Part 3
Willow hadn't truly fallen asleep until Oz got out of bed and it was nearly
noon when she woke. She padded downstairs in her pajamas and was greeted by the
sight of a stranger on the couch.
"Who the hell are you?" Willow demanded.
The man stood up and offered his hand. "Shock."
"Shock? What the?"
"Peter, this is Willow. Willow, Peter. He thinks his nickname is Shock
because Giles called him that," Oz explained. He glanced at Peter. "It was not
an affectionate term."
"What is he doing here?"
"I'm here to help Oz to control the wolf."
Willow looked nonplused. "How do you intend to do that?"
"The same way I did back in merry old England. Aversion therapy."
"Aversion therapy?" Willow stammered. "Are you talking about what I think
you're talking about?"
"It's simple behavior modification…"
"It's barbaric," Willow objected, her voice growing in volume. "Not to
mention archaic and dangerous. Oz, I can't believe you would agree to something
like that!"
"Because I have so many options," Oz replied calmly.
"The meditation, the herbs, the beads…"
"None of which prevented me from attacking Tara or wolfing out when I was
captured by the Initiative."
"Willow, I know you're looking out for his best interests," Peter said
gently. "But this is Oz's choice."
"It's a stupid choice. It's absurd."
"The full moon is four days away. I'm not taking any chances," Oz stated
firmly.
Willow looked from Oz to Peter then back to Oz. "I don't believe this." She
fled up the stairs.
*~*
Peter sat on the couch at the Dingoes' house. He had a tranquilizer gun,
loaded, a tazer, two sets of chains and several small bottles containing various
chemicals. Oz sat on the arm of the couch at the opposite end, armed with his
guitar and a notebook. He planned to do some songwriting; it helped him stay
calm.
"Something bothering you?" Peter asked. "You've barely said two words to me
since I got here."
"Nothing to do with you."
"The girl?"
Oz didn't answer, studying the notebook. He set it aside and began to play.
"It's just like the last time."
*~*
Willow drained her glass. Michael raised an eyebrow.
"I didn't realize you were a drinker."
"I'm not, normally. I'm worried about Oz. We're still friends you know."
*~*
"The part where I try to deny that she's already said goodbye. Time and time
again I find that I'm lying quiet by her side, wondering what she's got to hide.
This time…"
*~*
Michael nodded. "Does he know about…us?"
Willow shook her head. "Not exactly."
*~*
"I guess I'm just a pastime. Something to keep her occupied, 'til she
decides to let it slide. We both know she'll come back on the fly. And I'll
pretend she's justified. And she'll pretend I've got my pride."
*~*
"He's going through a lot right now."
"And knowing that you're in a relationship with someone else would put undue
strain on him. I get it."
"Michael…it's complicated."
*~*
"But I don't understand why every time I get ripped all up inside, then
I…give it one more try. So let this be the last time. Let this well of mine run
dry so I don't have to watch me cry."
*~*
"I like you, I like being with you. But I could never do anything to hurt
Oz," Willow explained. "If that means hiding certain things from him…"
"You're giving him false hope. If he thinks he can still be with you…"
*~*
"This time when she goes I'll be resigned. Let me shut the door behind her,
let me put her from my mind, let my spirit grow unkind, let her be the one to
find that I…give it one more try. Try it one more time. This will be the last
time. The last time. Let this be the last time."
*~*
"I don't want to talk about Oz right now," Willow declared.
"You're the one who brought him up," Michael objected.
"Can't we just have a good time?"
Michael hesitated before giving in. "Yeah." He kissed her. "Yeah, we can."
*~*
"Dude," a male voice slurred as Oz answered the phone.
"Hey, Dev."
"You're not gonna believe what I just saw at the Bronze."
Oz sighed. When Devon was…well, it was usually best just to play along with
Devon, regardless of the situation. "What is it?"
"Okay, you remember that weird kid we went to high school with? I think his
name was Mike or Matt or something? He was always wearing all black and smoking
cloves and shit and hanging out with that weird chick Amy who disappeared…"
"Michael, I remember him."
"Yeah. He was just here man, totally macking on your girl Willow. And, get
this, they left together."
"Oz!" Peter said loudly.
Oz turned and looked at Peter. His eyes were jet. Dark, coarse hair had
sprouted on his hands, his nails grew long and sharp. Oz snarled, displaying a
mouthful of fangs.
On the phone, Devon was laughing drunkenly. Peter scrambled off the couch,
reaching for the tranquilizer gun. Oz let the phone fall to the floor, dropping
to all fours. His clothes tore as he transformed.
At the Bronze, Devon dropped his cell phone into his cup, half-full of beer.
Meanwhile, Peter's fingers slipped past the gun and he began to scream. The
noise infuriated the werewolf that crouched a few feet away. It leapt on Peter,
fangs flashing, knocking over a lamp as the young man struggled beneath its
bulk. The moon would not be full until the following night but by its pallid
illumination, Peter's blood appeared black. The screams stopped and the wolf
licked its muzzle; its dark, reflective eyes appeared to glow faintly green. It
threw its weight against the door once, twice – the hinges gave and the beast
tasted freedom.
It ran through the streets of Sunnydale, stretching its legs, pink tongue
lolling from its bloody muzzle. The wind ruffled the wolf's thick fur and the
wolf howled. It slowed to a trot, its glistening black nose twitching. The wolf
approached the side of a house and dug at the dirt. Whining, it moved to a
different part of the house and dug again. This time, its claws scratched
against the glass of a basement window.
Spike raised his head. Could've been a tree branch scraping the window. He
listened closely. He heard a whine, like an eager animal, followed by more
scratching. The vampire stood, his chains rattling. He heard a growl. Spike saw
the wolf then. Its paws were pressed against the glass, its slavering mouth
snapping as it tried to bite the window. Spike strained against his iron bonds.
He knew Dawn was upstairs, watching television and studying trigonometry. He
also knew that the beast outside was coming in.
Cracks appeared in the glass. Whining excitedly, the wolf pressed in
vigorously. Spike's chains screeched quietly under the strain. A link began to
come undone. With a snarl, Spike vamped. The links of the chains popped open.
Amid a shower of glass, the wolf tumbled into the basement. It stood and shook,
sending tiny shards of glass and droplets of blood flying.
The wolf lunged for the stairs and Spike pounced on it. They wrestled, both
using claws and fangs. Spike gagged and spat out a mouthful of fur. He roared in
pain as the wolf tore into his arm.
Dawn heard the crashes and Spike's cry. Grabbing her books, she scurried
upstairs to her bedroom and called Buffy's cell phone. "Spike's freaking out!"
Blood stained the vampire's platinum hair carnelian. A runner of saliva
struck Spike's cheek. Disgusted, he clawed the wolf's face. Blood sprayed across
them. Spike felt the wolf's hind claws tearing at his abdomen. He shifted his
weight, trying to avoid disembowelment and the back of his head struck the
bottom step with enough force to make the vampire see stars. The wolf bolted up
the stairs. It raced through the living room and threw itself through the front
window of the Summers' house.
*~*
The slayer took in the broken window and overturned furniture. Dawn crept
down the stairs to meet her. "Are you okay?"
Dawn nodded. "Have you checked the basement yet?"
"No, that's probably where the most damage is," Buffy replied. "Spike had
better be prepared to pay for that window and anything that's broken
downstairs."
Spike was blood smeared and naked to the waist, kneeling on the floor in the
basement, gathering shards of glass in the tattered remains of his shirt.
"Mind your step, the floor's wet there," he said as Buffy reached the bottom
of the stairs.
"What are you doing?"
"I was just cleaning up a bit."
Buffy looked suspiciously at the broken chains hanging off his wrists.
"What happened here?"
"Werewolf," Spike answered. "Came in the window. Had a bit of a tussle, then
it ran off upstairs."
"You didn't go after it?"
"It went out the front window. Figured I should stick around in case
anything else decided to make itself unwelcome."
Buffy nodded. "A werewolf?"
"Yeah."
"I'd better call Oz."
"You don't think maybe that was Oz?"
*~*
The soap stung at Oz's cuts as he showered. Hot water pounded against his
battered hide but Oz was worlds away, planning his next move. Willow hadn't been
home but he could come back for her. In the meantime, he had a flight to catch.
*~*
No one was answering the phone at 'El Casa del Dingo' so Buffy decided to go
over there to check it out. Both Spike and Xander offered to accompany her.
Buffy accepted on Spike's count and left Xander to protect Dawn.
A young vampire, drawn by the scent of blood, was lurking outside the house
that Devon and his bandmates shared. Buffy quickly dispatched him and looked at
the house.
"Well…I guess the door's… open," she observed. The front door lay on the
lawn, the wood and hinges damaged. Buffy entered and turned to Spike who was
examining the fallen door. "Coming in?"
"Can't," he replied. "The owner or one of the inhabitants has to invite me."
Buffy sighed and rolled her eyes. "Should've brought Xander."
Spike snorted derisively. The slayer ignored him and went in alone. She
walked slowly into the living room, pausing to right an overturned lamp. Buffy
also set an easy chair back in its proper position, though she could do nothing
about the shredded upholstery. As she stepped past the chair, she saw the body.
Peter was virtually unrecognizable, even to someone who'd known him for more
than a few days. His face was ruined, the werewolf's powerful jaws having
shattered the jaw and cheekbone on one side. Either the pressure or the fangs
had caused one of the eyes to burst, whitish fluid was congealing on his bloody
cheek. Buffy was nauseated; she could only hope that most of the damage had been
done after Peter's throat had been torn out. She was relieved to leave the
corpse behind, searching the rest of the house.
Oz was not there. Buffy noted that most of his belongings were also missing.
She felt a chill. Oz hadn't just wolfed and ran. At some point, he had stopped
to pack. The slayer left the house swiftly, pausing only once, outside, to
observe that the van was nowhere to be seen.
*~*
A CD spun in the portable player. Inches away, fingers – the nails polished
black and bitten down to the quick – drummed on the plane's armrest. Oz's eyes
were closed, his head nodded slightly to the music's throbbing beat.
Willow hadn't truly fallen asleep until Oz got out of bed and it was nearly
noon when she woke. She padded downstairs in her pajamas and was greeted by the
sight of a stranger on the couch.
"Who the hell are you?" Willow demanded.
The man stood up and offered his hand. "Shock."
"Shock? What the?"
"Peter, this is Willow. Willow, Peter. He thinks his nickname is Shock
because Giles called him that," Oz explained. He glanced at Peter. "It was not
an affectionate term."
"What is he doing here?"
"I'm here to help Oz to control the wolf."
Willow looked nonplused. "How do you intend to do that?"
"The same way I did back in merry old England. Aversion therapy."
"Aversion therapy?" Willow stammered. "Are you talking about what I think
you're talking about?"
"It's simple behavior modification…"
"It's barbaric," Willow objected, her voice growing in volume. "Not to
mention archaic and dangerous. Oz, I can't believe you would agree to something
like that!"
"Because I have so many options," Oz replied calmly.
"The meditation, the herbs, the beads…"
"None of which prevented me from attacking Tara or wolfing out when I was
captured by the Initiative."
"Willow, I know you're looking out for his best interests," Peter said
gently. "But this is Oz's choice."
"It's a stupid choice. It's absurd."
"The full moon is four days away. I'm not taking any chances," Oz stated
firmly.
Willow looked from Oz to Peter then back to Oz. "I don't believe this." She
fled up the stairs.
*~*
Peter sat on the couch at the Dingoes' house. He had a tranquilizer gun,
loaded, a tazer, two sets of chains and several small bottles containing various
chemicals. Oz sat on the arm of the couch at the opposite end, armed with his
guitar and a notebook. He planned to do some songwriting; it helped him stay
calm.
"Something bothering you?" Peter asked. "You've barely said two words to me
since I got here."
"Nothing to do with you."
"The girl?"
Oz didn't answer, studying the notebook. He set it aside and began to play.
"It's just like the last time."
*~*
Willow drained her glass. Michael raised an eyebrow.
"I didn't realize you were a drinker."
"I'm not, normally. I'm worried about Oz. We're still friends you know."
*~*
"The part where I try to deny that she's already said goodbye. Time and time
again I find that I'm lying quiet by her side, wondering what she's got to hide.
This time…"
*~*
Michael nodded. "Does he know about…us?"
Willow shook her head. "Not exactly."
*~*
"I guess I'm just a pastime. Something to keep her occupied, 'til she
decides to let it slide. We both know she'll come back on the fly. And I'll
pretend she's justified. And she'll pretend I've got my pride."
*~*
"He's going through a lot right now."
"And knowing that you're in a relationship with someone else would put undue
strain on him. I get it."
"Michael…it's complicated."
*~*
"But I don't understand why every time I get ripped all up inside, then
I…give it one more try. So let this be the last time. Let this well of mine run
dry so I don't have to watch me cry."
*~*
"I like you, I like being with you. But I could never do anything to hurt
Oz," Willow explained. "If that means hiding certain things from him…"
"You're giving him false hope. If he thinks he can still be with you…"
*~*
"This time when she goes I'll be resigned. Let me shut the door behind her,
let me put her from my mind, let my spirit grow unkind, let her be the one to
find that I…give it one more try. Try it one more time. This will be the last
time. The last time. Let this be the last time."
*~*
"I don't want to talk about Oz right now," Willow declared.
"You're the one who brought him up," Michael objected.
"Can't we just have a good time?"
Michael hesitated before giving in. "Yeah." He kissed her. "Yeah, we can."
*~*
"Dude," a male voice slurred as Oz answered the phone.
"Hey, Dev."
"You're not gonna believe what I just saw at the Bronze."
Oz sighed. When Devon was…well, it was usually best just to play along with
Devon, regardless of the situation. "What is it?"
"Okay, you remember that weird kid we went to high school with? I think his
name was Mike or Matt or something? He was always wearing all black and smoking
cloves and shit and hanging out with that weird chick Amy who disappeared…"
"Michael, I remember him."
"Yeah. He was just here man, totally macking on your girl Willow. And, get
this, they left together."
"Oz!" Peter said loudly.
Oz turned and looked at Peter. His eyes were jet. Dark, coarse hair had
sprouted on his hands, his nails grew long and sharp. Oz snarled, displaying a
mouthful of fangs.
On the phone, Devon was laughing drunkenly. Peter scrambled off the couch,
reaching for the tranquilizer gun. Oz let the phone fall to the floor, dropping
to all fours. His clothes tore as he transformed.
At the Bronze, Devon dropped his cell phone into his cup, half-full of beer.
Meanwhile, Peter's fingers slipped past the gun and he began to scream. The
noise infuriated the werewolf that crouched a few feet away. It leapt on Peter,
fangs flashing, knocking over a lamp as the young man struggled beneath its
bulk. The moon would not be full until the following night but by its pallid
illumination, Peter's blood appeared black. The screams stopped and the wolf
licked its muzzle; its dark, reflective eyes appeared to glow faintly green. It
threw its weight against the door once, twice – the hinges gave and the beast
tasted freedom.
It ran through the streets of Sunnydale, stretching its legs, pink tongue
lolling from its bloody muzzle. The wind ruffled the wolf's thick fur and the
wolf howled. It slowed to a trot, its glistening black nose twitching. The wolf
approached the side of a house and dug at the dirt. Whining, it moved to a
different part of the house and dug again. This time, its claws scratched
against the glass of a basement window.
Spike raised his head. Could've been a tree branch scraping the window. He
listened closely. He heard a whine, like an eager animal, followed by more
scratching. The vampire stood, his chains rattling. He heard a growl. Spike saw
the wolf then. Its paws were pressed against the glass, its slavering mouth
snapping as it tried to bite the window. Spike strained against his iron bonds.
He knew Dawn was upstairs, watching television and studying trigonometry. He
also knew that the beast outside was coming in.
Cracks appeared in the glass. Whining excitedly, the wolf pressed in
vigorously. Spike's chains screeched quietly under the strain. A link began to
come undone. With a snarl, Spike vamped. The links of the chains popped open.
Amid a shower of glass, the wolf tumbled into the basement. It stood and shook,
sending tiny shards of glass and droplets of blood flying.
The wolf lunged for the stairs and Spike pounced on it. They wrestled, both
using claws and fangs. Spike gagged and spat out a mouthful of fur. He roared in
pain as the wolf tore into his arm.
Dawn heard the crashes and Spike's cry. Grabbing her books, she scurried
upstairs to her bedroom and called Buffy's cell phone. "Spike's freaking out!"
Blood stained the vampire's platinum hair carnelian. A runner of saliva
struck Spike's cheek. Disgusted, he clawed the wolf's face. Blood sprayed across
them. Spike felt the wolf's hind claws tearing at his abdomen. He shifted his
weight, trying to avoid disembowelment and the back of his head struck the
bottom step with enough force to make the vampire see stars. The wolf bolted up
the stairs. It raced through the living room and threw itself through the front
window of the Summers' house.
*~*
The slayer took in the broken window and overturned furniture. Dawn crept
down the stairs to meet her. "Are you okay?"
Dawn nodded. "Have you checked the basement yet?"
"No, that's probably where the most damage is," Buffy replied. "Spike had
better be prepared to pay for that window and anything that's broken
downstairs."
Spike was blood smeared and naked to the waist, kneeling on the floor in the
basement, gathering shards of glass in the tattered remains of his shirt.
"Mind your step, the floor's wet there," he said as Buffy reached the bottom
of the stairs.
"What are you doing?"
"I was just cleaning up a bit."
Buffy looked suspiciously at the broken chains hanging off his wrists.
"What happened here?"
"Werewolf," Spike answered. "Came in the window. Had a bit of a tussle, then
it ran off upstairs."
"You didn't go after it?"
"It went out the front window. Figured I should stick around in case
anything else decided to make itself unwelcome."
Buffy nodded. "A werewolf?"
"Yeah."
"I'd better call Oz."
"You don't think maybe that was Oz?"
*~*
The soap stung at Oz's cuts as he showered. Hot water pounded against his
battered hide but Oz was worlds away, planning his next move. Willow hadn't been
home but he could come back for her. In the meantime, he had a flight to catch.
*~*
No one was answering the phone at 'El Casa del Dingo' so Buffy decided to go
over there to check it out. Both Spike and Xander offered to accompany her.
Buffy accepted on Spike's count and left Xander to protect Dawn.
A young vampire, drawn by the scent of blood, was lurking outside the house
that Devon and his bandmates shared. Buffy quickly dispatched him and looked at
the house.
"Well…I guess the door's… open," she observed. The front door lay on the
lawn, the wood and hinges damaged. Buffy entered and turned to Spike who was
examining the fallen door. "Coming in?"
"Can't," he replied. "The owner or one of the inhabitants has to invite me."
Buffy sighed and rolled her eyes. "Should've brought Xander."
Spike snorted derisively. The slayer ignored him and went in alone. She
walked slowly into the living room, pausing to right an overturned lamp. Buffy
also set an easy chair back in its proper position, though she could do nothing
about the shredded upholstery. As she stepped past the chair, she saw the body.
Peter was virtually unrecognizable, even to someone who'd known him for more
than a few days. His face was ruined, the werewolf's powerful jaws having
shattered the jaw and cheekbone on one side. Either the pressure or the fangs
had caused one of the eyes to burst, whitish fluid was congealing on his bloody
cheek. Buffy was nauseated; she could only hope that most of the damage had been
done after Peter's throat had been torn out. She was relieved to leave the
corpse behind, searching the rest of the house.
Oz was not there. Buffy noted that most of his belongings were also missing.
She felt a chill. Oz hadn't just wolfed and ran. At some point, he had stopped
to pack. The slayer left the house swiftly, pausing only once, outside, to
observe that the van was nowhere to be seen.
*~*
A CD spun in the portable player. Inches away, fingers – the nails polished
black and bitten down to the quick – drummed on the plane's armrest. Oz's eyes
were closed, his head nodded slightly to the music's throbbing beat.
