Oz checked his watch as he strode quickly down the street that was home to the club where his latest band was playing that night. Suddenly, he stopped short and turned to his left.

"Huh," he said. With that he walked into the cemetery in front of him. The place was well-groomed, but it seemed out of place on the busy street. He chalked it up to L.A. people wanting to be near the action even when they were six feet under.

He walked across the lush grass, not bothering to use the cement pathways. When you spent as much time in graveyards as he did in high school, you learned to disregard the paths.

Soon he came to where the scent was strongest.

"Angel," he said to the area at large. "Are you here? It's Oz." His sharp eyes didn't see his old acquaintance anywhere, but the guy was a pro when it came to not being seen.

After a few moments of silence, Oz figured Angel must have just been passing through. Maybe after his gig he would try to track the vampire down. It would be nice to see a familiar face.

He moved to leave the cemetery but as he turned he spotted something he wished he hadn't. His legs shook a little as he took in the sight before him.

Oz walked closer to the headstone, hoping he'd read it wrong but knowing that he hadn't.

"No. Dammit."

He sat down at the foot of Cordelia's grave and put his forehead on his arms.

The two of them had had a strange friendship in high school: together they had been a part of something big—something special—and the experiences they'd shared had bonded them, permanently.

This wasn't right. Cordelia was not supposed to die. She was supposed to be untouchable.

"I hope you got a reason to be lurking here, man," a voice said from behind him.

Slowly, as if he were moving underwater, Oz got up and turned around. He saw a tall, black man in jeans and a sweatshirt standing a few feet away, looking distrustful.

"I knew her," Oz said. "What happened?"

"I'll ask the questions for now. How did you know her?"

"School."

"Where?" the man asked shrewdly.

"Sunnydale. What happened?"

The man's expression softened just a little at the almost pitiful tone in Oz's voice.

"She…she got sick. She was in a coma practically before we knew anything was wrong."

"Was it mystical?"

The man didn't say anything, just gave Oz an appraising look.

"Yeah, it was mystical." Another voice came from the trees to the left of where Oz was standing. "Gunn, it's okay. I know him."

The black man relaxed his stance a little. "You need any help?"

"No, he's a friend," Angel said.

"Alright, I'll come by the hotel tomorrow to talk about that other thing."

Angel nodded as Gunn walked away. He turned back to Oz.

"It's been a while," he said.

"What happened to Cordelia?" Oz asked. "Did somebody do this to her?"

Angel looked as close to helpless at that moment as Oz could ever remember seeing him. "It's hard to explain."

"Try."

Angel tried. He told Oz about what had happened to their friend, how much she'd changed, and how she'd come back one more time before she died to set him back on track. When he finished the story Oz rubbed a hand over his eyes tiredly.

"I forget how young she was," Angel said after a long while. "She got so much older, so fast. I forget sometimes that she was only in her twenties."

"I forget sometimes that I'm only in my twenties," Oz said.

"I'm sorry no one told you about her death," Angel said. "Buffy and the others didn't even know until recently. They're all over the world, now. Harder to keep in touch."

"Feels like there should have been an email," Oz said.

Neither one spoke for a few minutes.

Finally, Angel cleared his throat. "I should go. If you need a place to stay, come by," he said, handing Oz a card with an address on it.

Oz nodded but didn't take his eyes off the headstone in front of him.

It wasn't right. It wasn't right that she died, and it wasn't right that her death hadn't caused more of an impact.

He'd been out of the fold for so long. The thought struck him that others he knew could be dead. Willow could be dead and he might not know it. He'd been drifting for too long, wandering around with no greater purpose.

He stood up. It was time to get back in the game and make his time here matter. It was time to go find his classmates. He'd start looking in Istanbul.

Oz turned to walk out of the cemetery, one more person that Cordelia had set back on track. Before he left he took one more look at her grave, to say thanks and to smile ever so slightly at the epitaph.

Cordelia Chase

1981-2004

A friend unlike any other.

She didn't think - she knew.

Hi guys – so this is a little sadder than the stuff I usually write, but the idea got stuck in my head and I couldn't get rid of it. It's always bugged me that we never found out what Oz did with himself after he left Sunnydale for the second time…I think that once you have been involved in something so big, you can't just go back to a normal life and be satisfied with it. And just to refresh memories, the reference to Istanbul is from the final scene between Willow and Oz. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it.