EPILOGUE

Something wet, sticky and warm but cooling quickly, decorated the concrete. Dark fluid was drying slowly and thickening all the while, clotting, as it seeped into the porous surface of the cement. Jagged shards of what looked almost like ruined china were scattered throughout the mess. Clusters of fine hair clumped together, matted to the ground. The harsh fluorescence of the street light gave the scene a surreal feel.

Giles fell to his knees, the shotgun clattering against the ground. "No," he whispered. "Oz?"

Oz lay in the center of the unpleasant picture. His skin was as pale as the face of the full moon overhead. His face was untouched. It was only the back of his skull that lay strewn on the street. The sound of sirens brought Giles from his state of shock. He staggered to his feet and fled.

*~*

The days passed slowly as he waited for the police to knock on his door. Surely they had to know that he had killed the boy. No policemen ever came to the house that Giles and Oz had shared. His body was released to his family for burial and shipped back to Sunnydale.

*~*

"The funeral's today," Xander said softly.

"I know," Buffy replied. "I'm going. He'd've come to mine, if he'd been in town."

"I think maybe I should stay with Willow."

Buffy nodded.

*~*

'Come here. Pretty please. Can you tell me where I am? You won't you say something? I need to get my bearings. I'm lost, and the shadows keep on changing.'

Willow waited until after sunset to head to the grave. She had dreamt of nothing but Oz since he had left and she had not seen Michael again. The ground looked disturbed. As Willow stared at it, she realized that she had seen many graves that looked like this one. All of them empty.

'And I'm haunted by the lies that I have loved, and actions I have hated.
I'm haunted by the lies that wove the web inside my haunted head.'


Willow slunk through the cemetery, straining to hear something, her eyes seeking out any flash of movement.

'Don't cry, there's always a way.
Here in November in this house of leaves, we'll pray.
Please, I know it's hard to believe,
to see a perfect forest through so many splintered trees.'


Oz crept up behind Willow, carrying a shovel left behind by one of the cemetery crew. He swung hard at the back of her head.

'You and me and these shadows keep on changing.
And I'm haunted by the lies that I have loved, and actions I have hated.'


Oz dragged Willow back to his grave and began clearing away the earth.

'I'm haunted by the promises I made, and others I have broken.
I'm haunted by the lies that wove the web inside my haunted head.'


Refilling the hole was quicker than digging it had been, but not by much. He moved another shovel-full of dirt and, under his breath, sang the song that had been haunting him since the plane trip to England. "Hallways... always…"

Oz sank the tool into the earth again. "I'll always want you," he murmured. "I'll always need you."

He patted the last of the dirt down with the flat surface of the shovel.

"I'll always love you."

He tossed the shovel aside and sighed contentedly. Oz brushed the dirt off his hands and regarded the temporary marker they'd erected over his grave. He strolled out of the cemetery smiling.

"And I will always miss you."

fin