AUTHOR'S NOTE Merry Christmas everyone!
DISCLAIMER I own nothing from either Buffy or Twilight.
The sun rose over London, breaking through the morning mist. Buffy had settled herself in the grass in front of the statue, hardly even feeling the cold. She could not tear her eyes away from it for a long time.
There was something in the man's stone eyes that made her sad. It was like he was determined to succeed in his mission no matter what the cost, because that was the only thing that he could control. She knew the feeling.
The others would be wondering where she was. Buffy knew that Faith wouldn't worry about her, but she was unlikely to be awake any time soon. Giles and Dawn especially would hate not knowing where she was.
Regretfully, she climbed to her feet and brushed the dirt off of her pants. She took one last look at the marble sculpture and smiled slightly. She had a sudden urge to reach out and touch the stone had, but resisted.
It was hard to put the statue's image out of her mind as she walked back to the house. That was not unusual – Slayer dreams by nature stuck with her long after she was awake. Seeing part of the dream in real life was only cementing the images in her memory.
She had expected Giles and maybe Willow to be up when she got back, but through the window, she could see a flurry of activity. She quickened her pace. Something could be wrong.
Faith met her at the front door. "Oh good, you're back," she said.
Buffy followed her through the foyer. "What's going on?"
"We have a visitor."
They entered the living room and Buffy stopped short. "Oz?" she said.
Oz, looked incredibly uncomfortable on the couch, accepted a mug of coffee from Dawn and nodded. "Hey."
Buffy glanced around the room quickly. Dawn had perched on the arm of the couch, watching Oz curiously. Xander was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, giving Oz a fearsome one-eyed glare. Giles was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, cleaning his glasses. Willow was not there.
Warily, Buffy went into the room and sat in an armchair. Faith stood a step behind her. The dynamic in the room was obvious. She was the one to talk to, with Faith her second in command.
How had it come to this? Oz used to be a friend. And really, the last time he had left Sunnydale, it had been because Willow had rejected him, not the other way around. Buffy forced a small smile. "How have you been?"
"Not too bad."
He did not offer any more. She suppressed a sigh, for once irritated at his stoicism. "That's good to hear. So you're living in England now?"
He glanced at Giles. "Actually I came to talk to the Council. I didn't know the whole gang was here."
She straightened in her chair. "So this is business."
"Yeah." He glanced at Xander, whose looked hadn't softened, and grimaced. "Do you remember when I came back to Sunnydale?"
Buffy could feel Xander bristle. His protectiveness of Willow knew no bounds. She kept her eyes on Oz. "I remember. You nearly killed Tara."
As soon as she said it, she regretted it. Pain flashed in Dawn's eyes and even Xander's glare faltered. A lump formed in her own throat as she thought of the day Tara had been killed – the day that she had nearly died for the third time. But she kept her voice firm and continued. "You lost control of the wolf."
Oz nodded. "I wasn't changing because of the moon anymore, but I was still changing. Emotional stuff set me off. After I left again, I read an Indian legend about people who changed into wolves when their village was threatened."
Giles perked up a little. "I've read about them. They live in the Pacific Northwest, yes? The Quileute."
Oz nodded. "That's them. I went up to Washington to see if there was any truth to the legend."
"Was there?" asked Dawn.
He shrugged. "Most of them didn't want to talk about it at all. But there was this one guy who listened to me. he told me that the legend has two parts. They turn into wolves to protect their people, but only when there are vampires around."
"Vampires?" Faith repeated.
He nodded. "The Quileute aren't really werewolves. The reason they turn into wolves is to protect people from vampires."
"As if the Slayer wasn't enough," Buffy grumbled.
Oz gave her a small smile. "The Slayer can't be everywhere."
"You haven't been around lately," Xander said.
"I've been in contact with this guy on and off since then and – "
"Let me guess," Buffy interrupted. "Suddenly wolves are springing up all over the place."
"Bingo." Oz's face was blank, but his voice was strained. "Billy's really worried. His son is a wolf."
Giles put his glasses on and crossed his arms. "Oz, we appreciate you bringing us the news."
Oz frowned. "Look, I know that I have no right to ask for any favors from you guys, but Billy turned out to be the only person there for me through all that stuff. The least I could do was try to help him help out his son."
"Maybe so," Giles said. "But the Slayer is far too busy to go investigate every – "
"I think we should go."
Buffy spun around and craned her neck to see over the back of her chair. Willow was standing hesitantly in the doorway. "Hi Oz," she said softly.
He met her eyes and stood up. "Hey."
The two of them stood there for a minute, their eyes locked together. Then Willow looked around at the others. "After all, that's what we do, right?" There are enough Slayers to protect London and Cleveland and everywhere else for a while."
Oz cocked his head. "Enough Slayers?"
The others ignored him. Willow added. "If this place has vampires, I say we go."
She looked at Buffy, who then looked at Giles and nodded. "I guess we'll go," she said.
Oz smiled. "Thank you."
The atmosphere in the room suddenly shifted from interrogating to strategizing. "When should we leave?" Xander asked.
"As soon as possible," Oz replied. "I haven't heard from Billy in a few weeks, but last time he sounded really worried. More so than before."
"Someone should stay here to keep an eye on things," Giles said.
Dawn raised her hand. "I'll stay."
Buffy looked at her and frowned. "Really?"
The younger girl nodded. "Washington equals no sun and no yummy British accents. No way."
Buffy shrugged. "Okay." She turned to Oz. "Where exactly are we going?"
"The Quileute reservation is called La Push," he said. "It's right by a tiny town called Forks. If you fly into Port Angeles, I can give you decent directions."
Disappointment crossed Willow's face. "You're not coming with us?" she asked.
The room fell into awkward silence. After a minute, Oz said, "I didn't think you'd want me to."
Willow blushed slightly. "I just thought you'd want to help. They're your friends, after all."
"I do." He glanced around at the others, then added, "I'll come.'
"How quickly can you all pack?" Giles asked. "The Council can have us on a flight this afternoon."
The house erupted in a flurry of activity. Though most of them had not unpacked from their journey to London, there were people to be notified and arrangements to be made with the Council. Dawn had to convince them all several times that she would be fine on her own in London. She was, as she so nicely pointed out, twenty years old.
Buffy found Willow alone in her room. "Hey," she said, knocking on the doorframe.
Willow looked up. "Oh, hey Buffy. Where were you this morning?"
The statue that she had forgotten about in the face of the sudden situation flared in her memory, but for the moment she felt a desperate need to keep it her secret. "How are you?"
"I'm fine."
Buffy raised an eyebrow. "Because I know you've been sort of out of it since Kennedy ran off with that priestess and then all of a sudden Oz is here."
Willow looked at her sharply. "What does he have to do with anything?"
"Well he was – "
"I'm not interested in him anymore," Willow cut her off. "Or any men."
Gingerly, Buffy sat on the edge of the bed. "You've never actually said that before."
"Well I'm saying it now."
Her tone stung. Buffy stood up again. "Sorry I interrupted you." She didn't give Willow a chance to continue, heading in her and Faith's room. She hated fighting with Willow, but the whole day had felt off somehow. Strangely, this impromptu trip to Forks, Washington felt like it fit right in. That seemed to bode even worse.
