Sometimes the person you'd least want to help is the person who needs it most.
AN: Stewed this fic over for awhile before actually writing it. I am fiercely dedicated to Andrew and figuring him out and this was something that had been going around in me for awhile. The lyrics at the beginning are from Coldplay's "Fix You" and neither that song nor BtVS belong to me, clearly.
…
when you try your best, but you don't succeed
when you get what you want, but not what you need
when you feel so tired, but you can't sleep
stuck in reverse
…
Being friends with the Slayer was never easy. Things must be sacrificed. Most of all sleep. And for a few reasons. Usually, it was because Willow was out with Buffy and maybe a few Potentials, patrolling, training. It was exhausting work, but she never expected it not to be. What comforted Willow at the end of the day was the knowledge that what she was doing was well worth it, despite her aching back and swollen feet.
Some nights, however, it wasn't just work and exhaustion that made sleep hard to grasp onto. It was trauma. Tonight was one of those nights. The nights when the events of the day, the sheer pain of it all, simply wouldn't let her brain shut off. Bodily chemicals rushed in and out of her skull and heart as she laid in what should have been a very comfortable bed. Kennedy's arm was draped lazily over the witch's stomach as she stared at the ceiling. It was even too hard to close her eyes. Because when she did, she saw her reflection in the black. Only it was Warren's face, not hers. It made her sick. It was all too tempting to needlessly lean on magic to help herself get to sleep.
Willow gently removed Kennedy's arm from her and slipped out of bed, curling her toes slightly when the bottoms of her feet touched the floor. She slipped on the robe that hung idly on the door and tied it loosely 'round her waist. There was little need for extreme modesty in this house anymore. Spike was asleep in the basement and Giles in the living room with Andrew and a slew of teenage girls all of whom really didn't seem to care. Not like the girls didn't walk around half-dressed most of the time anyway. It was getting hot and sometimes it was just something that needed to be shrugged off. Besides, between Giles being a responsible mentor, Spike being in love with Buffy, and Andrew being… Andrew, Willow wasn't sure any female in the house showing off much skin around the men mattered anyway.
She was careful to be quiet when she slipped out of the bedroom lest she wake Kennedy, but as she looked back, closing the door, she figured it didn't matter anyway. Kennedy was somehow able to sleep harder and deeper than Willow had in years. That wasn't to say that every stressed-out girl in the house was like that, so Willow was careful to tip-toe through the hallway, cautious of the floorboards and steps she knew creaked. All she needed was to get to the kitchen, to make a mug of herbal tea to hopefully sooth her mind. This is what she used to do years ago, in college, when stress would get her mind too hyped up to relax.
Finally in the kitchen, which was barely lit by moonlight from the window over the sink, Willow systematically gathered a mug, tea bag, and spoon. Night seemed to amplify every sound and it made her paranoid to turn the water on too high or to touch the spoon to the porcelain mug when she pushed the tea bag under the water. Too lazy to boil a whole kettle, she took the mug full of water to the microwave and made a face when the buttons made what had to be a much louder noise than they make in the daytime.
Of course, the sound of the microwave hardly mattered anymore when Willow turned around to lean on the counter and shrieked, only a second before catching the sound in her throat. Andrew also yelped and jumped, nearly toppling out of the stool at the island situated only feet from Willow. "Andrew!" she hissed at the rarely-wanted houseguest, who flinched at her admonishment. "Why would you sneak up like that? Are you trying to make me wake everyone up?" Willow asked, trying to keep her voice low as she put a hand over her heart.
"I—I didn't—" Andrew started to defend himself, but Willow put a finger to her lips, signaling that he was speaking too loudly. He continued in a whisper, "I didn't sneak up. I've been sitting here since you came in!"
Willow was ready to protest, but thought better of it. He more than likely wasn't lying. Andrew usually lied when there was actually a reason to do it—granted, usually a terrible reason, but he had them. Not just because he could. He probably had been sitting there this whole time and she really just wasn't paying attention. Besides, he looked so earnest. So she relaxed a little bit, but frowned at him. "Why are you up?" If she sounded suspicious, it was because she was. Andrew, ex-poor-excuse-for-a-villain, murderer, and all-around annoying little man was up in the middle of the night when no one else was.
Andrew's eyes dropped a little in a way Willow hadn't seen them do before. He shrugged. "I dunno. Couldn't really get comfortable to sleep."
Willow wasn't mean. Andrew could be obnoxious, but not intolerable. Buffy still pushed him around and bullied him a lot, but Buffy had never been in the shoes of the bullied. Willow had. Granted, Willow never teamed up with a psychopath and created weapons of mass destruction and sex bots to do her bidding, but she knew what it felt like to be pushed around and picked on. In fact, even if he deserved it sometimes, she felt a little guilty inside every time she listened to Buffy talk down to Andrew. And she knew she was guilty of such behavior as well.
It seemed to be taking a bit of a toll on the kid, too, if he was having trouble sleeping. Or that could have just been the looming possibility of death. Or it could be… something else.
"I think there's more pillows upstairs somewhere. And a couple sheets. Or… towels. If that would help," Willow offered, trying not to sound too sincere. The last thing she really needed was Andrew latching onto her and trying to pull her in to his aid every time he got picked on. He needed to stick up for himself and she remembered what he was like last year. If he had someone to use as a crutch, he would use them.
Andrew shook his head. "Uhm, thanks. But no thanks. I don't think it would help a—" The timer on the microwave shrieked out, cutting him off abruptly and making them both jump.
"I hate this new microwave…" Willow moaned as she turned around to get her mug out of the appliance. "It's fueled by evil. I think it's louder than the old one." She was actually a little surprised that no one was awoken by the sound when it had actually frightened her and Andrew both. Maybe everyone was just way too stressed and tired to be startled awake by something so trivial. It was like everyone else could sleep through the Apocalypse, but Willow (and apparently Andrew) couldn't make it through a silent night.
But, then again, silence could be a really, really horrible sound.
Willow jerked her head to the back door, gingerly holding her mug with her fingers. "Get the door, let's go outside." Maybe the outdoors would have a little more sound. And she would be able to speak at a regular volume.
Andrew looked almost surprised at the suggestion that he get the door. Or maybe it was the use of the word "let's." Either way, he hesitated before he hopped off the stool and excitedly hurried for the door. Willow was pretty sure she'd never seen someone so enthusiastic about going somewhere with her.
Once outside, the door shut quietly behind them, Willow settled down on the back steps. It was a couple seconds before Andrew rushed down to her side. It was sort of impressive to her how he could go from being all droopy-eyed and pathetic in the kitchen to bright and energetic now. He was like a child. Well, she knew that. That was the problem everyone had with Andrew, he was like a child. He didn't take anything seriously, he moped at the stupidest things, and he refused to accept responsibility for anything more than preparing snacks. It was highly irritating in a house full of people who were forced to grow up before their time to be constantly faced with someone who outright refused adulthood.
But his enthusiasm. Willow hoped that if Andrew ever grew up, he didn't lose that childlike enthusiasm, because if there was one thing she could respect, it was his willingness and eagerness to do something. He clearly didn't know what—maybe it was just as simple as opening the back door or preparing cookies—but Andrew was always at least a little excited and always ready.
"So, uhm…" Andrew began, looking at his hands holding his knees nervously and tapping one of his feet. "Why—why couldn't you sleep? Do you think?"
Willow had asked him to come out with her so she could talk to him about something, but she'd really been hoping she could be the one to breach the subject. But, no, of course just as Willow was thinking about what she respected about Andrew, he had to set off some measure of annoyance in her by jumping into the conversation so… eagerly.
"I'm exhausted," she began. Then fell silent, wondering how to continue with that.
Apparently, she was quiet too long, because Andrew responded by saying, "…oh. I… see… that doesn't make any sense…"
Willow rolled her eyes and looked irritated at Andrew. "I know. I wasn't finished talking." Her words obviously had some bite to them because she could see Andrew shrink a little in the dim porch light. "I was going to say that I'm exhausted. Emotionally. There's just…" She shook her head and looked out into the back yard again. "There's a lot on my mind."
Andrew also looked out to the yard. He took a breath and then sighed, nodding his head knowingly, even though he didn't know anything near what Willow knew. Or… maybe he did. Maybe they didn't give him enough credit for what he knew. "I… I get that. You're practically right in league with Buffy. In terms of, like, responsibilities and… and power and… stuff… like that." He didn't really have eloquence on his side. He tried, and it was very obvious that he tried, but the words never seemed to be as articulate as he thought they might be in his head. "You—you guys have a really great friendship. I can see that. You share your… burdens. With each other. And also your joys. You and—and Buffy and… Xander. I can see that. It's nice." Willow looked at him looking out into the darkness. Again, Andrew nodded, as if reassuring himself that he was telling the truth.
Willow felt bad. Looking at him, listening to him say that, she couldn't help it. She felt bad. She was blessed with really wonderful friendship in Buffy and Xander. And love in Kennedy. And fatherliness in Giles. And forgiveness in everyone around her. She had a lot, even if she didn't always feel like she did.
Suddenly, she just blurted it out: "When I was Warren, I saw inside his head, his memories, I know everything he knew."
That meant something to Andrew, Willow knew it would, and she was confirmed when his gaze snapped to her, eyes big and scared. "What? What—wh-what do you mean?" It was like he was in trouble. Which just made Willow feel worse. As annoying as it could be, Andrew just wasn't done growing up, that much was very clear, and she couldn't say that was his fault. In fact, with what she'd learned from Warren, she could really blame a lot of Andrew's mentality on him.
Her expression softened to sympathy. The chill night air was drawing the heat out of her still-full mug of tea, but it was doing very little to ease the tension. "I know..." She paused, deciding just what to tell him she knew. "The… things he said to you. The things he… promised you."
Andrew was already looking away, clearly trying to hash out the appropriate reaction for this situation. He'd never had a talk like this, apparently. A serious talk about Warren, or, probably, about anybody who was anything like what Warren was to him. "I—I don't think I, uhm… knn—nnn—na-n-know what you're… talking about. Hey, do we have any muffins left?" He looked back hopefully, ready to spring to his feet and escape.
"Andrew, don't do that," Willow responded sternly. All the ready-to-go energy bled out of him at once and he averted his eyes again, looking guilty. "Stop deflecting. I saw everything."
It was silent again. This time, it was unnerving that it was so quiet and unlike inside the house, Willow was ready for something to fill the air. For a minute, while Andrew stared down almost ashamedly at his hands fumbling with the denim fabric over his knees, Willow wondered why she cared so much. Andrew wasn't her friend. There was the possibility that he wouldn't live to become her friend. So why did she care so much that he admit and face what she already knew was true? She could just let Andrew wallow in his denial forever, considering that was what he wanted to do.
She figured it was because she'd been there. Not in exact terms, but she had hidden from herself. And she hated sitting here watching someone else just hide. It was frustrating. And whether she cared about him or not, it was going to make her crazy to watch him be so frustratingly ignorant about something that actually mattered.
And it was also probably because she was feeling guilty. For whole new reasons she'd only realized due to recent events.
"E—everything?" Andrew stammered out quietly, still staring down. It was like he was afraid of Willow. Well, that was a silly thought; of course he was afraid of her. She'd tried to kill him before and she was pretty patronizing to him these days, he really deserved to be afraid of her.
"The whole kitten caboodle," Willow confessed, matching his volume. "Andrew, he made very unfair promises to you. Ones that… this is going to hurt, but—" at first she thought she wasn't going to care that it would hurt him, but seeing him look just so pathetic? Okay, she cared a little. "—but promises that he didn't mean or intend to keep at all."
Yeah, it hurt all right. She could see it in the way he swallowed and dipped his head lower. The hurt didn't make it to his face, though; that stayed practically emotionless. He was deflecting again. Denying reality and its consequences. He was pretending it didn't hurt at all to hear.
"…I think…" Willow hesitated. Did she really want to have this conversation? With Andrew? He might think more of it than it really was. He might take this to mean something it didn't. But no one else was going to say anything to him about it. How could they? When none of them knew or, much less, cared?
Willow took a breath. "I think you know how he… didn't feel. About you." That got a reaction. Andrew huffed out a sigh and let his forehead fall onto his hands, clasped over his knees. He didn't seem surprised, though. Maybe Willow was wrong. Maybe he had thought about this before. Still, she continued. "But he knew how you—" She almost said 'felt,' but quickly changed her mind. "—how you… admired him. And he took advantage of that. And you knew that, didn't you? At… least a little?" She found herself sounding more hopeful than pressuring in the question. From what she saw of Warren's memories, Andrew had been yanked around a lot, but it was never clear to her whether he had actually believed Warren or had just wanted to believe him.
More quietness. That was getting really irritating. But it was probably deserved. There was a possibility Andrew didn't want to talk about this and this was one thing Willow wasn't going to pressure him into saying. That wasn't right.
Finally, though, he lifted his head, but kept his eyes low. "I just… couldn't help thinking… he intended to keep his promises. He tricked me, I—I guess."
…so that was it? Andrew really was that gullible? And stupid? Willow shouldn't have felt so surprised, but she couldn't help it. She thought she was getting somewhere here, that maybe Andrew was going to confess to knowing he had been lied to up and down and that a sexist, hateful asshole had abused and yanked him around to the point where he could be manipulated into murder. But he was still claiming that he believed Warren… what? Loved him? He had the nerve to say he believed that. It was truly pitiful.
It took Willow a second to get over the shock of what she'd just heard, but she finally rolled her eyes around and down to her tea, which was barely lukewarm now. "I'm sorry." The words were empty, really. Just as empty as Andrew's lie. Because she knew he had to be lying. He wasn't as stupid as he wanted everyone to think and she knew that because she had been in Warren's head. Andrew seemed to forget that.
He finally looked at Willow, seemingly thinking her lifeless words were an offer of sympathy. "…thanks."
She shook her head, still staring at the greenish water in her mug, then at Andrew himself. He looked greenish, too. Either it was the ill-fated lighting in the back yard or it was his pallor combined with guilt. "No, I'm not sorry about that." She felt no sympathy in the way of Andrew supposedly believing Warren. She felt sympathy in that he'd been hurt, yes, pity in that he was gullible, yes, but neither in that he'd fooled himself for this long and refused to admit it. Not when she'd tried to reach out to him and he'd continued to play games.
"I'm sorry I did the same thing to you that Warren did to me. I killed the person you loved most." If anything Willow said struck something in Andrew, it must have been that, because his jaw went slack and there was real fear in his eyes, like when she'd had him pinned in an alley next to a butcher's with empty threats of death. Andrew looked like he thought he might die. And to be honest, Willow knew that feeling, but she wasn't going to let on that she related.
She stood up and Andrew looked back down at his knees so she couldn't see his face anymore. Really, Willow hadn't been able to predict Andrew's reactions all night, so she couldn't guess how he might be acting now. He could be crying, but she doubted it. He could be pushing everything down to his core where he'd never have to face it, but for some reason, she actually doubted that, too. Andrew was human, just like all of them. In fact, he may have been a little more human; if he accepted anything in his little self-made reality it was fear, a human quality which most of them outright denied these days.
Willow didn't really feel like this conversation had accomplished anything at all. But she had really needed to get that apology off her chest. She knew how it hurt, so it was necessary that she acknowledge the living person she hurt most.
"We're not friends, Andrew," she said firmly, standing behind him. He didn't move, so she continued. "You still haven't earned any forgiveness for what you've done. So don't think that that's what this was, okay?" It felt like an act, being so mean to him. She felt the need to soften it a little, so she sighed, and said, "You can have this tea. I didn't drink any. It's got valerian in it to help you relax and relieve anxiety."
Fully planning for those to be her final words, and noting that Andrew showed no signs of moving or responding to her at all, Willow went back to the door and opened it gingerly, trying to avoid any creaking or unnecessary noise. But a tightness in her gut at leaving Andrew alone on the back step probably feeling like he'd just been slapped in the face made her hesitate. Willow just couldn't leave this situation feeling like a jerk. Andrew was childish. And therefore, she figured he needed just a little bit of cushioning for his falls from gracelessness.
She was genuinely gentle when she added one last thing: "I really do feel sorry that he treated you the way he did. No one deserves that, not even supervillains." She waited for a second, looking at him sitting there, his legs pulled up and head dipped down with hands and arms tucked into him. He looked how children do during tornado drills in elementary school, huddled up to themselves in anticipation of an imaginary storm. After a moment, he reached over and picked up Willow's cooled mug of tea and brought it to himself.
Willow went inside, careful to leave the back door open just a crack so as not to lock Andrew out. That would just be salt in a freshly opened wound, wouldn't it?
So maybe that hadn't been an entirely useless discussion. Like she'd considered before, Andrew wasn't as stupid as he acted, so perhaps he was fully aware of how he was acting. If they were lucky, that was the case, and he wasn't going to need it beaten into his skull at some point, most likely by Buffy's patience being pulled just too tight.
In any case, despite a lack of actual tea-drinking, as she made her way up the stairs, Willow figured that her little venture to the kitchen indeed had resulted in the release of much of her previous anxiety. And considering she needed to be awake in a mere matter of hours, the feeling was a godsend. For the first time in a couple days, Willow slipped under her covers and tucked herself next to a fairly new-feeling but very warm body and she felt relieved. She was even content knowing that there was still an uncomfortable man-child out in the back yard sipping at cold and probably-sour-tasting tea, because she knew he'd be alright. Maybe not perfect—definitely not perfect, and he probably wasn't going to sleep tonight, but she felt like she fixed things a little. And on the brink of the Apocalypse, fixing things a little just to sleep a couple hours was definitely what mattered most.