Andrew sighed and sat himself upon the steps of Sunnydale High School. He'd just done it. 'It' being something he never, ever wanted to have to say he'd actually gone through with.
He killed Jonathan.
The boy placed his elbows on his knees and threaded into his short, blonde hair and he glared at the cement beneath his feet. He killed the one guy that was actually loyal to him. He'd been loyal to Jonathan once. Him and... Warren.
Warren, the ghost that had talked him into killing his best friend. Heh. His brother had been right. Never trust the spirits of your past. That was possibly the best advice Tucker ever gave him. Not that Tucker had ever given him that much advice in the first place.
High School. John had been talking about that only less than an hour before hand. He talked about how it felt like home. Andrew snorted. This place? Home? This was the place where he'd received taunts and wedgies and, he shuddered, swirlies. Where so many had purposely made his life hell and relished as they did it.
That would be the stupidest thing. Yes, Andrew Wells found comfort in the walls of his old High School where his life and begun and ended all in four years. Not that that was at all a short period of time. The time of his school years had creeped by slower that the Christmas Eve he and Tucker had peeked at their presents to find Star Wars action figures. That had been a big thing when he was young.
Toys and action figures and childish things he would die over if anyone knew.
As he thought these morbid thoughts he realized something to make him let his hot tears fall and crash on the ground.
He wished he had his childhood back. The comfort of his mother and the pride of his father, the companionship of his brother. His toys and even Mr. Snuggle, his teddy bear.
He heard a faint voice in his ears and smiled, realizing it was Jonathan.
'Well, I'm thinking about them.'