Note: Parts One and Three are Dawn's diary. Part Two is Oz POV.
Ten minutes ago, I found a scrap of paper in the ashtray of the van.
Moonlight blinds my heart
She turns away, my own fault
Small pebbles, big waves.
I wrote that six months ago, sitting on the side of the road out of Sunnydale, feeling sorry for myself. I might as easily have written it this morning.
Now, with lunch sitting heavy in my stomach, I just screw the paper into a ball and throw it back into the ashtray. While I was writing that haiku, I was losing Willow. Not because I slept with Veruca; Willow would have forgiven me for that, in time; but because I had to try and be 'noble' and 'protect' her.
Who did I think I was? Angel? There was no curse that said I couldn't be happy. It was just fear that made me run from her. Fear of myself. I'd hidden things inside myself for so long that when they finally broke out, I couldn't think straight. People have always seen me as Mr Calm, but every now and then, things get too much; especially when they are about Willow.
Now, of course, I've lost her. To someone I never would have expected. I hope; I genuinely hope; they are happy. The thought makes me smile for the first time today. Perhaps I'm not such a lost cause as I thought.
I start the van and put it in gear. The ramp onto the highway is less than a mile away.
I should make LA by dark.
The last time I came to LA, I found Xander and Doyle sprawled in the front office, arguing the merits of football teams while watching a game over a pack of beers.
"What's with the Green Bay Packers?" Xander complained, "I don't get their name. What exactly do they 'pack', anyway?"
"Good point, but it's not like the Broncos ride horses, right?" Doyle sagely replied, "Though that's not such a bad idea now, is it?"
"Make 'em hard to tackle." Xander agreed slowly, then frowned, "But what do they pack? That's what I want to know."
Cordelia snorted, not looking up from the magazine she was reading. None of them had noticed me yet.
"What I want to know is why either of you care."
"We don't, princess." Doyle waved his beer in the air.
"We just know that Deadboy hates football." Xander sniggered.
"Maybe they pack guns!" Doyle offered, abruptly.
"They'll need to, to win this game." Xander gestured at the scoreline.
"Hey guys."
"Oz!"
"Oz!"
"Oz?"
A smile starts to form at the memory, and I let it. It's time to stop holding things inside.
Finding Wesley at Angel Investigations is a bit of a surprise.
"Oz." He jumps as he notices me, nearly dropping a folder.
"Hey." I hadn't meant to sneak up on him. To my own ears my movements sounded loud. That's the wolf for you.
"It's been a while." He offers, at last, setting down the folder on a desk.
"Graduation."
"Eh? Oh, yes. Since Graduation. You've been keeping well?"
I nod, glancing around. The place is a lot better organised than the last time I was here. And the smells have changed. I can tell that Wes is here a lot, and Doyle, but Xander's and Cordy's scents are fainter than they were.
"Things have changed." I observe at last, to stop Wesley from adjusting his glasses again.
"Yes." He fidgets with them anyway, "Doyle and I help Angel with the majority of his cases, now. Xander's job doesn't leave him a lot of time to assist us, and Cordelia's career has recently begun to flower. They still keep in touch, of course."
I nod again. It's good that some of us are finding normal lives; the kind of life I guess I'm never going to have.
"They'll be very pleased to see you."
Wesley's words surprise me. I'd been in the middle of thinking that it would be best if I stayed away. Leave them to that normal life. Guess I haven't kicked the 'noble' thing, yet.
"Do you need their address?"
"Thanks." I watch him scrawl the details on a piece of paper, and accept it with a nod.
"Should I tell Doyle and Angel you'll be staying there?"
"Not yet." I shrug, "I'm not sure what my plans are, at the moment."
"You'll let us know?"
"Sure."
Right after I know for myself.
"You should have seen it, Oz." Cordelia still waves her hands in the air when she gets involved in what she's saying, "Angel and Doyle were just about ready to fight over who would get to kill himself disarming the bomb, when Xander unlocked the doors from outside and let us all out. He was such a hero!"
"Getting knocked unconscious while still outside the hold was just part of my cunning plan." Xander hasn't lost his sense of self-deprecation, "So that I would be able to save them at the last minute. Much more exciting that way."
Cordelia swats him good-naturedly.
"Say what you like, Princess." Doyle has had a few drinks, and his voice is loud but cheerful, "But I had no intention of getting m'self killed."
"You punched Angel in the jaw." Cordelia reminds him, before taking a sip of her own drink. Orange juice. It's all she's had all night.
"Damn near broke me hand, too." Doyle nurses his knuckles like he's still feeling the pain, "Boy's got a head like granite."
Which prompts the inevitable quip from Xander, and a gale of laughter from Cordelia.
I smile, settling back to sip a beer. It's good to be among friends again.
"Does Xander know?"
Cordelia sneaks a glance at me as I dry, her hands busy in the soapy water of sink. Queen C, doing dishes. Not something I ever thought I'd see.
"How do you?" she challenges back, which answers my question.
I tap my nose, realise from her laugh that I've now got soap bubbles on it, and wipe it clean.
"I haven't told him yet." She admits, "You know Xander. He'd treat me like I was made of glass, if I did. And I need to keep working as long as I can. We need the money."
"How long?" I ask, then hold up a glass. Cordelia points out the proper cupboard for it.
"I'm nearly three months gone."
"Scared?"
She laughs softly,
"Petrified. This wasn't planned. We were being safe." She shrugs, "But it happened anyway, and I don't want an abortion."
"What about Xander?"
"After he recovers from fainting?" there's a hint of the old Queen C in her smile, "he'll be ecstatic."
"Have you told anyone else?"
She catches my tone and sighs,
"You mean Angel, right?"
I nod.
"As soon as I knew for sure." She bites her lip, and glances back at the living room, where Xander and Doyle are fighting over the TV remote. "I needed to get us out of that work. I'm never going to hide what's out there from this kid ... but I'm not going to risk getting her killed. Or her father."
"'Her'?" I smile.
Cordelia blushes,
"I don't know for sure, but I can't make myself think of her as an 'it', y'know?"
Seems like 'normal' lives are just as complicated as mine.
If I was going to stay in LA for any length of time; and Cordelia had decided that I was; then I was going to need a way to earn some cash.
First stop; Angel's office.
"I can give you an advance, but I'm not sure how busy you'll be," he admitted, "something came up a couple of nights ago, with a blind woman, but until I can work out what -" he broke off as someone else entered the room, through the door behind me.
I turned, letting my eyes confirm what my nose had already told me. Young man, impeccably dressed, expensive aftershave.
"I need your help." He tells Angel, direct and to the point.
"What do you mean?"
"I want out."
There's a beat where Angel actually looks surprised. Then he turns to me,
"Give us a minute?"
I nod, head back to the outer office and grab my guitar. Step one in looking calm: get a guitar. People always mistake nervous fidgeting for relaxation.
It's a good fifteen minutes before they emerge. Rich guy pauses for a moment to look at me. I smell curiosity on him, but mostly fear. I doubt I'm causing it.
"Lindsey needs our help." Angel informs Doyle, who snorts and shakes his head. The vampire turns to me, "Looks like I will have something for you to do after all, Oz."
I nod,
"Count me in."
"Daniel, sweetie, could you check the speakers on the left side of the stage? There were ugly things being done to my medley, out there."
I nod to Lorne and head over to take a look at the problem. It's been almost twelve months since I came to LA, and I've spent the last six working at 'Caritas', a favourite demon haunt and place of amnesty. It's the kind of place where I'm more likely to attract attention because I look human than because I'm a werewolf.
Lorne's an interesting guy. He's a demon who can read people's future when they sing. We get on well. He's a great talker, and I'm great at providing silences for him to talk into.
"How's the song coming, Danny-boy?" he asks now, as I remove the back of one of the speakers to take a look inside, "Got that chorus worked out, yet?"
"Almost." I check for the third time that the power is off, before reach inside the speaker, "Not that I have a band to play it with."
"This is LA, dear boy, how hard could it be to form one?" I know without looking that Lorne's sipping a Sea Breeze. Not only can I smell it, but he'd be talking a whole lot more if he wasn't.
"None of my friends play." I start putting the speaker back together.
"You may not have noticed, but my bar is frequently filled with musical wannabes."
"Yeah, but I'm not planning to call myself 'Werewolf Dan and his Howling Demons'." I've been spending too much time with Xander.
"Oh, such wit!" Lorne dramatically presses his hand to his forehead, "Such a powerful mind for a cute little package."
"I'd take that compliment more seriously if you didn't go home with a different girl every night."
Lorne laughs and clasps me on the shoulder,
"What can I say? The ladies love a man with style."
We're busy that night, but unless something needs fixing, or someone wants some live accompaniment, I don't have much to do until closing. So I sit at the bar, nursing a beer, watching a Vocah demon murder "Another One Bites the Dust".
And then Lindsey comes on.
I'm surprised. Not so much that he's here; it's the kind of place he could come to meet clients; but that he can both sing and play.
He's finished, and coming down from the stage, before I realise that I haven't tasted my beer since he got up there.
"Golly, pilgrim." Lorne meets him just a few steps from where I'm sitting, "Sure is good to have you back in the saddle."
"Look, I got a crazy man's hand here who wants to kill ... someone, maybe me. What do you see?"
Lorne points at me.
"Two guys, one case, all coming together in a buddy-movie kind of way."
We both stare at him, then Lindsey snorts,
"I've got a murderous hand on me and you're telling me to team up with a guy who used to pal around with the vampire that cut mine off in the first place?"
"I'm telling you what's what, sugar. What you do is up to you."
And then Lorne walks away, leaving Lindsey and I to stare at each other.
