chance." Angel kisses his cheek and Andrew digs his nails into Angel's wrist as hard as he can.

"Ugh--you fight like a girl. Stop that," Angel says. He hauls Andrew up by his chin and Andrew can't breathe--

Tears run down his cheeks. He can't stop them. He can't even struggle any more, Angel has him pinned too tight. "Three feet from safety," Angel says. "You never invited me inside. We never really spoke, come to think of it--you were always around Giles, and really, why would I talk to you when there's someone interesting available?"

He wouldn't. There's no reason.

"But now... now you're interesting." Angel presses his nose to the crook of Andrew's neck. "Nothing smells better than terror. Nothing."

And Andrew can feel Angel's face change and can feel his fangs against his skin and he still can't breathe--

"So--marinate for a while, boy. And remember--I can come back for you any. Time. I. Want. You and all of the Slayer's little pals."

Then Angel drops him. By the time Andrew can breathe well enough to pick himself up off the porch steps, Tucker is there in the doorway. "What the hell is going on?"

Andrew shoves past him and runs up to his room with the barred windows and the strong door and he pulls the covers over his head and cups his hands around his neck and shakes.

*

...and a half:

"Mr. Giles?" Andrew says. "This says a Romal demon can give a human super strength with its blessing."

"They can," Giles says without looking up from his book. He knows what Andrew is reading, and in fact considered it himself.

"So--"

"The human granted these powers dies after three days," Giles says.

"Oh." Giles looks up to see Andrew slumping over his book. The boy rests his head on his arms and closes his eyes.

"I'll drive you home," Giles says.

Andrew shakes his head. "We must find a solution to the great evil that is, is..." He trails off and yawns. "...rising in Sunnydale," he finishes.

Giles pats his shoulder and stands. He stretches his arms over his head, trying to pop the weariness out; failing, for the most part.

"Mr. Giles? Do you think people have a destiny?"

"Yes," Giles says. "Absolutely." He tried to run from his. He failed.

"How do you know what it is?"

"Unless there's a prophecy with your name on it, you don't."

"Oh." Andrew looks up at him with wide eyes. "Is there one for me?"

"No."

"Then how do I know what I should be doing?"

"If it's destined," Giles says, "then you are doing exactly what you should be doing."

The library doors swing open. "Look who I found!" Buffy calls out.

Kendra follows her in. Oh, dear.

"I have information about the dark evil rising in Sunnydale," Kendra says. "Some dreadful thing has been dug out of the ground and the bones say that the world could end."

Giles takes off his glasses. Of course. He should have known.

Nothing good ever comes out of the ground in Sunnydale.

*

Kendra watches the door. Andrew walks the stacks with a crossbow held uncomfortably in his hand and fear naked on his face. Xander has the other flank and a large sword. Giles has drilled all Buffy's friends in weapon use, but none of them is anywhere near the level he himself is--and he would not pit himself against more than one vampire, not and have a reasonable hope of survival.

But time has run out for all of them. Willow sits on the table with the implements of the re-souling spell about her. Buffy will distract Angel while Willow returns his soul and if all goes well, none of them will die, excepting William the Bloody and his belle dame sans merci.

If all goes ill, the world will be cast into hell. As usual.

Giles reads out the spell: "Quod perditum est, invenietur."

Willow answers: "Not dead nor not of the living. Spirits of the interregnum I call. Let him know the pain of humanity, gods. Reach your wizened hands to me. Give me the sword..."

Giles hears Andrew's yelp before he hears the vampires' steps. He sees the children fight with all their strength--then he sees black as the vampires begin to prevail.

*

He wakes to Angel and his predator's smile. Drusilla, behind him, dances slowly with Andrew hanging limp in her arms like a child or a doll.

Angel tugs a cord and drops a curtain. "Don't you worry about them," he says.

*

"See, you get afraid," Angel says against Giles's throat. "You don't show it, which makes you a man, but you feel it, which makes you smart."

Angel's teeth brush against Giles's neck without penetrating. He has been waiting for them to penetrate, finally--terminally--for hours.

Minutes.

Time is very much subjective in this chair.

His broken bones throb and flare. Drusilla walks through the doorway with Andrew in her arms, both of them smeared with blood. Andrew is still--poor child--alive. "I saw the most marvelous things," she says. "Demons, words, all through his mind!"

Angel brushes his fingers across Giles's cheek. "You said Giles knew."

Dru widens her eyes and shakes his head. "Ripper and a little Ripper, dancing back and forth," she says.

Angel turns to Giles. "Ripper--that's you?" Giles stares back and Angel smiles, needing no more confirmation. "See, I always figured--either the kid is your apprentice or you're one dirty old man. But he smells..." He pulls away from Giles and presses his nose to Andrew's neck.

"Get away from him," Giles breathes.

"Mm. Smells like a virgin. So, apprentice," Angel says. His tone turns Giles's stomach.

"He doesn't know anything. Let him be."

"Get with the program, Rupert! The idea isn't to make him talk, and besides--" Angel strokes Drusilla's face. His fingers idle down to Andrew's blue lips. "Drusilla doesn't mean to break her toys, but she always does. Your baby boy is beyond repair--by doctors, anyway."

Angel shifts into his demon face as he smiles widely. Giles shuts his eyes.

"Not going to beg? No, no, don't do that to precious little what's-his-name?"

"Would it change your mind?"

A waxen, inhuman thumb presses his lip. "It might."

"Please," Giles says, "if you ever had compassion, let him die."

"Oh, say that again."

"Please," Giles says.

"One more time."

"Please!" He opens his eyes.

Angel leans in and kisses him. His face shifts halfway through; he pulls back slowly, scoring Giles's lip in two places, letting the blood flow free. His smile shows no compassion at all.

Drusilla cuddles Andrew's pale face to her shoulder. Angel hooks the curtain back so Giles can see her lay Andrew down on the table in the middle of the main room.

"Giles and a little Giles," Angel says, "and we do like blonds, don't we, darling?"

"Like sunshine," Drusilla says.

Blood trickles down the inside of Giles's shirt; his lip burns like fire, his hands and feet throb with every rabbit-quick beat of his heart.

Drusilla slices the skin at the base of her throat and leans over Andrew again.

*

The throb in his hand and the fire in his chest and the light, sharp agony in his face beat together with his heart. He's alone, blessedly alone: only him and the box on the table.

It's the death he expected.

He hopes that they will be displeased with Andrew.

He hopes that they'll stake him cleanly as a result.

He hopes that the children have devised a plan, and that they will succeed in his absence.

He hopes that Buffy's second Watcher will be better.

He hopes that Buffy will live to require a second Watcher.

Andrew bursts out of the box of earth and Drusilla runs to meet him. "Such a clever little boy! Mummy's little treasure." She clasps him to her bosom and rocks him back and forth.

"I'm dirty," Andrew says, sounding lost. "And I'm hungry."

"Plenty to eat as soon as you tell us about Acathla," Angel says.

"Acathla?" Andrew echoes dully.

Angel twists his arm. "Acathla. How do you awaken him?"

"The sword," Andrew says. Giles's heart sinks.

Angel leans in closer. "What about the sword."

Andrew looks around. "Am I--am I a vampire?"

"Yes." Angel shoots a triumphant look at Giles.

"Oh." Andrew rubs at his eyes and Drusilla holds him closer.

"What's this? Making minions while the moon shines?" Spike asks from the corner. Giles hasn't seen him all night.

"Mummy's treasure," Dru says. "Mummy's little doll."

"Be a good boy. Tell me how to wake Acathla--exactly how--and I'll be very happy." Angel cups Andrew's cheeks in his hands and leans in, fixing the boy's eyes.

"I'm hungry," Andrew says.

Angel looks at Giles; he pulls Andrew out of Drusilla's arms and hauls him over to Giles's chair. "Smell that?"

Andrew breathes in and shifts into demon face as well. The horror is that he still resembles himself in this guise; the demon scarcely makes two lines in his young face. "That's Mr. Giles," Andrew says.

"That's his blood. Aren't you hungry? Don't you want to feed?" Angel restrains Andrew in his arms.

"Fight him, Andrew," Giles says, hardly daring to hope. "Tell him nothing!"

Andrew blinks at him, then looks at Angel. "I can't eat Mr. Giles. I like Mr. Giles. He knows stuff."

"I know more! I can teach you. But you have to tell me about Acathla first--then you feed, then you live and learn forever."

Andrew shakes his head. "But I like Mr. Giles more than you."

Angel grabs his throat. "Look, you little halfwit, you tell me what I want or I rip out your stomach and read the answer in your God damned entrails!"

"Daddy!" Drusilla takes Andrew back from Angel and kisses the top of his head. "My puppy."

"I am very sorry, Angel also known as Angelus, but I cannot be a part of your evil scheme to destroy the world," Andrew says. "I have pledged my, um, word to the Slayer and her band of--" Angel backhands him across the mouth.

Drusilla doesn't object to this treatment of her toy--she is looking into Giles's eyes, smiling at him.

Then the world falls away.

He falls. He lands in his bed, with Jenny smiling at him. "Rupert..."

*

"Mr. Giles?"

Soft hands wipe the blood from his face. Giles opens his eyes and sees Andrew, Giles's handkerchief in hand, demon face still on. The boy's face is bruised heavily. "You told Drusilla all about Acathla. I think she had you under an evil spell, so it's not your fault," Andrew says.

"I wasn't strong enough," Giles whispers.

"Mr. Giles?" Andrew asks. "Is there a way to turn someone back from being a vampire?"

He shifts in his chair and jostles the bones in his hand; he arches backwards with electric pain. "No," he gasps out, "there's not. Your corpse--your body--is fueled by the demon now, and without the demon, you're simply dead."

"Will you tell Buffy that I kept my vow and didn't betray her to the evil vampires? I would understand if she wants to stake me anyway."

In a very short time, they'll all be dead. "Yes, Andrew."

Andrew smiles and the demon face falls away. "It's okay. Buffy's here. Everything will be okay."

"Here?" He blinks, and tries to listen around the ringing in his ears. "Where?"

"I can hear her. I can hear a lot now that I'm a vampire, and my sense of smell has completely changed. It's very interesting. I'll have to write it down for posterity. Buffy just killed a vampire outside." Andrew suddenly looks over his shoulder.

"Come to Mummy," Drusilla says, beckoning. "I'll call you Sunshine, my puppy Sunshine."

Andrew shakes his head. "No, Miss Drusilla, my name is Andrew. I'm a person and not a puppy."

"Don't be a bad puppy. Come with Mummy and you can have a lovely treat." She wiggles her fingers but Andrew shakes his head stubbornly.

He seems--exactly the same. Can he have such a weak demon that it's left his conscience untouched? Or is it simply so clever that it knows how to stay alive?

He's in too much pain to think. All he can see right now is that Andrew is standing between him and a master vampire. Unfair as it is, he's profoundly grateful for this.

"If you are a bad puppy I shall put a leash on you and your name shall be Wormwood instead," Drusilla says.

"You're very confused. I'm not a good puppy or a bad puppy."

And Spike rolls up behind Drusilla. "Time to chant, pet."

"My puppy should chant." She pouts.

Spike casts a disdainful glare at Andrew. "Puppy can wait in the corner with the Watcher. We are running out of time." He takes her skirt, tugs her along.

Giles passes out.

*

"Andrew! And Giles! You're alive!"

"Mr. Giles is hurt really bad," Andrew says. "I untied him. Is it safe to flee?"

Giles opens his eyes. "Xander?"

"We have to get you gone," Xander says, leaning over him. "Can you walk?"

"I..." He wiggles his toes and his fingers and finds that his hands are untied, and also that the pain of motion is blinding. "No," he whispers.

"I can carry him. I'm very strong now." Andrew's hands upon him--oh God, it hurts, but it's the only way. Andrew takes him into his arms.

"They turned you," Xander says softly.

"Yes, but--I don't think I'm an evil vampire. It's very confusing." Andrew's skin is harder, scentless and chilled.

Giles can barely hold his head up, but he can open his eyes. "Xander, he didn't..."

"Yeah. I hear you, Giles," Xander says. He looks sadder, older to Giles's watering eyes. He rips the curtain from the doorway and holds it out to Andrew. "It's day. I don't want you setting Giles on fire."

"Thank you, Xander," Andrew says as Giles passes out again.

*

In the morphine dreams, he thinks he sees Buffy, leaning over him and saying goodbye.

*

Xander, Willow, Cordelia and Oz are leaning over him like a four-petaled flower. "Giles! You're awake!" Xander says.

"I suppose?"

"You're awake! And you sound like Giles!" Willow burbles.

"May I have some water?"

The children look around. "There's a machine in the lobby. I can get water," Cordelia says.

"Thank you."

Willow looks rather pale. "And I can--ooh," she says as her knees buckle. Oz catches her.

"Maybe we should re-smuggle you into bed. Like reimportation of drugs over the Canadian border," Oz says.

Willow is very pale under her bandage. "Okay."

Oz nods to Xander and carries her back out.

"Where's Andrew?"

"Your place," Xander says. "Hiding from the sun. I didn't tell anyone yet. Giles--"

"He protected me to the best of his abilities. He did not drink from me, though Angel beat him for his disobedience. He didn't tell Angel of Acathla's ritual, and I did."

Xander doesn't flinch. "He's still a vampire craving the blood of the innocent. And--stuff."

"Right now he is the innocent." Giles coughs--his throat is still swollen--and Xander hands him a tissue. "Unless he kills..."

"Until he kills."

"If he attacks anyone, we must kill him. But if he doesn't, then he's simply a boy with a sun allergy."

Xander rubs his forehead. "You're sure?"

"Yes."

And Cordelia returns with the bottle of water, so Xander squeezes his shoulder and nods.

These children... Jenny. He can't bear to lose another to Angel if he doesn't have to.

Which is when he realizes: "Where's Buffy?"

Xander and Cordelia exchange glances. "Her mom wants to know that, too," Xander says.

*

After night falls, Andrew sneaks in. Giles sees Xander's blue-shadowed face peering through the cracked door as Andrew sits beside him.

"Are you feeling better, Mr. Giles?" Andrew asks.

"I'll heal." Broken fingers, cracked shins, cracked ribs, stitches in his lip and chest

Andrew looks down at his hands. "When my fingers were bitten I was in the hospital for a long time. They had to do a lot of surgery, and in the end, I still didn't have any fingers. I looked for a spell to make me not a vampire any more, but every place I looked said it couldn't be done without me dying."

"No. I'm so sorry, Andrew..." He was the adult, it was his duty to protect the children--and he couldn't. He couldn't. In the end, Buffy had to save them all, again.

She may be--

She may have been sucked into the portal. He closes his eyes for a long moment.

She may be dead.

"Mr. Giles, I'm so hungry," Andrew whispers under his breath. "I ate and ate but I'm still starving."

Still an innocent. Giles takes a deep breath. "There's a butcher on First that sells blood after hours--do you know the one?" Andrew nods. "You can live on the blood of animals--that's no different than eating a steak. If you live on animals and keep your--your vow to the Slayer--then you can be..."

"Be a good guy?"

"Yes," Giles says. Andrew puts his head down on the bed beside him and smiles happily.

Xander still watches through the crack in the door.

*

...and three quarters:

Andrew can tell that Xander packed the bags of clothes and Mr. Giles packed the boxes of books, because his books are sorted carefully by size and wedged with brown craft paper while his clothes are tossed in black trash bags at random. But that's fine. That's how it should be. He has some really great books, like an edition of "Star Trek: Final Frontier" by Diane Carey in Russian.

He can almost read it without looking at the dictionary now. Studying is a lot easier now that he's a vampire. It's like something just fell away in his head and now he can think so much clearer.

He puts the books away by subject. Mr. Giles got him four bookshelves; they cover a whole wall of his new room. He's living with Mr. Giles now, in the basement of the new house he's renting.

It's really, really great. They get weekly blood deliveries from the butcher, there are light-blocking curtains on all the windows, and he gets to study with Mr. Giles every day. He bets he doesn't even have to go to school any more, since he's dead.

It's kind of easy being a vampire. You don't have to hunt people and kill them, even though he doesn't have a soul or anything. Xander mentioned maybe cursing Andrew with a soul like Angel, but Mr. Giles didn't want to risk untested magic on Andrew when he's still an innocent.

Andrew likes the way Mr. Giles says things. He wishes he were English.

He hears footsteps overhead and creeps up the basement stairs to listen at the door.

"--still missing," Dawn says.

"I know," Mr. Giles says.

"Xander and Willow don't come around any more," Dawn says, "and Andrew is totally gone. His brother said he ran away."

"Buffy will come back."

"What if she doesn't? I miss her!"

"I know. I do too."

Dawn sniffles. Chairs scrape around. "The others are starting to patrol," Mr. Giles says. "Just while Buffy is gone. I can show you how to make stakes and crossbow bolts. You could be a big help."

"Buffy's going to miss my birthday."

"I'm sorry, Dawn. I have an investigator on the case--I only wish I could search for her myself."

"I think Mom's going to forget about my birthday."

It's quiet then. Andrew creeps back downstairs to finish unpacking.

Maybe they could go look for Buffy, just him and Dawn and Mr. Giles. Mr. Giles is still healing, but Andrew could drive if Mr. Giles taught him how and got him a fake license. It would be like a road trip with magic and scones. It would be great, even if they never found her.

Andrew grins and shelves Malegg's Demonology.

*

Andrew sits cross-legged on his bed and concentrates on his sage.

It's hard. The sun is out and it makes him ache in ways he doesn't really understand. It makes him sleepy, too; maybe he should just go back to bed.

He's slept all day, though, and he really wants to try this out, try out his new vampire powers. He thinks he must have more magical power now that he's a supernatural creature.

"Herb of green, be unseen," he chants. It's the first exercise in Willow's favorite grimoire. "Herb of green, be unseen. Herb of green, be unseen."

It's supposed to work if he has any power at all. He checks the book: it says if simple wishing doesn't work, try a drop of blood on the sage to augment your power.

Andrew shifts into his demon face and nicks a finger on a fang. He shakes his blood over the herb.

"Herb of green, be--" The sage vanishes.

Wow. It's not supposed to work until he says that three times.

He brings his finger to his mouth to suck and notices that it is invisible too. It looks like he only has two fingers on his right hand instead of three--but he can feel the finger, it's still there!

"Herb of green, now be seen!" he says. The sage pops back into visibility. So does his finger.

Weird.

Kind of creepy.

Andrew doesn't really like magic.

"Hey," Oz says. Andrew yelps and jumps about a foot. "Sorry," Oz says.

"It's okay. I just didn't see you," Andrew gasps.

"I thought I smelled vampire." Oz pauses. Andrew looks at him. "And, I smelled vampire," Oz says.

Mr. Giles and Xander are the only ones who know. This is an important step, Andrew thinks, and it's very important that Oz not kill him. "Mr. Giles knows about it. I've been good and I haven't bit anyone," Andrew says.

"That's cool," Oz says.

"I think I could be like Angel without the evil parts," Andrew says. "It's very exciting."

"If you touch Willow I'll tear your head off with my teeth," Oz says, "just so you know."

"Okay." Andrew says.

"Everyone's upstairs. You should hang."

"Okay."

He follows Oz up, and then up again. Willow and Xander are hanging around in Mr. Giles's bedroom--Mr. Giles is in bed with an ice pack over his eyes.

"Andrew! You're here! And not gone!" Willow says.

"Dead, though," Oz says. "New development."

Willow's mouth goes round. Xander looks at the floor. "Oh," Willow says.

"Impressive non-reaction." Oz is looking at Xander.

Xander looks up. "Knew already." He looks really pale and smells kind of sick, like puke. Mr. Giles smells sick too, like medicine and pain, and Willow smells like blood from the healing wound on her head. It all makes Andrew's nose itch and his head swim.

"Has anyone heard from Buffy?" Willow asks in a tiny voice. "Or where she went?"

"No," Mr. Giles says softly.

"No," Xander says, looking at the wall this time.

"We could try a scrying spell. I read about them," Andrew says. "They're easy."

Mr. Giles shifts the ice pack from his eyes. "Dangerous. You can see things you don't want to."

"I'm ready," Andrew promises.

Mr. Giles moves the ice pack back. "All right."

That was easy. Andrew runs to find a bowl before Mr. Giles changes his mind.

According to the book, scrying is the easiest thing in the world. All you need is a bowl, water, and something to cast in the water to make patterns. His book says blood is the most powerful. Andrew fills an aluminum mixing bowl half full of water and carries it carefully back up the stairs.

He puts the bowl on the nightstand and shifts into his demon face. Willow breathes in sharply and her scent sharpens when he changes; Xander looks away. Andrew brings his left hand to his mouth to tear into a vein.

"Right hand. You're right-handed, it'll lend more power," Mr. Giles says absently.

"Okay." Andrew bites his right hand instead and lets thick drops ooze into the water. He smells kind of like pig now, from the blood.

Mr. Giles sits up abruptly. "Oh, no! No, Andrew, you should never--"

"I see something!" Andrew cries. He thinks he sees Buffy's face.

"--with the shape of your hand, the symbol..." Mr. Giles trails off. "What do you see? Is she alive?"

Willow and Xander crowd in next to him. Oz stands on the chair and looks over their heads. "Cool," Oz says.

"I see a bed! Buffy in a bed! In a room! She's alive!"

Xander smiles. "Yeah. That's Buff all right."

"A room where? Can you see an address? Sometimes there are words, look for words."

Andrew shakes his head. The swirls of blood are fuzzing out. "No words, Mr. Giles."

"Distinguishing features!" Mr. Giles sits up and gasps; he holds his side and rolls back down to the pillow again.

"It's just a room. But she's alive," Xander says.

"It was motelly," Oz says.

Andrew can't see anything any more. He frowns and touches the water to stir it up--then yelps and flings himself backwards, because it's boiling hot. Willow and Xander scream and cover their faces as the bowl boils violently over and blood-scented steam fills the air.

The bowl ticks and smokes on the nightstand. Andrew sucks on his burnt thumb.

"I think we'll try more traditional means next time," Mr. Giles says, "and Andrew--draw blood from the left from now on, all right?"

"Okay, Mr. Giles," Andrew says, even though--it worked.

*

Three:

Andrew walks toward the other vampire in the alley. "Hey, I'm, like, new in town? And? A vampire? Like you."

The vampire eyes him. "Hey--Andrew? Andrew Wells? Weren't you in my English class?"

"Christian? Wow. I didn't recognize you with the face on." Andrew shifts to his own demon face and gestures.

Christian grins, showing off his fangs. "Oh, man. This is so much better than being a high school loser. We get to stay up all night and hunt and kill and hey!" He points at Andrew and Andrew puts on his listening face. "Did you know the Slayer is out of town? I just heard. Some guys are talking about, you know, taking over the place."

"Really? I might like to meet them," Andrew says. He stuffs his hands into his pockets and tries not to bounce up and down with excitement.

"I don't know... they're tough, you know? You're kind of little." Christian looks Andrew up and down. "Maybe if you bring them something to eat? I think I hear some kids around the corner."

Andrew glances back at the mouth of the alley nervously. "Well, maybe--um--GUYS!"

Oz and Xander block the mouth of the alley. Willow and Cordelia pop up on the rooftops and peg Christian with a crossbow. "Oh, uncool," Christian groans as he dusts.

"Was I okay? This was my first time being a double agent," Andrew says to Xander. "Did I do all right? Was I convincing?"

Xander pats his shoulder. "Right up to the part where you didn't go kill innocent people--and that verisimilitude we can do without."

"You could work on the motivation," Oz says. "Try some Method acting. Role-play."

"No! No, no method. Fangs out of the neck," Xander says.

Andrew nods. "No fangs in neck. Check."

"I hit him! With my crossbow! Did you see?" Willow shouts from the roof.

"No, that was totally my bolt," Cordelia says.

"Was not!"

"I marked it with my nail polish, 'White Witch'!"

Willow gasps. "You can't make fun of my code name! It's official Slayer code!"

"Okay! Guys!" Xander calls up. "Let's try the Bronze!"

"I'll work on my double agent act," Andrew says. "I think I can do it better." He nods to himself.

*

"Human-lover!" the other vamp snarls at him. "You rent yourself out? They give you a nice piece of neck?"

Andrew wrestles the vampire frantically. He looks over at Xander, but Xander is fighting a vampire of his own and the others had to go around when the vamps shut the gate. The vampires have them pinned down and they're so going to die and that makes twice in one year for Andrew.

Andrew growls and kicks the vamp in the knee, making him yelp, then he throws the vamp into the Dumpster and pulls the stake from his belt and dusts the vampire attacking Xander.

"Behind you!" Xander says as the first vamp jumps on Andrew's back.

"Traitor! Uncle Tom! Pussy!" The vampire claws at Andrew's face as Andrew tries to shake him off. Then the vampire lets go--but he grabs Andrew's left arm and twists it up behind him so hard a bone in his forearm snaps.

Andrew screams and falls to his knees. It hurts, it really really hurts, oh man does it hurt...

"Hey!" He sees Willow, Oz and Cordelia run into the alley, straight into a girl vampire, and Xander squares off with the vamp that hurt Andrew.

Then someone somersaults over the gate. One vampire dusts, then the other.

"Hey, guys," Buffy says.

Andrew squeezes his eyes shut against the pain. There's bone sticking through his skin--he can smell the blood oozing through his sleeve. It hurts so much he wants to puke.

"Buffy!" The others gather around her, except Xander, who gives Andrew a hand up. "You're back! You're not dead!" Willow squeaks.

"Of course I'm not dead," Buffy says.

"But you were gone so long--oof!" Willow makes tiny breathy noises as Buffy hugs her.

Andrew leans against Xander. "You going to pass out?" Xander asks.

"Maybe," Andrew whispers.

"Xander? Hi!" Buffy says. "And Andrew... Xander, back away."

"What?" Xander says.

"Xander, they got him. Back away!" Buffy raises her fists; Andrew tenses to run away.

Xander puts his arm around Andrew's shoulders and helps him down the alley. Andrew looks at the ground. "No, actually, Angel got him."

"...What?"

"Angel got him. Three months ago." And Xander walks Andrew right past Buffy and down the street a little.

"It's the Slayer's prerogative to stake vampires," Andrew says to Xander.

"Given that she dated the guy who turned you, I don't think Buffy can be real righteous about this one and holy moly, is that blood?" Xander touches his arm and Andrew yelps. "Okay," Xander says. "Stay here."

Andrew stays put as Xander fishes change out of his pockets. He wonders what would happen if he bled out all the blood in his body.

"Hey!" Buffy says as she marches out of the alley. "What are you talking about?"

Xander looks at her. The others lag behind in the alley and watch. "Angel turned Andrew into a vampire! It's just one of the many things you don't know because you ran away and left us to deal with everything, okay?" Xander's mouth twists up and he jerks the handset of the pay phone off the bracket.

Buffy's mouth is open but she's not talking.

"We're all glad to see you!" Willow says.

"Yeah, we're thrilled," Xander says, and dials. "Mr. Giles? We need you to come get us. A vampire broke Andrew's arm really bad. We're right near the Bronze, on Third."

Xander hangs up. He nudges Andrew and they sit on the curb.

"So what does he eat?" Buffy says. "Vampire chow?"

"Pig blood from Brodnor's Butcher Shop and Sausage Emporium."

"He makes an otter blend that's really good," Andrew whispers. Xander puts his arm around Andrew's shoulders again and Andrew holds his elbow and stares at the road.

Buffy stands over them, behind Andrew's back. "What happened to faster Angel, kill, kill?"

Xander jerks. "What happened? Angel made Giles his punching bag and Andrew is the one who helped me rescue him before he died. So there's good vampires and then, in the other corner, there's your boyfriend!"

"Xander!" Willow shouts.

Andrew hears running steps. "Now she's gone again!" Willow says.

"So what?" Xander says.

"Come on," Oz says softly, and the rest all follow Buffy.

Xander sits with Andrew as the others leave and Mr. Giles pulls up. "Can you get him in the car, Xander?" Mr. Giles asks. He's still on crutches.

"Yeah, I've got him. Come on," Xander says, helping Andrew into the car. Andrew makes a face and tries to be brave like Mr. Giles.

*

Andrew slurps hot blood through a straw. Getting his arm fixed was easy--he passed out when they brought him inside and woke up afterwards, nice and dreamy on pain pills. He loooooves pain pills. He got them after his fingers were bitten off too.

Xander sits at the table at the front window with his head on his arms; Andrew thought maybe he heard him crying, but he must have been mistaken.

Mr. Giles is writing everything down in his little book. He's keeping notes on Andrew for the edification of future Watchers and Slayers.

Xander still hasn't told Mr. Giles that Buffy is back. Andrew wonders why.

There's a knock on the door. Xander jumps up and answers it. "Willow! Tell Buffy that I didn't mean it, okay?"

Mr. Giles drops his pen. "Buffy?"

"But you did mean it," Willow says.

"But just in the run-at-the-mouthy way, not the go-away-Buffy way!"

"Buffy?" Mr. Giles repeats, a little louder.

Andrew cranes his neck and sees Willow step into the house. "Buffy!" Xander says. "Me! Dumb! Mouth go zoom! Too much missing Buffy makes Xander stupid in the head."

Buffy comes in, smelling salty like tears, and they hug. Mr. Giles grabs his crutch and gets to his feet and Buffy runs over and everyone hugs and cries and stuff.

Andrew finishes his blood and wonders if he should cry too.

Oz sits next to him on the couch. "Your blood smells like bacon," he says. "I never noticed that before."

"It's the pig," Andrew says.

"It's appetizing in a distressing way." Oz picks up the empty mug, sniffs it and licks at the residue on the inside.

"Ew," Cordelia says.

Oz puts the mug down. "I think that's a habit I don't want to pick up." He looks at Mr. Giles and the others, who are still hugging and bonding and saying tearful half-sentencey things.

"Do they have low-calorie blood for girl vamps watching their weight?" Cordelia asks.

"You don't change at all from the time you're turned," Andrew says. "Except, um, your skin clears up." He was really really really grateful for that one.

"Seriously? So if you're at your ideal weight you stay there until the end of time?"

Andrew nods.

"But no reflection," Cordelia says. "Though I guess you could hire someone to do your hair..."

"Tanning would be an issue," Oz says.

"Oh, you're right. Andrew can do the pale thing, because he's blond? But for me self-tanners just will not do." She crosses her hands decisively.

Oz looks at Andrew. "And the rise of Master Cordelius is prevented by the inadequacy of cosmetics."

"Hm?" Willow sits in Oz's lap. She rests her streaky face on his shoulder.

Xander hugs Cordelia. She frowns and fiddles with his hair.

"I'll put some tea on," Mr. Giles says. He limps toward the kitchen.

"I'll help!" Buffy says, and follows him into the kitchen. Andrew watches her, but she doesn't look at him.

*

His arm itches on the inside. Andrew rubs his upper arm and tries to will the feeling down the bones to the healing break.

There's a knock on the basement door, so Andrew goes upstairs and it's Dawn, standing there in a pink shirt looking mad. "You didn't run away!" she says.

"No?"

She kicks him in the shins. He barely feels it. "You're a vampire!" she says.

"Yeah."

"You missed my birthday!"

"Well, you missed mine!" Andrew says.

Dawn looks from side to side and cups her hands around her mouth. "Have you killed anyone yet?" she whispers.

Andrew shakes his head. "I'm a good vampire, dedicated to the crusade against evil."

"Oh." She looks a little disappointed. "Do you want to watch some MTV?"

"Sure."

Dawn gets them both Cokes from the fridge and they lay down on the carpet and watch a rockumentary on Sting.

Later, Dawn paints Andrew's nails purple and writes her name on his bandages with the polish. She's trying to talk him into painting his toenails when Buffy and Mr. Giles show up.

"Dawn! Where have you been?"

"Here, with Andrew, like a million times before!"

Buffy glances at Andrew. "Well, the other million times you didn't have to walk a mile in the dark and you told Mom so she didn't freak out!"

"It's eight blocks! And I told Mom! I said I was going out," Dawn protests.

"Mom said no you are not going out and thought you heard her. Come on, we're going." Buffy grabs Dawn and pulls her to her feet.

Dawn looks back at Andrew. "Come over soon!"

"Maybe when my arm feels better," Andrew says.

"Dawn!" Buffy hisses, too low for a human to overhear. "That's an invitation. He's a vampire!"

"You're always invited to our place!" Dawn yells as Buffy pulls her out the door.

"Dawn!"

Mr. Giles raises his eyebrows at Andrew. "You're very colorful tonight."

"Oz paints his nails. It's a cool-guy thing."

"I suppose. Let me see how your arm is doing." Mr. Giles limps over the couch; he just stopped using the crutches.

Andrew puts his arm in Mr. Giles's lap. "It itches like crazy."

"That'll be the healing process. Don't scratch."

"I can't scratch--the bandages are too tight and it hurts whenever I move them."

"Yes, so don't move them," Mr. Giles says. He unwraps the bandage from Andrew's arm slowly. There are small smears of blood on the cloth.

The skin is pink from the healing scar and his arm feels delicate, still, but it's way better than it was. "Two more days, I think. Remarkable," Mr. Giles says. He looks at the bandage. "Dawn was aware this wasn't a cast, wasn't she?"

Andrew shrugs.

"I want you to try something. Do you know the Bonewives' cleaning incantation?"

Andrew nods and holds the bandage. "Return to the original, the, uh, basal state, equal and serene--equal and serene--equal and serene." Nothing happens.

"Hm. Now try Haworth's cleanser."

"Is that blood magic?"

"Yes."

"My body burns you clean," Andrew says, and the blood on the bandage ignites.

"Quietus!" Mr. Giles says. The bandage douses itself again. "Well. Andrew, you must never use this magic but for the direst need. It's immensely powerful; blood magic taps into the most primal chaos. You must be very careful."

Andrew nods solemnly. "I will be."

"Good man." Mr. Giles pats him on the shoulder. "Now fetch me another bandage--this one's burnt."

*

...and a quarter:

Andrew is curled on the couch watching "The Prisoner," a copy of Crislock's Compendium annotated by Ausleigh open in his lap. He was looking up stuff about ancient vampires but he got distracted. It's the one where Number Six campaigns for Number Two.

"Oh, the campaign," Mr. Giles says. "I quite like this one." He leans his book on the back of the couch and watches for a few moments.

"What language is the girl speaking?"

"Well, she's--" Mr. Giles clears his throat. "No, we must remain focused. Please turn it off for now."

Andrew sighs a little and turns off the television. "I haven't been able to find anything." He's strictly in research now, not field work--Buffy doesn't seem to want him out with her.

It's good that way. She has her friends and now the other Slayer. Andrew likes being with Mr. Giles.

"No; Kakistos is mentioned primarily in Carysine, and--let's not worry about Carysine."

Andrew looks down at his book, then up at Mr. Giles. "If I'm not going to find anything in the books, why can't I watch TV?"

"Because it's unseemly to be enjoying ourselves while the Slayers are risking their lives."

"Oh." It makes sense. Andrew starts reading again.

"Would you care for some tea?"

"Yes, please."

Mr. Giles is filling the kettle when there's a knock on the door. Andrew starts to get up, but Mr. Giles waves him back down and gets it himself.

"We killed Kakistos. We require diet soda," Buffy says.

Mr. Giles lets Buffy and another girl inside--obviously the new Slayer, Faith. She looks tough. "I have tea on," Mr. Giles says.

Buffy makes a face. Faith eyes Andrew up and down, lingering on his missing fingers. Andrew hugs the book to his chest.

"There's soda in the fridge," Mr. Giles says, "stop pouting at me. And yes, I know Andrew is a vampire."

"Really," Faith says as Buffy and Mr. Giles go in the kitchen. She hops up to sit on the back of the couch. "Vampire? Want me to slay him for you?"

Andrew shrinks back into the couch cushions and hugs the book tighter. Mr. Giles says, "Kindly don't. He's the best researcher of the group."

"Andrew's harmless. He lives in the basement. Sometimes he makes cookies," Buffy says. She hands Faith a can of Diet Coke and opens one herself.

"No grr?" Faith makes finger-fangs in front of her mouth.

"No, I don't bite people," Andrew says. Sitting so close to her makes him want to hide under something--it's probably some ancestral reaction from his vampire blood.

He can smell the dust of the other vampire on her skin. He can smell her skin, too.

"You burn up in daylight and you don't get to chow down on the blood of virgins? Sucks to be you."

Andrew digs his chin into the top of the book and looks down at his shoes. He's having little flashes of Faith ripped into a million teeny Slayer chunks--that must be the demon half of him that he mostly has suppressed through not drinking human blood.

Being around Buffy isn't like this. It's very confusing. "I help in the fight against evil. My special vampire abilities are very helpful when I help," he whispers.

Mr. Giles comes out of the kitchen with a full tea tray. He looks at Andrew and jerks his chin slightly toward the table; Andrew gets up and runs over, book clamped to his chest like armor.

"Aw, you don't have to run, baby! I'm not going to hurt you," Faith calls after him.

"It's the innate ancestral fear of my people for the Slayer," Andrew says. He sits cross-legged on the chair and fights down the demon: he is good, he isn't in danger, he doesn't have to fight. He doesn't want to fight. He wants... some tea.

Andrew takes a deep breath, even though he doesn't need to.

Buffy sits on the couch with Faith; she sips her soda and looks at Mr. Giles, not Andrew.

"Wow," Faith says, "Sunnydale is wackier than I thought. Your best friend is dating a werewolf, your Watcher's got a pet vampire. What next--is your little sis a demon?"

"Tell us of Kakistos," Mr. Giles breaks in. "How did you kill him?"

Buffy shrugs. Faith shrugs. "Big stake through the heart," Buffy says.

"He was big and he was ugly but vampires all go poof the same way," Faith says, looking at Andrew. "No offense."

Andrew shivers and drinks a big mouthful of tea. "None taken."

*

Andrew wanders upstairs a little after sunset, reading about werewolves. It's almost time for Oz's change. It seems like he should just be able to not change, though, like Andrew can not drink human blood; it wouldn't be fair for Andrew to be free of his evil self and Oz not, since Oz is all brilliant and musical and creative and good-looking and cool.

"When the man becomes the wolf his better faculties are overcome and he is entirely animal," Andrew reads out. He turns the corner into the living room and drops the book, because Faith is standing right there, pawing through Mr. Giles's box of amulets.

She looks up. "Hey," she says. "I was looking for you."

"Me?" It's kind of a squeak. He tries again in a more manly register: "Me, Slayer?"

"Yeah, you." Faith straightens up and watches as Andrew picks his book up off the floor. "Buffy said you guys spar sometimes."

"Sometimes I help her train. I use my vampire abilities for the cause of good," Andrew says.

She coughs out a little laugh. "So let's go."

"Go what?"

"Go spar."

"I'm not supposed to do that without Mr. Giles."

"What?" Faith asks, ruffling his hair. "You think you're gonna hurt me? Because you're not, baby."

He's not really sure why. It doesn't matter. "I'm not supposed to do that without Mr. Giles," he repeats, because he's sure he's right. Mr. Giles said not to use the training equipment alone.

"Come on! I'm the Slayer, make me better!" She throws a punch at his head and he ducks.

Faith grins. She kicks at him and he catches her foot in midair, hanging on to it long enough to throw her off-balance; Mr. Giles taught him all these counter-moves for Buffy's training. Mr. Giles only has a human strength and speed, so Andrew is more useful for real-life training scenarios.

Buffy always beats him--she always shoves the foamy Nerf stake into his heart. She's the Slayer. A Slayer. Sunnydale's Slayer, more powerful than any of Sunnydale's vampires.

Faith wobbles onto her hand and Andrew pulls her leg toward him. She loses her balance completely, falling on her butt, and Andrew backs away. "We shouldn't be fighting downstairs," Andrew says, "we might break something."

"There's no rules in a fight," Faith says, and then she flips herself back onto her feet. "I thought vampires had balls!"

Andrew backs away. "I've got, um, balls," he says. He not quite sure what to do--stop fighting? Mr. Giles will be furious if they break anything.

"Come on! Come at me!" Faith says. "I want to see what you've got!"

"I think this is wrong. There's a sparring area upstairs that we should be using. We can go up there if you don't touch anything." Andrew points behind her.

Faith kicks his hand to the side, sending a jolt of pain down his arm. She knocked his finger out of joint on his bad hand, the stupid b-- He slaps his hand over his mouth as the pain brings his demon face out. "Yeah," Faith says, "that's more like it!"

He cups his right hand in his left and pushes the finger back into joint and snarls. Faith grins at him, bouncing on her toes, fists at the ready.

She's ready high so he darts in low; she shifts to kick him again and he hits her thigh with his shoulder, knocking her almost upside down against the cabinets. She pivots on her hand and kicks him in the stomach with her other foot, then rights herself as he staggers backwards.

Faith charges him then and he tries to roll behind the couch to escape it, but she's way ahead of him and he ends up with her sitting on his chest pinning his crossed arms. He's got no leverage; he can't move. "You win," Andrew says.

"Of course I win. I'm a Slayer." Faith grins.

She doesn't let him go. "Can I get up?" Andrew asks.

"What's the rush? Got your big exciting books to get back to?"

Andrew nods. "They're very important."

"Wow. I bet you want to be a librarian when you grow up, just like Mr. Giles."

Andrew still has a pair of reading glasses by his bed. He's never really needed them, but they make him look smarter. Like Mr. Giles. "I don't get to grow up. I'm a vampire. I'm always going to be the same age."

"How old?"

"Sixteen," Andrew says, fibbing only a little. He was fifteen when he was turned so really he'll be fifteen forever, but his sixteenth birthday was a few months ago.

"Me too," Faith says. She's still holding his hands down. "We've got a lot in common," she says.

Andrew widens his eyes. "Do you think so? I think we have a destiny, that there's a higher plan to me getting turned and stuff? Like I was called like the Slayers were to be another fighter in the war against--"

Faith kisses him. Her hands slip up to his shoulders as she sinks down against him and his hands are still crossed over his chest, so he's feeling her chest against his skin. She's kind of soft and squishy. He didn't think Slayers would feel like that. "Sure, we have plenty in common. Don't you just love a fight?" Faith says against his lips. She bites his lower lip gently and kisses him again.

She pulls back and looks at him. She's starting to frown. "No?" Andrew says. "I'm more cerebral--I prefer solving problems through words. But I like kissing." He thinks he likes kissing. This is the first time.

"You're supposed to kiss back," Faith says.

"Sorry! I've never done this before." She keeps moving against him and it's very distracting. Her chest is all squishy and her hips are all hard and he doesn't know what he's supposed to do.

Faith sits up and scowls. "I know it's not me," she says. She moves her hips against--over his hips. She's kind of--she's--Andrew's very confused.

"Oh my God!" Faith breaks out in peals of laughter. "You're so gay! Look at you!"

What? "What? I'm not gay!" He doesn't know what she means, what isn't he doing?

"Little Jimmy isn't coming out to play," Faith half-growls, half-laughs as she twists her hips against his for emphasis. Andrew can feel himself blushing--it makes his head swim, and makes him want to growl. He pushes backwards on his hands.

"I'm not gay! It's a bad time--I wasn't expecting that!" He feels hot all over his body. It's not making him--getting him--she's not making him excited. But that doesn't mean he's gay--he's just not.

Faith grins. "It's okay, baby! I'm down with that!"

Andrew loses his demon face in a hot rush of blood. He jumps to his feet, grabs the book on werewolves from the floor, and runs down the basement steps, slamming the door after him. He's not gay. He can't be gay. This is all a huge misunderstanding.

Andrew tosses himself into bed and pulls the blanket over his head and doesn't cry.

He thinks about girls. He thinks about kissing Faith.

He's so not gay. Faith is just mean. And a Slayer. So he can't like her, it's against his nature.

Andrew hugs the pillow to his chest and scowls ferociously.

*

Mr. Giles frowns. "I do wish we didn't have to confine you here," he says to Oz, "but the walls at the house are old plaster and won't hold a bolt."

"Kennel?" Oz asks.

"Yes, I'm looking into it." Mr. Giles takes his glasses off and taps them against his mouth. "Perhaps a zoo supply house... they must exist."

Technically Andrew isn't supposed to be on school property since he's dead and therefore not a student, but he really doesn't want to be alone at the house unless he knows for sure Faith won't be there. He doesn't want to give her another chance to--be mean to him. He tagged along under a blanket after school let out.

Oz sits in the chair next to Andrew and they both look at the cage. "I wish you didn't need to be caged up," Andrew says.

"But I do," Oz says.

"But it's not fair."

"Maybe," Oz says.

"It wasn't your fault that you got bit. You shouldn't have to suffer."

"Everyone has to suffer," Oz says.

Andrew looks down at his hands.

"It's necessary," Oz says.

"I guess it's destiny," Andrew says.

Oz shrugs. "It's human." He checks his watch and walks into the cage.

Oz isn't human, though.

Andrew doesn't watch as Oz takes his clothes off and changes, but Mr. Giles does, and Andrew watches him instead.

*

...and a half:

The first thing to do is get out of these fucking tweed trousers. He doesn't know what he was thinking--he looks like an old man in those things.

The second thing to do is pick up that sweet bird Joyce and see how far she's willing to fly.

The third thing is to find his guitar. He's sure he has it somewhere.

He unlocks his front door, trying to remember if he even has any proper clothes. What did he do with his leather jacket, anyway?

"Hi, Mr. Giles."

And it's the little vampire, eye-bending in a bright green shirt and yellow camouflage trousers, lying belly down with his bare feet in the air watching telly. "Hello, Andrew."

"Buffy called looking for you. She didn't say what was going on. Is something going on?"

"No, not at all," Ripper says.

"Oh. That's good." Andrew looks back at the telly.

The way the boy is lying there, knees spread open like an invitation... he's a prat, but Ripper never says no.

Ripper kneels beside the boy and rests a hand on his thigh.

"Mr. Giles?"

"Call me Ripper."

He slides his hand up between Andrew's legs and cups his prick through his trousers. He closes his hand, pressing his thumb into the boy's arse, and Andrew's mouth rounds into an "oh."

There's a pretty bird waiting on Revello Drive, but boys don't take long. Ripper smiles and pushes Andrew down with a hand on the back of his neck. "Ripper?" Andrew asks.

"Yes?" as he presses the boy's balls between his fingers and rubs the seam of his trousers deeper into his arse.

Andrew's knee slides out. Apart. "Are you sure this is okay?"

"Do you want this?" He replaces his hand with his mouth on the back of Andrew's neck and sucks, half a bite, tasting Andrew's cool skin and raising sluggish pig's blood to the surface. The boy's a vampire; if he doesn't like it, he'll make Ripper stop. "Of course you want this."

"Yes," Andrew sighs. He takes Ripper's hand with force that makes a demand, not a request, and brings his fingers to his mouth. He gives a shiver and a cry as Ripper presses his stiffening prick--and those are fangs rubbing against Ripper's knuckles.

Ripper kisses the back of Andrew's neck and whispers a charm into the boy's skin. It sends a halo of fire over his flesh, taking him from chill to fever in one breath.

"Mr. Giles!" Andrew jerks upwards, knocking him to one side. His eyes are round and yellow and sharpened by the ridges of his demon face. He breathes deeply, then grabs the hem of his t-shirt and pulls it over his head with a sound of ripping cloth.

Ripper grins. "Strip off. And come here."

Andrew's barefoot already; he rips open the button-fly and stumbles out of his trousers on his knees. Ripper sits up against the wall and tells him: "Sit in my lap."

Ripper's still clothed. Andrew sits in his tweed-covered lap and doesn't seem to mind the prickly wool against his skin; he's too intent on his own prick. Ripper pinches each small pink nipple and Andrew arches back over his knees.

A virgin, quite astonished at what his body can do in the hands of another. Ripper pinches harder, watching Andrew's mouth gape open and his lips pull back from his teeth. Vampires are creatures of the mouth--what was he thinking when he denied this boy blood?

He must have been out of his fucking mind.

He's better now.

He slides his hands up over the boy's shoulders, down his hard biceps and forearms hot from the magic, over his hands which he crosses under his own knees. "Hold on to yourself. Keep your hands there," he says, and Andrew is writhing, gnashing his fangs, and doesn't seem to hear, but he clasps his hands together with a bone-crushing grip.

So Ripper takes a feel of the young vampire. Scratchy hair on his thighs, none on his chest. Light sandpaper on his jaw and a tiny safety pin shoved crookedly through his earlobe; that must be new. Lumpy bone around his eyes but his lips are still soft and his breath is still damp. Ripper runs his knuckles over the boy's hollow belly and he gasps; Ripper strokes his prick and his hips buck up into Ripper's hand.

"Good boy," Ripper says, enchanted.

Andrew whimpers in reply.

Ripper slides two fingers of his left hand over Andrew's lips into his mouth. Always a little danger with a vampire: now he'll increase it. He snags his middle finger on a fang and tugs.

Andrew thrashes but doesn't let go. His mouth clamps around Ripper's fingers, sucking with all the power in his throat and tongue.

He knows what he wants from this boy. It's the same thing the boy wants from him.

He forces a finger into his arse. It'll hurt--but vampires love the pain. This isn't the first time he's fucked one. He pulls his other hand free--Andrew cries out and follows with his tongue but doesn't unclasp his hands--and unfastens his trousers at last.

He's hard enough to drive nails and Andrew is obedient and pliant as a wax doll. Perfect. Brilliant. He pulls his hand free and pushes in his prick.

Andrew stiffens and clamps his teeth together. Ripper can see the shivers over his body and the sweat springing up in his throat; he rubs the boy's arse encouragingly.

And Andrew pushes down, bit by bit. It's rough as hell--and God, he hasn't