Authors notes: I like Jonathon, he has always been one of my
favorite charecters. So after the end of 6th season I got to thinking
about what would happen to him after the whole Warren-Willow thing. So
this is what I came up with, all from Jonathons POV. Enjoy!
Reflections and Redemtions
I woke up with a start, breathing heavily and sweating. I had that dream again, but this time it was the worst of them all. One thing that not a lot of people know is what Willow did to Andrew and I. She never actually hurt us, true. But what she did do was send us, in grafic detail, how she killed Warren. That hurt us deeply, and not a night has passed since then when I haven't dreamt of it. Only in my dreams, I'm Warren, and somebody else is Willow. It has ranged from Warren, to Buffy, to just about everyone I've known. Every night my brain sets itself to replay and that's all I dream. I haven't slept well for weeks, and though I can't be certain, I think Andrew has the dreams too. But the one last night...I nearly started crying. In my dream, I was Willow, and everyone else was Warren. Everyone that in my dreams had killed me, I killed them. But the last one, the worst one, was when I killed me.
I looked out the small window of the "hotel" we were staying at. It was an hour or so before dawn...the sky was getting brighter but it was still mostly dark outside. Across the small and dingy room I could see Andrew, fast asleep. My watch said it was 4:00, and while my body wanted to go back to sleep my mind wasn't about to go for it. I never wanted to sleep again, not until I knew the dreams wouldn't be there. With a deep breath I knew what I had to do. I had to go back to Sunnydale.
Andrew and I were in about the middle of Mexico, in a small town that I couldn't pronounce the name of. We had gotten progessivly southward, but as time went on our pace slackened. I was fairly certain that there was no one after us, but staying in one place didn't really appeal to me. But the money supply was running out, and soon we'd have to find jobs or do something to be able to survive. But with last nights dream I knew it was time for me to stop running away and face reality...and those I left behind.
I got up and quickly dressed, Mexico was a warm place but it was still chilly. Quietly I left the room, not wanting to wake Andrew up. He would ask questions, and I didn't want that. In the predawn the small city looked ethereal, and the look was help by a fine layer of mist. We hadn't been here long, but I knew exactly where I was going. There was a train station a little ways out of town.
It was open, and I went inside. There was one man sitting behind the counter, reading what seemed to be the mexican equivalent of Playboy. It was dimly lit and not the cleanest of places, but it would hopefully get me where I wanted to go. I went up to the man and, in my poor spainish, asked how far the train would take me. He smirked but replyed that it would take me as far as the border. Somehow I managed to purchase a ticket for early the next morning. It didn't even cost that much. After that I went back to where Andrew and I were staying. It was 5:30 by that point.
Andrew was still asleep, for which I was grateful. I really shouldn't have worried, he isn't that much of a morning person. I tried to do random things to keep my mind occupied, but no matter what it always came back to the dream. It haunted my mind, and whenever I closed my eyes it was there. I saw me hanging on the tree, pathetic looking and scared, knowing I was about to die. I saw another me, practically radiating evil, taking delight in killing the pathetic creature before me.
***
It seemed as if the day passed slower than ususal. Andrew woke up at 10:00, and stumbled right to the kitchen. I had already made breakfast, which wasn't unusual. Andrew got the food, I made it. He was a horrible cook, and we needed to eat. The dream was still fresh on my mind, and when Andrew woke up I was sketching images down into my sketch book. I had been keeping one even before the whole Warren ordeal, but ever since then I'd been drawing more and more. It was a type of therapy. The images weren't always the happiest pictures and I was by no means a wonderful artist, but I was good enough and it helped me. Andrew had wanted to look at it once, and I showed him one picture I did of me being flayed. Suffice to say, he never asked to see any of my pictures again.
He didn't try to talk to me until after he had eaten. Andrew and I had been talking less and less since we ran away, there seemed to be a lack of things to say. He learned early on not to talk of Warren, I couldn't stand it. When we did talk it was of little things, like comic books or music. Sometimes we'd talk of where to go or what to do. Andrew wanted to finish up with Mexico and move on, going anywhere but back north. I knew that what he really wanted to do was raise Warren somehow, but he was smart enough to never mention that to me. I had started keeping a small blade fairly close, and I was still a good warlock, so Andrew didn't really want to mess with me. Not that I discoraged that.
I actually spent time with him, figuring that this was quite possibly the last time I would ever see him. I didn't mind it horribly, but at times it was hard. We played a couple games, and we even went for a short walk around 3:00. We still didn't talk much, except to have an in depth conversation about what X-Men power we'd want and why. It was actually kind of fun, and brought back memories of times when the three of us would sit in a basement and play card games. It didn't last long though, but it was slightly comforting.
The day finally turned to night, and I somehow managed to stay awake longer than Andrew. I didn't have much to pack, but we had picked up a few items here and there that I wanted to keep. After a small debate with myself I left Andrew about half the money we had. I didn't want to completly abandon him, and I already felt somewhat sorry for leaving. Not sorry enough to not go, but still, I know I wouldn't want to be abandoned by my traveling companion. I strengthened my resolve by reminding myself that at one point, he tried to abondon me. Still, I left him a short note telling him what I was doing and why, then left the money. I didn't even look back as I walked out, though I did mutter a short good-bye. But then I was out the door and on my way to
It was 1:00 in the morning by the time I reached the small train station. My train came at 3:30, so I had plenty of time to spare. I thought of sleeping, but then decided that I really didn't want to for multiple reasons. One, the nightmares. Two, I didn't want to sleep through the train arriving. Three, I wasn't sure I wanted to be unguarded. With a sigh I picked up on of the old magazines. I couldn't read it, but there was some cool looking pictures. But there was only so much I could take of that, so I took out my sketchbook. That seemed to pass the time.
Before long it was 3:15. It hadn't seemed like that long, but the next 15 mintues waiting for the train to arrive made up for that. I had long since picked up my ticket, and I went out and stood on the waiting platform. It was on the coldish side, and I shivered. Though it was a sigh of relife I felt when the train finally pulled up and I got on. It was warm inside, and I quickly sat myself in a nearly empty car next to the window. Putting my stuff beside me I watched as the train picked up speed and left the village far behind, heading north at a rapid rate. Heading to the border, heading to Southern California. Soon enough I'd be heading to Sunnydale, heading...home.
Reflections and Redemtions
I woke up with a start, breathing heavily and sweating. I had that dream again, but this time it was the worst of them all. One thing that not a lot of people know is what Willow did to Andrew and I. She never actually hurt us, true. But what she did do was send us, in grafic detail, how she killed Warren. That hurt us deeply, and not a night has passed since then when I haven't dreamt of it. Only in my dreams, I'm Warren, and somebody else is Willow. It has ranged from Warren, to Buffy, to just about everyone I've known. Every night my brain sets itself to replay and that's all I dream. I haven't slept well for weeks, and though I can't be certain, I think Andrew has the dreams too. But the one last night...I nearly started crying. In my dream, I was Willow, and everyone else was Warren. Everyone that in my dreams had killed me, I killed them. But the last one, the worst one, was when I killed me.
I looked out the small window of the "hotel" we were staying at. It was an hour or so before dawn...the sky was getting brighter but it was still mostly dark outside. Across the small and dingy room I could see Andrew, fast asleep. My watch said it was 4:00, and while my body wanted to go back to sleep my mind wasn't about to go for it. I never wanted to sleep again, not until I knew the dreams wouldn't be there. With a deep breath I knew what I had to do. I had to go back to Sunnydale.
Andrew and I were in about the middle of Mexico, in a small town that I couldn't pronounce the name of. We had gotten progessivly southward, but as time went on our pace slackened. I was fairly certain that there was no one after us, but staying in one place didn't really appeal to me. But the money supply was running out, and soon we'd have to find jobs or do something to be able to survive. But with last nights dream I knew it was time for me to stop running away and face reality...and those I left behind.
I got up and quickly dressed, Mexico was a warm place but it was still chilly. Quietly I left the room, not wanting to wake Andrew up. He would ask questions, and I didn't want that. In the predawn the small city looked ethereal, and the look was help by a fine layer of mist. We hadn't been here long, but I knew exactly where I was going. There was a train station a little ways out of town.
It was open, and I went inside. There was one man sitting behind the counter, reading what seemed to be the mexican equivalent of Playboy. It was dimly lit and not the cleanest of places, but it would hopefully get me where I wanted to go. I went up to the man and, in my poor spainish, asked how far the train would take me. He smirked but replyed that it would take me as far as the border. Somehow I managed to purchase a ticket for early the next morning. It didn't even cost that much. After that I went back to where Andrew and I were staying. It was 5:30 by that point.
Andrew was still asleep, for which I was grateful. I really shouldn't have worried, he isn't that much of a morning person. I tried to do random things to keep my mind occupied, but no matter what it always came back to the dream. It haunted my mind, and whenever I closed my eyes it was there. I saw me hanging on the tree, pathetic looking and scared, knowing I was about to die. I saw another me, practically radiating evil, taking delight in killing the pathetic creature before me.
***
It seemed as if the day passed slower than ususal. Andrew woke up at 10:00, and stumbled right to the kitchen. I had already made breakfast, which wasn't unusual. Andrew got the food, I made it. He was a horrible cook, and we needed to eat. The dream was still fresh on my mind, and when Andrew woke up I was sketching images down into my sketch book. I had been keeping one even before the whole Warren ordeal, but ever since then I'd been drawing more and more. It was a type of therapy. The images weren't always the happiest pictures and I was by no means a wonderful artist, but I was good enough and it helped me. Andrew had wanted to look at it once, and I showed him one picture I did of me being flayed. Suffice to say, he never asked to see any of my pictures again.
He didn't try to talk to me until after he had eaten. Andrew and I had been talking less and less since we ran away, there seemed to be a lack of things to say. He learned early on not to talk of Warren, I couldn't stand it. When we did talk it was of little things, like comic books or music. Sometimes we'd talk of where to go or what to do. Andrew wanted to finish up with Mexico and move on, going anywhere but back north. I knew that what he really wanted to do was raise Warren somehow, but he was smart enough to never mention that to me. I had started keeping a small blade fairly close, and I was still a good warlock, so Andrew didn't really want to mess with me. Not that I discoraged that.
I actually spent time with him, figuring that this was quite possibly the last time I would ever see him. I didn't mind it horribly, but at times it was hard. We played a couple games, and we even went for a short walk around 3:00. We still didn't talk much, except to have an in depth conversation about what X-Men power we'd want and why. It was actually kind of fun, and brought back memories of times when the three of us would sit in a basement and play card games. It didn't last long though, but it was slightly comforting.
The day finally turned to night, and I somehow managed to stay awake longer than Andrew. I didn't have much to pack, but we had picked up a few items here and there that I wanted to keep. After a small debate with myself I left Andrew about half the money we had. I didn't want to completly abandon him, and I already felt somewhat sorry for leaving. Not sorry enough to not go, but still, I know I wouldn't want to be abandoned by my traveling companion. I strengthened my resolve by reminding myself that at one point, he tried to abondon me. Still, I left him a short note telling him what I was doing and why, then left the money. I didn't even look back as I walked out, though I did mutter a short good-bye. But then I was out the door and on my way to
It was 1:00 in the morning by the time I reached the small train station. My train came at 3:30, so I had plenty of time to spare. I thought of sleeping, but then decided that I really didn't want to for multiple reasons. One, the nightmares. Two, I didn't want to sleep through the train arriving. Three, I wasn't sure I wanted to be unguarded. With a sigh I picked up on of the old magazines. I couldn't read it, but there was some cool looking pictures. But there was only so much I could take of that, so I took out my sketchbook. That seemed to pass the time.
Before long it was 3:15. It hadn't seemed like that long, but the next 15 mintues waiting for the train to arrive made up for that. I had long since picked up my ticket, and I went out and stood on the waiting platform. It was on the coldish side, and I shivered. Though it was a sigh of relife I felt when the train finally pulled up and I got on. It was warm inside, and I quickly sat myself in a nearly empty car next to the window. Putting my stuff beside me I watched as the train picked up speed and left the village far behind, heading north at a rapid rate. Heading to the border, heading to Southern California. Soon enough I'd be heading to Sunnydale, heading...home.