"Some Assembly Required"
Set during the events of the Season Seven episode - "First Date"
It had been a long, hard piece of work in getting this magnificent creation, but by the sweat on his brow, it was worth it. The treasure was hidden within this box, and oh, how he'd suffered to get it.
Slicing open the masking tape that bound the cardboard box, Andrew eagerly fumbled with the stiff styofoam cushions, wrestling with the box until the styrofoam gave an unholy squeech! as it slid against the cardboard and gently dumped the prize into his lap.
A microwave. His very own piece of modern technology, although technically, it really wasn't his, as it was bought with Willow's money, and would be shared everyone in the house. This must have been how the pioneers felt when the first telegraph lines were being set up - scratch that, this must have been how the holographic Doctor felt when his portable holo-emitter first allowed him to escape the confines of sickbay and the holodeck.
Andrew took a damp rag and sponged an area on the counter clean, clearing it of all manner of sticky breakfast, dinner, and battle detritus. Carefully setting the new technology on the counter, where once the old one had stood, he took his time plugging the cord into the wall, feeling the creation become alive under his hands. He felt powerful, but benevolently so. With this device, he could theoretically poison them all with radiation or some unpleasant wave that was better confined to within the machine. Or, if he so chose, he could feed the hungry and righteous masses more efficiently, soothing bellies that rumbled in the wake of pursuing the good fight. Plus, Mexico didn't cater to much in the way of movie-butter popcorn.
With deliberate motions, Andrew pulled out the glass microwave plate and the pronged piece of plastic that held the plate in place, pulling them out of their plastic sheaths and consulting his manual.
In small ways, one begins to fight back fear.
Pulling off the plastic wrap that bound the microwave, Andrew pressed the button that freed the door. For good measure, he closed it, hearing the latch close with a satisfying mechanical sound, testing the machine's reflexes.
He could now remember the exact sequence of events that led up the Cardassian rebellion from the Dominion, the unlikely heroism of Damar, who reformed himself into something far better than the drunken puppet he'd once been. In Mexico, he fretted because he was certain that he had forgotten the plotlines of the last two seasons of The X-Files, though Jonathan assured him time and again that those were memories he could stand to be without. Andrew wasn't certain he agreed, but the point was moot now, because he remembered them.
He had to set the plastic prong on the inside, for the microwave plate to turn upon. Realizing that he didn't have a Phillips screwdriver, he walked into the living room, calling loudly for the location of Xander's home tool belt. Kennedy, busy nuzzling Willow's throat while the witch made notes from an ancient tome, jerked a thumb towards the hall closet.
He and Jonathan had gorged on American fast food when they crossed back over the border, paying for it several hours later, but he remembered the rush his body felt at the first beautiful bite into a juicy chicken nugget with barbecue sauce, the McFlurry with bits of M&Ms in it. He's not a leader, like Buffy. He has no great powers like Willow (at least, no great powers for the force of good). He's not a fighter, like Spike of the rippling arm muscles and sad, sweet smile…stop that. But he has a certain finesse with cooking, so his contribution to the fight is culinary in nature. And if he happened to get pulled into some fantastic adventures and fights now and again, like Neelix, so much the better. He keeps a cross in his back pocket for this eventual occurrence…
Insert the plastic dish holder into socket A, line the circumference of the hollow hole with the washer, and screw the plastic screw into the socket. Andrew did so dutifully, imitating the movements of Xander's hands when he used the screwdriver in household repairs.
Most people had a stop-start, jerky motion when using tools. Not Xander, who used tools with a fluidity borne of long practice that fascinated Andrew. He couldn't hope to imitate Buffy, who was endowed with supernatural powers, who made an effort not to stray from her rigid moral code as far as he knew - despite Tucker's tales, there was much of the Slayer's past he was unaware of. No, it was Spike who he related to, what with the dark past and all, and Xander that he aspired to. But maybe with a superpower. Maybe X-ray vision? Invisibility and rocket-powered flight are beyond his capabilities, and he's shown no sign of mutant capabilities whatsoever.
Also beyond his capabilities are the mechanics of the microwave. Luckily, the microwave is very user-friendly, and even comes with a helpful guide to get the most out of the new machine. Andrew pulls out one of Dawn's highlighters to check off what would be important to know, to remember. Defrosting frozen meats will be helpful with all the potentials about, as will the exact elapsing of time when he tries to heat up popcorn and not burn it. Maybe he should make a test batch…
"You bake too much," Kennedy remarked yesterday morning, as he pulled a batch of blueberry muffins out of the oven. "We're going to need that money for real supplies and weapons." He couldn't completely argue with her there. Blueberry muffin mix, along with eggs and milk and butter, cost a lot more than a dozen pre-baked muffins from the store. "But these smell so much better!" Amanda broke in as she breezed into the kitchen, long features pulled in an expression of pleasure. "That's got to be good for morale." She turned to him with a faintly pleading expression. "Can I have one?" Generously, Andrew split one muffin, putting a pat of butter on the inside before handing it over to Amanda, treasuring the friendliness/acceptance/gratitude in her eyes. Not since Jonathan…he broke away from that line of thought, looking at Kennedy in triumph. "An army marches on its stomach."
Realizing that a clock in the kitchen would come in handy, he flips to that page, reading aloud to himself in the relative quiet of the Summers household. Then the low, false sound of Jonathan's voice reaches his ears, and Andrew feels the sucking draw of fear well up all over again…
"That's my friend."
And with that, Jonathan/the First winks out of the kitchen.
Fear clenches his stomach, and Andrew feels more ill than he has in a while. He heard the plan through - what good would it do him to run, the First would just corner him when he was asleep, or urinating, and he'd have to go through this again. Would the First leave him alone if he did its bidding? The wicked thought streaks through his mind before he pushes it away, and moves to clean up the kitchen.
Shaking, Andrew kneels to pick up the discarded plastic wrap and styrafoam, tucking them into the empty box. Chiding himself for the stupidity of leaving a knife on the ground, it's in his hand before he realizes whose knife it is.
A closer look, before he drops it with a clatter. There are some things he is not ready to remember.
He flexes his hands, steadying them, before snatching up the knife and tossing like a dead rat into the silverware drawer.
Sometimes it's the big things that one does to fight back fear.
