Disclaimer: I own nothing. All Buffy the Vampire Slayer characters are the property of their original owners.
Author’s Note: If you didn’t believe the summary, here’s fair warning, people. Considering the total far-fetchedness of this AU story, I’ve happily taken this as permission to insert into the narrative such gaping plot holes about times, quotes, reactions, characters, and events that you could easily shove the Rock of Gibraltar through all those apertures. Like a good number of the episodes in the later years didn’t have these, anyway? Enjoy, laugh, and don’t yell at me for this!
“--you’re my hero!”
Buffy Summers gaped at the young man standing before here who’d just finished his fervent declaration to the Slayer previously in a very discouraged mood. Now, in his own weird way, Andrew Wells had given her something else to think about, with the last surviving member of Sunnydale’s own would-be super villain group now eagerly watching the blonde woman trying to figure how to properly respond to what he’d just told her.
Unfortunately, Buffy hesitated a bit too long, as Andrew’s face abruptly crumbled into awkward humiliation, as he mistakenly thought she’d been offended or had her feelings hurt in some way by his fumbling speech. After all, the former supreme geek of Sunnydale High had done that before a lot
of times, having virtually no clue to the proper social interaction with other people despite his genius-level intellect. Hastily turning away before she started yelling at him, Andrew slouched off down the street sidewalk, his shoulders wretchedly slumped.
Buffy opened her mouth to call after Andrew, to then quickly close this as she warily looked around in the night, using her Slayer senses to check out the area. It felt safe, with no Bringers around or any of the First Evil’s other minions, proof that Willow’s wards that the witch had placed around the neighborhood at Revello Drive were still working. Good, Andrew would be okay until he came back, while Buffy would then return to the house, ready to deal with the situation of the others’ low morale.
Nodding firmly to herself, Buffy then sent an appreciative smile after an unknowing Andrew already halfway down the block, turned around with a determined glint in her eye, and she headed to the front door of her home with an actual spring in this woman’s step, both of these signs demonstrating the Slayer’s improved mood. Unlike a certain young man still shambling away along the sidewalk, lost in his own misery.
Totally preoccupied with his unhappiness, Andrew kept on going, leaving the Summers house far behind and paying no attention at all to his surroundings, as he wandered throughout the deserted streets of Sunnydale. Virtually all of this California city’s former population (both human and demon) had left the town in a hurry earlier after they sensed that something really momentous was going to occur soon. That event was probably the only reason that prevented the heedless pedestrian from quickly becoming some vampire’s snack for tonight.
Eventually, Andrew’s mind cleared, and he looked around in surprise at where he was, an emotion that speedily changed to alarm at finding himself such a long way from the safety of Buffy’s home. Then, the young man became truly horror-stricken at seeing where he’d wound up, right in front of the Mears family’s house. Andrew’s face turned pure white as he stared at the deserted house with its overgrown lawn, that he’d visited numerous times before, when he and Warren and Jonathan….
Andrew moaned in anguish and dropped to his knees on the front sidewalk, to then fall over on his side as he curled up on the ground, arms wrapped around himself, as the murderer of the only true friend he’d ever had burst into tears and kept on sobbing, in throat-tearing wails that drifted throughout the quiet Sunnydale night.
Finally stopping from sheer exhaustion, Andrew rested his cheek against the concrete slab of the sidewalk and stared blankly ahead at the house before him, for how long he never knew. The young man wouldn’t have cared the slightest if an entire vampire nest had rushed out of the Mears home and then grabbed him and dragged his body back into their lair to drain his blood down to the very last drop. He deserved that, every bit of such an agonizing death. He’d been so stupid as to believe the First Evil’s temptations that had ended up with a knife in Andrew’s hand taking the life of…. Gulping, Andrew gagged, “Oh, Jonno, I’m so
sorry!” and he started quietly crying again.
After another immeasurable interval, Andrew Wells lethargically stat up on the sidewalk and absently used his fingers to wipe away the tears and snot from his face, cleaning this off on his pants leg. He remained sitting there, until he eventually thought that maybe he should get up and go back to Buffy’s house. Slowly turning his head to glance up and down the empty street, with all the houses lining it dark and abandoned, Andrew had an unexpected question suddenly arise in his mind: *Why?*