Title: When the Blue Moon Rises
Author: frkwerewolf
Fandom: Buffy the Vamprie Slayer
Time-Span: Early Season 4, pre-Veruca, pre-Anya
Pairing: Xander/Oz
Rating: R
Summary: A Blue Moon, a werewolf on the lose, and Xander's life will never be the same again.
Warning: Animalistic Rape, Mpreg
Notes: Lycantria is made up by me. I was tempted to use another werewolf holiday, one that has more historical standing than this one, that has been used before but for the sake of my own creativity, I made up my own.
Part One
Giles spent that Saturday evening doing what he did best, reading. Books upon books were placed around his coffee table. A cup of tea, long forgotton, sat between two large volumes. The usual action of researched calmed him. He did not do this in an active motion to stop an Apolcalypse. He did this in hopes to catch anything before it started. A prophecy. A sign.
It was how he spent his days, now that he no longer had a job.
Giles' eyes narrowed in thought as he looked at the chart sitting on his lap. The cycle of the moon etched into the parchment, small latin words underneath each drawing. Grabbing the magnifying glass from the seat next to him, Giles leaned over the paper for a closer look. He focused his attention on the current month, the current moon. It's title etched in delicate letter: Blue Moon.
Something tickled at the back of Giles' brain. Something he should remember. Setting the chart carefully to the side, Giles reached for a local stack. He struggled to pull the bottom-most book from the pile. His efforts resulted in the stack toppling over. Quickly he snatched his tea from the table, releasing a sigh of relief when it didn't spill. Grabbing the wanted book, he sat in on his lap and turned to a specific section. But not before taking a sip of his tea and grimacing at the cold, bitter tase it now had.
Giles pulled his glasses off for a moment, rubbing at his tired eyes. A glance at the clock proved the time to be well past midnight. Yet the moon's time would progress for another four hours or so. Placing his glasses back on, Giles set about reading.
It was twenty minutes later when he found what he wanted. The effects of the Blue Moon in twined with the effect of Lycantria on a werewolf. Giles snapped the book closed. He grabbed his coat off it's hanger, taking only a moment to make sure he had his keys, before rushing out the door.
The moon lit up the area, so that a blue tint covered everything. Willow took a moment to enjoy it's beauty, before stepping farther into the cemetary. She could see the crypt up ahead, and pulled her coat tighter around her. The October air was thick, but a gentle breeze caused a chill in the weather.
Taking a deep breath, Willow prepared herself for what awaited in the crypt. Opening the door, she expected to hear the tell tale sound of growling, but it never came. Blinking in confusion, she stepped inside. The sight that awaited shocked her to the core. Darting into the crypt, she searched the far corner until she found the tranquilizer gun. Taking another look at the broken cage door, she hurried out of the room.
Willow tried hard to calm herself as she ran toward the cemetary five streets over. She knew Buffy was patrolling near there. She had to be. Gripping the gun tighter, Willow picked up her speed. She would never forgive herself if Oz hurt someone tonight. He was her responsibility.
A brief thought skimmed in her brain. A thought showing how she seemed to think of Oz more as a puppy she owned instead of a man sometimes. Shoving the idiotic idea out of her head, Willow continued her run.
"Buffy!" Willow gasped as she stumbled between the graves. Buffy peered through the cloud of dust now surrounding her, stuffed her stake into her pocket, then looked her friend up and down. Willow looked like she had ran a marathon.
"Willow, what's wrong?" Buffy asked, helping Willow say upright.
"Oz. He got lose." Willow told her. Buffy opened her mouth to speak, but was interupted when - as though on cue - a long howl erupted through the air.
Xander felt a little silly. He should not be out of the house, prancing around the outskirts of Sunnydale. Especially in the middle of the night. Especially so close to the woods, actually ten feet from them, during a full moon. But he had to get out of the house.
Once again the night returned to him. His father accusing him of taking them for granted. Xander unable to pay the basement's rent for the past month and a half. His mother shaking her head, pulling his father away, and leaving with a look that literally killed him. A look that told him he had dissapointed his parents, becoming a bum in the basement and unable to hold a job.
It was the howl that broke him out of his thoughts. A angst-filled howl, from the throat of an animal. Xander thought for a moment, inwardly hoping it was a random wolf. But he knew, with his luck, it was more than just a simple wolf. More like a complex alteration of one.
Stopping mid-thought, Xander cursed himself. He should not be standing here, staring into the woods, as though wanting whatever was in there to come out and snatch him up. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he hurried his pace and headed home, trying to keep his stance at calm.
It was the growl that stopped him. Deep down his brain screamed no. Don't stop. Don't stop. Don't stop. But he did. And he could feel eyes on his back. His sudden stupidity amazed even himself as he slowly turned around and raised his eyes. The werewolf baring it's teeth at him, eyes golden and flashing. Xander took a small moment to acknowledge how the werewolf looked like a wolf, but with a slight human shape and height.
Then he ran. It was all he could do. The stake in his pocket would come to no use. He didn't own any silver, not to his knowledge. So he ran. The pounding of paws behind him caught his attention. Paws that had longer fingers than normal. Paws that could tear him up, allowing the thing to eat his insides.
Xander stumbled as the thought came to him. Cursing loudly, he rolled to straighten himself up. He only made it to his back and the werewolf loomed over him, teeth bared. Xander let out a small squeek as the teeth snapped down at him. This was it, Xander was going to die.
But the teeth merely grabbed the front of his shirt and began dragging him toward the forrest. Xander started to struggle, but the deep growl made him stop. Now was not a time to force the animal into killing him. Xander calmly - as calmly as he could be at a time like this - allowed the wolf to pull him far into the woods. They were nearly fifty feet from the wooded edge when the wolf dropped Xander to the ground. Xander paused a moment, before leaping up to run.
The werewolf seemed to know his movements, growling deeply, and jumped onto his back as he struggled to get to his feet. It was then that true fear left Xander frozen. The animal, the monster, was sniffing at his neck. Taking deep gulps of air and panting heavily. The wolf sniffed his way down Xander's body, continuing to pin him down. Then with a deep, throaty growl, the animal bit into his jacket.
It was mere seconds before Xander's coat and top was ripped off him. The long, rough tongue of the werewolf brought him to his senses. Panicking, Xander yelped and began scrambling away. The werewolf sanked his claws into Xander's hips, causing him to scream in pain. Before his knew it, his jeans were being ripped to shreds and the tongue was back. It was back and being applied to places that did not need to be licked. Whimpering, Xander fought to get the werewolf to release his hold.
The claws sank in deeper, a liquid that he knew was his blood began to trickle down his sides. Xander could only thank his lucky stars that the wolf had not bit him directly. He may be in a dire situation, and may never live to tell the tale, but at least he would not be a werewolf in the end.
The tongue licked lightly at the base of his spine, before delving into a spot that he didn't want to acknowledge being touched, let alone licked. Xander let his fingers sink into dirt, clamping his eyes shut.
Movement behind him. Throaty growls as the tongue continued to lap at him. Finally moving up his back and away from his arse. Paw-like fingers digging into his hips, pulling him up. Eyes snapping open as the werewolf managed to raise Xander from the ground and to his hands an knees. The tongue lapping at his shoulders, licking up the sweat now pouring from his body. Something nudging him, something pressing into a foriegn place. Eyes shutting tightly, hoping it would all end as the scream-like whine echoes from his own throat.
Author: frkwerewolf
Fandom: Buffy the Vamprie Slayer
Time-Span: Early Season 4, pre-Veruca, pre-Anya
Pairing: Xander/Oz
Rating: R
Summary: A Blue Moon, a werewolf on the lose, and Xander's life will never be the same again.
Warning: Animalistic Rape, Mpreg
Notes: Lycantria is made up by me. I was tempted to use another werewolf holiday, one that has more historical standing than this one, that has been used before but for the sake of my own creativity, I made up my own.
Part One
Giles spent that Saturday evening doing what he did best, reading. Books upon books were placed around his coffee table. A cup of tea, long forgotton, sat between two large volumes. The usual action of researched calmed him. He did not do this in an active motion to stop an Apolcalypse. He did this in hopes to catch anything before it started. A prophecy. A sign.
It was how he spent his days, now that he no longer had a job.
Giles' eyes narrowed in thought as he looked at the chart sitting on his lap. The cycle of the moon etched into the parchment, small latin words underneath each drawing. Grabbing the magnifying glass from the seat next to him, Giles leaned over the paper for a closer look. He focused his attention on the current month, the current moon. It's title etched in delicate letter: Blue Moon.
Something tickled at the back of Giles' brain. Something he should remember. Setting the chart carefully to the side, Giles reached for a local stack. He struggled to pull the bottom-most book from the pile. His efforts resulted in the stack toppling over. Quickly he snatched his tea from the table, releasing a sigh of relief when it didn't spill. Grabbing the wanted book, he sat in on his lap and turned to a specific section. But not before taking a sip of his tea and grimacing at the cold, bitter tase it now had.
Giles pulled his glasses off for a moment, rubbing at his tired eyes. A glance at the clock proved the time to be well past midnight. Yet the moon's time would progress for another four hours or so. Placing his glasses back on, Giles set about reading.
It was twenty minutes later when he found what he wanted. The effects of the Blue Moon in twined with the effect of Lycantria on a werewolf. Giles snapped the book closed. He grabbed his coat off it's hanger, taking only a moment to make sure he had his keys, before rushing out the door.
The moon lit up the area, so that a blue tint covered everything. Willow took a moment to enjoy it's beauty, before stepping farther into the cemetary. She could see the crypt up ahead, and pulled her coat tighter around her. The October air was thick, but a gentle breeze caused a chill in the weather.
Taking a deep breath, Willow prepared herself for what awaited in the crypt. Opening the door, she expected to hear the tell tale sound of growling, but it never came. Blinking in confusion, she stepped inside. The sight that awaited shocked her to the core. Darting into the crypt, she searched the far corner until she found the tranquilizer gun. Taking another look at the broken cage door, she hurried out of the room.
Willow tried hard to calm herself as she ran toward the cemetary five streets over. She knew Buffy was patrolling near there. She had to be. Gripping the gun tighter, Willow picked up her speed. She would never forgive herself if Oz hurt someone tonight. He was her responsibility.
A brief thought skimmed in her brain. A thought showing how she seemed to think of Oz more as a puppy she owned instead of a man sometimes. Shoving the idiotic idea out of her head, Willow continued her run.
"Buffy!" Willow gasped as she stumbled between the graves. Buffy peered through the cloud of dust now surrounding her, stuffed her stake into her pocket, then looked her friend up and down. Willow looked like she had ran a marathon.
"Willow, what's wrong?" Buffy asked, helping Willow say upright.
"Oz. He got lose." Willow told her. Buffy opened her mouth to speak, but was interupted when - as though on cue - a long howl erupted through the air.
Xander felt a little silly. He should not be out of the house, prancing around the outskirts of Sunnydale. Especially in the middle of the night. Especially so close to the woods, actually ten feet from them, during a full moon. But he had to get out of the house.
Once again the night returned to him. His father accusing him of taking them for granted. Xander unable to pay the basement's rent for the past month and a half. His mother shaking her head, pulling his father away, and leaving with a look that literally killed him. A look that told him he had dissapointed his parents, becoming a bum in the basement and unable to hold a job.
It was the howl that broke him out of his thoughts. A angst-filled howl, from the throat of an animal. Xander thought for a moment, inwardly hoping it was a random wolf. But he knew, with his luck, it was more than just a simple wolf. More like a complex alteration of one.
Stopping mid-thought, Xander cursed himself. He should not be standing here, staring into the woods, as though wanting whatever was in there to come out and snatch him up. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he hurried his pace and headed home, trying to keep his stance at calm.
It was the growl that stopped him. Deep down his brain screamed no. Don't stop. Don't stop. Don't stop. But he did. And he could feel eyes on his back. His sudden stupidity amazed even himself as he slowly turned around and raised his eyes. The werewolf baring it's teeth at him, eyes golden and flashing. Xander took a small moment to acknowledge how the werewolf looked like a wolf, but with a slight human shape and height.
Then he ran. It was all he could do. The stake in his pocket would come to no use. He didn't own any silver, not to his knowledge. So he ran. The pounding of paws behind him caught his attention. Paws that had longer fingers than normal. Paws that could tear him up, allowing the thing to eat his insides.
Xander stumbled as the thought came to him. Cursing loudly, he rolled to straighten himself up. He only made it to his back and the werewolf loomed over him, teeth bared. Xander let out a small squeek as the teeth snapped down at him. This was it, Xander was going to die.
But the teeth merely grabbed the front of his shirt and began dragging him toward the forrest. Xander started to struggle, but the deep growl made him stop. Now was not a time to force the animal into killing him. Xander calmly - as calmly as he could be at a time like this - allowed the wolf to pull him far into the woods. They were nearly fifty feet from the wooded edge when the wolf dropped Xander to the ground. Xander paused a moment, before leaping up to run.
The werewolf seemed to know his movements, growling deeply, and jumped onto his back as he struggled to get to his feet. It was then that true fear left Xander frozen. The animal, the monster, was sniffing at his neck. Taking deep gulps of air and panting heavily. The wolf sniffed his way down Xander's body, continuing to pin him down. Then with a deep, throaty growl, the animal bit into his jacket.
It was mere seconds before Xander's coat and top was ripped off him. The long, rough tongue of the werewolf brought him to his senses. Panicking, Xander yelped and began scrambling away. The werewolf sanked his claws into Xander's hips, causing him to scream in pain. Before his knew it, his jeans were being ripped to shreds and the tongue was back. It was back and being applied to places that did not need to be licked. Whimpering, Xander fought to get the werewolf to release his hold.
The claws sank in deeper, a liquid that he knew was his blood began to trickle down his sides. Xander could only thank his lucky stars that the wolf had not bit him directly. He may be in a dire situation, and may never live to tell the tale, but at least he would not be a werewolf in the end.
The tongue licked lightly at the base of his spine, before delving into a spot that he didn't want to acknowledge being touched, let alone licked. Xander let his fingers sink into dirt, clamping his eyes shut.
Movement behind him. Throaty growls as the tongue continued to lap at him. Finally moving up his back and away from his arse. Paw-like fingers digging into his hips, pulling him up. Eyes snapping open as the werewolf managed to raise Xander from the ground and to his hands an knees. The tongue lapping at his shoulders, licking up the sweat now pouring from his body. Something nudging him, something pressing into a foriegn place. Eyes shutting tightly, hoping it would all end as the scream-like whine echoes from his own throat.