See Chapter one for Disclaimer and beta warning.
It was six months before Andrew had finally settled in Sunnydale, California. It hadn’t been easy for him being on his own at age sixteen but life as a Winchester had prepared him well. He hustled when he could and spent a lot of time sleeping in abandoned warehouses. For food he would often brake into homes during the day while the owners were at work, taking just enough food that no one was the wiser. He’d go through this cycle for a week before moving on to the next town, steeling a car or hitching a ride when he could.
He didn’t know where he was going. He never really knew why he had left his family. Sure he didn’t fit in, but there were worst things in life and he knew that, at the end of the day, his family loved him. He found it strange, though, that every time he got the urge to go back to them he would just as quickly find a reason not to and hit the road. Odder still was the lengths he’d gone to keep his family from discovering he was on his own.
The first few months he had stayed in touch, letting Sam believe he was with Dean and their father, who in turn thought he was with Sam. It hadn’t been difficult. Sam didn’t want to hear about hunting so he made up plausible stories about Dean and his antics. On the flip side, Dean just wanted to know that Sam was alright so he made up more stories about Sam and study groups. He probably would have kept up the charade until Sam’s graduation if he hadn’t gotten into a fight with another street kid that had tried to steal his cell phone from him. He won the fight but the phone had gotten damaged in the scuffle. He’d felt a pang of regret before tossing the broken piece of technology and moving on. A month later he was in Sunnydale and the urge to move on ceased.
Maybe it was because the people of Sunnydale never looked too deeply at what lay in front of them. He just knew that he could easily loose himself in this small town and had been doing an excellent job until he found out exactly why the people of Sunnydale were the way they were. It was amazing what living on the mouth of hell could do to skew a people’s view on reality and keep them from looking too deeply at things if they wished to maintain some semblance of sanity.
Andrew almost left town when he’d discovered just how much supernatural crap went on in Sunnydale, but then concluded that maybe this was why he’d really left his family. Why he no longer felt the urge to move on. This was a place where he was needed. A place he could make a difference.
His decision made, Andrew went to work establishing his new identity.
It hadn’t been hard creating his new life. His father had done it every time they’d moved and he’d entered a new school, so he’d already had the appropriate educational documentation. All he needed was a new last name and a residence to attach it to and in Sunnydale, the number of vacant homes was, not surprisingly, high.
The home he’d eventually chosen had belonged to the Wells family. After some research he’d discovered they’d pretty much dropped off the map the year before, leaving everything behind. The bank never bothered checking out the house and real state agents in Sunnydale had a tendency to avoid homes where the reason for vacancy was unknown. Needless to say, Andrew didn’t have to worry about someone finding out he’d been staying there.
The next couple years had been eventful ones. He’d had to laugh at the part he’d played as a member of the barely infamous Trio. It had been easier than he had thought tweaking the demon summoning and spells he’d cast so that they were destine to come to the attention of the Slayer and, by her hands, fail to accomplish any lasting damage to those around them. His escapades as the third in the odd-ball villain group would have been even more laughable if Warren and Jonathan hadn’t been so dangerous in their idiocy. There had always been hope for Jonathan but Warren had been too power hungry. If he hadn’t been human, Andrew would have put a bullet in his head. Instead he stuck with the dynamic dimwits and screwed things up when he could. Warren had always been so full of himself that it had never occurred to him that Andrew wasn’t as inept as he pretended to be.
One of Andrew’s biggest regrets in all the time he’d lived in Sunnydale, though, was not being able to stop Warren from killing Tara and eventually not being able to save Jonathan. He never really knew exactly how Jonathan had been killed, he only knew that everyone had believed that he had done it. He’d eventually learned that it had been a power hungry skin walker. He supposed that the shape shifter had met up with Jonathan shortly after they had arrived in Mexico. One day he’d gone to the bathroom of another rundown bus stop and when he’d come out Jonathan had been gone.
Once he’d learned about the skin walker, however, he’d hunted him down. It hadn’t been easy, but he’d been able to kill the sub-human but not before the damage was done. After that, all he could do was try and make up for what he thought of as his failure. He never even bothered telling Buffy and the others the truth about what really happened. They‘d only known him as Andrew Wells so it had to be as Andrew Wells that he would find his redemption.
Now, four years since he’d walked out on his family and three years since adapting his Wells persona, Andrew was starting to grow tired of the facade he’d created. He had to admit to himself that he felt some pride over his years spent on the hellmouth and what he’d been able to contribute to the never ending battle against evil. But he missed his family and in missing them, missed himself, Andrew Winchester.
It was because so much had happened since he’d joined up with the Scoobies that he had begun to see his life for the lie it was and he found that, although he could maintain the Andrew Wells role in his sleep, lying to his friends about who he really was felt all kinds of wrong. They’d been through too much that to keep up his ruse would be a betrayal of any faith that they had grudgingly placed in him, his abilities and all that he’d helped to accomplish. He knew that telling them the truth would more than likely strain that faith and trust, but he hoped that the revelation would cement his future involvement with the tight nit group of friends and provide him an opportunity to openly and directly help the gang instead of just dropping occasional hints and leaving bits of information laying around that he hoped they would notice and interpret correctly.
More importantly he hoped to find his family again. With that in mind, Andrew headed down to the common room of their new Cleveland home. It was time to tell his last story and this time it would be true.
Okay, so I’ve written better but like I said, not so hot on the Buffy writing. Anyway, I hope this was worth your time. :D