The lightly frosted glass made it nearly impossible to make out any detail, but Willow knew he was in there.

"I'm gonna go see Gunn and Wesley, okay?" Cordelia told her. Willow nodded, and Cordelia walked down the corridor, into a ward.

Willow moved over to the door, and opened it. She was surprised to find it wasn't locked. 'That isn't very safe', she thought, as she closed it behind her.

She tuned and looked at the bed. Oz was lying on his back, with what looked like an IV in his arm, connected to a morphine drip. Painkillers. His hair was slightly longer than the last time she'd saw him, but still his natural red colour. The sheets were slightly ruffled, meaning that he'd probably moved around a bit.

She picked up the report sheet on the end of the bed, and tried to make sense of the doctor's scrawled handwriting.

Small lung rupture to left lung. (Emergency surgery - poss. chance surgery may have failed). Broken finger - A4. Deep wound on left leg.
IN RECOVERY.

She felt a tear run down her cheek as she finished reading it, and put it back down in the holder. She sat down on the chair beside the bed, leaning on it, and looking at him.

She noticed that he still had some black nail varnish on. She knew they were supposed to take that off before they went into any kind of surgery, as it was a safety hazard. 'Not really the safest hospital around, is it?'

Willow watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. Where did it all go wrong? She took his hand, and started to chip away the nail varnish with her nail.
"I still love you, Oz" She said quietly. She knew it was like talking to a brick wall, as he was still asleep, but hey.
'I know it was inevitable or something, but if Veruca never came, would you still have left?' Something told her the answer was yes. It still pained her to think of Veruca.

He can't die, Willow thought. There was so few of them left now - herself, Xander, Anya, Dawn, Spike. The Hell mouth was crumbling. No one went out alone at night anymore. It just wasn't safe. The death rate in Sunnydale had increased by all most 60%, since Buffy had died. Their patrols weren't really helping much, if at all. No new slayer had been called, as Giles had predicted. Another wouldn't be called until Faith died, or so they thought.

Xander and Anya were wrapped up in each other, having married a few short weeks ago. Willow had no one left. She felt so lonely.
That's why he couldn't die.