A/N: Previously posted on LiveJournal as "The Long Night".

Oz never saw it coming. He had spent the last couple of months on and near the west coast, making it as far north as just outside of Vancouver and as far south as San Francisco. He hadn't been able to bring himself to visit the crater that used to be Sunnydale, even though that had been his original destination after he had left South Dakota. He now found himself leaving a pizza place in Elko, Nevada on his way back to his van, not sure were he was headed next. He was half-way back to the van when he felt a sharp pain in his left bicep. "Huh." was Oz's last conscious thought as he looked at the tranquilizer dart sticking out of his arm.

***

Scent was the first sense to return. The smell of metal. Then touch. Something soft but scratchy. Then hearing. The faint hum as though from a fan or computer. Then taste. The sickly sweet taste was familiar; it was the same taste that had filled his mouth each morning he had woken up after the wolf had to be tranqued. Finally, slowly and heavily, he dragged open his eyes. At first everything was blurry, but as his eyes focused he was able to see the source of the metallic smell. Approximately twelve feet across from where he was lying were metal bars. He carefully raised his head, and realized the bars were not only in front of him, but to his left as well, and on his right was a cement wall. And he was lying on a mattress. He tried sitting up and realized as long as he took it an inch at a time, his head didn't quite explode, and he was able to keep from vomiting. Barely. With sitting up accomplished, he was able to take in more detail. Like the fact that he was sitting on a small mattress and that the concrete wall continued behind him, and on the other side of the bars was the source of the humming. There were a number of computers and what looked like laboratory and medical equipment, and standing among them watching him was a tall slender blonde woman, her hair pulled back from her face.

Oz unsteadily stood up, looking closely at the woman, trying to focus his eyes. "I know you. You were with those army guys. The Initiative."

"Was." She said. "The Initiative ended and was buried beneath Sunnydale."

"Then what is this?"

"I'm Doctor Roberts and you're here to help me." She stepped closer. "The Initiative couldn't see the future. Maggie Walsh and the Initiative could only see the military applications of their studies. They overlooked everything else, and they had no desire to truly learn. I am here to learn. There are whole species of creatures, demon and otherwise, that we really know nothing about. And your friend Buffy understood something Maggie never did, most of these creatures aren't mindless animals, many of them have motives, and many of them aren't necessarily evil. My backers and myself feel there is a lot to be learned from them. And even the ones we can't gain from can provide us knowledge on how to stay safe from them, or eliminate them, if needed. But, my hope is that we can gain medical and genetic applications from them. Healing, life extension, an increase in brain function... There are so many possibilities. But first we must begin to understand a species before we can learn what we can gain from it, and how to understand what it means to us. You, Oz, are the perfect one to start my program with. A study in where the human ends and the beast begins. How the parts of the wolf can affect the human, and possibly be used to improve the human, or how the human can be used to tame the beast. I need to study the physical and the mental.

"We will get started with a few baseline tests and exams before we proceed, but before we begin there are a few things you need to know. First, you'll notice the metal bands around your wrists and ankles." Oz looked down, noticing the narrow bands for the first time. "Those bands are able to give you electric shocks ranging from a mild tingling sensation to unconsciousness. I am able to control them through several devices including this one on my wrist," she held up her left arm where she wore another similar band, this one somewhat thicker and definitely looser, "and from any one of these computers. The bands also react if you attempt to escape by trying to get up the stairs and out the door."

Oz looked behind her to see wooden stairs leading from the middle of the room up to a door. "If you get to the top of the stairs, the bands will react giving you a shock strong enough that it might kill you and if it doesn't, there is a good chance the resulting fall from the stairs will. Both the door to your cell and the locks on the bands are programmed to open only by my thermal fingerprints. The print from which finger is randomly chosen every twenty four hours by the computer, I don't even know what it will be until I check, and it's not just the print that activates them, but also the amount of pressure applied." Oz looked again at the bands on his wrists. At first they looked seamless, but then Oz noticed one thin line that looked as though it might be where the bands opened, but he couldn't see anything that looked like a hinge mechanism. There was a small oval indention on each band, barely deep enough to be noticeable; he assumed this was the lock.

"I wouldn't attempt to get them off, not that you could, but if you were somehow able to force one open, the resulting shock would probably kill you. Now," she said "I need you to put your left arm through the slot;" indicating a horizontal gap in a section of the bars "I need a blood sample."

"I don't think so." Oz unconsciously took a step back.

"I could have taken one while you were unconscious, but I preferred to wait until more of the chemical was out of your system. But," she held up a tranquilizer dart, "we can do it the hard way. Your cooperation would be helpful, but it's not necessary." She picked up a syringe."Now, which will it be?"

She put down the dart and picked up the tranquilizer gun itself. "Now, give me your arm or I will use this, and the next time you wake up you'll be attached to those chains behind you." Oz turned, noticing for the first time the set of chains attached to the wall above the mattress. Oz still hesitated. Then he felt a mild tingling starting in his limbs and moving through his body. The feeling wasn't exactly painful, but it was uncomfortable. Oz looked again at his surroundings and at the woman standing across from him.

Remembering the Initiative Oz made his decision, and with a quiet sigh walked over to the bars, and hesitantly put his right arm through the slot. She tied off the vein and drew the sample efficiently. She divided the samples into a couple of different rubber topped tubes and walked over to the wall to the left of Oz that held a counter with drawers and cabinets above and below . On the counter were a number of different pieces of equipment and there was a refrigerator that sat into a break in the cabinets. She placed one of the tubes in a centrifuge and one in the refrigerator. She then turned back to Oz. "That's a good start."

***

Over the next several days She, which was how he thought of her, spent her time gathering baseline information. As well as an exam table, a treadmill, and an exercise bike in the main lab area, he also came to find there were two rooms behind the stairs that held a surgery suite and a radiology room. The original blood test was the first of many. She also took a full range of x-rays, ultrasound images, a complete physical, and a stress test. She grilled him on his medical history, even though she apparently had somehow managed to get his complete medical records, including dental, which was amazing considering that all his records would have been located in Sunnydale which didn't even exist anymore. When she was wasn't asking questions she rarely spoke to him unless it was to give a direction or admonishment, but she kept notes on a voice recorder. On the same wall of the cell that held the chains and the mattress was an alcove that held a shower, commode, and a small sink; there was no door. She required him to exercise daily, including work on the treadmill, and the meals she brought him were definitely the healthiest ones he had ever eaten. She also made sure that he showered daily and she had replaced his clothes with loose fitting t-shirts and draw string scrub pants.

For the most part Oz cooperated, telling himself that he was waiting for the right opportunity. A few times he had tried refusing what she asked, and he learned first hand how the metal bands worked. The first time, he had refused to participate in the stress testing and she gave him what he thought then was a powerful jolt, with the warning that the shock was no where near full strength and she would increase it each time he refused. Then, declaring the results of the test would be useless if she continued that day, she put him back in his cage. After that, if he appeared hesitant she first gave him a warning, a low grade electric tingling that he felt throughout his body, and if he still refused, then she administered an actual shock. True to her word, each time the jolt was a bit stronger. Finally, he decided the things she was asking of him weren't worth the resistance and he decided he could be patient and bide his time. And besides, as the days approached the full moon, he began to worry what his reaction would be to the jolts. He could already feel the wolf stirring even though the moon was still days away, and he remembered what the tasers did to him and his control when he was with the Initiative during the full moon. And, as much as he hated what was happening to him, and the person who was doing it, Oz never wanted to have to kill anyone ever again. He wanted Veruca to be the last. He still had vivid memories, with the occasional nightmare, of what had almost happened with Tara. Tara, who had every reason to want him out of the picture, and yet was the one who had sent the others to his rescue, even though the wolf had tried to kill her. Not to mention if he killed his captor, he had no way of getting out of the room, and Oz wasn't suicidal.

He found out that She also knew quite a bit about his history with Buffy and their friends. At first he assumed it was information she had picked up from Riley and Buffy's time with the Initiative, but then he realized her information was too detailed. He knew there were some things Buffy would never have shared with the Initiative, and it had been obvious she hadn't shared them with Riley. Riley hadn't even known about Oz being a werewolf until he was captured. He had a feeling she had somehow gotten the information more recently. It gave Oz hope that at least some of his friends may have made it out of Sunnydale, but it also scared him. How had she gotten the information?

The day of the first night of the full moon Oz looked up from where he had been sitting on the mattress to see her standing in front of his cage holding a tray containing a number of items including the charms Oz had worn as part of his rituals to control the wolf. He had assumed he would never see them again, just as he had lost the ones had been wearing the day the Initiative took him.

"Look these over and let me know if there is anything else you need. I did as much research on where you went and what you learned as I could before I brought you here, but it was no where near as thorough as I would have liked. Among other hindrances, Tibetan monks aren't very forthcoming to just anyone regarding these types of secrets. If I don't have everything that you need, will you be able to control the change this time?"

"Maybe... I mean, I have once before, but it wasn't easy, and I had to meditate the entire three nights, even then...I barely held it back. And that was under better circumstances." Oz pointedly looked around the cage.

"Here." She held the tray through the slot for him to take. "Well, the circumstances may not be the best for your internal control, but they're rather ideal for external control if you aren't able to do it."

Oz took the tray and sat back down. He looked through the things then said, "These should do. It's not exact. But, if I am able to stay calm and focused, it should be o.k." He looked back up at her. "You get what I mean, right?"

She almost smiled. "Back off and leave you alone?"

"Yeah. And I'll need matches, or a lighter."

"I don't think so."

"I need to be able to light the ingredients for it to work. There's not much that's flammable in here, what am I going to do?" He looked around, then back up at her. "Set the mattress on fire? Or, myself? What good would that do me? Not big on the flaming martyr bit."

She looked back at him a moment then she nodded slightly, and turned and went up the stairs returning in a few minutes with a book of matches. She opened it, tearing out all the matches but one; then tossed the book though the slot. Oz picked up the matchbook than sat back on the mattress, arranging the items from the tray on the floor in front of him. He sat one of the items, a clay bowl, in front of him then placed the charms, two on bracelet length cords and one on a necklace, into the bowl. He took the herbs and various ground ingredients and poured them one at a time over the charms as he began to chant. He picked up the match, lighting it, and tossed it into the bowl. The mixture in the bowl went up with a slightly green flash, leaving just the necklace and bracelets. Still chanting, Oz put them on. At the end of the spell, Oz closed his eyes, took a breath, and entered a trance.

Throughout She had watched quietly, taking written notes instead of using the recorder. For two hours Oz meditated; then he opened his eyes. He gathered the items together, excluding the necklace and bracelets, and put them back on the tray. He handed them to her through the slot.

Taking the tray from him, she asked, "Is it going to work?"

"We'll know in about a half hour or so." Oz looked up toward the sky that he couldn't see.

"How do you know?" She asked, knowing there were no external light sources or clocks that he could see.

Oz looked at her sardonically. "Werewolf...full moon...reason I'm here... Ringing any bells?"

"Yes. That is why you are here." Her voice hardened. " And that is why I am asking the question. How do you know? Is it a feeling? Do you feel a change in your body? Or is it an external change that you sense? A different scent? The air pressure. Or, what?" She took step forward closer to the bars. Oz saw in her eyes for the first time how dangerous she truly was. In her eyes there was a sudden coldness as she asked the questions; a clinical detachment as though she could no longer see him. He felt as though she were trying to look inside him, mentally dissecting him, picking through his soul looking for her answers. Oz took a step back, thinking that if he answered maybe that would be enough and those eyes would look away.

"It's a feeling, but the air's different too. And there's more. It's hard to explain. It didn't used to be like that. The first months...I didn't know until the change was almost on me. For the first couple, I had no idea. But, each month there was a little more information. It was the same with realizing what parts of the wolf were carrying over. Like when I first realized just how much I could smell, and that I understood what I was smelling, when I wasn't the wolf."

The eyes didn't change, they still looked at him coldly, excitedly, as she asked in rapid succession; "The first time you realized, what was it that you noticed? What was the first sense to carry over? What were you doing when you noticed?"

Oz, remembering exactly the moment took another step back, closing in on himself, eyes or no eyes. "I don't want to talk about it."

"That's not an option." Her voice held a slight edge.

"It's not important!" Oz's voice held a hint of the wolf, almost a growl; his own eyes hardening.

Not cowed, she said, "I believe it is, and you need to tell me. You will tell me, one way or another. Just how unimportant it is, is up to me."

"It was fear," Oz said sharply, "Willow's fear!"

Oz would never forget his own fear that night. The fear that Willow would be lost to him, and he was almost right, just not in the way he expected. The night Spike took Willow and Xander. The night Cordelia almost died a stupid and pointless death when she and Oz had found them. Found them because of Oz's sense of smell. Found them kissing. He had never felt so hurt, or abandoned. But that hurt had led him to the realization of how much Willow was a part of him, and then he turned around and hurt her a thousand times more. And that, in the long run, led him to truly losing her.

"What was she afraid of?"

"What?" It took effort for Oz to return to the present not wanting to leave the past that, for whatever hurt it held, also held Willow.

"What was she afraid of? You said you smelled her fear. What was she afraid of?"

"A vampire." Oz turned his back to her, his voice thick with emotion and with the wolf. "A vampire, that's what she was afraid of, and that's all you're getting."

"And," Oz said closing his eyes and taking a breath fighting the rising wolf, "if you don't want your night's "experiment" to be wasted, you'll back off like I said."

"Fair enough. But, we will be talking more about what signals these changes."

***

The next few hours Oz struggled to remain relaxed, focusing on preventing the change. He was unsure of his control and was afraid to try sleeping. She was setting at her desk, watching him and waiting. She had turned off the overhead lights; the room dimly lit by the glow of the computer screens and one small lamp on her desk. In the quiet semi-darkness Oz's mind kept returning to Willow. Even now, everything in his world came back to Willow. He told himself he had to stop thinking about her, not just because it was painful, but because it was making it harder to keep the wolf back. After being with the Initiative, after losing Willow, he had never regained the control he had fought so hard for, but this time was the hardest. Having someone's eyes on him, coupled with the thoughts of Willow, was destroying his concentration. And, the ingredients weren't exactly right, and he could tell the difference. When dawn finally arrived he was exhausted, and he wanted just to sleep.

"Is it over?" Her voice cut through the haze.

Oz took a breath and looked at her. "Yeah."

"Does it normally put that much strain on you?" She stared intently at him, pen poised over her clipboard.

Oz considered not answering, partly because he was so tired that he didn't think he cared what she did, and partly because he didn't know what to say, or how much he should say. Apparently he waited too long to answer, because he felt his arms begin to tingle from the bands, and he made his decision. "Not usually this bad."

She spent the next hour grilling him on the change and its control. For the most part Oz told her the truth; his thoughts were so muddled from the exhaustion that he seemed unable to even think past the truth. Finally, seemingly satisfied she stood up from the desk and turned off the recorder. Then she brought him a bottle of water which he finished almost before he realized it was in his hand.

"Get some sleep." She said taking back the empty bottle. "I'll be back with food later. And don't think I've forgotten; eventually we will be discussing the first time you realized you were maintaining some of the wolf aspects when you were in human form." She turned and started up the stairs. Oz, too tired to worry about her parting comment, lay down on the mattress and was asleep instantly.

The next night was even harder. The second night always was. He had never regained the amount of control he had had before Tara and the Initiative. Afterward, he never risked interacting with people during the full moon, at least not to the extent he did when he had returned to Sunnydale foolishly thinking he was safe and in control. For the first couple of months after he had left Sunnydale for the second and final time, he had been completely back to square one, actually worse than square one, because he had to be careful of the wolf during the days of the full moon as well as the nights. Slowly he began rebuilding his defenses, and some months were easier than others. Some months he was able to function for the most part normally, others he couldn't even let his guard down enough to sleep.

And now this night, with the circumstances and the hodgepodge of ingredients he had, he was afraid at first that he wouldn't be able to fight back the wolf, particularly after the previous night's experience, but this time the wolf tried to push through so suddenly that he instinctively pushed back, which enabled him to stay focused as he had no chance to let his mind begin to wander. This time she waited until he had had a chance to rest before she began the interrogation, taking him back through, what seemed like to him every moment of the night, and how he had been able to keep the wolf from breaking through. Even when he had been learning to control the wolf, he had never tried to break down or analyze what it was he was doing, or why it worked, and he found he had trouble doing so. However, she was good at what she did and her questions and re-wordings of questions and her painstaking attention to detail actually helped him sort out what he felt and what he was doing and put them into words.

The third night was the easiest. The wolf was receding, waiting to be strong enough to try again the next month. This night she kept the questions more generic, less about this specific change and more about the changes in general, and how they compared to these last three. Then the moment he hadn't quite been able to push out of his mind; she asked him about the first time he realized he was experiencing heightened senses. This time, he was a little more prepared and was able to mentally step back just enough to keep the sharper pain away, using the past two days' interrogation experiences to help as a buffer. He made himself step back with a clinical detachment. He got the feeling that wasn't what she wanted, that she wanted more of his emotional feelings, but he planned to keep those to himself as long as he could. So he took her through the events, but almost as though he was in third person. Describing the physical, what he smelled, when he first noticed that he could smell fainter scents stronger than before, how he began to categorize them, like how he knew not only that it was Willow that he smelled, but that she was afraid. How that was the first time he realized, or acknowledged, what it was that he smelled; and that he understood something that he shouldn't have been able to.

The next days following his first full moon in captivity, she started the mental testing, focusing on his memory, concentration, and attention to detail. For awhile he played around with his answers, but that didn't last long as she quickly picked up on what he was doing. Oz knew he had never been a particularly good liar, and there was obviously nothing wrong with her perception.

When the month passed and the second full moon arrived, she followed the same procedure as the previous month, with the exception that she had followed Oz's suggestion of replacing some of the spell's ingredients with more exact ones, which helped somewhat with his control.

Again, each morning after Oz's change, she grilled him on every aspect of what he remembered as the change had tried to come over him, comparing these three with what he had told her and what she had observed from the previous full moon.

***

A few days after the second moon with her had passed; she was sitting at the desk working on her written records when she suddenly broke the silence. "It's amazing how completely you've cut yourself off from your own life. I know more about what has happened to those you called your friends than you do."

Oz tried to look uninterested, he tried to feel uninterested, but she was right; he had cut himself off completely from Sunnydale after leaving the second time. He had called his parents a couple of times, and sent a couple of letters to them, and that was all. Then he heard about the destruction of Sunnydale and suddenly he had no where to call, no place to send letters. He tried his parent's cell numbers, then his aunt and uncle's, but three of them reached people he didn't know and the fourth didn't work at all. All of the news reports had said that amazingly there were few if any people still left in the city when it was destroyed. Everyone seemingly had made a mass exodus. And he had to believe that his family made it out ok, but Willow, Buffy, and the others, they would have stayed to the end. He knew in his heart that he would have known if Willow had died, but what about the others? Once he had tried to contact Angel in L.A., and had finally gotten a number for him at a law office of all places, but he couldn't get his call put through. Apparently, they thought Angel had better things to do. He wanted to know what happened. He had removed himself from their lives, but they were still his life. He wanted to know, but he couldn't bear to ask her.

As though reading his mind she said, "Don't worry Oz. You won't need to beg me to tell you. I can only understand your human side if I understand your emotional attachments, and one of the best ways to do that is to help you explore the lives of your friends, how they continued without you while your life seemed to stop. Where should I start? How about with Willow?"

Over the next few days, during their other "sessions" she told him what she knew, which apparently was a lot. Her backers, he still didn't know if they were government, private business, or something else altogether, had what Oz considered spies. And frighteningly, at least one of them was a slayer, although Oz wasn't able to figure out if the slayer knew that she was feeding information, or if she was being used. Another source of information was Harmony, who had apparently worked for the same law firm as Angel, and was very willing to talk; at least that much hadn't changed since High School.

Oz couldn't believe how much had happened after he had left; how much had changed. Although he was thankful that most of his friends were alive, it was painful to hear what they had gone through, and to know that he had not been there with them. As She told him the story, she questioned him, weighing his reactions to her words. When she told him of Tara's death and Willow's reaction, he felt numb. He didn't know whether he could believe that it was true. He had no proof that anything She was telling him was true, but until that moment he hadn't doubted her. Now, that was all he wanted to do. He didn't want to believe what Willow had done, and what she had become. And a small, jealous, shameful part of himself wondered if she would have ever reacted to his death in the same way. That was one reaction he fervently hoped that She didn't guess. If she did, then she didn't comment on it. He also learned that it was Xander who had stopped Willow. And Oz felt another pang of jealousy. Jealousy, that Xander knew, and always had known, Willow so well. Jealousy, that Xander had been there for her.

She went on to tell Oz of Buffy's death and resurrection, which was one of few things that Oz had actually heard. In certain places he had been, it was the equivalent of the six o'clock news. Fortunately, by the time he had heard of Buffy's death, the resurrection had already taken place, so he had never had to deal with the emotions her permanent death would have caused. But, unfortunately, it gave him one more reason to avoid seeking Willow out. If he had heard of Buffy's death before the resurrection, he realized, it might have given him enough reason to check in on his friends.

Something he hadn't heard, however, was about the potentials and their activation as slayers. With that tale, also came the knowledge of Anya's death, how exactly Sunnydale had come to be destroyed, the re-souling of Spike, the loss of Xander's eye, and of Kennedy...

***

The day of the first night of the next full moon, his third with Her, Oz had been expecting the same pattern she had followed the previous two. But as the night approached she still hadn't brought him the ingredients for the spell. He still had the charms; she had let him keep them after the last full moon. Then at what Oz guessed to be about an hour before the moon was to rise, She stood up from the desk where she had been writing and approached him.

"I assume you have been wondering why I haven't given you the ingredients you need for the spell. I feel it's time to see how well you do with just the charms and meditation." She said.

Oz didn't reply; he had already guessed it would be something along those lines.

"You might want to get ready."

Oz looked away then went to his mattress and sat down. He debated on taking his clothing off in case he couldn't prevent the change, but two things stopped him, first he felt that he would be admitting defeat, second he didn't want to take his clothes off in front of Her if he didn't have to. He had already been forced to do it too many times already.

The night seemed to last forever. Oz was able to maintain control, but just barely. He kept his focus on blocking the wolf, meditating on his Self. Who he was without the wolf, but it wasn't long before his doubts began to shake his tenuous hold. Who was he now? He wasn't the person he had been before the wolf, or the person he was when he had been with Willow. Who was the person he was without Willow? He wasn't sure he had ever really existed after Willow, not in any way that he could use to protect against the wolf. There just wasn't enough to hold onto. So, when he felt the wolf pushing harder, demanding his attention, he shifted his focus. Instead he tried focusing on Willow, the Willow he knew before he had broken her heart, but that only served to call more to the wolf. The reminder of what he had lost stirred the wolf's rage.

Then he tried thinking of nothing, just listening to the quiet hum of the machinery and the occasional sound of paper and pen rustling as She took her notes. However, that just served to make him less focused and more lethargic. Finally, when he didn't think he was going to make it any longer, he felt the dawn.

As she had done the previous months, she grilled him on every aspect of the night. He tried to greatly edit what his thoughts had been, trying to steer her completely away from discovering his doubts, but he felt that she had picked up on them anyway. He was just thankful that she hadn't pursued her suspicions; until he realized that she didn't need to, she had realized his unsurety of his identity before he had.

When the second night arrived, Oz was unable to keep the wolf back for more than a few minutes past sundown. He had spent the day trying to forget the doubts that had risen up the night before and reviewing the things that were still important to him, which turned out to be sadly few, trying to focus on positive images. Then when night arrived, he tried to focus only on his breathing, practicing concentrative meditation, but without the spell to help keep it away the wolf stayed in his thoughts and by time he tried to shift his focus, to try another method, it was too late.

The third night, Oz tried a different approach. Instead of trying to concentrate on keeping his mind still, or focusing on himself, he tried focusing on just the wolf. Examining each minute detail of the wolf's push forward, each part of his body as the change tried to come, and as the change would start, he would focus on what each part of his body felt like when he was fully himself, and concentrated on those feelings. Where in the past he would have mentally tried to forcibly push the wolf away, this time he purposefully let himself feel the change's beginning so he could compare it to how his body normally felt and then focus on that feeling. Reconstructing it in his mind and setting aside the feelings of the change as they arose.

When instinct told him dawn had arrived, he felt exhausted, but he was also surprised that he had made it through the night without the change. And, when she started her now routine questioning, she seemed more interested in this night than any of the others. She had him go over and over every detail even though he was having difficulty putting into words exactly what he had done, and he had no idea what had made him try this particular method when none of his teachings, or experiences had ever suggested it. Finally, when she realized he was literally falling asleep, she stopped the questions and went to review her notes.

Over the next month, while waiting for the inevitable next moon, during the times she left him alone, Oz occupied himself with trying to come up with a way out. And, with each new scenario, he arrived at the same conclusion; with the bands still on there would be no way out. Not even if he killed her, and if he killed her, he would either die trapped, or the people she reported to would come and either he would die anyway, or he would be back where he started, maybe worse. And he would have taken a life, a human life while he was in human form, and Oz didn't know if he was ready for that yet.

When the next moon arrived, now the fourth, she took away the charms. At first Oz refused, but when she retrieved the tranquilizer gun, he relented. Charms or no, he had no doubt that he was beyond being able to hold back the change if he were unconscious. Relying on the method he had used during the third night of the last moon, he was able to keep the wolf back all three nights, although each night took a heavy toll. After her debriefings he would immediately fall asleep and stay that way until late evening, leaving him just enough time to eat the meal she brought before having to start the whole thing over. After the third night, and it's following debriefing, were over, he slept for the next 27 hours. If she had attempted to waken him during that time, he had no memory of it. She never returned the charms or the ingredients for the spell.