Title: The Call of Cthandrhu (part 1)

Author: Flannery

Rating: PG-13

Spoilers: None, but mentions events in "I Was Made To Love You" and "The Prom".

Disclaimers: The Wells boys aren't mine. Miskatonic University is not mine either. Zillah is, but not her heritage.

Feedback: I love feedback, and I'll love you if you feedback me.

Notes: Pure silliness! Apologies to Mr. Lovecraft. Takes place circa Buffy season five -- Tucker's quite settled into college life, and Andrew is about 17.

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So there really was a curse on this city.

His flight had departed later than it was supposed to, leaving Andrew scrambling to his connecting plane.

The bus from Boston had overheated. He'd fallen asleep while they'd been stranded, and awoke to find that the old lady up the aisle had stolen his gummy worms and fed them to the squirrels outside. It wasn't like he could say anything about the theft, either -- "Excuse me, are those my gummy worms? Because I had gummy worms, and now I have none, while you are up to your psoriatic elbows in sweet gummy goodness." No, that wouldn't work.



It was late evening when he'd reached Arkham. His loitering earned a growl as a chubby goth girl tripped over his unattended backpack. Thankfully, Andrew had missed rush hour, though the sprawling walkways of the college grounds were still bustling with students.

Andrew looked like a lost puppy as he wandered the vast campus. He'd toured UC Sunnydale in the spring, but this was much different. Everyone was more pale, for a start. The buildings were old and spooky-looking. And he could've sworn he saw a guy tiny stubs of horns on his forehead -- okay, so that wasn't so different from Sunnydale.

A familiar voice cut through the chaos around him. "Lost, little boy?"

"Tucker!" Andrew squealed happily. He threw his arms around his older brother in a warm hug.

Tucker ruffled his brother's hair and casually draped an arm around his shoulders. "Welcome," he said, "to your personally guided tour of Miskatonic University."

The younger boy bounced in place. He was so happy to see his brother; they hadn't seen each other since Christmas, with the enchanted eggnog incident. And he was excited to visit the famous Miskatonic campus. He'd read fantastic stories about the college, and his brother had made it sound like heaven on earth. Granted, a heaven full of ancient dark artifacts, unspeakable secrets and legendary books of blackest magic...

"Tucker?"

His train of thought was interrupted as a young woman approached them. She looked, thought Andrew, like a bipedal frog with brown Herbal Essences-commercial hair.

Tucker gave a broad smile. "Zillah! I was just thinking about you!"

The petite girl fixed large, unblinking eyes on Andrew. Suddenly he felt like scampering all the way back to Sunnydale and cowering under his bed.

"Your younger brother?" The girl's voice seemed strangely inhuman.

The dark-haired boy nodded. "Yes, this is Andrew. Andrew? Meet my girlfriend, Zillah Waite."

"Charmed," said Zillah, offering her hand.

Andrew shook it. She felt clammy, and he really wanted to wash his hand afterward. With bleach, and possibly holy water.

"Zillah's totally wicked, Drew." Tucker exchanged a small smile with his girl.

"Tucker tells me you dabble with the summoning of minor hellbeasts." Her wide mouth cracked into a sharp-toothed grin. "Well, I do suppose one must start somewhere."

On his arm, Andrew had a scar from being bitten by a winged monkey. He did not consider that minor, and wanted to say so, but found himself unable to speak to the strange girl. He'd been tongue-tied around girls before -- females being so temperamental and able to kick his ass -- but he'd never before felt like his voice had died in his throat. (Not counting that mysterious laryngitis outbreak last year, of course.)

Zillah seemed to look triumphant at his silence. "Your brother is shy," she said, again with the chill-inducing smile. She stood on tiptoes and gave Tucker a brief kiss on the cheek. "I must be off. I'll see you soon, my dearest little shoggoth."

"Goodbye, my terrible beast of the shadows!" Tucker was casting the most adoring look at her as he waved his farewell.

The small, creepy woman paced backward, brushing hair back behind her ear. "Nice meeting you, Andrew," said the evil thing. "We should go out for frogurt tomorrow, the three of us."

As she left, Andrew wrinkled his nose and whispered, "Does she always smell like that?"

"Like what?"

"You know..." He shifted uncomfortably, trying to phrase it in the least offensive way. "Sorta ...fishy."

"Fishy?" Tucker frowned ponderously. "Huh. I never noticed."

He decided not to bring up the fact that she appeared to have gills.

"So what'd you think of her?" Tucker asked.

"She's strange."

"She's not strange. That's just how women *are*."

He shook his head in response. "Nuh uh. She's like, some weird semi-amphibious girl with a terrible family name and unspeakably dark heritage, hailing from a shadowy and myth-haunted coastal town where outsiders daren't enter, or something."

Tucker snorted. "You read too many comic books. And anyway, you have a crush on a guy who built his last girlfriend."

"But Warren doesn't smell like an anchovy," muttered a defensive Andrew.

"Warren likes girls, with actual girl parts. Not little twinks who can recite entire episodes of Babylon 5."

Under his breath, Andrew said, "Scenes, maybe, but not entire episodes."

With a frustrated sigh, Tucker grabbed Andrew's duffel bag. "Come on, we're going to the dorm." He took off walking at a quick pace.

"But I haven't seen anything yet!" The younger boy protested. It was a struggle to keep up with Tucker, who'd never seemed to stride so fast when they'd lived together. Except during the eggnog incident; all sorts of laws of physics had been broken in their noggian escape.

"You're giving me a geek headache," his brother said crossly as they walked. At Andrew's crestfallen look, he added in a more gentle tone: "Besides, it's nearly dusk, and the night before the full moon. Not a night to be out for a stroll around here."

"Kay," muttered Andrew. It was an acceptable explanation. Being from Sunnydale, he was used to odd happenings on certain moon nights. He hoisted his backpack up over a shoulder and sped up to match his brother's long strides.

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