Oz has many secrets. Some of them are darker than others...
Willow sighed impatiently and looked around the lounge for Oz. There was no sign of him yet, and he was over ten minutes late. It's just not like him, she thought, beginning to get nervous. Suddenly, he appeared, hurrying toward her, looking pale, worried, and more flustered than she had ever seen him. He clutched a few books to his chest, odd papers sticking out from between them. He smiled slightly, and dropped the books onto the table when he saw her. He was breathing hard, and his eyes looked strange, kind of glazed over.
"Sorry I'm late...studying, lost track of time..." Willow forced a smile despite her concern.
"It's okay." They stared at each other a moment, and finally, she asked, " Oz, are you okay?" He frowned, but nodded.
"I'm cool." He sat down, pulling her to sit next to him. They sat together in silence for a while, and she was about to press him further about what was wrong when Buffy and Xander sat down across from them. Buffy smiled.
"Hey! How's the cutest couple in Sunnydale?" Willow frowned, and Oz's expression fell to match hers. Xander raised an eyebrow.
"I'm going to take that as a 'not so good'?" Oz shook his head, and stood up.
"I'm late. For study hall. Later," he said, leaning down to kiss Willow's cheek before hurrying away. Buffy and Xander watched until he was out of sight and earshot, then looked intently to Willow, who sighed.
"I don't know what's going on with him. He was almost fifteen minutes late meeting me here, and he's acting...weird."
"Come on, Will, he's Oz, what do you expect?" Xander scoffed, leaning back. Buffy shot an icy glare, and he leaned forward again, hunching his shoulders. "Shutting up now.." Buffy sighed and turned back to Willow.
"He's probably just having a bad day. We all do,"she said, then added, "even Oz," at Willow's expression. She sighed.
"I guess...I just wish he would talk to me, you know?" Buffy nodded.
"I know. And he'll come around, trust me. Shall we go?" Xander stood up quickly.
"Sounds like a plan." And they walked down the hall to their next class.
***
Oz sat behind the school building, breathing hard. His belt, wrapped tightly around his arm, revealed a vein in the crook of his arm. Taking a deep, shaking breath, he pushed the needle filled with heroin into the vein, then pulled it out and unwrapped the belt. He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes, allowing the drugs to enter his system, then slowly stood up and put his belt back on. He threw the needle into an open Dumpster, shouldered his backpack, and walked back inside, trying to keep his vision clear. He ran toward the library, his head swimming. Pushing open the doors, he tried not to pay attention to how everyone was staring. I'm not late, he thought. It's the drugs...they're not staring.
Willow smiled as he sat down.
"Hey, Oz, ready to research?" Oz closed his eyes for a moment, fighting sudden diziness, and when he opened them, she was frowning, but he forced a smile.
"Yeah, sorry, killer headache." Willow took his hand, gently, and looked into his eyes. Oz's heart pounded nervously. Could she know? He frowned. Of course she couldn't. He'd been careful, he'd been almost compulsive about making sure she-well, none of them-knew. She couldn't know.
He cleared his throat, and opened a book, pretending to pore carefully over it. The words blurred in front of him, but he turned pages regularly to make it seem as if he was reading. In reality, he was allowing the drugs course through his veins, numbing his body and mind, making him feel better than he had in a long time...
"Oz? Oz, it's late, come on, you should go home..." Willow's voice and her hand shaking his arm slowly drifted into Oz's consciousness. He sat up, and opened his eyes. Instantly his head was throbbing. He cringed and looked at Willow, squinting through the intense pain.
"What happened?" Willow smiled.
"You fell asleep. Guess all that intense research was just a bit too much." She pulled his arm, forcing him to stand up. His knees felt like rubber, and he wobbled unsteadily, clutching the tabletop for balance. Willow frowned. "Oz, are you sure you're okay?" He nodded quickly.
"Just...my legs are asleep. Guess I was in one position too long..." The frown disappeared, and was replaced with a relieved smile.
"Oh, I hate that! Come on, I'll help you to your van. You should go home and sleep. More." He nodded, smiling despite the pain drilling throughout his head, and they made their way to his van.
Willow walked slowly back into the library, sighing tiredly as she turned off lights and closed up the library. She was just about to walk out when she noticed Oz's backpack sitting forgotten on a chair. A small smile hinted on her face, and she picked it up, pulling the strap over her shoulder, then walked out, shutting off the main lights and locking the door behind her.
At home, Willow unzipped Oz's backpack, holding a short note she had written to him, intending to leave it inside with his books for him to find the next day. Curiousness overcame her, though, and she turned the backpack upsidedown, dumping its contents onto her bedspread. Books, papers, folders, and...needles...fell out onto the bed. A ziplock bag filled with white powder also fell out. Will picked up the needles and bag, studying them carefully. She shoved them into her pockets, then picked up the telephone.
"I'll get it!" Joyce shouted, getting up to answer the phone, but before she could move, Buffy was rocketing into the kitchen.
"Hello? Oh, hey, Will...uh-huh...what's wrong? Uh-huh...you found *what*?...oh my god...no, stay there, I'll come and get you...I don't know...okay, okay, I'll be there in five minutes...okay.." Buffy replaced the phone on the receiver, wide-eyed, and walked back into the living room. She stared at her mother for a moment, then collapsed onto the couch, covering her face with her hands.
"Buffy? What is it?" Buffy looked up at Joyce, tears glistening in her eyes.
"Do...do you mind being driver tonight? There's a few places we have to go."
Willow climbed into the car and handed the bag and syringes wordlessly to Buffy, who, also silent, held them solemnly up for her mother to see. Joyce frowned, and looked back at Willow.
"You said these were in Oz's backpack?" Willow nodded, pale. Joyce sighed. "We have to go see him, make sure he's okay." Willow nodded again, and Joyce pulled away from the curb, driving quickly toward Oz's house. "Are his parents there?" she asked, looking into the rearview mirror. Willow shook her head.
"They're in Las Vegas for the week." Buffy nodded, and reached back to pat Will's knee.
"We'll take care of it. I promise."
Oz desperately tore apart his room, pulling out all of his drawers and taking the sheets off his bead. He was sweating profusely, and breathing shallowly.
"Where is it? Where is it..?" he muttered quietly as he searched. When he had gotten home, he had intended on getting wasted before going to bed. When he found that all of his heroine was missing...well. As he began pulling the drawers in his desk open, someone cleared their throat from the doorway. He whirled around, wiping sweat off his forehead. Buffy, Willow, and Mrs. Summers stood just inside his room. He forced a smile. "Hey there...what's up?" Buffy held up the bag. *His* bag. His heart sank, and suddenly he felt like he was going to be sick. His smile faded. "Where...where'd you get that?" Willow cleared her throat.
"You-you left your backpack at the library. I was going to leave you a note, but...I found it in there." His legs felt rubbery again, and he sat down on the edge of his bed, letting his breath out in a whoosh.
"I..." Mrs. Summers walked further into the room, and sat next to him, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. He felt like crying. He needed to get high.
"Oz, why didn't you tell someone? You need help, honey..." Oz closed his eyes, trying to hold back tears, but they came, and he sobbed into Joyce's shoulder until he was too tired to even cry. Joyce held him tenderly, and they waited patiently until he took a deep, hiccuping breath, and sat up again.
"I don't know...I couldn't...I mean, how could I tell anyone? What would you...you'd hate me.." His head pounded, screaming for the drugs that Buffy still held, and he silently cursed. He was worse than he thought. Willow sat down, too, pulling him into a hug.
"Oz, I could never hate you. I love you. I could help--" His head was screaming again, and Willow's words were drowned out by the raging pain in his head. He let out a cry, and grabbed his head, looking to Buffy desperately. He knew she knew what he wanted--what he needed, and she took a step backward, shaking her head.
"Please--" It was all he could manage before the pain overtook him, and he was plunged into blackness.
Willow sighed impatiently and looked around the lounge for Oz. There was no sign of him yet, and he was over ten minutes late. It's just not like him, she thought, beginning to get nervous. Suddenly, he appeared, hurrying toward her, looking pale, worried, and more flustered than she had ever seen him. He clutched a few books to his chest, odd papers sticking out from between them. He smiled slightly, and dropped the books onto the table when he saw her. He was breathing hard, and his eyes looked strange, kind of glazed over.
"Sorry I'm late...studying, lost track of time..." Willow forced a smile despite her concern.
"It's okay." They stared at each other a moment, and finally, she asked, " Oz, are you okay?" He frowned, but nodded.
"I'm cool." He sat down, pulling her to sit next to him. They sat together in silence for a while, and she was about to press him further about what was wrong when Buffy and Xander sat down across from them. Buffy smiled.
"Hey! How's the cutest couple in Sunnydale?" Willow frowned, and Oz's expression fell to match hers. Xander raised an eyebrow.
"I'm going to take that as a 'not so good'?" Oz shook his head, and stood up.
"I'm late. For study hall. Later," he said, leaning down to kiss Willow's cheek before hurrying away. Buffy and Xander watched until he was out of sight and earshot, then looked intently to Willow, who sighed.
"I don't know what's going on with him. He was almost fifteen minutes late meeting me here, and he's acting...weird."
"Come on, Will, he's Oz, what do you expect?" Xander scoffed, leaning back. Buffy shot an icy glare, and he leaned forward again, hunching his shoulders. "Shutting up now.." Buffy sighed and turned back to Willow.
"He's probably just having a bad day. We all do,"she said, then added, "even Oz," at Willow's expression. She sighed.
"I guess...I just wish he would talk to me, you know?" Buffy nodded.
"I know. And he'll come around, trust me. Shall we go?" Xander stood up quickly.
"Sounds like a plan." And they walked down the hall to their next class.
***
Oz sat behind the school building, breathing hard. His belt, wrapped tightly around his arm, revealed a vein in the crook of his arm. Taking a deep, shaking breath, he pushed the needle filled with heroin into the vein, then pulled it out and unwrapped the belt. He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes, allowing the drugs to enter his system, then slowly stood up and put his belt back on. He threw the needle into an open Dumpster, shouldered his backpack, and walked back inside, trying to keep his vision clear. He ran toward the library, his head swimming. Pushing open the doors, he tried not to pay attention to how everyone was staring. I'm not late, he thought. It's the drugs...they're not staring.
Willow smiled as he sat down.
"Hey, Oz, ready to research?" Oz closed his eyes for a moment, fighting sudden diziness, and when he opened them, she was frowning, but he forced a smile.
"Yeah, sorry, killer headache." Willow took his hand, gently, and looked into his eyes. Oz's heart pounded nervously. Could she know? He frowned. Of course she couldn't. He'd been careful, he'd been almost compulsive about making sure she-well, none of them-knew. She couldn't know.
He cleared his throat, and opened a book, pretending to pore carefully over it. The words blurred in front of him, but he turned pages regularly to make it seem as if he was reading. In reality, he was allowing the drugs course through his veins, numbing his body and mind, making him feel better than he had in a long time...
"Oz? Oz, it's late, come on, you should go home..." Willow's voice and her hand shaking his arm slowly drifted into Oz's consciousness. He sat up, and opened his eyes. Instantly his head was throbbing. He cringed and looked at Willow, squinting through the intense pain.
"What happened?" Willow smiled.
"You fell asleep. Guess all that intense research was just a bit too much." She pulled his arm, forcing him to stand up. His knees felt like rubber, and he wobbled unsteadily, clutching the tabletop for balance. Willow frowned. "Oz, are you sure you're okay?" He nodded quickly.
"Just...my legs are asleep. Guess I was in one position too long..." The frown disappeared, and was replaced with a relieved smile.
"Oh, I hate that! Come on, I'll help you to your van. You should go home and sleep. More." He nodded, smiling despite the pain drilling throughout his head, and they made their way to his van.
Willow walked slowly back into the library, sighing tiredly as she turned off lights and closed up the library. She was just about to walk out when she noticed Oz's backpack sitting forgotten on a chair. A small smile hinted on her face, and she picked it up, pulling the strap over her shoulder, then walked out, shutting off the main lights and locking the door behind her.
At home, Willow unzipped Oz's backpack, holding a short note she had written to him, intending to leave it inside with his books for him to find the next day. Curiousness overcame her, though, and she turned the backpack upsidedown, dumping its contents onto her bedspread. Books, papers, folders, and...needles...fell out onto the bed. A ziplock bag filled with white powder also fell out. Will picked up the needles and bag, studying them carefully. She shoved them into her pockets, then picked up the telephone.
"I'll get it!" Joyce shouted, getting up to answer the phone, but before she could move, Buffy was rocketing into the kitchen.
"Hello? Oh, hey, Will...uh-huh...what's wrong? Uh-huh...you found *what*?...oh my god...no, stay there, I'll come and get you...I don't know...okay, okay, I'll be there in five minutes...okay.." Buffy replaced the phone on the receiver, wide-eyed, and walked back into the living room. She stared at her mother for a moment, then collapsed onto the couch, covering her face with her hands.
"Buffy? What is it?" Buffy looked up at Joyce, tears glistening in her eyes.
"Do...do you mind being driver tonight? There's a few places we have to go."
Willow climbed into the car and handed the bag and syringes wordlessly to Buffy, who, also silent, held them solemnly up for her mother to see. Joyce frowned, and looked back at Willow.
"You said these were in Oz's backpack?" Willow nodded, pale. Joyce sighed. "We have to go see him, make sure he's okay." Willow nodded again, and Joyce pulled away from the curb, driving quickly toward Oz's house. "Are his parents there?" she asked, looking into the rearview mirror. Willow shook her head.
"They're in Las Vegas for the week." Buffy nodded, and reached back to pat Will's knee.
"We'll take care of it. I promise."
Oz desperately tore apart his room, pulling out all of his drawers and taking the sheets off his bead. He was sweating profusely, and breathing shallowly.
"Where is it? Where is it..?" he muttered quietly as he searched. When he had gotten home, he had intended on getting wasted before going to bed. When he found that all of his heroine was missing...well. As he began pulling the drawers in his desk open, someone cleared their throat from the doorway. He whirled around, wiping sweat off his forehead. Buffy, Willow, and Mrs. Summers stood just inside his room. He forced a smile. "Hey there...what's up?" Buffy held up the bag. *His* bag. His heart sank, and suddenly he felt like he was going to be sick. His smile faded. "Where...where'd you get that?" Willow cleared her throat.
"You-you left your backpack at the library. I was going to leave you a note, but...I found it in there." His legs felt rubbery again, and he sat down on the edge of his bed, letting his breath out in a whoosh.
"I..." Mrs. Summers walked further into the room, and sat next to him, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. He felt like crying. He needed to get high.
"Oz, why didn't you tell someone? You need help, honey..." Oz closed his eyes, trying to hold back tears, but they came, and he sobbed into Joyce's shoulder until he was too tired to even cry. Joyce held him tenderly, and they waited patiently until he took a deep, hiccuping breath, and sat up again.
"I don't know...I couldn't...I mean, how could I tell anyone? What would you...you'd hate me.." His head pounded, screaming for the drugs that Buffy still held, and he silently cursed. He was worse than he thought. Willow sat down, too, pulling him into a hug.
"Oz, I could never hate you. I love you. I could help--" His head was screaming again, and Willow's words were drowned out by the raging pain in his head. He let out a cry, and grabbed his head, looking to Buffy desperately. He knew she knew what he wanted--what he needed, and she took a step backward, shaking her head.
"Please--" It was all he could manage before the pain overtook him, and he was plunged into blackness.