BtVS and SPN both belong to their respective owners. Fanciful interpretations belong to me. AN:
Okay so I finally, finally
got around to a sequel to Andrew Had A Talent, I bet someone out there is wanting to bitch slap me for taking so long. :P But, y’all! When you’re dodging bites, kicks and crayons at work, it’s really hard to come home and sit down and write. Any
-way, I hope you like this one and in case you haven’t read the first story, I suggest you do but I think you can get away with not reading that one. This one will have a bit more dialogue in it and may just end up being 2 or 3 chapters but that’ll all depend on this new muse I got :D So wish me luck!!! 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
He should have known they wouldn’t have believed him. He’d only touched on his life as a young hunter and started in on how he created his Well’s persona when their indulgent grins turned into absentee chuckles as they caught each other’s eye. He’d lived the lie for so long, played the part so well, what else should he have expected? Maybe it had been the fidgeting? A nervous tick he’d donned to make people think he was helpless, now a habit that was hard to break. He’d stopped when he’d realized what he was doing but it was enough that what he’d said, what he was saying, was laughed off as another one of Andrew Well’s outrageous stories.
Andrew never knew he could be proud and insulted at the same time. Proud that he’d done what neither of his brothers had been able to do: sustain a long term identity completely outside the Winchester family unit; yet insulted that even though he’d developed a history with these people, people he called friends, and was working towards becoming a member of the Watcher’s Council, they still took what he said as a joke.
-believable. Andrew ran his hand through his hair ending with a vigorous scratch at the back of his scalp before dropping his hand back to his side. Most of the Scoobies had gone back to what they were doing, yet it was Xander that let his grin slip from his face as he paid closer attention to Andrew.
Andrew stepped out of the room and headed towards the kitchen. He needed to figure things out and what better way to do it than to cook something up. He’d discovered not too long ago that cooking helped him focus. Calmed him the way nothing else did. Perhaps it was because it reminded him of Dean. His big brother may not have been a gourmet chef and may have even played at being a shallow bastard most of the time but inside he had a heart of gold and by the time Dean had hit his teens he could make any meal seem like the best they’d ever had.
Turning on the water at the sink, Andrew grabbed a few apples from the three tiered basket hanging on his right and began to rinse them. He was on his fourth one when, without pause, he spoke to the man standing not too far behind him. “You wanna help, Xander, or you just plannin’ on watching me polish my apples?”
“Uh…I…I’ll just watch you polish.” Xander Harris stood by the wood topped kitchen island, his one and only eye opened wide in surprised. Although Andrew had always made comments that had the group constantly questioning his sexual orientation he’d never heard him deliver a line with such intent and an undercurrent of male-type bonding humor. “I mean not watch
…not that there’s anything wrong with your apples being polished...So, you say your last name is Winchester, huh?”
Andrew turned with a slight smirk on his face, leaving the apples to dry on the kitchen counter. He walked around the kitchen gathering the necessary ingredients for the apple pie he planned on making and placed them on the island in front of Xander. “You tellin’ me you believe me, Harris?”
Xander paused and cocked his head to the side looking at his young friend in a new light. Almost everything about Andrew was suddenly different. He still had that glint in his eye, that spark that they’d associated with his naive innocence. Looking at him now though, Xander saw that perhaps they should have taken a closer look. There was a confidence about him. An ease of movement that he hadn’t noticed before but perhaps had always been there never seen because none of them had taken the time to look. He even spoke with a self-assured cockiness that was so un-Andrew-like that it was like he was talking to a different person. And if what he'd tried to tell them all were true, then perhaps he was. “You weren’t kidding, were you?”
“No. I wasn’t,” Andrew replied, gathering up the apples and placing them on the island. He pulled one of the knives from the block they rested in and began to expertly peel and slice each one with skill and efficiency.
“Wow,” Xander let out a long whistle as he watched Andrew work. “You really
have been holding back.”
“Actually,” Andrew glanced up, “after a while I never really had to hold back when I cooked. Once it was clear you guys never really saw me as a physical threat to you…Well…you know.”
“Well, were you?” He asked with all seriousness.
“Xander, I was never a threat to any of you. Even when you thought I was. How do you think you guys were always able to catch on to what Warren, Jonathan and I were doing? Admittedly some of the schemes we came up with were so ridiculous a baby couldn’t miss it, but other things that Warren came up with had the potential to have been worse than it could have been.”
“So why did you hang out with them? Why didn’t you stop them?”
“Dude, they were human,” Andrew replied as if the answer were obvious. “What did you expect me to do? Kill them?”
“No but you didn’t really stop them either.” The older man rested his hands low on his hips feeling his point had been made.
“I did what I could without giving myself away. Stayed close so I could make sure they didn’t do anything royally stupid and what I couldn’t stop I made sure Buffy could.” Andrew shrugged as he started cutting the last of the apples. “Besides, I liked Jonathan. He was a good kid at heart but as long as Warren played a role in his life the only route he was takin’ was down.”
The youngest Winchester continued to work as Xander watched him. It made him nervous that the older man, who was about his brother Sam’s age, just stood there watching him measure and mix. He remembered all the other times Xander had come in and helped him cook and how they’d always done so in companionable silence broken ever so often by talk of the latest scifi movie or graphic novel that had come out. Now Andrew wondered if that would ever happen again and for a moment he began to wish that he’d never opened his mouth, but a quick glance up at Xander’s contemplative face before he started sifting some of the ingredients together, was enough to tell him that he had made the right choice. It told him that the distrust he was expecting was pleasantly absent and that he still had a chance of keeping the odd friendship they’d developed without the constant worry he’d had of slipping up just once.
The young hunter breathed a subtle sigh of relief as the Scoobie picked up one of the measuring cups and started getting the rest of the dry ingredients ready for him. They were quite for awhile as they worked in a silence that was comforting if not exactly standard to what they were used to. Xander was absorbing what he’d learned while Andrew contemplated his next move, both, it seemed, coming to an unspoken agreement that whatever happened in the future, they’d work it out. They’d been through too much not to.
They were startle out of their musing by the sound of the phone ringing and the hurried steps of someone moving to answer the hall phone. The phone was stopped mid-ring and they could hear the low murmur of Dawn’s voice before her footsteps could be heard approaching the kitchen.
“Who is it, Dawnie?” Xander asked as he watched her approach the island.
“Some guy calling for Andrew,” she replied handing the cordless to her fellow watcher in training. She continued, her brow arched in inquiry, “Said his name was Bobby Singer?”
Andrew stared at the phone for a moment, mouth slightly agape. Bobby. He hadn’t seen or heard from the old hunter since just before he turned thirteen. What bewildered him was not the fact that Bobby had called him but that he’d known where to call him. And of all the times to do so, it was more than a little uncanny.
Dawn shook the phone in Andrew’s line of sight when he didn’t take it right away. Giving himself a mental shake, he took the phone from her hand and hesitantly put it up to his ear. “Hello? Bobby?”