Oz was the cool one; the role he was born to play. He had been fine with that; had been mellow all of his born days. His dad had been the "fire and brimstone" preacher so it had been fine with him to run away and live out his mellowness elsewhere. He had made good friends, and surprise, some of them had stuck around. Now, his mellowness he attributed to the wolf spirit inside of him. Not dormant, but just kind of napping around his heart. It was like having a warm puppy in front of a fireplace in a log cabin, or something like that. Ooh, Oz thought, maybe I should write that down. Could be the start of something good.
Oz rubbed his eyes, as he was tired of staring at the same computer and being tech support. Oz turned to his tiny kitchenette in the surveillance lounge and sniffed at some curious tuna goop Riley had made. He cocked his brow at the thought of Midwestern tough soldier in some frilly pink apron mixing tuna and mayo and giggled. Not about the tuna thought. No, his soldier had no frilly anything. He was s straight-line, streamlined, all business, and all pleasure. That was Oz's man or rather, half of Oz's man. He wouldn't have really claimed ownership anyways. Oz, Riley, and Wills they all belonged to each other.
Or rather, Wills entertained them. She belonged to no one. They were there until she met another Tara, Xander, or heck another naive and sensitively quite Oz she could dominate. Oz shrugged at the thought and scratched a spot in his back. He felt the bristles coming out his ears and thought that it must be that time of the month. Looking at his fingernails change, he though yep, black claws. The only side effect he couldn't erase from wolfdom.
Made his pride and joy Fender harder to play, but at least there were none of those "urges" anymore. No, that desert monk and madcap hermit had fixed most of it. Herbal medicines made of camphor and rambling weeds mixed with some cactus potion. He could see it now at Trader Joes. Wolfs bane for sale!
Riley walked into the surveillance room after some time in the training room of Amcroft Row. His chest was heaving and his eyebrow was quirked, having caught Oz chuckling at nothing in particular. "I got some milk just like you asked."
"Actually, Willow wanted the milk for the day care."
Oz didn't want his concentration broken from his Riley by thinking of Willow. And this was the moment where they drank each other in, alone; in duet and concert. Like that sweet rift from, oh, Oz had forgotten. He forgot things looking into the smooth, tired eyes of Riley. What Xander had never figured out was that there were not three, but really only two hearts and Willow. Wills had loved Tara and Xander in separate places and times. Maybe she had even loved Oz.
"I'm a bit thirsty," Riley whispered. He opened the spout and began to drink. A couple of drops landed on his shirt. He put the milk in the mini-fridge and Oz moved forward and began to bat the drops away with his lips.
"How was hunting tonight?"
"Nothing like this," Riley whispered as he nuzzled the crane of the wolf's neck. This was the time of the month where the skin was soft and sexy like a velvety satin that could send Oz into orbit. A low groan issued from Oz; Riley took that as a sign and captured Oz's lips with his own. It was a spicy kiss. The two hearts leapt and beat; playing throughout both chests. They stood there, not moving, afraid time would play a nasty trick on them both.
And so they stood enraptured and loosely within each other's comfort zone. The only men in the world. Eventually, they found their ways back to Riley's room. Now make no mistake; they could have sex, of a certain sweaty variety. But that wasn't who either of them was anymore. Oz removed Riley's shirt and Riley did likewise to Oz. Buttons and zippers popped. There was no shame between the two as merciless shafts shown out of holes in boxers, caressing the other member. Long, torpedo like swords threatening to engulf them into one-night stands that would never have to be again. They enveloped each other under the covers. Riley lay down with his one patch of hair on his chest; Oz's hair. They snuggled into one piece.
Two men in one simple world in an even simpler time; neither needing anything other than to be there. Neither heard the beeper go off. Neither heard Willow come in. And only Oz's eyes peeped open only to see a bruised Willow's tear-stained eyes. It would be harder still to rouse in the morning. Willow went back to a room with pale swaths of velvet black and pink and she mourned for her men. She felt for the only shaft she could trust; her needle. The warmth of the burning heroin inside her; that was her blanket and security. The place where she was still magical; still close to being God. Still Willow, which demanded obedience and respect, and not just Wills.
Chris played the voyeur from the privacy of his dungeon. Watched her breath heaving through the dark corset she wore to sleep with. Watched her dress in her sharp business suits when morning came. Watched as her hands floated through her perfectly short, fiery hair. Chris watched a real woman. Toby had gotten those startling looks few times; Toby who was the beautiful, the terrible, the passionate, and the betrayer. Chris had died on that cold linoleum floor and letting the words ring through his head every night made him scream like Oz had. Toby the beautiful blond had hated him.
Vile poison begat vile poison, isn't that what he'd been trying to say? Chris slid back the panel on the network that allowed him to watch his "friends". Of course, that was a loose term in his eyes. Friends too easily exploited, exposed, and destroyed you. No, these were temporary shields from whatever powers that be were trying to load onto Chris. Inside, he had died as Toby had pushed him. Maybe the outside wouldn't die too much, but, for now, though, he thought about kissing those bruises in Willow's arm. Tasting the fiery red inside that showed from the roots outward. He imagined making her arms shiver and making her bosom dance in that black leather corset. He imagined handcuffs and then had to shake himself off. The only way he knew how.
Oz awoke to the smell of Irish coffee. At least, that's what he hoped the smell was. Riley was watching him and holding two frothy, steamy beverages in his hand. Boxers peeked out over his regulation khakis and his belt was slung over the chair next to the bed and his beloved Fender, which had migrated here over the course of several days. Narrow slits of sunlight striped his smooth chest, his perfect, rippling abs.
Oz smiled. "For me?"
"Of course."
Riley slid onto the bed on his knees, still holding the coffee, and nuzzled Oz while they drank through whipped cream and what was apparently hot cocoa. Am croft Row would be silent again this morning. Silent was the way Oz enjoyed life; which was too bad for him, especially this morning.
Willow awoke to the taste of iron in her mouth. She spit in a bucket next to her bed; knowing the heroin had done it again. But why should she care? There wasn't much left to not get high for. She had seen last night something she thought only she and Tara had shared. She sighed as she exited her room, wearing a flowing silk robe and a ring that reminded her of Tara. Her two lovers had been up for a couple of hours and were sharing the bathroom brushing their teeth. There were sounds of playful camaraderie all around.
That all stopped when her reflection was cast upon the mirror. No eyes bothered to look at each other. They were guilty of many infractions of their code. As Willow tried to slide her arms around Riley's waist, she knew something was different. He didn't shake them off; however, there was coldness there. His abs didn't respond at all; didn't tense up like normal. She put her head on his left shoulder, and he didn't respond.
Oz didn't even greet her hello. Riley shook her off so he could spit. He ran his hands through his damp hair and left to go read the paper in the living room. As Oz entered, Riley began to question out loud.
"She hasn't said a word to us about last night. Does something seem wrong to you?"
"Something has always seemed off to me, Riley. I always feel like I've been in second place with her," Oz answered matter-of-factly. "Especially after I came back and she was with Tara. You get used to the feeling kind of hanging over everything; there was always this feeling of being in slight depression."
Riley winced a bit. "I didn't want to say anything."
Willow entered in a professional crimson suit with a black skirt; ready to begin the morning's work at the daycare. She ran things which meant not having to show up so early. "You drank all the rest of the milk I asked you to get? I needed that for the daycare."
She spit little rounds of venom at them both. Oz wanted to console her, but he couldn't have been sure how. He knew she was angry, wroth maybe was a better term, and he understood why. He got up, and she turned back towards the counter.
"It doesn't matter," she grimaced. That was how he knew it was over and her anger had passed back to the inside where it would be bottled and probably returns at the most inopportune moment. And as long as Riley was safe; that was all Oz really cared about.
"Then we aren't going to talk about what happened?" Riley didn't have the sense of when not to prod perfected yet.
Willow sighed heavily. "No, Riley, we will not talk about it. We're just going to move on and we'll deal with this later."
She was pissed at a standstill, but stormed off to work anyways. There would be no dealing with this; no words. Riley was nervous. He knew she could do things to him, to his Oz, who he cared about more than himself, the Oz that could feel Riley's energy getting nervous. Oz sat back down on the couch and patted Riley's knee. The fight was over; the battle had not been won by either side. But all that mattered to Oz right now was calming the worried Riley down.
Willow didn't go to work that day though. She went back to another building in Am croft Row and hid for a while; floating boxes all around her head into shapes and then ripping them apart. It wasn't solace, but it would do. Cardboard flew around her in shards when Chris found her.
"Want to talk about it?" His eyes, those light blue wizards, penetrated her heart.
"Talk about what? There's nothing wrong going on here, no sir. Just some stretching; just taking a day off."
"You're a horrible liar; have you noticed that?"
Willow just shrugged and answered him by pelting him with a fridge box. He could have moved out of the way, but the gesture was sweet.
"Come on, Willow. I want to show you my dungeon."
"That's quite an honor." She didn't actually feel honored, but she went anyways. They walked in the silent and sunny through ways of the buildings without danger. Chris smiled a bit and the corners of his eyes crinkled as they discussed the demons they had been researching.
All the broom pushing to get the place ready had helped Chris make an impression on Willow. His dungeon had a skylight that played upon mirrors and the bed, stage center of the octagon. The stone floor was uncovered, except at the foot of the bed and at a chest of drawers. The televisions were hidden behind panels of a blue version of Starry Night that Chris had painted when he was trying to forget Toby in different artsy hobbies. They were never really his thing, or even therapeutic, he tried to explain. Willow stood transfixed by them as Chris made noodles in his kitchen. The warm steam filled Willow's lungs with spiciness and they continued to discuss and parry about what was going on for another half hour, before Willow broke the ice about Toby.
Chris's eye changed when he talked about Toby. There was a hard light about them. They focused intently. So intently you might be fooled into thinking you had found Chris' very soul. Willow was fascinated. She would use him to regain control over her boys.
"Toby was lucky," she interjected, "devotion like yours must be hard to find."
Keller shrugged. "Well, I don't agree. I had my price. Making him fall in love with me was easy. Keeping me out of love with him was not."
"That's a shame. Love is one of those things..." Willow's thoughts trailed off. She hadn't seen this side of him before, and she couldn't think why, but she felt a need to kiss him as he watched her.
"No, it wouldn't be hard to kiss me if you wanted," Chris' responded to her thought and came up behind her. Chris was trapped in her kiss and then beneath her body later as she rocked over him and thrust his deep member within herself. She used him, he wanted to be used. He was revenge and malice and she needed that. She thought she needed it against the world.
Afterward, Willow lay gasping and naked on her side, watching Chris simply stare off into space. Her hair cascaded over her body and the bed. "That was good."
Chris nodded, turning his head. "Yeah, I had the suspicion that it would be."
Keller rose to clean up, padding toward his shower. He was satisfied but she wasn't Toby. He had to be careful getting hard in front of her thinking about him. But he needn't have worried about that; Willow was in her own world, thinking about how she would use him. It would be a real Spike and Buffy type of tragedy. And it would probably doom her beyond measure, but she didn't care. She was already doomed to the dark.
