“Good golly gosh shitfuck!” Johnny beamed at Xander. “Look at you! I remember back when you were just a little burrito.”
“You,” Xander stammered. “You, you can't be here. You're not- you're not real!”
“You thought that too?” Johnny sighed thoughtfully. “Cause there was a stretch there where I was pretty sure I wasn't real either.”
“What are you doing here?” Xander demanded, edging towards the closet where he kept...that ax that he could now see lying on his bed, where it had previously been hidden by Nny's body.
Johnny saw what Xander was looking at and sighed. “Now Squee, I hope you're not picking any bad habits. Keeping an ax in the closet? Do you know how dangerous that is?”
“They call me Xander now. And it's in the closet in case of monsters.”
“Oh, well that's all right then. Provided you mean the kind of monsters that go bump in the night and not the human kind.” Picking the blade up with a flourish, he looked for a moment, as if he was about to attack Xander with it, but he merely held it out, handle first. “Just be careful with it. It's very sharp.”
“Uh, right.” Xander said, taking the ax.
“Anyway, I just wanted to let you know I was back in town. I have to go look for a place to stay now, but I'll be keeping an eye out for you. Tootles!”
The tall, skinny guy slipped out the window, and Xander rushed forward to lock it, only to find that the lock was broken. “Oh, swell.”
“Oh!” Johnny's face appeared in the window suddenly, making Xander shout, and jump back. “Almost forgot...you ever notice how when someone says they almost forgot, what they actually mean is, they did forget, but remembered in time to do something about it? Anyway, I almost forgot, the secret tunnel's been filled in so I had to break the lock. Sorry about that. You should probably get that fixed.” He favored the boy with his trademark chilling grin. “There's all sorts of monsters that could get in otherwise.”
*****
“So, what's next?” Mayor Richard Wilkins asked Allan, his deputy Mayor.
“Uh, well sir,” Mr. Finch said. “It appears that a Mr. John C. has been spotted in town.”
Wilkins almost choked on his food, and had to take a moment to recover himself. “Are you sure it was him?”
“Well no sir I didn't see him myself, but he matches the description.”
The Mayor pursed his lips, and chuckled. “Well that's a interesting development. I must say though that troubled young man was a bit of a blessing in disguise really. That was not an easy demon to appease.” He rested his hand on the handle of his golf club thoughtfully. “Keep an eye on him.” he finally decided. “But the watchword here must be discretion. Mr. C's past exploits tended to be rather messy. Even by Sunnydale standards.”
He walked over to his cabinet, and unlocked it. “In the meantime, see if you can't get a bead on any artistic types who match the profile.” Hanging in the cabinet, among his other paraphernalia, was a painting of a creepy little girl, with two giant screws for eyes. One of which appeared to be coming unscrewed. “I think our old friend might be making it's way back home.”
*****
Xander spent the first few hours after his unexpected, and unwelcome reunion, finding the proper tools, and then nailing his window shut. He'd fortunately finished before his parents went to bed, so he didn't disturb them.
Then he made a careful search of the basement to make sure that the tunnel was filled up. Considering Johnny's claim when he left, years ago, that the tunnel had been clogged with bodies, he had to spend some time working up the nerve to look.
“I'd have noticed the smell by now right?” he muttered. Then again, given the state of the basement these days, maybe not. He found where he was pretty sure the tunnel was, but sure enough, it seemed to be filled in.
With a sigh of relief he then went up into the attic to search for something else. Something suddenly very important. In an old, dust covered, unmarked cardboard box, he found him.
“Hey Shmee.” Xander said, sitting back and holding the ragged old teddy bear before him. He paused, half wondering if the bear would talk back. But whether the voice of his bear was one thing he actually had imagined, or if the magic that let him hear the bear had worn off when he got older, he received no answer.
Shmee had only one ear now, and no nose or eyes. He smelled musty, and neglected. The boy didn't ever remember washing him. Gazing at the stuffed animal, Xander realized that, he didn't remember how he'd gotten it in the first place. And he'd always been rather ragged. Maybe, like many other things in his life, this had been a hand me down. Had Shmee comforted some other child before he'd come to Xander?
The boy once called Squee had convinced himself that most of the terrifying things in his life had not been real. And then one day he'd discovered, in one of the most horrifying ways possible, that some monsters, perhaps even most monsters, were real.
It made him wonder how much in his past had been real. Had he really tricked/convinced aliens to abduct and experiment on his parents, rather than him? Or was it, as they insisted, contagious insanity? Had he really witnessed a fellow child get devoured by a Boston Terrier?
And what about Pepito and his family? In retrospect, he was not surprised they'd moved to Sunnydale. But where were they now? Xander had no idea what'd become of the diminutive anti-christ. Maybe that part had been his imagination, like Shmee.
Actually, Xander hadn't heard Shmee speak since he met Willow.
They'd met on the playground. She'd declared him her boyfriend after he chased Jessie off, who was attacking her with a water gun. The two boys had made up though when Squee had showed right and proper awe at Jessie's Ninja Turtle's toys. Then came the dare to steal Willow's Barbie, and she'd dumped him.
A sad smile crossed Xander's face as he thought about those good times. Both Willow and Jessie had petitioned their parents to adopt him. Hell, his dad had been all for it. Cordelia and Willow had, actually once upon a time been friends. He couldn't picture the modern Willow being interested in Barbies. Jessie's little brother had inherited the action figures when his older sibling had decided he was too old for such things. Only a year before his death.
After Jessie had been turned into a Vampire, and staked by Xander, the Hellmouth Effect had convinced his family that he'd been a victim of gang violence. They'd moved away not long after. He never knew where.
All this work, and nostalgic thoughts kept him up most of the night. So it was a decidedly exhausted Xander “Squee” Harris that entered the library the next day.
“We've got a serious problem.” he said.
*****
Daniel “Oz” Osbourn had been playing the guitar, or, pretending to play the guitar, depending on who was asked, for years. When his family had moved to Sunnydale, he'd quickly made friends in the music community, both in the school band, and in a real band. If you could call Dingoes Ate My Baby a real band. Some didn't. But he'd gotten to know people around here, their talents, their quirks.
And Micky Keeler was about as quirky as they came. It was possibly because he hung out with the drama club so often, and no one could beat them when it came to weirdness. Even Vampires avoided them because they were so strange.
Micky was often quiet, but quick to smile, and even quicker to laugh. He teased his friends mercilessly, played guitar with skill, and even, though not many knew it, wrote music.
And today he was either asleep, dead, or hungover.
“You alright?” Oz asked him quietly.
“Mar.” the boy groaned. “Migraine. Been getting 'em lately, keeping me up. Need blood of virgin to cure them. But this is high school, no virgins.”
Oz knew he was kidding. And also knew it was a good thing none of his non-musical friends were here to hear that. “Interesting humor for the Hellmouth.”
“That which we laugh at, loses it's power over us.”
“Maybe you should go to the nurse.”
“That would require moving. And possibly opening my eyes. Both hurt. No I'll just lie here till someone carts me off home or to the morgue. The morgue has refrigerated beds, so I'm hoping for that one.”
Oz shrugged. “Okay but it's going to get noisy in here.”
Then Micky blinked. “Actually, it's starting to go away. I think I'll live after all. Guess I still have to write that essay for English class.”
*****
Giles was cleaning his glasses. Buffy looked nauseas, and Willow had that look on her face that he remembered from the first time they'd found out Vampires were real. Shell shocked, and terrified. Both she and Buffy had scooted protectively closer to him as he'd told his story. It felt good, that concern, that love. It was something he'd never gotten at home.
“I thought he wasn't real.” Willow said in a quiet voice. “Like all the monsters, and stuff that...turned out to be real.” She whimpered.
“Giles please tell me there's some kind of demonic explanation for this. Even Jack the Ripper wasn't this messed up.”
“W-well, it's not unheard of for demons to exert unhealthy influence over individuals, I might be able to find something. But I think we have to consider the possibility that this man was, and possibly still is, merely completely insane.”
“Either way, we have to deal with him.” the Slayer said resolutely. “Xander, I want you to stay at my place until we take care of this guy.”
“Buffy you know I love your sleepovers, but I don't want to put you in-”
“I'm always in danger. Better it be because I'm protecting my friend from some psychopath. I mean, who knows what this guy's doing right now?”
*****
The bookstore was gone. He didn't suppose he was surprised. He'd been gone for such a long time. Things changed. Stores closed, to be replaced by others. Areas cleared, trees cut down, forests leveled to make way for housing developments. People died, to decay and provide food for plants, and worms.
The Magic Box. Interesting. He wondered if he could buy a hat and get Nail Bunny back. He missed Nail Bunny. Pressing his face up against the window, he looked around inside. What would Devi think of this place?
It looked nice in there. It was open, peaceful looking. He could smell incense, and hear faint strains of soft music. And he didn't see any pretentious Goths in there.
Where was Devi these days? Should he call her? Go by her place? Going by her place might be a mistake. What if she thought he was there to kill her? Maybe he should call ahead. Assure her that wasn't the case. Next to Squee, she was the last person he wanted to kill. Or even maim.
On the other hand, the last time he called her, it hadn't gone too well.
Sunnydale, Some Years Ago
“Hello?”
Click. Johnny pushed the play button on the recorder. He wasn't afraid to speak to her, he only knew that in this particular case, improvisation wasn't the way to go, so he'd prepared a little something.
“Hello Devi.” Nice start. He'd worked a long time on that.
“Johnny? Johnny it's you isn't it! What do you want? Hello?”
“Don't bother talking. This will only play once, so I hope you'll listen to me. I know how hard this would be in person. It's better this way, eloquence is important here.” He'd always treasured his eloquence. Even when his sanity had deserted him, his eloquence hadn't.
“As you may already know, I tried to kill you. I see how that could be construed as a bad thing, but the part that understands that, is not the one running things in my little world.”
“You like this girl eh?” The Big Boy on the table guessed.
“Shh.” Johnny told him. “I'm trying to hear my sincerity.”
“Happiness, and all it's allure, they make no sense here. What's worse is that neither does discontent. In your case, with attraction in general, both feelings come at full force. One being the precursor to the other.”
He wondered if she were still listening. If she'd gotten on her cell phone and called the police or something. Now that he'd died, and the demon had escaped, could he be caught? Maybe that would be a good thing.
“Trust me, I intended to annihilate you in the nicest possible sense of the word. At the time that is. See, I want to be different. Thing is, I've excluded happiness as one of those possibilities we seek for ourselves. Oh, I still want it, but that's besides the point. Contentment, they say it's the ultimate but I can't even wish for that. I don't even want the desire to be content. I can only hope for silence.”
He felt he needed to clarify that. “No, I'm not talking about suicide. That was psycho-doughboy's thing. Oh I didn't introduce you to him. He was one of my little styrofoam friends. Anyhow...”
Where was he? Ah yes. “I like you immensely Devi. And to prove it, I shall obliterate all my affection and interest for you. Just like before, but different. I cannot hurt what I do not acknowledge. I don't know of anyone that I love, or of anyone that loves me but I give you what I can. I give you my nothing.
“While I still have feeling, I wish to apologize. I know forgiveness is out of the question. I just ask for what we all ask of the people we respect- that the thought of me does not compel you to violent spasms of projectile vomiting.”
“Hey!” Devi suddenly shouted, breaking into Johnny's carefully constructed reverie. “Hey! Shut up! Shut that thing off! Pick up the phone, Nny you little shit! I want to tell you what I've been doing these last few months! Do you know what I've been up to?! I've been staying in a lot!
“You know why?! Because with each attempt to meet a nice...person, things get increasingly bad! Last time I tried, you pulled knives on me! I didn't want to try again for fear of something even worse! Hell, I haven't even left this place!”
Well if it was a guilt trip she was going for, she was a bit behind the times. Still she had a good head of steam going, and she made some excellent points.
“You know what's worse than hiding from what scares you? Do you?! I'll tell you- it's having good things pass you by because you're too busy cringing in idiot terror, hiding someplace where all you can do is dwell on shit!
“And now you think your apology is going to make me happy as a drooly little baby?! Shit!! I'm the person who's going to make me happy! I am! No more hiding away. If you want to kill me, just try it! I'll lose my boot down your throat! Hey!! Hello?!! Hey Johnny Pooh!”
Oh, oh dear.
“I don't hear you saying anything! What's wrong?! Not full of fucked up wisdom today?! Speak! Speak you fuck!”
Well, he would have but he'd lost his place on the tape.
Click. “That could have gone better.” Johnny thought.