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Going Home, An Andrew Winchester Story

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This story is No. 2 in the series "Andrew Winchester". You may wish to read the series introduction and the preceeding stories first.

Summary: For some, home isn't just a place...It's family. This is the Sequel to Andrew Had A Talent, An Andrew Winchester Story.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Supernatural > Andrew-CenteredXayianFR1324,0182161,95715 Feb 099 Jul 09No

Chapter Two

AN:  Hey, y’all, so incredibly sorry for this super duper late posting but I hope it was worth the wait.  Again I have no beta but hopefully I’ve caught any and all boo boos.  However, if you see any continuity errors or anything else I may have missed, feel free to chastise me. :D But please be gentle… Unless you’re Dean, then you can be anyway you want to be *cheesy grin*

 

 

“Hello?  Bobby?” 

 

“Andy?  That you?”

 

“Hold on a sec.”  Ignoring the curious looks from his two friends, Andrew left the kitchen and stepped out onto the back porch. 

 

Dawn watched Andrew through the window embedded in the kitchen door.  His shoulders, normally hunched over, were held back and tense in a manner she wasn’t used to seeing.  “What do you suppose that’s about?”

 

Xander kept his eye on the young man standing outside and paid closer attention to how he was holding himself.  It wasn’t just his shoulders that were tense, but his whole body.  The crease between his brows deepened and the hand running through his short tousled hair expressed an agitation that he had never noticed in Andrew before though he was sure they weren’t new. “I really gotta start paying more attention to the guy,” he mumbled to himself.

 

“What?” Dawn turned to look up at Xander noticing the intense gaze upon his face as he stared out at their friend, the look teasing her spark of curiosity into a flame.  “Xan, what’s going on?  Do you know who this Bobby guy is?”

 

“Were you listening to Andrew when he came to talk to us in the common room?”

 

“What, about him not being who he said he was?” Dawn grinned.  “I kind of tuned out when he said his real name wasn’t Wells.”

 

“Well, you probably should have paid closer attention,” he replied as he sighed and turned from the topic of their conversation to look at the young girl beside him.  “Everyone should have, because I don’t believe he was lying and I think that phone call has something to do with his past.”

 

“How do you know?  How do you know it’s not just another fantasy he’s playing out?” she asked.  Dawn knew that her track record with reading people hadn’t always been the best but for Andrew to have fooled them all?  She just couldn’t see how that was possible.  “Come on, Xan…this is Andrew we’re talking about.  He’s pretty book smart and goofy but the only roles he’s ever played were wannabe evil doer and Luke Skywalker, not to mention your and Spike’s adoring fan.  No way could he fool all of us for this long.”

 

“And yet he apparently did.”

 

*******

 

“Bobby, is this really you?” Andrew asked.  The cool breeze blew through the back patio ruffling his hair.  It’d been years since he’d last spoken to the old hunter, and although there was a niggling of familiarity in the man’s voice, Andrew wasn’t quite sure it was him.

 

“Of course it is, ya dang idgit.”

 

Yeah.  It was Bobby.

 

With a small smile Andrew released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.  “Been a long time, Bobby.  How did you know where to find me?”

 

“Got the number from your daddy.  He gave it to me a while back…just in case.”

 

“How long has dad known where I’ve been?” Andrew tried to keep the question neutral, wanting to keep any of the hurt he was feeling from coming through.  He rubbed his fingers along the bridge of his nose as he breathed in through it and out his mouth.  He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer to his question.  The knowledge that his father had known where he was but had never contacted him…it reminded him of why he’d left in the first place.

 

“Now, Andy, don’t you start.  I can hear it in your voice and frankly there ain’t no time for a Winchester pity parade right now.  I know you’re hurt but in spite of your daddy’s short-comings, and Lord knows John has his fair share of those, don’t forget you’re the one that took off to God knows where.  You’re gonna have to deal with your daddy issues later.”

 

Andrew felt guilt weigh on his shoulders followed by a tightness in his chest at the urgency in the old hunter’s voice and he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to hear what he was about to be told.  He knew it would be bad and the dread he hadn’t acknowledged jumped from the periphery and took root in his heart.

 

What Bobby had to say…

 

Andrew listened.  Listened as Bobby shared news he was hoping he would never hear but, considering the family business, was bound to eventually. 

 

They’d confronted the Yellow-Eyed Demon, his father and brothers, and the outcome had been….

 

Sam was a little banged up but fine.  Their father was laid up, injured and a bit worst for ware but nothing that he wouldn’t bounce back from.  And Dean… What Bobby had told him he could barely digest.  Internal hemorrhaging, massive blood loss, and sever brain trauma resulting in coma.  They didn’t know if he could be saved.  He’d nearly flat-lined once already.

 

Yellow-Eyed Demon be damned.  Right now he had a new enemy.  Time.

 

*******

 

The two Scoobies turned to the abrupt opening of the door as Andrew marched back into the kitchen.  He didn’t spare either of them a glance as he breezed by.

 

“Andrew?  You all right?” Xander asked, following him out of the kitchen with Dawn not far behind.

 

“I’ve got to go,” Andrew replied, not looking back.  He almost succeeded in hiding the note of anxiety and worry in his voice but the slight waiver at the end of his reply gave him away.  Pressing his lips together, Andrew quickened his step and made for the stairs.  He’d made it to the top of the steps when he felt a hand on his shoulder forcing him to turn.  “Not now, Xander.”

 

“Does this have something to do with your past?”

 

Andrew noted the concern in his friend’s face and glanced down the stairs to where Dawn had paused in her assent.  He could tell she was more curious than concerned and he just wasn’t up to fielding her questions right now, though he had a feeling she wouldn’t be the only one wanting some answers before the night was through.  He sighed and drew his hand across his face.

 

“Give me a half hour…please?”  Xander looked into Andrew’s eyes, eyes full of determination and barely hidden pain, and he knew he would get no more from him if he pushed.  An unusual assumption on his part considering how open Andrew had always been, but somehow he knew that this Andrew was not as open as he believed.  He’d kept his secret well hidden for years and it was finally dawning on Xander just how much he didn’t know about the young man that stood before him. 

 

“Okay.  A half hour.”  Dropping his hand, he watched as Andrew walked away toward his bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

 

******

 

 

“Get out here as fast as you can, Andy,” he’d said.  “Your family needs you.”

 

The conversation with Bobby had been short and to the point as it had always been between the two, and what Bobby had to share chilled Andrew to the bone.  Everything had come to a head it seemed and now…

 

Time.  There wasn’t much left if the doctors were to be believed and right now time was Andrew’s enemy. Three states lay between him and his family.  A two hour flight, give or take, depending on where the nearest airport left him.  Then the drive to Broken Bow, Nebraska….   There was another…faster way to get there if he were willing to risk the potential danger.  And God help him, he was more than willing.

 

Tossing the phone on the bed, Andrew moved to his computer desk and quickly jotted down a series of numbers Bobby had given him onto a notepad followed by a short note to Xander.  He then pulled out his old duffel from the closet and started packing some essentials.  It may have been a few years since he had to pack fast and light but old habits die hard.  Opening a hidden panel in the headboard of his bed, he pulled out his gun and checked the clip barrel to make sure it was ready and loaded before popping the safety on.  The thought that Willow would go ape-shit if she ever found out that he’d kept and maintained a gun quickly flitted through his mind before his thoughts returned to task.

 

Securing the gun at the small of his back, Andrew adjusted his shirt to hide it before grabbing a couple extra clips of iron rounds and shoving those into his back pocket.  He then got down on the floor and grabbed the end of the bed spread pulled it up, securing it to the top of the bed with his left hand as he leaned down and reached under the bed with his right.  He felt around till he felt the edges of a panel then slammed his palm up against it.  The panel fell open and he stopped its swing and reached in the hidden pocket to grab hold off a sawed off shotgun contained in a nylon case velcroed to the bed frame.  Andrew placed the gun on top of the bed then reached in and detached a five-by-five nylon pouch also velcroed to the frame.

 

Placing the pouch on the ground, Andrew secured the panel back in place then grabbed the bag, dropped the bed spread and got up.  He dropped the pouch on the bed and grabbed the shotgun, pulling it from its case.  Popping the shotgun open, Andrew checked the barrel, before opening the pouch and pulling out a couple salt-filled shotgun shells and loading the gun.  He placed the gun back in its sleeve and packed it in the duffel with the small bag of shells.

 

Andrew then went to his shelves and grabbed some books.  He packed up the few demonology texts he’d been able to squirrel away without anyone noticing, along with various holy items, before kneeling down and removing the two drawers from his nightstand.  Duck taped to the back of the stand and tucked inside a large zip-lock was his hunting journal. 

 

Sitting on his bed, Andrew pulled the plastic from the journal and dropped it to the floor.  His journal.  Since learning about the hellmouth, it was the one thing that he’d maintained that was all Winchester.  The one thing he’d kept so that he would never for a moment forget who he really was and where he’d come from. 

 

He smoothed his hand over the leather surface of the book and opened it.  Taped to the inside cover was an old picture his dad had taken of him and his older brothers and another one of him with his dad taken when he was just a baby.  There was so much love in those two pictures and in the way John Winchester gazed at the infant held so tenderly in his arms.  It was a reminder that despite what Andrew had felt about his father knowing where he was and never contacting him, John did love him. 

 

Andrew closed the cover and placed the journal in his bag.  He felt the fist wrapped around his heart tighten as the need to get to his family rose.  The lies would truly be over after tonight and good or bad, he’d find a way to deal with it.

 

Taking a deep, steadying breath, the young hunter moved over to his computer and hit a key to come out of screen saver then typed in his password.  Opening a browser window, he quickly typed in a search for his destination, pulling up maps and anything else he might need to expedite his journey and printed them out.  A moment later the papers were popping out the printer and he was clearing out his browser history and shutting his computer down.  He grabbed the printouts and the sheet of paper with the numbers on it and placed them in the side pocket of the duffel then zipped the bag closed.

 

There was one last thing he needed.  He stepped back over to his bookshelf and picked up the Darth Vader bust Xander had given him last Christmas.  Turning it upside down, he tore open the felt base and removed the stopper covering a hole he’d made.  A hole he knew Xander would be pissed about if he ever found out about it.  Tipping the bust, he shook out two small drawstring leather bags into his hand then placed the bust back on the shelf. 

 

He walked over to his bed and placed the small bags on next to his duffel.  He grabbed a thin button up shirt and a light jacket and put both of them on then draped the strap of his duffel across his chest so the bulk of the bag rested on his left side.

 

Andrew picked up the two small bags and pulled one of them open.  Inside was a small glass fluid filled vial.  He pulled it out and placed it carefully in the second bag with another vial before closing the bag securely shut.

 

He only had one chance at this.  It’d taken him forever to figure out how to make it work and he would have shared it with the others if he’d discovered a safer way to make it happen that didn’t involve a full body muscle spasm and a lock of a particular Watcher-in-training’s hair.

 

The thirty minute window he’d given Xander was almost up and he needed to get this done before his friend discovered that there would be no more explanations forthcoming in the near future. 

 

Picking up the one printout he’d left in the printer, Andrew cleared his mind as best he could and focused on the image of the location he wanted to be.  He heard a knock on the door and ignored it.  It was now or never.

 

“Andrew?”  The door slowly started to open and Andrew gripped the bag containing the vials tightly.

 

“This is going to hurt,” he mumbled to himself as he shattered the glass in the bag.  The contents mixed and Andrew felt a sudden overwhelming weight upon his entire body as if his body was wrapped in steel and that steel started to compress around him.  He caught a pain filled groan before it escaped his lips and then, with a barely audible pop, he was gone.



AN2: In case you were wondering, continuity wise, no reference to the BtVS comics will be made, and in SPN this takes place during S2x01 "In My Time of Dying"

The End?

You have reached the end of "Going Home, An Andrew Winchester Story" – so far. This story is incomplete and the last chapter was posted on 9 Jul 09.

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