Part 4

"We have a serious werewolf problem," Buffy declared. "Peter's dead, Oz is MIA…we need a plan."

"Find Oz before he kills again," Spike suggested.

"We don't know that Oz did this," Dawn objected.

"Way to overlook the evidence," Xander remarked. He didn't want to believe it either.

"No," Anya insisted. "Maybe Oz is just out looking for the bad werewolf."

"Which is why he packed his bags and didn't bother to contact any of us," Xander retorted.

"Can we focus?" Buffy interjected. "How do we find him?"

"Oh!" Anya exclaimed. "I have an idea. Let's report his van stolen."

The others stared at her.

"Because then the police will look for it…"

"It's a start," Buffy said. "If we can get a hold of Devon, maybe he can tell us where Oz might go."

"Should we discuss what we're going to do when we find him?" Xander asked.

"Stab him through the chest?" Anya recommended.

"Okay, you know what? Drop it," Buffy snapped.

"But when…" Anya began.

"Drop it," Buffy repeated.

"I just…"

"Drop it!" This time Spike and Dawn joined Buffy in the statement.

Anya looked to Xander for support but he avoided her gaze. She sighed. "Fine. What are we going to do?"

"We'll figure that out when the time comes," Buffy answered. "Okay, Xander, I want you to talk to Devon. Spike, just…drive around town and look for signs of werewolf. Anya, you do the same. Dawn, call the cops, report the van stolen then stay here and field phone calls. Call here to check in. I'm going to start at the house and see if I can figure out anything useful."

"You mean Chez Dingo?" Anya said.

"It's Casa," Dawn corrected.

"Everybody back before dawn," Buffy instructed.

*~*

"Willow!" Dawn bounced up from the couch to greet her. "Thank God you're here. I thought maybe you got eaten. Where've you been?"

"I was out with a friend," Willow answered evasively. "I just wanted to grab a shower before…did you say eaten?"

"Yeah," Dawn nodded.

Willow sighed. "Okay, what's the bad this time?"

"You haven't heard?" Dawn asked incredulously.

"If I'd heard, would I ask?"

"Oh my god! I actually get to tell someone something!"
"Dawn," Willow said sharply. "Just…"

"It's Oz!" Dawn exclaimed, a bit too excitedly.

"What?"

"It's Oz! The bad. He ate Peter. And he broke into the house. The whole gang's out looking for him Well, except us. Hey! Where're you…"

The door slammed shut.

"Going…" Dawn finished.

Willow headed to the Dingoes' house. She was sure Buffy had already been there but she was equally sure she could find something the slayer had overlooked.

Peter's body still lay on the floor, surrounded by a pool of his slowly drying blood. Willow stared at the ruined face, the gaping wound in his throat, his pale, limp hand, missing two fingers. "Oh, God, Oz," she breathed hoarsely. "What did you do?"

Her answer was in the lifeless stare of Peter's remaining eye. Sickened, she began to trek upstairs when she remembered that she hadn't seen Oz's van in the driveway. Trying not to look at Peter, Willow reached for the phone.

"Hey."

Willow nearly jumped out of her skin. "Buffy. What're you doing here?"

"Investigating," the slayer replied. She glanced at Peter. "Oz's stuff is gone, he might be headed out of town."

"He could've gone to LA," Willow said. "He's got some family in LA."

"We should try to get a hold of them."

The witch nodded numbly. Oz's cousin Jordy lived in LA with his parents.

*~*

"I talked to him earlier," Devon slurred. "Gotta watch the little guy's back."

'Watch' came out 'wash' and for a moment, Xander was stuck with a very disconcerting mental image.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I saw that li'l red-head, Willow, getting cozy with some guy at the Bronze. Cheating bitch. They're all the same, you know. Women."

"You told him?"

Devon nodded. "Called him up and gave him the straight shit. I probably should've found a better way to break the news. Say it with flowers or some shit. Break the news…that's a weird esspresshun," Devon observed. "It's not like 'bam, crack…oops broken news' … I wrecked my fucking phone too," he mentioned.

"Listen, do you have any idea where Oz would've gone?" Xander asked, speaking loudly and deliberately.

"I know if it was me, I'd've gone and told that bitch a thing or two."

Xander's eyes widened. "Thanks Devon, we'll have to do this again sometime. See you round, okay?" He darted away and called the Summers house.

"Has Willow been by?"

"Yeah. I told her what was going on and she took off," Dawn complained. "But she's back now. I was just getting ready to call you, actually. Everybody is to report back to base."

"Gotcha."

*~*

"Okay," Dawn began once everyone was gathered in the living room. "The police called. They found the van."

"Where?" Buffy asked.

"Did they find Oz?" Willow said simultaneously.

"No, and in the parking lot at the airport."

"The airport? He could be anywhere!" Xander exclaimed.

"We could ask the people who work there, I bet he was acting suspicious," Dawn suggested.

"Plus, he's, like, five feet tall. That's a pretty distinguishing characteristic for a guy," Anya said helpfully.

"So is being eight feet tall and covered in fur," Spike muttered.

"I don't think he could drive a van like that," Anya retorted.

"Yeah, well the way you described him, I'm surprised his little feet could reach the pedals," Spike said snidely.

"None of this is helpful," Buffy interrupted. "Knock it off."

"Oh!" Dawn said brightly. "He can't leave the country without a passport."

"He has a passport," Willow replied.

"Oh." Dawns face fell. "So, he really could be anywhere."

"Not really," Willow said, beginning to perk up. "The Sunnydale airport is tiny. I'll be only half a dozen flights or so have left tonight. What time did he leave here?"

"Early," Spike answered, "Around 11:30 or so."

"That sounds right," Dawn added.

"If he was wolfed when he broke in, he probably went back for his stuff after that. It'd take a couple minutes to get back to the Dingoes' house, a few more to pack, plus the drive to the airport. He probably couldn't have gotten on a plane before midnight."

"Maybe even later," Buffy said, hopes rising. "And there are next to no flights leaving that late."

*~*

They were talking to an airline employee whose name-tag said 'Candice.'

"We get a lot of travelers this time of year," she explained patiently.

"This would've been around midnight, maybe after."

"A young man, early twenties, about this tall," Willow gestured. "Blond, spiky hair, green eyes, real pale…"

"Kind of a cute boy with a guitar case?" Candice asked.

"Yes!"

"I remember. Checked the guitar all the way through to London-Heathrow for him. We don't get many internationals out of here, most folks just drive to LAX. But of course, the parking around there is much more expensive."

"London? You're sure about that?" Buffy said.

"Yeah…made a joke about him knowing the language," Candice said fondly.

"You're a life saver," Willow told her.

"Have a nice New Year!" Candice called after them as they left.

*~*

The holidays were over, and considering how much he'd drunk the previous night, Rupert Giles felt all right. His head hurt but not too much; he felt sluggish, as though he'd slept too much or not enough, and for the first time in years, he woke up craving a cigarette. Giles was greeted by the smell of smoke as he stumbled out of bed and determined that it must have been that familiar odor which had put the nicotine craving into his mind.

A young, blond man was sitting in Giles's breakfast nook just exactly as though he belonged there. There were three items on the table in front of him, a cup of coffee, an ashtray and a pack of Dorals. "Coffin nail?" he offered, sliding the pack across the table as Giles sat down.

"I quit," Giles said weakly. Even as he spoke, his slender fingers pulled a cigarette from the pack. His hand trembled as he raised it to his lips. A silver lighter seemed to materialize in the young man's hand. Giles accepted the lighter, taking a moment to examine it. It was etched with a mottled orb he assumed was meant to represent the moon. The tiny flame wavered a bit as Giles lit his cigarette and coughed harshly. It had been a long time.

A moment passed in silence before Giles rose to get a cup of coffee. As he crossed the small kitchen, he found himself wishing he'd gotten dressed before leaving the bedroom. "I wasn't expecting anyone," Giles explained, gesturing apologetically to his rumpled pajamas.

"I know." Giles's visitor smiled wryly and sipped his coffee. "I wasn't expecting to be here."

Giles tore the calendar off the wall and dropped it in the trash on his way back to the table. "Happy New Year, Oz."

"Happy New Year."

Neither man spoke again until they had both finished their coffee. When Oz stood up to get a second cup, Giles finally broke the silence. "Can we get to why you're here?"

"Home for the holidays, right?" Oz replied nonchalantly, refilling both mugs.

"The holidays are more or less over. Besides, I thought Sunnydale was your home."

"This place has one thing Sunnydale doesn't," Oz said.

"What's that?" Giles asked, taking his coffee from Oz and taking a sip.

Oz looked at him over the rim of the coffee mug, steam swirling up in front of his eyes. "You."

Giles coughed and sputtered, nearly choking.

"It's the truth," Oz said, sounding mildly offended. "I'm here because of you."

"How are things with Willow?" Giles asked, avoiding Oz's remarks.

Oz didn't have a chance to answer before the phone rang.

"Just a moment," Giles said, excusing himself. "Rupert Giles." He turned away from the table. "Buffy? Calm down. Oz? He's right here… Yes. Did you want to speak to him?" Giles frowned. "Why?" He glanced over his shoulder. Oz was gone.

*~*

Giles walked swiftly down the street, a shotgun concealed beneath a coat that nearly skimmed the ground. He glanced anxiously behind him, like a man being followed. Giles whipped his head back around to the front and froze. Oz stood a couple meters in front of him.

"Sorry I took off earlier," Oz said coolly. "Places to go. But now here I am and we can finish our little talk."

"I don't think you're here to talk."

Oz smirked. It could have been the light, but his eyes looked black as pitch. "You're right. That's not why I'm here at all."

Giles took a step back, prepared to raise the shotgun at any moment. "Well then?"

"Give us a kiss," Oz said, lunging towards Giles. It was not the darkness of the street, his eyes were black. As he surged towards Giles, his face elongated, his jaws became the slender muzzle of an animal, his teeth grew into fangs. Giles leveled the shotgun, aiming into the gaping maw now so close he could feel the creature's hot breath upon him. He pulled the trigger.