Psycho Analysis


Andrew ficathon fic, for Niannah
Requirements: Andrew/Warren or Andrew/Holden, angsty
Rating: R
Notes: AU from "Conversations With Dead People". The first few lines are taken from the transcript of that episode. Thanks to Emony and uncountedchimes for beta reading it.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to Mutant Enemy and associates. No ownership is implied or intended.
Summary: Andrew finds someone who will listen to him.


"I'm connected. I'm connected to a lot of people, OK?" Buffy said.

"No. No, I hear ya," replied Holden

"I really am," Buffy insisted. Her back pocket began to ring. "See?" she said, answering the phone. "Hello? ... Dawn, now is not... Oh? ... Oh! I'm on my way." She hung up. "Gotta go!" she said to Holden, and took off running toward her home.

Well, Holden thought. First battle with a mortal enemy, ending in a draw? Not too bad. His stomach growled. Wow, I'm really hungry. I should probably go find someplace where I can drink the blood of the innocent.


Andrew strode towards the Bronze. His god-like power hadn't surfaced yet, but it would happen soon. He was sure of that. Well, pretty sure, as long as he ignored the nagging feeling that something had gone wrong.

How long did it take for a human to become like a god, anyway? He'd hoped it would happen immediately. He'd expected Jonathan to get up right away after his death - oh, not just wake up, but he thought Jonathan's spirit would lift out of his body, maybe with a dramatic orchestral score, and then he'd thank Andrew for what he'd done. The three of them would be beamed up into the heavens, and it'd be togas and unicorns for the Trio.

Andrew hadn't liked the expression on Jonathan's face as he died. Andrew'd wanted to explain, so Jonathan wouldn't be upset, but he figured there wasn't really time, and anyway, Warren was standing right there, and he didn't want to appear weak. Especially with the impending godhood. It'd all make sense once they were gods, anyway, and Jonathan would have to forgive him; for the stabbing, and the jet packs, and the highlighting, and everything else he'd ever done. How could anyone stay mad at the person who made it possible for him to become a god?

A figure stepped out in front of him, and Andrew jumped.

"Oh, hey, sorry. I didn't mean to scare you," said the vampire.

"You didn't?" asked Andrew. "'Cause you've got the-" He tapped his forehead between his eyebrows.

The vampire touched his own forehead, and felt the ridges. "Oh, right! Guess I did mean to scare you. 'Cause, hey, vampire! But really, I was just wondering if you knew where I might find the blood of the innocent."

Andrew's mind brought up an image of Jonathan, sprawled across the seal, his life's blood draining out of him as he stared up at Andrew.

"No," he said hastily. "No idea."

The vampire shrugged. "I guess I could just drink from you, couldn't I? I mean, you're here and all."

Andrew backed up, and started looking around for wood, any kind of wood. "Uh, no! I'm not innocent. I'm aligned with powerful forces of darkness who would take rapid and bloody vengeance upon you, should any harm come to me!"

"Really?"

Andrew nodded frantically. "Look!" He fumbled in his backpack, and pulled out the knife he'd just stabbed Jonathan with. "See? This is a weapon of great power!"

The vampire sniffed it. "Ooh, fresh blood!" He blinked. "Wow. I can even tell that it's human. I wonder how I know that?"

Andrew frowned at the knife. "But, I washed it."

"Oh, it's still there. To vampire senses, at least. And maybe ultraviolet light, too. I saw this show once, where they went into a crime scene, and even though the murderers had cleaned up everything-"

"They turned on special lights, and you could see all the bloodstains? I saw that too!" said Andrew.

"Wasn't that cool? Hey, do I know you?"

"I was part of a supervillain group that wreaked havoc upon this city for the better part of last year. You may remember me from that," said Andrew.

"No," said the vampire. "That's not it. Did you go to Sunnydale High?"

"Yeah," replied Andrew. "I set the flying monkeys on the school play?"

"Really? Cool. I don't think that's how I know you, though. What's your name?"

"Wells. Andrew Wells," Andrew replied in his best Bond style.

"Wells? Hey, are you Tucker's brother?"

So much for godhood. "Yeah," sighed Andrew.

"That's it! I'm Holden Webster. Everyone calls me 'Webs', though. Well, they did. Say, I'm kind of newly evil around here, and I guess you're evil, too? Since you've got a knife with fresh human blood on it. "

"Um, yeah?"

"Maybe you could show me around a bit. Help me find all the cool evil spots to hang out," said Holden.

"Oh. Um, okay. The high school's really evil. But I don't know if that's what you're looking for," said Andrew.

"Good to know," said Holden. "I don't know if I'm ready for big, abstract evil just yet. Eventually, yeah. I think I could be very successful in the field of evil. I'm pretty goal-oriented, you know. But right now, I'm just interested in getting a hot meal." He lunged suddenly at Andrew, grabbing his shoulders and sinking his fangs into Andrew's neck.

Andrew yelped, and struck out with the knife he was still holding. Holden jumped back.

"Whoa, hey!" he said, looking at the stab wound in his side. "Well, that was kind of dumb of me, wasn't it?"

Andrew stared at his hand, which for the second time that night held a knife dripping with blood.

Holden frowned. "Was that blood lust? Because all of a sudden, I wasn't thinking about anything but all that hot, flowing, fresh blood..." He licked his lips.

"Back off, prune-brow!" Andrew yelled, waving the knife. He'd repelled a vampire attack! Maybe the godhood was starting! He flexed his muscles experimentally. How would he know, anyway? He looked at Holden. "Um, do I taste human?"

Holden licked his lips again. "I think so. I mean, you're the first human I've tasted, but I seem to come with built-in instincts that tell me what blood is human."

"Oh," said Andrew, disappointed.

"Why wouldn't you taste human?" Holden asked.

Andrew drew himself up and puffed out his chest. "I am going to be as a god!"

Holden frowned. "Asa God? I've never heard of that god. And I took a semester of comparative religion," he chuckled, "so I think I know about gods."

"No," Andrew explained patiently. "I'm going to become like a god. It was promised to me."

"By whom?" asked Holden.

"Uh, my b- a friend of mine. He said I had to do this thing, and then we'd be as gods."

"Your boyfriend?"

"No!" Andrew shook his head. "No, of course not!" He laughed weakly. "That's ridiculous!"

Holden held up his hands defensively. "Hey, I'm not judging you here. Just trying to get the whole picture."

Andrew sighed. "Okay. He was sort of - I think he might have become my boyfriend, only he died. Then he came back, and asked me to do this thing, and then we'd be together, and we'd be as gods. So, I had to do it."

"This 'thing' you had to do - does it have anything to do with that knife you've been waving around?" Holden asked.

Andrew frowned. "Maybe."

"If you want to talk about it - I'm here to listen." Holden walked over to a nearby bus stop, and sat down on the bench. He shifted his face back to normal, and patted the seat next to him.

Andrew took a few steps forward, then shook his head. "I don't know-"

Holden shrugged. "Okay -"

"We had this team." Andrew interrupted. "The Trio. Supervillains. We were going to take over Sunnydale. Warren was the electronics genius, Jonathan was the sorcerer, and I summoned demons. We had all these plans - and at first they worked perfectly. We robbed a bank, tested the Slayer, and stole a diamond, and okay, the invisibility ray didn't work out so well, but things were going good." He stopped, and chewed on his lower lip.

"What happened?" asked Holden, when Andrew didn't continue.

"A mistake," Andrew said softly. "It wasn't supposed to- " He swallowed. "Warren build a device that would make any woman our willing sex slave. We took it out for a test drive, brought home this hot chick - only the cerebral dampener ran out of juice before we were finished. She woke up - started yelling at us, calling us rapists..." His voice trailed off.

"And how did this make you feel?" prompted Holden.

"Bad!" said Andrew. "Not a good, 'evil' bad, but a wrong, stomach-twisty bad. We were supposed to be supervillains, not rapists! I figured, if he used the mind control device, it'd be like hypnotism, and you can't make someone do something under hypnotism that they wouldn't do anyway, right? So, we'd make these girls our sex slaves, only when they woke up, they'd be happy and satisfied, and want to stay with us, 'cause they'd really like us once they got to know us.

"But Katrina was pissed. Really pissed. We tried to zap her again, but it didn't work, and Jonathan and I tried to keep her from leaving, and she was yelling about police and jail, and then Warren hit her over the head with a bottle - and she didn't move anymore."

Andrew stared down at the bloody knife in his hand. Remembered Jonathan's dead eyes staring through him.

"What did you do?"

"What Warren said to do. I couldn't go to jail! He had a plan, and it worked perfectly. Well, sort of. Anyway, Katrina's death was ruled a suicide, so we got away with murder. It was amazing. Warren was so powerful."

"Is that when you fell in love with him?" asked Holden.

Andrew was glad that the night hid his blush. "I didn't say anything about love."

Holden shrugged. "Hey, if I'm wrong, stab me. But that's the vibe I'm getting from you."

Andrew stood in silence for a moment. "Yeah," he said finally. "I think so." He trudged over to the bench, and sat down. "Jonathan totally freaked out, but Warren - he was always in control. He came to me the next day, started talking - told me he didn't know if we could trust Jonathan. Warren said I was the only one he could trust, the only one he could rely on - and that we needed to get rid of Jonathan. Then - then he kissed me. I felt bad for Jonathan, I really did, but Warren..." His voice trailed off.

"It's okay, Andrew. It's healthy to share your feelings," said Holden. He moved a little closer to Andrew, and patted him gently on the thigh.

Andrew gripped his knife a little tighter. "No biting!" he said.

"Hey, just trying to be comforting here!"

"Okay," Andrew said uncertainly, but he relaxed a little.

"Go on," said Holden. "What happened next?"

Andrew eyed him warily, but Holden seemed sincere. "We had this plan. We were going to escape and leave Jonathan to take the fall. Only, there was a slight... spatial miscalculation, and I got caught, too. Warren would have gotten me out, I know he would, but he decided to try and kill the Slayer first."

"The Slayer," said Holden. "Interesting." He saw Andrew looking at him. "Sorry. Please continue."

"He didn't manage to kill the Slayer, but he accidentally shot her friend instead. Her other friend, Willow is a majorly powerful Wicca, and she... she killed Warren in revenge." Andrew frowned, blinking away tears. "She came after Jonathan and me next, but we ran away to Mexico."

"He died, and he came back? As a vampire?"

Andrew shook his head. "A ghost. But he promised that if I did what he asked, he'd be corporeal again. But I did it, and he's gone, and I don't know if it worked or if I screwed it up, and I don't know what I'll do if I never see him again." Tears welled up and began pouring down his cheeks, despite his determination to stop them.

"Hey, hey," said Holden softly. He used his sleeve to brush away the tears, but his hand lingered near Andrew's face for a moment. He drew his hand back. "Andrew, I think you've invested a great deal of your self-identity in your relationship with Warren. It's understandable that you want to bond with someone, but it's important that you retain your sense of self."

Andrew shook his head. "You don't understand!"

"I think I do," replied Holden. "You're willing to do anything for him, am I right? Even kill?"

Andrew looked away. "It's not like that. I only - Jonathan's going to be fine. He promised!"

"Jonathan? The third wheel? Is he the source of the fresh blood on your knife."

"Um, yeah. But it's all going to be okay! Eventually. I think."

Holden nodded knowingly. "I think I'm getting the picture, here. Look, Andrew, if you want to kill someone, that's your choice. But you can't fix the problems in your life by stabbing them. You have to start by fixing yourself."

Andrew started crying again. "I can't! I tried everything. I changed my hair, and I did what Warren told me, and then I did what Jonathan told me, and then Warren came back, so I did what he told me again, and nothing worked!"

Holden smiled gently. "You can't look to other people for solutions. You need to learn to trust yourself." He looked into Andrew's eyes silently while Andrew stared back in confusion. Holden brushed his palm over Andrew's cheek, then leaned in and kissed him.

Andrew kissed back hesitantly at first, but soon threw himself into the kiss desperately. His tears dried up, he let go of the knife and tangled both hands into Holden's hair. God, it had been so long since anyone had touched him!

Holden moved downward and began kissing Andrew's neck. Andrew slid his hands down, under Holden's suit jacket, and wrapped his arms around Holden's waist, pulling him close. Holden rested a hand on Andrew's thigh, and slid it slowly upward.

Andrew closed his eyes as Holden's hand brushed the crotch of his jeans. "Yes, please," he gasped. He lifted his hips a little in encouragement. His arousal was so intense as Holden unbuttoned his jeans, that he almost didn't feel the fangs sinking into his neck. Almost.

"What the frell?" gasped Andrew. He tried to pull away. Holden let go of Andrew's jeans, and used both hands to hold Andrew still. "Please... stop, please!" cried Andrew. He reached for the knife, but it had fallen off the bench and out of reach.

Holden sucked hungrily, and Andrew felt himself getting weaker as his blood left his body.

"Please stop!" he sobbed, frantically trying to push Holden away. "Please! Please... please..."

"Holden Daniel Webster! You let go of that boy right now!"

The vampire jerked his head up. "Grandma?" he said in disbelief.

An elderly woman in a well-tailored pastel pantsuit stood next to the bus stop with her hands on her hips. "What on earth do you think you're doing, preying on the weak? Don't you know you are what you eat? Now get out of here, and find yourself a decent victim, so you can grow up to be a strong, powerful vampire overlord."

Holden looked back at Andrew. "But-"

"No buts! Do you think I spent the last five years in Hell learning all the tricks so my grandson could become stakebait? I don't think so! Leave that boy there, and go. Now! Try the Bronze. Always good eats there, or so I've heard."

"Yes, ma'am!" said Holden. He untangled himself from Andrew, and headed toward the Bronze.

Andrew stared, as Holden nearly ran away, too dazed to try and make sense of what happened.

Once Holden was out of sight, Holden's grandmother morphed into Warren.

"What the hell did you think you were doing? A vampire?" demanded Warren.

"I'm sorry! I thought you were gone! I thought I'd screwed up the... the sacrifice! And... how did you do that?" asked Andrew.

Warren shrugged. "I've picked up a few tricks. Look, the sacrifice didn't work. I need you to find me another one."

"I can't!" said Andrew. He pressed his hand against his neck, and pulled it away to show Warren the blood on it. "Warren, I think I'm dying," he said weakly.

Warren rolled his eyes. "Don't be a pussy. He only drank a pint or so. You'll be fine. Come on, let's go."

Andrew stood up carefully, and to his surprise, his legs supported him. He felt a little lightheaded, but he decided he probably wasn't dying just yet.

"And button your pants," frowned Warren.

Andrew blushed, and fastened his jeans. "Um, yeah, it was just - it didn't mean anything!"

"Andrew," Warren said seriously. "I need your help. Now, can I trust you? Or are you going to throw yourself at the next vampire you meet?"

Andrew wished he could stop blushing. It might have been dark, but he was sure Warren could sense the heat radiating from his face. "You can trust me. I promise."

"Good, good."

"Warren?" asked Andrew. "Um, do you think I need to fix myself?"

Warren stared at him. "You mean like castration?"

Andrew winced. "No! Do you think I have a good sense of self? Am I too dependent on other people?"

Warren rolled his eyes. "Don't be stupid, Andrew. You're fine. Pick up your knife, and let's get going."

"Okay," Andrew said. He retrieved his blade from under the bench. "I was just wondering..." He looked up, but Warren was already half a block away. Andrew clutched his knife, and ran to catch up.

"You know, I always thought the whole 'vampire/sexuality' thing was just a metaphor for repressed Victorians? " Holden said, sitting on a bar stool in the Bronze. "But it's totally literal. Blood drinking is very arousing. For the vampire, at least." He chuckled.

"You know, I always suspected that," Buffy said. "Never could get a straight answer, though." She set down her coffee mug. "So, you ready? We should probably take this outside. Unless you just want me to stake you here?"

"I can kill you outside, if you like. I must ask you, Buffy, do you generally feel uncomfortable in crowded places?" They continued talking as they left the club, and stepped outside to fight.


the end

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