Disclaimer: Nope, I still don't own Buffy, or the universe Joss Whedon created for her. He still hasn't got back to me about my offer to wash his car.
Chapter 6:
Oz could very nearly feel the white-hot fury radiating off of Dee's skin. Whatever had just happened to her, it had her really pissed off.
"What the hell have you got me into?" Dee's voice was dangerously soft, deceptively calm, but her eyes betrayed a barely-contained rage.
Oz picked himself up off the floor. "Dee, do you really want to hurt me?" His voice was calm, steady.
"The thought had crossed my mind." Her fists were clenched, and in spite of the fact that she was clearly in a lot of pain, she seemed perfectly willing to hand over a broken neck to go along with the black eye Oz knew he would have in the morning.
Oz let his hands drop to his sides. "Okay," his voice was still perfectly calm, "go ahead."
"What?"
"Go ahead. Take your best shot." His voice hadn't so much as wavered, "I can't fight you, and frankly, under the circumstances, I can't say I'd blame you either. So go ahead."
For a moment, Dee stood, unsure of exactly what to do. Part of her wanted to take a swing at him, see if she could knock his head clean off of his shoulders.
A bigger part, however, knew that she wouldn't.
She drew a long, shuddering breath, and allowed the raw anger to flow off of her like a waterfall. She felt like a puppet whose strings had just been cut. As though the only thing that was holding her upright had been the rage.
Finally, succumbing to sheer exhaustion, she collapsed in a heap on the floor.
"Dee!" Oz rushed forward, and caught her in his arms before her head hit the floor.
"You owe me a new kitchen table." She whispered, and passed out.
It was almost four hours before she opened her eyes again. She was lying on the couch in Oz's living room, or at least she thought she was. She'd never actually been in Oz's living room before. Oz himself was quietly snoozing on the comfy chair next to her. The beginnings of a black eye were just barely visible.
She brought her hand up to her brow, feeling a large adhesive bandage. She winced as she wondered which of the many blows she'd taken that night had created that cut. Her shoulder, still sore, felt like it had been reset.
"How are you feeling?" Oz's voice, still calm, although somewhat groggy, broke into the mental inventory she was taking of her body.
"Like I was in the loosing end of a fight against a sledgehammer."
Oz smiled a little, "Well, if it helps any, you won that fight 'cause, well, you're alive."
"Tell that to my broken bones." Dee muttered bitterly.
"I don't think anything was really broken. You may have a couple of cracked ribs. Oh, and your shoulder was dislocated. All of that should have healed by tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?"
"Quick healing. Part and parcel of the slayer gig." He offered a thin smile, "Right now, you look like a giant banana. This time tomorrow, you won't even be able to tell anything had happened to you at all."
He gestured at his eye, "This, on the other hand," he smiled, "will take days to heal."
"Sorry about that."
Oz shook his head. "Don't worry about it. Like I said, you had a hell of a night."
There was a long, uncomfortable silence.
"Why don't you tell me about what happened last night?"
"A guy came over to read my gas meter."
"Isn't your gas meter in the basement of the building?" Oz pointed out.
"Yeah. I kinda realized that after I let him in."
"You invited him in?" Oz asked.
"Yeah. Dumb move?"
"Well, yeah." Oz shrugged.
"Anyhow, he changed, we fought, he lost. He took the business end of a table leg. Hence, you owe me a new kitchen table." She added.
"Well, while we're on the subject, I have a door which was recently forcibly relocated…" Oz pointed out.
There was another long silence.
"Do you remember anything in particular about him?" Oz asked.
"He didn't much like the taste of that cross you gave me." Dee offered a slightly lopsided smile.
"I figured. Anything else?"
"Well, after he… went away, there was a ring left behind." She fished around in her pockets. "Here."
Oz took it in his hand. "The order of Taraka."
"Say what?"
"Basically an order of assasins. Some human, some not. They're remarkably good at killing their targets and generally do very little collateral damage. You've taken out two of them so far." Oz explained. "With no training." He added.
"The… thing at the tower?"
Oz nodded.
"So, basically, you're telling me that some guy I've never met and have no problem with has sicced a group of assassins on me?"
Oz nodded again.
"Why?"
"You're the slayer."
"But I'm not!" Dee insisted. "I'm just a girl trying to live her life. Why isn't that enough anymore?"
Oz looked at her, sympathetically, "Because the world won't let that be enough anymore," he replied, gently.
Dee was silent again for a long time. "How did they not know?" She asked softly. She didn't seem to be asking anyone in particular. Maybe she wasn't even expecting much in the way of an answer.
"Not know what?" Oz asked.
"How come it didn't ever cross their minds how many lives they would be changing? Not just mine, but all the others out there?" Dee was on the verge of tears.
Oz chose his words carefully. He didn't know how to answer this, exactly. Finally, he gave the only honest answer he had: "I wasn't there, but I know Willow." He paused for a moment, composing himself, "She would never do something like this without considering the consequences."
"You knew this Willow really well, didn't you?" Dee asked.
"I did." The tone in Oz's voice made it clear that the subject was closed. "We decided after Will did the whole big mojo thing that we'd just let you and all the other new slayers just live out your lives. There was really no need to bring you in. What you didn't need to know couldn't hurt you."
"And we didn't need to know that all the creatures that we used to believe were under the bed were actually there? We didn't need to know that we could someday be required to kill them off?" There was a slight note of sarcasm in Dee's voice.
"Well, yeah. When we lost Anne, that sort of forced you into play a lot earlier than we thought."
Dee was silent again for a moment, "So, is there any chance that there's a pay-raise involved with my new position?"
Oz smiled. "Tell you what, if you're still alive in the morning, we'll talk."
Dee picked herself up from the couch. "I guess I'd better make my way home, then." She tested her weight on her right leg. It still didn't feel quite right, but definitely better.
Oz nodded. "Good idea, and try not to invite any strange men into your house again."
Dee smiled and nodded. She made her way to the heavily-damaged doorway. "Sorry about that," she said, indicating the broken doorframe.
"It's okay. You owe me a door, I owe you a table. We'll call it even."
Dee nodded. "Oz," she said, without turning around.
"Yeah?"
"Thanks."
