![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
A little time in Andrew's life.
Spoilers for Dirty Girls.
Pocket Change
by stungunbilly
Ten pennies rubbed together in his pocket, and left a coppery smell behind. They were all new and shiny, bright and clinky and good to play with, so he never noticed how often he reached into his pocket until Willow gave him funny looks more than her usual once or twice. Even then, he didn’t really mind.
He had found each one over the last few months, dutifully reciting the poem and putting them in his pocket. “Find a penny, pick it up, and all day you’ll have good luck.” He thought about giving them to Xander, but derailed the thought before he could cry again.
There had been a bad moment when he asked to go to the hospital, when Willow’s eyes overflowed, almost as dark as her magic stare. She had actually *growled* at him. Andrew had been five when Tucker broke his leg, and Mom had looked at him that way when he cried. Here there was no room to go to where Slayers in Training were not lying in wait.
Nobody thought he had any reason or right to care that Xander was wounded. They didn’t know how Xander felt, or thought, or acted when only the two of them were present and Xander had a few minutes to stop being so strong and reliable. Not one of them knew or cared about the way Xander smiled when Han turned around to help out Luke in the battle to destroy the Death Star, or when he found the SiTs had left enough Cocoa Crispies in the box for a midnight snack.
Spike was the only one besides Andrew who seemed to realize that Xander’s carpentry was expert and swift, and Spike usually only commented on it to make Xander turn red. Tonight Spike was hard to find. He wasn’t at the hospital, Andrew knew, but he wasn’t in the basement either.
In the backyard, Andrew found Spike hiding behind one of the few surviving trees. There were tears running down his face, red blood tears that made him look wounded and vulnerable. Andrew didn’t know what to say, so he just sat down and leaned against the tree, flipping one of his pennies into the air and failing to catch it.
Spike sniffed. “Rather late for you to be out, don’t you think?”
The penny had fallen next to one of Spike’s heavy black boots.
“I don’t know. There’s nowhere to go inside.”
“Too right.” Spike lit a cigarette and kicked lightly at the tree. The tears were still running down his cheeks, gleaming almost black in the light from the porch. He didn’t seem to mind, so Andrew didn’t either.
“Out here’s safe as anywhere. If there are any safe places left.”
Spike didn’t respond right away, but he looked at Andrew for a moment. Then he picked up the penny by his boot. Holding it to his nose, he sniffed loudly.
“New copper. Smells a little like blood.”
Andrew almost smiled, wondering if Spike ever said anything that wasn’t sexy, scary, or insane. Or all three. “I could put pennies in a glass of hot water, make a vampire diet drink for you. If you ever got fat. Not that you would. Although Willow says Angel is getting fat, only I didn’t know that you guys could.”
Spike snorted a bit, put the penny in his pocket. The tears had stopped. Andrew felt a little better for the first time since Buffy and Spike had burst through the front door, covered in Xander’s blood and wearing identical expressions of misery.
Dawn’s voice came at high volume from the porch. “Spike! Buffy needs to talk to you!”
They sighed, strangely in tandem. Spike looked at Andrew for a moment, craggy scarred eyebrow and eyes invisible in shadow. His voice was a little softer than usual when he spoke.
“The Whelp’ll pull out of this all right.”
“Yeah. Xander’s tough.”
Spike laughed. “Not very. But he’s good at getting up again.” He walked away, turning once to add, “Save the coppers. They’re useful when people start dying.”
Andrew pulled his hand from his pocket and looked up at the sky. The moon had risen, reddish-orange like one of his coins. Face up as always.
“Heads,” he said.
He didn’t really know what he was gambling on.
~
Spoilers for Dirty Girls.
Pocket Change
by stungunbilly
Ten pennies rubbed together in his pocket, and left a coppery smell behind. They were all new and shiny, bright and clinky and good to play with, so he never noticed how often he reached into his pocket until Willow gave him funny looks more than her usual once or twice. Even then, he didn’t really mind.
He had found each one over the last few months, dutifully reciting the poem and putting them in his pocket. “Find a penny, pick it up, and all day you’ll have good luck.” He thought about giving them to Xander, but derailed the thought before he could cry again.
There had been a bad moment when he asked to go to the hospital, when Willow’s eyes overflowed, almost as dark as her magic stare. She had actually *growled* at him. Andrew had been five when Tucker broke his leg, and Mom had looked at him that way when he cried. Here there was no room to go to where Slayers in Training were not lying in wait.
Nobody thought he had any reason or right to care that Xander was wounded. They didn’t know how Xander felt, or thought, or acted when only the two of them were present and Xander had a few minutes to stop being so strong and reliable. Not one of them knew or cared about the way Xander smiled when Han turned around to help out Luke in the battle to destroy the Death Star, or when he found the SiTs had left enough Cocoa Crispies in the box for a midnight snack.
Spike was the only one besides Andrew who seemed to realize that Xander’s carpentry was expert and swift, and Spike usually only commented on it to make Xander turn red. Tonight Spike was hard to find. He wasn’t at the hospital, Andrew knew, but he wasn’t in the basement either.
In the backyard, Andrew found Spike hiding behind one of the few surviving trees. There were tears running down his face, red blood tears that made him look wounded and vulnerable. Andrew didn’t know what to say, so he just sat down and leaned against the tree, flipping one of his pennies into the air and failing to catch it.
Spike sniffed. “Rather late for you to be out, don’t you think?”
The penny had fallen next to one of Spike’s heavy black boots.
“I don’t know. There’s nowhere to go inside.”
“Too right.” Spike lit a cigarette and kicked lightly at the tree. The tears were still running down his cheeks, gleaming almost black in the light from the porch. He didn’t seem to mind, so Andrew didn’t either.
“Out here’s safe as anywhere. If there are any safe places left.”
Spike didn’t respond right away, but he looked at Andrew for a moment. Then he picked up the penny by his boot. Holding it to his nose, he sniffed loudly.
“New copper. Smells a little like blood.”
Andrew almost smiled, wondering if Spike ever said anything that wasn’t sexy, scary, or insane. Or all three. “I could put pennies in a glass of hot water, make a vampire diet drink for you. If you ever got fat. Not that you would. Although Willow says Angel is getting fat, only I didn’t know that you guys could.”
Spike snorted a bit, put the penny in his pocket. The tears had stopped. Andrew felt a little better for the first time since Buffy and Spike had burst through the front door, covered in Xander’s blood and wearing identical expressions of misery.
Dawn’s voice came at high volume from the porch. “Spike! Buffy needs to talk to you!”
They sighed, strangely in tandem. Spike looked at Andrew for a moment, craggy scarred eyebrow and eyes invisible in shadow. His voice was a little softer than usual when he spoke.
“The Whelp’ll pull out of this all right.”
“Yeah. Xander’s tough.”
Spike laughed. “Not very. But he’s good at getting up again.” He walked away, turning once to add, “Save the coppers. They’re useful when people start dying.”
Andrew pulled his hand from his pocket and looked up at the sky. The moon had risen, reddish-orange like one of his coins. Face up as always.
“Heads,” he said.
He didn’t really know what he was gambling on.
~