He was harmless, tied up in Dawn’s room, with Buffy herself, and an equally as tied up Spike in the next room; but his presence was felt none-the-less, and Willow was feeling a bit crowded by the whole thing.
Soon she found that Dawn, with her oh so brilliant teenager ideas, had worsen matters by untying Andrew from the chair. She was in her room, yet she could still hear him roaming the house, bothering everyone with his constant talking, and worthless science-fiction facts. Who cared if a sci-fi writer created Scientology? She waited until the aching in her belly was too much to ignore, and with a frustrated sigh left her room. Maybe she wouldn’t run into the young, motor mouthed nerd.
She looked behind her back as she turned a corner, and slammed smack dab into Andrew’s chest. Both startled, and Andrew dropped the comic book that was rolled up and previously clutched in his fist.
His gaze moved irately from the comic, to Willow. His eyes drained of irritation when he saw who it was who walked into him, and he dropped his gaze to the comic. He picked it up, and stepped back slightly, still making no eye contact.
Finally, as though mustering all his courage, he looked up. "Willow," he said, " I know you tried to kill me, you know, for what happen to Tara, but I wanted to tell you…." he paused, worried that what he had to say would upset her. "I’m sorry for my part in Tara's death. I wish I… I should have known more. I should have pay attention to Warren. He was mad. I should know he was going to do something. Things shouldn’t have ended the way they did."
He took another step back, as though expecting an explosive reaction from the red head.
Willow blinked at him, struck silent with shock. She finally smiled softy at him, and leaned against the wall. "Thank you, Andrew. That means a lot to me." She shook her head, "And I’m sorry that I, you know, almost murdered you. I was… erm, very upset, and totally not myself. I blamed all of you for one person’s actions."
She struggled to keep her eyes leveled with his as memories bombarded her. She finally looked away, gathering herself, and saying a few mental chants to calm. When she looked back she was surprised to see him awkwardly walking away. She stopped him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. She felt kinda bad for him. He was alone. He lost his friend. The man he loved. Even if she didn’t particularly, deep down regret killing Warren, she regretted hurting Andrew almost the same way Warren had hurt her. He had loved Warren, she could tell, and it must have killed him to lose his love, even if it was unrequited. They had something very deep in common; a pain that would never truly cease.
She smiled again, shaking off her internal thoughts of lost love, and hugged him. It was good to know that someone under stood how she felt, even if it was Andrew. She was sure Buffy and Xander were too busy wrapped up with Spike and Anya to even realize she was in big time legitimate pain. She actually selfishly hoped Andrew would be the someone she needed to connect to. No one else she knew lost their true love, and though she didn’t know how true Andrew’s love was, she knew it was strong enough for him to relate.
She released him, and forgetting about her hunger, went to the living room. She noticed Buffy was nowhere to be found, and upon pondering her whereabouts, came to the disturbing conclusion that she was doing god-knows-what with Spike upstairs.
The thought of the two renewed the hurt that Buffy hadn’t told her about her affair with Spike. She was supposedly her best friend, yet she had been the last to know.
Willow griped about her overactive brain, and sat on the sofa. It was a slow day, and the mini slayers all seemed to be off doing their own thing, which left her feeling all the more alone.
She heard Xander and Anya arguing before she actually saw them. Despite her best efforts, the ruckus kicked up by the two scorned lovers drilled right through her skull. With a loud grunt of annoyance, that neither the ex-demon, nor the demon magnet noticed, she gave up and went back upstairs, snatching a banana on the way to her room.
As she entered the room, her eyes ran over the spell books. She had done fairly little magic since she had been back, and a part off her missed the thrill. A bigger part than she cared to admit. She tried to distract herself, but sitting there, in the empty room, all alone was enough to drive her insane. She wanted to scream, or… hit something. Buffy seemed to like to do it when she was upset. She threw the banana agaist the wall, and it mushed slightly and fell uselessly to the ground. She was still angry, but without food. The buffy way of dealing sucked. She was teetering on the edge of a frustrated growl when she heard a soft knock on the door.
She answered the door, surprised to see Andrew standing in front of her, eating a sandwich. Two thoughts ran through her mind. What’s he want? and, Will he give me some of that sandwich? Stupid empty stomach.
His eyes answered her first question. He was alone. She hadn’t seen such loneliness in any other eyes, except when she looked in the mirror. She stepped aside, letting him through.
"Hey," she said, smiling lightly as she dropped down onto the bad. She watched him shift awkwardly, and took mercy on him. “You can sit, Andrew.”
“What’s up?” she asked after the seconds ticked on silently for too long.
“I…” He looked down at his lunch. “No one else wants me around,” he said sadly.
“I get that,” She said. He eyes widened at his wounded look. “No! I mean, not because I don’t want you around. I mean, I get the thing with the people not wanting to be around you… and me. Everyone is kinda skittish around me since… you know.”
“I like being around you, even though you tried to, like, skin me and stuff.” He looked around and sighed as words did not magically appear in his mind to help save him from his inability to talk without a foot in his mouth. “Want some of my sandwich?” he asked, figuring he couldn’t possible screw up if he stuck to innocent offerings.
Willow burst into laughter that quickly dissolved into tears, and Andrew discovered he truly could screw up with innocent offerings.
Willow continued sobbing, overwhelmed by all the horror, and pain, an rejection. All the emotions, all the loneliness flooded out of her in the form of tears.
Andrew gaped as she wrapped her arms around him and sobbed into his chest. He hesitantly patted her back, putting the sandwich plate on the floor. “There, there?”
"Why,” she hiccupped, “am I having such a hard time being back?” She buried her face deeper into his shirt. “Everyone looks at me as if I’m glass, like going to break. Or explode. Buffy hardly speaks to me, Xander can’t drag himself away from Anya long enough to care, and I have no one. Tara is gone, and the only person I have to pour out my heart to is a guy I almost murdered.”
He winced, but hugged tighter. He knew it must have been hard on her, being back and all. He had a heavy weight on him too. He had killed his best friend for the ghost of the man he loved, and he hated himself for it.
He stroked her hair softly and let her cry. It actually felt nice doing something good. He hadn’t in a long time.
"I—” she started, “I came back to help to— to help fight this evil that’s coming. How can I when no one even looks at me, or even tries to understand what I’m going through? Not to mention Kennedy, the slayer who will not get the hint. I am not into her, and so not ready to move on to some new girl. I shouldn’t have even come back. I wasn’t ready. I’m so not ready. I feel the magic, and miss it. Every day. And I’m trying the best I can, I really am."
She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand as she pulled back and looked up at him. “God I'm sorry. I'm sure you didn’t come here to hear me throw up all my emotional garbage on you. And you… I killed Warren-- you must double hate me for crying like this."
He shook his head. "Willow it's alright, I, er, I get why you killed Warren.” He took a deep breath and said softly, “I don’t blame you. He got himself into that when he… he went after Buffy, and killed Tara.” He looked down, his eyes started to water up. "I killed my best friend for him. I have no one because I’m an idiot."
She frowned. “Huh?”
He knew she would understand. Well if not understand, then not completely hate him. "I, um, I killed Johnathan. Warren… he told me to do it… for him, but it—I don’t think it was Warren. It was whatever’s coming. I want to fight the thing that made me murder he only person I had left."
Willow looked at him for a moment, and he was afraid she would hate him, but out of nowhere she wrapped her arms around him, hugging him firmly. He needed the shoulder to cry on, and it was her turn to offer a shoulder now.
“I wish we had never stayed in Sunnydale,” he whined. “Warren and Johnathan wouldn't have died, Tara wouldn't be dead, and you wouldn‘t have tried to end the world."
She laughed lightly, though everything mentioned was quite serious, and hugged him tighter. She’d cried too much. Tears felt like they could no longer be produced, so she laughed.
She looked into his eyes and saw a bit of her own feelings shining back at her. She knew they had a shared need for comfort. They needed each other, because they had no one else. She wanted to feel loved.
Andrew’s eyes widened when Willow’s lips hesitantly touched his. She pulled back before he had the chance to even consider kissing back.
She was ready to apologize, but the look on his face wasn’t one of disgust, but a smile. A soft one. He actually leaned in, kissing her this time. She saw tears in his eyes, and knew he saw them in hers. It seemed all her tears weren’t already cried after all.
Willow’s hands tentatively went to his shirt, tugging it over his head. Next she found his belt buckle, and soon she was sliding his pants and boxer briefs down his legs.
She stilled her movements immediately. “Oh god you don’t want this, do you? I’m so—”
“No… I mean, I want… but, I’m, um, I’m not… I’ve never…”
“Oh. Oh! You’re a, a virgin? Really?”
His face flushed as he nodded. “Technically. Only if you consider a virgin someone who’s never done anything with anyone, male or female,” he said. His tone was a mixture of fear, sarcasm and embarrassment.
Willow leaned over, kissing his neck. “It’s okay. That’s actually kinda sexy.”
His confidence got a much needed boost, and he found the courage to unbutton her blouse. He pushed it down her shoulders, his eyes moving hesitantly up and down her body.
“Wow,” he whispered.
Willow grinned at the look of utter wonder on his face. She rolled her eyes when seconds ticked by and he had yet to touch her again. She reached behind her, taking matters into her own hands. Or at least taking her bra into her own hands.
His eyes widened. “Double wow!”
Willow sighed, taking his hands and putting them on her breasts. “I know you’re a virgin, Andrew, but you’ve got to know that sex involves touching.”
Willow didn’t want to sound bossy. She just wanted to feel something. She wanted some physical comfort. She wanted to have her body loved, and love someone else’s body, if just for a little while.
The rest of her clothes found their way off, and soon they were shyly petting one another. Despite her earlier rush, she was almost as timid about the whole thing as Andrew. She’d only ever been with two people. One man. But soon they both loosened up, and their baser instincts gradually took over.
“Condom!” Willow blurted out.
“Huh? Oh!” Andrew blushed. “I… I mean, I don’t have…”
“It’s okay, I’ve got it.” Willow said a silent spell, and one of the many condoms from Xanders room appeared on her bed side table. He didn’t need them anyway.
She took it out of the wrapping, trying to remember exactly how she used to do it for Oz. After a minute of them both fumbling with the rubber, it was finally rolled on.
Once again they kissed, more heatedly than before, but still soft. It was a fairly new experience for both of them.
Andrew hovered over her, nervously looking anywhere but at her. “I… Are you going to feel pain?”
“It’s okay, Andrew. I’m not a virgin. It’s been a long time, but I’ve been with a man.” She kissed the corner of his mouth as he finally looked at her. “You can have me. No permission needed. Do what you want.”
He finally sunk into her hot, wet, welcoming depths. His head dropped into her neck as he stifled a moan against her skin. Prompted by Willow’s mewls, his hips began to rock against hers. He tried desperately to remember watching sex on television. He simply wasn’t sure what to do; how far to pull out, how hard to thrust back in. It was a mystery.
Willow touched his hips, guiding his motions until he caught on, and began to move without her goading.
The room filled with their gasps and moans. Andrew found Willow’s lips, and soon the only sound left was that of their flesh moving together, and the bed squeaking beneath them.
Willow arched against him, gripping him. She never thought she’d experience sex with a man again. Or sex at all since Tara’s death. She certainly didn’t expect it to be with Andrew.
Andrew had been fairly certain that he was in no way interested in women, but being inside Willow, feeling her, smelling her, hearing her, it was all as much of a turn on, as anything else with men had been. More so. Granted his only experiences with men consisted of him gazing adoringly from afar, and enviously wishing he were the one they obsessed over instead of whatever girl it was.
He was thankful Willow had let him be on top. Though the whole situation was new, and terrifying, he wanted the control, if for no other reason, than because he knew he’d never have it again, unless, of course, he and Willow made it a more than once thing.
His brow furrowed in confusion as a particular thrust seemed to make her cry out a little louder than the rest. He attempted to recreate the move, but it took several thrusts to get it right. He wondered what exactly he was hitting inside her that caused such a strong reaction.
Willow knew Andrew wouldn’t last much longer. She was shocked he was still going as it was, with it being his first time. Her fingers moved between their bodies, and she found her clit. Within strokes of her fingers, and his hard length, she fell undone, crying out his name as her muscles constricted around him.
Andrew mentally cried his thanks to whatever higher being looked after stupid, lonely people who used to be evil. He had been barely hanging on. He didn’t even know he knew how to hang on. But as soon as Willow came, he followed after. Their lips clashed once again as they muted their cries of passion.
Andrew collapsed onto Willow, barely mustering the energy to move enough so he wasn’t crushing her. His head rested on her chest, and his body wrapped around her smaller one.
Willow ran her fingers through his hair, caressing it softly. She smiled was he lifted his head and looked at her with a goofy, happy look.
“Thank you,” they said in unison. Both blushed and looked down.
Willow touched his cheek, and he leaned into her hand. “I guess we helped each other,” she whispered.
Andrew nodded, resting his head on her chest once more. His eyes grew heavy, and soon he fell in to a comfortable sleep. The first one in a long time.
Willow watched him sleep, a small smile touching her lips. She had someone to lean on after all; someone that she could comfort, and be comforted by. Her last thoughts before she fell asleep were, next time she was eating before they found comfort in each other, and that life was going to be a little easier with him with her.
The End .