A/N: Yes, I do realize that the prime of BTVS has long since passed (for me it pretty much passed after season four). But I do follow, 'cause I have a bit of an issue with letting things go. Anyway, boils down to this: Once, I loved Buffy. Oz still one of my favorite characters ever. Like, ever. Will/Oz was the best couple ever. EVER.

Issues I foresee you potentially having with this fic (you can just start reading if this issue doesn't get to you):

Readers: But Willow is lesbian!!

Nani: Indeed, Willow's orientation of choice is currently lesbian. And I respect that. But I also don't like writing off an entire HALF of BTVS (3 1/2 seasons) wherein she was straight as just a phase of Willow being disconnected with her sexuality. Plus, she loved Oz lots. And Oz was awesome. Also, at the end of the day Willow had to make a choice between Tara and Oz, indicating that (at that juncture) it would have been possible for her to pursue a romance with either. AND more importantly, she chose based on personality/spirit; it wasn't like she told Oz in the van, "Hey sorry, bud, but I just suddenly realize that I like girl parts more than boy parts". That being said, I really do try to not write off her sexuality or have her suddenly realize that she wasn't actually gay the whole time. Because that would be dumb.

Anyway that was a long justification. Read now.

Disclaimer: BTVS belongs to Joss Whedon

"Don't let me hurt you," he whispered. "Or freak you."

She smiled into his hairline. "Oz, I'm a lesbian Wicca. I've done freakier things than you can imagine."

He growled, his teeth and emphasized incisors pressed against her neck. His body was burning up. Willow gasped. The glass on the table shattered. Water rained onto the dirt floor.

OoOoOoOoOoO

"Wow," Oz said, his chest rising and falling heavily.

Willow grinned, her eyes still closed, "Um… yeah. Wow."

"I would ask," he rolled onto his side to face her, propping his head on his elbow, "how you came up with that, but I'm not sure I want to know… I'm assuming magic?"

Willow rolled her head to face him, opened her eyes and grinned. "Yes, it was magic and are you jealous?"

The corner of Oz's mouth twitched. She thought she saw a flash of green in his pupils which, she started, were dilated. "Uh, hey. Your eyes… are they meant to be doing that wolfy-thing?"

Oz blinked, taken aback. Then he went rigid and rolled away from her, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Sorry," he said. "I don't think about it that much anymore. With Bay, I-"

He cut off.

It was Willow's turn to go tense. Bayarmaa… The Tibetan girl's hurt expression flashed across her mind. Kelden's face. Guilt.

"Oh Goddess," She sat up, crossing her legs. "Oz… what are we doing?"

She stared at the hard planes of his shoulders. He was gripping the edge of the mattress with both hands, head hung. "I don't know," he admitted.

A current of water suddenly seemed to surge up her chest towards her throat. Kennedy… sighing heavily, she touched her forehead to the space between his shoulder blades, half afraid that he would move way. He didn't. His skin was still burning, unlike hers, which was already starting to cool, but it was also smooth and dry when a normal human would have broken into a sweat. His lycanthrope physiology was different.

The weight of what they had done began to crush her. "I'm cold," she said quietly, sounding small in the dark. Slowly, to both her relief and horror, Oz turned, collected her in his arms and leaned back against the headboard, pulling the blankets over her. It felt so natural. Not knowing what else to do, she let him cradle and warm her.

"So," Oz said. "I kind of thought you were gay."

"I kind of am gay."

"Emphasis on 'kind of' apparently. Unless you didn't feel any attraction."

Willow started. "No, no, I did. Definitely more on the did-side than the didn't. The spell was an enhancing a sharing of mutual pleasure thing. I mean, it wouldn't have worked if we weren't both been feeling um… that way."

"Okay." Oz frowned. "So… the girlfriends?"

Willow sighed.

"Sigh of confusion?"

"Yes. And resignation... This is nice."

Oz looked down at her.

"I mean, not the whole, ack-home-wrecker-factor because… ack. But, at the same time, you're not gone. I don't feel like I have to deal with this alone. I mean, at I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to be feeling panic at this point. But the fact that you're here and we're both in this, it makes me feel better."

Oz was silent for a while, still holding her. "On the other hand, that could be dangerous."

"Yeah," she agreed. "It could."

"I need some time to think about this."

Instinctively, she moved in closer. "Are… you going back tonight?" She asked.

He didn't answer. While waiting, she slipped into sleep. She did not wake when Oz rested his hand in her hair and moved his fingers through the soft redness. Nor did she know that he spent the entirety of that night looking out the window, cradling her. All she knew was that when she woke up and the warm sun was streaming through the window, the sheets were tucked around her, and she was alone.