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Insidious 1/1

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  • quintas488
    Hmm. I really should be concentrating on the next chapter of Change (or, y know, some of those uni assignments I need to get done). Instead I wrote this.
    Message 1 of 1 , Jun 11, 2003
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      Hmm. I really should be concentrating on the next chapter of 'Change'
      (or, y'know, some of those uni assignments I need to get done).
      Instead I wrote this.

      Enjoy, and I'd appreciate any feedback, big or small :-).

      Blinky the Tree Frog

      Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss, ME, Fox, WB, and UPN.



      It happens quickly, really, but it seems sooo slow. It feels like
      when you're in a traffic accident, and time slows around you and it
      feels like it's taking forever even though it's only a split second
      and definitely not enough time to stop the inevitable and then
      everything snaps back and it's too late.


      You're gone.

      Actually Andrew hasn't ever really been in a car accident. But if he
      had, he suspects it would be kinda like this. Because one minute he's
      sitting at the table feeling kind of fidgety while Willow does this
      spell that's supposed to make the Bringer they've captured actually
      able to talk and the next...

      He looks up and he's suddenly aware that the Bringer is looking at
      him, even though that's probably crazy because it doesn't actually
      have any eyes or anything. Though maybe the magical-symbol-scar-
      things on it's face work like eyes do, because the Bringers never
      seem to have that much trouble getting around. Maybe Xander could get
      a magical scar that lets him see out of his lost eye. That'd be kind
      of weird and strange and... and...

      The Bringer is *looking* at him, and suddenly time slows to a crawl
      and he feels terribly, horribly cold. All his senses feel hyper
      alert, like they're about to start screaming. He wants to get up, or
      run away, or whimper or yell or *something*. There's just no time, no
      time at all until it begins.

      A cold presence seeps from the Bringer and weaves it's way across the
      room through the frozen figures, who don't see anything at all. It
      crawls towards Andrew and wraps itself around him while he watches,
      helpless, and then it... oh god, and then it's *in* him.

      It crawls through his body and seeps through his mind and he can't
      scream, can't move, can't react...

      Can't *fight*.

      He's trying. He's trying so hard, his body screaming at the invasion.
      His senses wailing, his mind thrashing wildly at the *thing* that
      pushes itself inside his mind. And it feels hideous, revolting,
      obscene. Connected to something worse than anything Andrew's ever
      felt and God. Oh God, he'd been working for it. He'd been *helping*
      it. Oh God makeitstopmakeitstop...

      He wants to be screaming. There's nothing he can do, and a tiny piece
      inside of him is aware of that and is sobbing like a baby. It's not
      the Bringer he's fighting, it's Willow's spell, Willow who killed
      Warren, Willow who's one of the most powerful beings in the world.
      She's said her spell and the Bringer needs a voice and it's going to
      take his and he is





      The presence pushes itself brutally into his mind and freezes it
      cold. He's losing it; he's losing himself and everything that is
      Andrew is being deadened under the inevitable tide. He tries one last
      time to twitch, to let out a noise, to anything, but it's too late...

      He's numb. He's floating on nothing and he feels nothing and he hears
      nothing and... He can still see. He can see through eyes that stare
      at nothing and no one at a small crowd of people who don't even
      realise what's happened to him. When the Bringer begins to move
      Andrew's lips he barely registers it, they don't even feel like his

      Numb. Incapacitated. Barely there while evil talks through him. Deep,
      deep inside there is still a small part of Andrew that is screaming
      in terror, but most of him is incapable of feeling anything at all.
      He watches with dead eyes as the others looked annoyed at him and
      then as they finally realise what's happened. He watches them jump
      up, watches as they ask questions that are answered in a voice that
      he can no longer recognize as his own. Watches as Kennedy grabs a
      knife and presses it to the Bringer's throat.

      The tiny bit of Andrew that is still there screams even louder at
      that, and he dimly realizes that if the Bringer dies while it's in
      him there's no guarantee that he'll survive either. Vague threads of
      worry manage to penetrate his frozen state. No. No dying. Don't want
      to die I don't...

      I don't want to die. I'm scared of dying.

      I deserve to die.

      Please... Oh please...

      He doesn't know what he's asking. Doesn't know which way he wants it
      to go. But Giles grabs Kennedy's knife and he fades back out as they
      talk more and as the Bringer drones on and then...

      Giles grabs the knife and the Bringer, and there's not even enough
      time to feel the threads of panic this time as Giles brings the knife
      up and slashes it down...

      The presence leaves brutally quickly. Surges through his body almost
      painfully and he's left gasping as the horrible coldness finally
      dissipates and he can *feel*. He jumps to his feet and stares wildly
      at Giles and almost shouts at him "What the bananas?! You are so
      lucky that you did not just... magically decapitate me."

      Giles doesn't look sorry. Giles doesn't even look that interested.

      Andrew isn't disappointed, he's not. He's *used* to that by now. He
      stands shakily as the others talk some more and takes deep breaths
      and tells himself that he's not going to vomit, he's not going to
      scream, he's not going to cry, he's not going to be any more of a
      burden because he's a good guy now and there are a million more
      important things in this household than him.

      When they all march upstairs, he follows, and the only complaint he
      allows himself is, "I feel used and violated, and... I need a

      Because despite everything he feels a quiet, desperate desire to let
      them know that he's here, and he's doing his best, and he's trying to
      help all he can.

      And because his throat really does hurt.
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