Hey guys, long time no see!
I wrote this a while ago when I was in the middle of my MBAV-kick, sometime last year. I've actually got this like 63-page document sitting around labeled 'Shorts' that holds a bunch of One-or-Two-Shots and uncompleted Bunnies, and its from that that I brought out 'Kangaroo Cry' and 'The Psychoanalysis of Benjamin Weir'.
This is set just after 'Double Negative', is AU for the second season I think (I haven't watched it yet, I need to get back on the MBAV train), and should count as a Two-Shot. It's also probably a tiny bit OOC for Benny, but at the same time, I think its one of my best description-wise. But anyway, that's for you guys to decide, not me.
Oh, and one more thing-despite this being the 'Psychoanalysis of Benjamin Weir', I know nothing of psychology. I wrote Sarah as someone who did, though, so if you know anything about the subject and find some problem, I'm sorry. Feel free to point it out and I'll see if I can fix it. Thanks!
Warnings: mentions of child abuse. You decide what kind, I don't write anything explicit.
Disclaimer: Feels kinda good to be writing these again after such a while. Anyway, Don't Own, Don't Sue!
Sarah slowly braked, letting the vintage car roll itself into the driveway halfway down Orchard Lane and to the right of the one she most often drove into. Like the house next to it, the one she more often visited, it was a triple-level built nearly 100 years ago with dark brick and darker shingles. The house was reminiscent of the, nearly ancient in comparison, Georgetown brownstones less than a hundred miles away in D.C., in the dark, elegant way it seemed to almost loom above the street.
The 17-year old sighed and turned off the ignition, leaning against the smooth, soft, warm leather of the seat behind her. It was amazing how alike the sons of the Weir and Morgan families were. Both were dorks, both loved videogames almost as much as their families, both were admittedly impressive with their weapons and technology, both had dark hair, both lived in homes that seemed to fit better in The Salem Witch Project rather than a peaceful, quiet suburb.
Both Benny and Ethan seemed to be growing fairly quickly when it came to their respective magics, at least, according Old Lady Weir. Sarah herself didn't know for sure, as she only talked to them occasionally. She did have a life outside of black magic and vampires, despite what it seemed.
But unlike Ethan, who had a vision nearly daily and sometimes even complained about the way they injected almost rudely into his everyday life, Benny very rarely used his newfound powers. He spoke and bragged about them often, for sure, but rarely did he ever pull out his book and utter the spells written out in it. Normally, he kept the magic he held himself within his fingertips unless it was for "good" reason, like the fall-on-your-face spell he'd cast over nearly 40 girls to get himself and Ethan into the cheer squad. Admittedly, those reasons often had doubling backings, like watching the cheerleaders as they practiced and afterwards, but if perverted teenage hormones alone were enough to light a fire under his spellbook, there would be a lot more magic flying around White Chapel.
Sarah groaned and lifted herself from the seat, twirling her keys around her finger as she climbed out of the red car. She walked forward a few steps before stopping near the hood, leaning against the slightly warm metal and gazing up at the house.
It was a cool October evening, one that reminded you that Halloween was on the rise. It was the kind she'd adored when she was just another Dusker, staring wide-eyed into the feeling of the short moments before the dramatic change of events in a story and hoping against all hope that she would enter the vampire fantasy of her dreams.
The moon was nowhere near full, appearing as a razor-like sickle in the sky, almost impossibly sharply defined on its very edges. Just staring at it made it seem ready to slice into you like the wind actually was, carrying the smallest bite a breeze could contain, with the promise of more to come with the colder winter months approaching. Her jacket was a necessity now, not just a fashion statement.
Besides the cold silver radiance of the moon, the only sources of light were the two houses near her. It was fairly late in the night, but even if they hadn't noticed it, the boys had become partial night owls, more in tune with the darkness that empty space rained upon their side of the Earth for the final 12 hours of the day. She assumed it was their connection to black magic, how even despite their status as human beings, they still used the dark energy, ran off of it, and therefore lived in it almost as much as their non-human friends.
Ethan's bedroom lamp was the only one on in his house, but in the Weir residence, two windows were glowing with man-made light; Benny's room and his grandmother's secret kitchen. Old Lady Weir was probably finishing up a brew or something, probably to make up for the one Benny had used on Puffles and every other dearly departed demon creature two weeks ago.
Sarah sighed and looked up at the soft orange glow coming from the window at the very top of the Weir house, her mind switching back to the reason she'd come.
Benny didn't use his magic for anything but what most people would consider real reasons. But that wasn't like the boy; he was show-offish, braggy, and even a jerk sometimes when it came to things he had. He meant well and beneath the exterior, she knew he was a good guy—the negative of his soul had been a flirtatious, evil jerkwad, after all, which meant he, as its opposite, had to be decent—but still. That was how Benjamin Weir usually acted. The whole thing about his magic stirred Sarah the wrong way.
After high school, she was planning on entering college and becoming a therapist or psychoanalyst or psychiatrist or something along those lines, helping people with problems that few others could, with problems that had solutions in talks and releases. Sarah had been working for the last four years on her goal, signing up for courses in science to find out how the brain worked, English to get a better grasp on how to think, and history to see how the greats thought, whether they were insane or brilliant or insanely brilliant.
She'd read psychology books and even talked to a few philosophy and psychiatry professors her father knew through his days at university. Sarah was a smart girl with a 4.0 GPA and hopefully a scholarship to a great school, at the end of the year, and already knew a lot about the field she wanted to enter. But more importantly, even if it had only been a month or maybe a month and a half, she knew Benny Weir and that particular trait was not how Benny Weir acted.
Sarah took a short but deep breath and steeled herself, walking up to the front door of the house. She could vaguely make out some sort of pattern in the concrete of the porch, probably some spell Old Lady Weir had put up ages ago, and hesitated only for a moment—what if the spell were against vampires?—before rapping sharply on the wood three times.
"I got it, Grandma!" Benny's voice called from inside, completely ignorant or careless about their sleeping neighbors.
Sarah only had to wait a second before the door opened and Benny's beaming face appeared, looking down at her. To be honest, she found it infuriating that a boy three years younger had nearly six inches on her.
The nearly mad grin Benny almost continuously kept on his face didn't falter a bit at the sight of his senior vampire friend, but she could read the hint of confusion in his eyes as he realized who it was.
"Oh, hey Sarah," he said. "Is, uh… something wrong?"
"Hey Benny. No, nothing's wrong, exactly, I don't think…" She winced and looked up at him. "Would you mind if I came in?"
Benny realized how rude he was probably being and stepped aside. "Oh, yeah, sure," he said, sweeping an arm forward. "Come on in. The Weir house always has room for more."
Sarah nodded in thanks and walked into the house. Though it had been built at nearly the same time as the Morgans', the Weir house followed an almost entirely different set of blueprints. There were more bedrooms, mostly used for storage and guests, from what she had gathered, but the actual living spaces like the den and bathrooms were a little smaller.
She didn't know what she'd been expecting out of Benny's house, to be honest. All she really knew about the Spellmaster was that, well, he was a Spellmaster, he had been Ethan's best friend since basically their births, that his grandmother rocked, and that he was a mega dork.
Some part of her had seen his house as being filled with memorabilia of sci-fi movies and series, posters and models hanging off of every surface and life-sized simulations watching you from every corner with eyes that were flat and dead but seemed to be so alive and just plain creepy.
After learning about his grandmother, ancient features like a wood burning fireplaces and locked cupboards were added to the scene, with dried herbs and spices hanging among the spaceships and pictures. Tables would be filled with scrolls of crusty old spells and odd objects as well as his prototypes and souvenirs. The place would've been utter chaos.
She knew she was thinking biasedly, but she couldn't help it. Sarah actually didn't know much about the Weirs, so she couldn't honestly guess how they would decorate the house they lived in.
Still, though, what she did see was strange. Even, no, especially for a family like the Weirs'.
It was all too normal.
White and a deep brown seemed to be the main colors of the entire house. To her right was a living room holding the most-overstuffed snow-white couch and chair set she'd ever seen in her life, a long antique wooden coffee table, and a worn red Persian rug on dark wood floors. The fireplace had been pained stark-white, a natural wooden mantle just above the opening that was edged with a mirror mosaic and had a large painting of a smiling family with a much younger Benny above it.
As far from the entrance as possible in the room was a large wooden entertainment center, holding an enormous plasma TV, DVD and VCR players, an Xbox, PlayStation, and Wii, and what seemed to be a hundred DVDs and videos. Surrounding the entertainment center was a wall-to-wall, ceiling-to-ceiling bookshelf crammed with books ranging from new paperbacks to ancient leather tomes.
To her left was the dining room, also in white and brown. A crystal chandelier hung over a mahogany table covered in a white lace cloth, reflected in a mirror on the end of the room connecting with the state-of-the-art kitchen (from what she could see). Three framed, dried flowers hung on the wall behind the table, different from the white lilies sitting in the vase under the lighting fixture.
It was… nice. Very nice. And very high end.
"…Sarah?"
Sarah jolted and spun, looking at Benny's slightly concerned face. "Are you okay?" he asked. "You're not getting visions too, are you?"
She rolled her eyes. "No. I just… didn't expect it to be like this."
Benny nodded, as if understanding. There were moments when Sarah was amazed about just how quickly he could grasp a situation or figure out someone's thoughts, usually in between those moments when she found him purely insane and the ones where he was too weird to think about.
This wasn't one of these moments, however. "Yeah, I know, it's a mess," he admitted. "Grandma and I've been trying to clean it up lately, but she's busy with the final stage of her new revival potion. Has to be done under a crescent moon. So I've been focusing on my room and working down from there."
Sarah's eyebrows rose. "That's… not what I meant, but… you're working all night to clean your house?" Something was definitely wrong there.
Benny smirked slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's a long story," he replied. "But what did you mean, by different from what you expected?"
She shrugged awkwardly. "Well… it's looks really nice." Benny's eyebrows shot to his hairline. "No, no, I mean…!"
To her surprise, he began chuckling. "Relax," he told her, "Ethan said the same thing when he first came over. Course, he was six, so he said it outright rather than trying to dance around it." Sarah blushed slightly. "My mom's an interior designer. She travels a lot, fixing up people's homes, you know."
"Wait a second." Connections were made in Sarah's mind and surprise crossed her entire being. "Your mom is… Alyssa Weir? As in, From Alyssa's Home to Yours?" Benny nodded, turning slightly pink. "Benny! My mom and I watch that show almost daily!"
He nodded again. "Yeah, a lot of people do," he admitted. "My dad's the producer and director, too. They make a great team." Benny put his hands in his pockets and looked around the hall awkwardly, as if afraid to look directly into Sarah's eyes now that she knew his family was famous. "So, uh… if you're here to see Grandma for something, you're gonna have to wait a bit cause she told me if I bother her for the next few hours she'll transform me into a barn animal, and I don't exactly think I'd like being a donkey."
Sarah smiled—that sounded exactly like Old Lady Weir—and shook her head. "No, actually, I, uh, came here to see you."
Benny blinked at her in surprise and burst into an enormous grin. "Really?" he asked, leaning back against the wall and crossing his arms. "Well, then, babe…"
Ew! "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Sarah said, waving her arms. "Cool your jets, loverdork, that's not what I meant." Benny's face fell back to his normal look. "I wanted to talk to you about something. You know, have an actual conversation?"
Benny frowned but nodded. "Okay, what about?" he asked, leading her into the living room. Sarah seated herself on one of the white armchairs while Benny stretched himself out lazily on the couch. It was almost exactly like she saw herself ten years from now, having clients laid out while she sat and listened to their problems.
"Well, you know how even fledgling vampires have some… superhuman abilities?" Benny nodded. "Like when I was running superfast to find you and Evil Benny." He nodded again, motioning for her to continue. "Well, another power I've got is… superhearing." He blinked at her. "I can hear whatever's happening in the rooms around me if I really try, and I was really trying while I was running."
"Ok…?"
"So I heard what Evil Benny said to you in the bathroom."
Benny cocked his head at her, not understanding. "And it started to make me think. He said you didn't have the stomach to use your magic. I couldn't help but notice that I honestly would've expected you to use your powers a little more… frequently, and not just for the reasons you've been using them for. I'm just wondering… why don't you use your magic all that often?"
Benny was normally a cheerful and carefree guy. The only time she'd seen him with a straight face were the rare times when things had gone seriously bad within a space of seconds. But now a completely separate expression had come to light.
The once-flushed face suddenly turned paper white and Benny narrowed his eyes in a glare at her. Sarah did a double take. Benny was glaring at her. It wasn't a horrible glare, more like an overly suspicious gaze, but that didn't make it any less disconcerting.
"Benny?"
"No offense, Sarah, but I don't see how that's your business," he replied, polite but nearly frigid, both things she did not expect from him. "When and for what I use black magic is my decision."
Sarah quickly gathered herself. She could not be thrown by Benny's first defenses over his secrets. "It's my business because, no matter how annoying or weird or dorky you are, you're my friend and I watch out for my friends." He looked at her, probably deciding whether to be insulted or touched. "I may have only known you for a month, Benny, but I know enough about you to know that you should be a lot more reckless with your magic. I'm thankful you're not, don't get me wrong, but something's holding you back."
Benny frowned and sat up. "Look, Sarah, I appreciate your concern, but you're right. You've only known me for a month. Maybe I take some things more seriously than others."
"If that was all, your evil twin wouldn't say that you don't have the stomach for black magic."
The boy snorted. "What did he know?"
She raised an eyebrow. "Exactly as much as you, since he's your exact negative." Benny blinked and scowled at his defense being torn down. "Benny. I swear I won't tell a soul. You're my friend and I want to know what's making you… change your… normal way of doing things, when it comes to your magic."
Benny sighed. "Look. I appreciate it, Sarah, I really do. But it's a personal thing and I don't…"
She held up a hand. "Benny. I'm looking into psychiatry for college and a career. Have been for the last few years. Pushing stuff down, especially if it's 'personal', is really really bad for you. It'll bottle up and then bring serious consequences. The last thing White Chapel needs is a Spellmaster dealing with serious consequences on his own. I promise not to tell anyone, especially since it's personal." Benny hesitated and Sarah saw her chance. "Come on, Benny. I just want to help. I want to be a better friend to you than I was to… than I was to Erica."
Benny looked up and met Sarah's eyes at that. Sarah ignored the pain of regret and sorrow she felt just from mentioning what she'd done to her best friend, and the world the girl had been shoved into because of it. Benny knew just as much as the rest of them how much she loathed to bring it up; hopefully, he'd see her mentioning it as a sign of sincerity.
"…Fine," he grumbled. "But you have to swear not to tell anyone, ever. It's something I haven't told a single person in my entire life."
Sarah rolled her eyes. "I've already said it twice." The boy looked at her seriously. "Fine. I swear I won't tell anyone, ever."
Benny nodded seriously. "Good. You'd better keep it." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "The, uh, reason I don't really like using black magic…" Sarah leaned forward. "Well, uh… you see… it's like this…"
"Come on, spit it out already!"
"It's my parents!"
Benny automatically slammed a hand over his mouth, as if shocked he'd actually said it. Sarah sat back in her chair, surprised. His parents? She glanced up at the portrait above the fireplace. Mr. and Mrs. Weir looked like smiling, normal people in the painting. She had short black hair in a sharp, straight bob cut and sharp cheekbones and chin. He had thick brown hair that was growing white at the edges and the same slightly crazed blue eyes his son possessed.
They looked like a perfectly happy family, but she knew that wasn't always the case.
"Your parents?" she repeated. "What about them?"
Benny sighed. "It's a long story, but Mom is totally and one hundred percent against anything even semi-unusual. And Dad, even though he was raised by Grandma, Earth priestess extraordinaire, thinks all of it is a total waste of time." He shook his head. "They have this… kinda extreme view of me, as a perfect, normal, well-behaved son who's focused on his schoolwork and not much else."
Sarah stared at him. "But that's not you," she told him.
He chuckled humorlessly. "It used to be," he replied darkly. "I can still remember it. Seven years ago, when Ethan and his family moved next door. I was the child they always loved, the perfect son. I was the smartest in class, would rather be inside reading than playing outside, and was pretty great at soccer. Heck, I even had blonde hair!" Benny smirked at Sarah's astonished face. "It switched over a few years ago," he explained. "The entire neighborhood knew me as little Benjamin Weir, the kid with the best of everything. Best clothes, best bike, best grades. I remember, a lot of people hated me for it.
"I didn't know any other way to live except sitting alone in my room reading. I'd barely heard of friends. We didn't have a TV or anything, just books. I thought my parents were always completely right, you know, like little kids think, and never questioned them. I just went with the flow."
Sarah stared at him, too busy trying to fit the image of Benjamin Weir with the Benny she knew. It wasn't going well. Benny smiled and continued. "Then Ethan moved in next to us. We were the first ones to welcome them to the neighborhood.
"When I met him, I didn't know what to think. He was wearing a Star Wars t-shirt and Spiderman shoes. I remember because he nearly fainted when he found out I didn't know what either of them were.
"After that, I got the only 'best' thing my parents didn't give me—a best friend. Every time I went over to Ethan's, he'd introduce me to a new sci-fi film or series or give me comic books to study once I got home. I'd hide them in my books, or read them under my covers while my parents thought I was asleep. I thought they were amazing, even though I had to hide them. And then, when we had business partners over, if I accidentally let something slip, our guests would say something about a great imagination and my parents would be ecstatic.
"That all changed when Ethan gave me a Galactitac poster and DVD set for my 7th birthday. I hung the poster up on my wall and started watching the series on the TV my dad bought after a work buddy of his wanted to watch a football game at our place. I was so happy, I was imagining my room completely decked out with sci-fi stuff and the shelves filled with the sets, and then…"
Benny sighed. "My parents found out. They tore up the poster and threw away the DVDs. They told me it was unrealistic and that I should stick to reading. It was nothing but fantasy and I was wasting my time liking them."
Sarah gaped at him. "It's not a waste of time, Benny," she assured him. "Not everyone may like it, but that doesn't make it a waste."
Benny chuckled. "Try telling that to my folks," he replied. " 'Conservative' doesn't begin to describe them. Anyway, it took every bit of begging and promises I had to keep them from forbidding me from hanging with Ethan. Luckily, he and his parents came over for dinner a few days later and they passed my parents' inspection.
"After Mom and Dad started From Alyssa's Home to Yours the year after, they were gone a lot and Grandma started taking over raising me. She didn't ground or scold me when I got alien and wizard stuff. She even bought me a couple Star Wars things for Christmas when my parents sent me Charles Dickens and fleece socks from abroad."
Benny grinned conspiratorially up at Sarah. "Benjamin Weir died off completely about five years ago and Benny W. was born in his place. The thing is, though, that my parents aren't aware of that little fact. They still think I'm their perfect son."
His grin fell slowly, melting from his face like the life from a flower wilting in front of a high-speed camera. "I don't like lying, especially to family. That was one of the virtues Mom and Dad drilled into me at a young age, and one of the few I still have. I'll do it if it's necessary, but no more than that. Unfortunately, it's necessary for a lot of stuff—most of the stuff I like, for one. I have to pretend to be Benjamin every time they come home or else I'd be in major trouble. And, just to add to it, perfect little Benjamin wouldn't get mixed up in vampires and everything, so I have to lie about that as well—course, I would've anyway, but still. I hate lying to my parents. So I'm controlling the lie about magic in the only way I can. You can't help being a fledgling, just like Erica and Rory can't help being vampires and Ethan can't help having his visions. But I can control how much magic I use. If I use a less magic, it's a smaller lie. If I use more, it'll get bigger and worse and worse."
Sarah nodded as Benny finished, taking a moment to absorb his story. If she was working out of her texts, she'd say that a childhood led by over-estimating parents holding a very short leash led to a will to please and that in turn led to a personality split once they left and gave his grandmother the reins. He no longer had to be 'perfect' to please anyone and his grandmother wanted him to explore the things he loved, to be Benny. But when his parents came back, his will to please kicked in and he returned to Benjamin.
"So you hold back on your magic because you don't want to lie to your parents?"
Benny nodded. "But it's not just that," he replied, "they'd hate me if they found out." Sarah raised an eyebrow. "I'm serious! All my life, they've told me, 'don't get into magic, Benjamin' and 'deals with the devil lead to dark lives, Benjamin' and 'I hope you know, Benjamin, if we ever catch you drawing Pentagrams or runes or trying any of that devil-worshipping black magic, that we'll put you out on the street'. I'm not kidding. My mom said that to me, the last time I saw her before the whole Jesse fiasco."
"Well, she might've said that as a threat—you know parents never go through with those kinds of threats," Sarah suggested hopefully.
Benny shook his head seriously. "No. Not my mom. She'll go through with it. She has good reason to despise black magic, anyway…"
Sarah leaned forward. "Really?" she asked. "Why?"
Benny's eyes grew huge and his mouth closed with an audible clack. He blew a breath out of his nose and closed his eyes. "That, Sarah," he told her, the icy tone in his voice back, "is even more personal and is family business."
Sarah smiled and decided to play off of a hunch. "Family business?" she repeated. "So the entire family knows?"
Benny flinched. "So they don't," she decided. "How can it be family business if no one else knows, Benny?"
"Because however much of a friend you may be, you're not family and it's none of yours?" Benny supplied.
"Oh no. You're not getting out of this that easily. It is my business because your mother's rejection is what's scaring you away from progressing as a Spellmaster." Benny shook his head and continued to do so as she kept speaking.
"Your fear of rejection is keeping you from learning spells that might one day save our lives."
"No—"
"It's your fear that might be responsible for our deaths one day, for my death or Erica's or Rory's or even Ethan's."
"No, just—!"
"Do you want to be responsible for your best friend's death?"
"No!" Benny almost shouted, still shaking his head. "No, I-I…!"
"Then tell me why your mom hates magic so much so we can—!"
"It's because of Grandpa!"
Benny's shriek echoed around the house several times. Sarah grew silent as he looked at her, unshed tears sparkling in the corners of his eyes. "It's because of my Grandpa," he repeated, his voice slightly hoarse. "My mom's Dad."
Sarah stood and moved onto the couch next to him. "It's okay, Benny," she told him gently. "Take your time."
Benny took a deep breath before starting his story.
They did not go into Benny's family at all in the first season, and I was left curious. The conclusion's in the next chapter, which is where my earlier warning really starts to apply. Those of you who are wondering over Mrs. Weir, who I hope I managed to convey as a more modern woman, and her belief/hatred in black magic, just hold on. All will be made understood then.
Until next time, my friends,
PEACE
~Tibki
