best be gone from here by dark

[stilljustandrew]

They're up at first light, huddling in their sleeping bags against the lingering chill, drinking coffee and eating breakfast bars, not talking much. By the time they're done, the air has warmed; the locator spell is still glowing underneath the dig site, and they pick up work where they left off.



It's just past noon when their shovels first start turning up things that Andrew thinks he recognizes: fragments of rotting fabric in familiar patterns, pieces of wood that might have once been furniture in Buffy's house.

Jonathan's shovel strikes metal, and a shaft of brilliant light shoots up from under the dirt.

Comments

[jonathanparagon]

He stops abruptly and pulls his shovel out of the hole.

"Found it. Or at least part of it, can't tell yet."

[stilljustandrew]

Andrew turns, blinks at the vivid glow, and lets his shovel fall.

"Okay, let's --" Stepping closer. "Let's try and get the rest of it uncovered by hand."

[jonathanparagon]

"Yep." He sets the shovel aside and drops to his knees, peering into the shallow hole.

[stilljustandrew]

He tugs his work gloves on tighter, and kneels to dig his fingers into the hole.

Slowly the two of them push away the gravel and dirt, the bits of decaying wood and rusting wire and undying plastic.

Under Andrew's glove, a bit of carved metal gleams.

[jonathanparagon]

"Stop," Jonathan says quickly, before it gets covered up with dirt again. "That looks promising."

[stilljustandrew]

He stops, looking down.

"That's it," he breathes, almost soundlessly. "That's --"

His hands start moving again, swiftly, shoveling more dirt aside.

[jonathanparagon]

Jonathan joins him, scrabbling intently at the dirt until they get the object clear, and then rocks back on his heels and just stares at it.

[stilljustandrew]

Andrew does the same for a moment.

And then reaches out, very gingerly, and picks it up by the flat of the blade.

"Have we got anything to wrap this in?"

[jonathanparagon]

"Must do." He turns slightly away to look at the bags, thinking. "I know I put a spare shirt in mine."

[stilljustandrew]

"That'll work."

He backs away a few paces, and sets the knife down again on top of the battered microwave casing they unearthed an hour ago. And suppresses the urge to wipe his gloved hand against his jeans.

"You go get it, I'll start packing up the shovels?"

[jonathanparagon]

"Right." He rummages in his pack and comes up with the shirt, then approaches the knife cautiously, never touching it with his bare hands.

[stilljustandrew]

It's not as though touching it with bare hands would do anything. To either of them. Probably.

Andrew's just as happy to have the layer of fabric in between themselves and it.

Mumbled: "D'you want me to get it, or ...?"

[jonathanparagon]

"No, I got it." He wraps the shirt as thickly as he can around the knife, then lifts the bundle, holding it tightly closed.

[stilljustandrew]

"Okay." Blinking. "We got it."

A pause.

"You wanna say it or should I?"

[jonathanparagon]

Jonathan looks up at him and smiles.

"Let's go home."

[stilljustandrew]

Packing up all their gear, climbing back out of the crater, and reloading the car takes the better part of another two hours. It's afternoon by the time they're on the road back to LA, and Andrew spends the first half-hour of the car trip arranging their plane tickets home; miraculously, there are still seats available on tonight's red-eye to New York.

"Okay," he says, looking up, "got em."

[jonathanparagon]

"Something must be on our side," Jonathan says with a grin. "Or nobody wants to go to New York anymore. One or the other."

[stilljustandrew]

"Whichever," Andrew says, "I'll take it."

The road scrolls out ahead of them, open and empty in both directions. There'll be more traffic the farther they get from what used to be Sunnydale, he knows; and once they get off the road, they won't have any privacy until they get to New York.



"... listen, there's something I should tell you before we get back to Milliways."

[jonathanparagon]

That gets him a slightly startled glance.

"Yeah? What have you been up to?"

[stilljustandrew]

He squirms a little.

"'Up to' is such a harsh way of putting it."

[jonathanparagon]

"...okay, now I really want to know. Out with it."

[stilljustandrew]

"I might have ... maybe talked to a couple of people about the chance that I wasn't gonna be coming back."

[jonathanparagon]

There's a beat, then Jonathan brakes sharply in a way that would have been unsafe if there was another car in sight, and stares at him. He knows, knows... Andrew isn't talking about the risk of them both being eaten by a demon.

"Define 'a couple of people'."

[stilljustandrew]

"One person without the details, and, um, two people with. And Baby."

That's all delivered into his lap, before he bites his lip and turns to meet Jonathan's stare.

[jonathanparagon]

"And those people were...?" he prompts, not relenting. "And what the hell did you think I was going to do?"