PROLOGUE
"Be sure to leave a number where I can reach you. I'll keep you posted on the situation."

"I'll call you in a few days."

"Call late."

Oz nodded, and there was a brief silence.

"I'll do everything I can for her," Giles assured him.

"Take care."

Giles nodded then and, after a moment's hesitation, he embraced the younger man. "You too."

*~*

"Hello?"

"Hello," Giles paused slightly. "Daniel, how are you?"

"I'm good. And she.…"

"Left earlier today. She's a different person now." He didn't know how much to tell Oz. "I think she'll be all right."

"You wouldn't have sent her back to Sunnydale if you didn't."

Giles didn't respond to that, instead, he changed the subject. "When are you coming ho—back here?"

Oz's eyes narrowed as he frowned and Giles heard something wrong in his voice when he replied. "I'll leave tonight."

"I'll see you soon then."

Two goodbyes later, with both phones back in their respective cradles, Oz began to pack his few belongings.

Giles put a kettle of water on the stove and rubbed his temples absently. He'd switched up mid-word and Oz, ever perceptive, would now be wondering about the same thing Giles had on his mind. Why hadn't he asked when Oz was coming home?

After leaving the 'dale for a second time, Oz had wandered long and far. Eventually, he'd come to England. He met up with a few of the members of a local coven and when Giles returned to his home, he'd found Oz, waiting. With the help of the Coven, Giles began to guide Oz in more ways to control the wolf. Oz had also begun to learn a bit of magic.

He and Giles were sharing a house in Westbury and had been since the second time Giles left Sunnydale. Oz was making good progress not in controlling, but in accepting his lycanthropy. Word had come that Willow had gone over the edge and Oz had put a few things in a backpack and taken Giles's motorcycle to London. He'd stayed there while Willow was with Giles. As he rode back to the house in Westbury, he thought about what Giles hadn't said on the phone.

Giles heard the motorcycle outside as he was finishing his coffee and went to the door. He waited a moment to allow Oz to reach the step before opening the door.

With his backpack slung over one shoulder, his helmet tucked under his arm, wearing faded jeans and a rumpled t-shirt, Oz looked tired and careworn.

"Welcome home," Giles said softly.

Oz stepped inside. Willow's scent lingered in the house, cinnamon and sandalwood and salt. The house also smelled like tea leaves and sage and Giles's aftershave. Oz swallowed against the lump that had formed in his throat.

"Thanks," he said. "It's good to be home."

They sat down at the kitchen table and talked for a long time before going each to his own bed.

Morning came and Giles left for a meeting with the Watcher's council. Oz found himself wandering the empty rooms of the old house, feeling Willow's presence and, more keenly, her absence. He plucked a strand of long red hair off one of the chairs in the study and had to retreat to his room. Picking out random notes on his guitar, Oz tried to write a song and when the phone rang, he let the machine get it.