Here it is, like over a year late but here it is anyway. This chapter was bloody hard to write mostly because I was unsure of the order of things, I also ended up writing two other alternate chapters that started on the ride home which just didn't sit right with me, seemed forced, so I landed on this version.

Don't hate me!

Also thank-you muchly to those who reviewed, I got a much better response from this than I thought I would, especially those later reviewers that reminded me I still hadn't finished and this fic seemed to be doomed to stay hidden on my hard drive forever, so kisses hugs and all the other good stuff.

morning rituals & evening walks

chapter 3

Oz woke to the sound of thunder, or what his sleep addled mind thought was thunder, minus the wind and rain that inevitably came with a storm, but hearing a shout about bathrooms and showers he frowned and opened his eyes slowly, blinking the sleep out of his eyes as he listened to someone pound on a wooded door with all their might.

"Buffy! Some of us have school you know!"

He stared at the off-white ceiling wondering where he was before it all came rushing back to him as he looked down at the comforter that was now only covering half of his body, due to his habit of rolling around in his sleep. Lazily turning his head he found himself staring at the unlit fireplace, the pictures of Buffy with her family and friends confirming that last night had not been a dream.

Buffy wasn't dead.

Huh.

Engrossed in his reflection of the previous night, Oz didn't hear the subject of his thoughts walk down the stairs and stop within the doorway of the lounge room.

"Nice legs Oz, you shave?" Buffy asked from under the archway as she casually leaned against the doorframe with a small smile on her face. Looking down at the purple-haired werewolf she raised her eyebrow at the leg hanging out from under his blanket, which was in reality, surprisingly hairy.

"Wax," was Oz's deadpanned answer. He swung said legs around giving up some room on the couch so Buffy could sit, and bent over to scratch his left shin.

"Sleep well?"

"Like the dead," Buffy answered while playing with the edge of Oz's blanket absently, "You?"

"Good. Thanks by the way. For taking in a stray."

The blonde quickly shot Oz a annoyed look and stood abruptly, "I told you last night Oz, I wasn't going to let you stay anywhere else in good conscience now that your parents aren't in Sunnydale anymore. Anyway, staying at Devon's in a sure-fire way of catching hepatitis or syphilis or something."

Oz smiled affectionately at his friend and stood shakily on his unused legs, following Buffy's lead as she walked through the lounge into the kitchen.

"Pancakes or waffles?" she asked over her shoulder.

"Pancakes."

"Good, 'cause I'm not cleaning the waffle iron," Buffy said with a small smile pulling out ingredients for pancakes from the pantry.

Oz looked around the familiar surroundings leaning against the kitchen island as Buffy silently prepared the flour and eggs in front of him.

It had been a long time since he had last been in the Summers' house. Buffy's mom was still alive then, and Oz was sure if she was still around that it would have been Joyce making pancakes for everyone, not a slightly weathered Slayer that seemed sadder than he remembered seeing from his last visit to the Sunny Dale. Though if Oz was being honest, he hadn't taken much notice of Buffy that last time he was in town, his thoughts mainly revolving around Willow, and then the discovery of a Willow that involved a Tara shaped girlfriend.

"Oh Buffy let me do that," a soft voice said from the doorway. Oz turned to see Willow's blonde girlfriend hurry into the kitchen and take the spoon away from the slayer gently, mindful not to look in his direction as she tentatively greeted the two.

Oz returned the greeting but otherwise remained silent in keeping with his personality, not because he was being especially cold, yet the silence grew heavily around them.

Buffy coughed awkwardly, "Your just offering because your scared I'll burn down the kitchen," she said braking the tension between the two, "I only burned the pancakes that one time, and it was fine if you turned them over."

"They were raw on the other side."

"Well it evened out the burnt bits," Buffy countered with a slight pout before smiling warmly at Tara. The soft spoken witch smiled back at the slayer puzzled at her transformation from the cold, emotionless woman that had stood in the exact spot she was now only a few days previously, but was grateful for the change.

There was still a sense of aloofness that surrounded the slayer that had kept everyone from asking any questions about her transformation, but everyone in the Summers' residence were just glad to see a Buffy that was more like the one that was around before that summer of her death. In fact, the Buffy that stood beside her now was more like the Buffy before the whole Glory God business. Not quite the Buffy that had told the Watcher's council to stick it where the sun don't shine, but maybe an amalgamation of the two.

"Funny shapes or regular?" Tara asked on reflex having finished the mixture she turned to the stove to start the cooking.

"Funny shapes!" Dawn's voice floated from the upper level.

"She's got radar for food that one," Buffy said shaking her head as she set out plates and cutlery around the kitchen island, "What bout you Oz? Tara makes awesome pancakes, funny shaped or otherwise."

"Not really," Tara said modestly.

"Whatever's easiest."

Tara looked over at Oz for the first time since she had entered the room and smiled tentatively, which he returned with an awkward shrug, suddenly realising he was only in his boxers and a t-shirt.

"I better go get decent before any under aged eyes get corrupted by the sight of my shiny hairless legs."

"Too late, on both accounts," Dawn announced waltzing into the kitchen heading straight for the refrigerator.

"And sorry to say, they don't look all that hairless, Oz," she said poking her head out the side of the fridge door as Oz gave Buffy a secret smile.

Tara frowned and turned back to the task of flipping a pancake, wondering if the purple-haired wolf was deliberately giving her the cold shoulder or if he was feeling just as awkward as she was and listened with half an ear as Buffy informed him that Willow had left for school already so the bathroom was free now that everyone had had their turn. She added as an afterthought that he could use any of the products he found in the bathroom.

"Hey, mi volumiser, es su volumiser. Though you might want to stay away from Dawn's body wash, strawberries and cream might be a bit to froufrou for your tastes."

"Only during the week. Weekends I sometimes like to indulge in a bit of frou."

-------

Oz had offered to go patrolling with the blonde that evening after dinner, half as a way to avoid being left alone with Willow and her girlfriend, and half because he wanted to spend some time with Buffy and maybe get an explanation to way she was looking so good for a dead person.

Buffy hadn't brought up the subject at anytime during their day together (as they were the only two in the house that hadn't had school or any other commitments) but then again, neither had Oz, so he couldn't really blame Buffy. They had mostly spent their time doing the chores and errands that seemed to take up most of Buffy's life these days, the use of the Summers' large washer and dryer a heaven sent after months of travelling. He was smelling better than he had in what seemed like ages, the scented soap in the shower enough for him to want to orgasm on the spot.

As the two folded his laundry this afternoon, Oz had been pleasantly surprised by how well the two got along having never spent as much time with the blonde in the past as he had that day, the time he had probably wouldn't have amounted to anything really significant.

They had sometimes teased and bantered, never really discussing anything significant which was a relief for both of them, and then fell into comfortable silences where it was just fine being in someone else's company.

As the two walked through the dark streets of Sunnydale and into the first cemetery of the night, Oz decided to take the opportunity to take up subtly teasing the blonde slayer as he had for most of the afternoon.

Funny how Buffy understood his deadpanned comments for being the jokes and teasing they were. There weren't many outside of his family that did.

"Are we patrolling for the usual vampires, or evil benches with nefarious plans to take over Sunnydale?"

"What?" Buffy asked confused but after a short pause she remembered the last, and only time she and Oz had patrolled together.

"Oh, right.. Hey! That so wasn't my fault, the bench was shifty looking!"

"I guess the wood grain was suspect."

"Oh shut up," Buffy said sticking her tongue out at the wolf, "Like you've never done anything irrational, and your forgetting the most important part, I was completely right about Cathy. I was right, you guys were wrong.

Me right, you wrong."

Oz just smiled and kept smiling as they weaved their way through the graves and mausoleums, the quiet giving each some time to mull over their own thoughts.

It was a relief not having to be the responsible one for a little while as he knew Buffy could look after herself. Oz had felt the weight of responsibility during his time in Europe heavier than he ever had in the past, and it was liberating to not have to worry so much.

The wolf paused as he waited as Buffy retied the laces of her sneakers and looked around him, appreciating the quiet that permeated throughout the whole of their small town, probably due to the unusually high death rate and unusual occurrences that occurred after the sun set, but Oz appreciated the quiet, no matter the reason.

There was no sounds of traffic, no people that you would find in the larger cities that he had travelled for the past few years, but only the nocturnal animals, the night and a blonde Slayer beside him.

It was nice.

And he had missed Sunnydale.

He hadn't realised it until just now as the darkness comfortably surrounded them, the moonlight casting the gravestones in shadows. He had even missed the cemeteries.

Strange, but there you had it.

Harold Samuel Shepherd
Died 1983
We will always love you
Kathleen, Michael and Fran

Each grave had it's own story to tell, had it's own past that was hinted to on the headstones, prompting Oz to wonder who Kathleen Michael and Fran were. Harold's wife and children? His brother and sisters?

As Buffy stood and wiped her hands across the top of her workout pants, Oz wondered what they would put on his headstone.

Here lies Daniel Peter Osbourne
Died ......
Son of Marie and George Osbourne
He liked animal crackers

"So Europe?" Buffy asked eventually as she poked a head into one of the larger mausoleums.

Seeing no activity they continued on, "Yup. Big continent. Lots of countries," Oz answered simply.

Buffy half-smiled her half-smile, having expected such an answer, "No no stop Oz. So much detail, so many stories, I cant get my head around it all."

Oz looked down at the ground and grinned behind his hand. Inwardly chuckling, he didn't elaborate on his journey through Europe, knowing Buffy would eventually weasel the rest of his story out of him, he wanted to discourage her inquiries for now as he'd have to explain a lot of things he had done and choices he had made that he didn't want to think about at that moment.

He instead took the opportunity to turn the conversation back onto Buffy.

"So death?" he asked rather bluntly, abandoning his usual subtlety.

Buffy shrugged nonchalantly, "Yeah. Fluffy clouds, everlasting peace."

Buffy winced as soon as the words were out of her mouth, she didn't understand why she had just blurted it out like that when she knew Oz was smart enough to decipher the true meaning of her words. After her friends' initial assumptions of hell, she hadn't wanted to tell anyone about her summer "away," hadn't told the friends that were supposed to know her best and she had just blurted it out to Oz, who was, essentially, a stranger. Even after the day they had spent together not catching up and not talking about the last few years.

She did feel comfortable with him, maybe more so now than she ever had, but she still didn't really know Oz.

So maybe that was it. Maybe it was because he was a virtual stranger, a stranger who knew her and knew about her past, but knew very little about her present self.

But he'd have to ask her directly if she even thought about talking, something she didn't think he would do. She had given similar openings to her friends to ask her about her that time, never so obvious as the one she presented Oz with, but even so, openings, and each of them had skirted around the issue and her secrets had yet to be told. And probably never would.

It Buffy was really honest with herself, it was because she was scared of their reactions to the information, plain and simple. So that's what it came down to, a Slayer who had face countless demons every night, averted dozens of apocalypses; was terrified of her own friends.

She was frightened of their rejection mainly, but also of that slight chance that they might be angry with her for not being in hell like they thought, a slightly irrational fear, but a fear nonetheless.

Oz's hand was suddenly on Buffy's wrist as he brought them both to a halt.

"You were in heaven?" he asked in his soft, unassuming way as he searched the slayer's face. Buffy's eyes widened in surprise. Oz had asked the question she had desperately wanted him to ask, but at the same time dreaded, as she felt her fear of rejection grip her once again.

"Can we talk about something else?" she asked uncomfortably having second thoughts about opening up, looking down at Oz's hand which was still holding Buffy's wrist loosely.

Oz quickly relinquished his hold but continued to stare at the slayer intensely, waiting for her answer as Buffy blinked and shifted her gaze lower to her feet.

"Buffy? Were you?"

Maybe Oz was the perfect person to unburden all her troubles onto. Quiet and patient Oz, who had understood that Willow had needed to wait for the right time to finally lose her virginity, understood it even better than she did. Oz, who had been cautiously supportive of her red-headed friend as she grew into her Wiccan powers.

Oz, who had patiently and mindfully taken Buffy on patrol as she raged about her first ever dorm roommate who incidentally, had turned out to be evil.

Oz, who was now listening to her, and waiting for her answer.

"Yes," she softly revealed, catching her bottom lip between her teeth as she silently thought over the time that seemed like a century ago now. It felt so long, yet so close Buffy could still feel the warmth and comfort.

"At least, I think I so. I was safe.. wherever I was, I was safe and I was happy."

Oz swallowed and stayed silent, scrutinizing his friend as she wrapped her arms around herself protectively and kept her eyes firmly on the tip of her shoes. She looked so lost and defensive; two thing Oz had never associated with the blonde slayer, he wanted to wrap his arms around her crossing the line between distant friends to close confidant, but he wasn't sure she would welcome such intimacy from him.

"Buffy," Oz said instead, pausing as he ducked his head to look into her downcast eyes, "What happened?"

The blonde looked momentarily into her werewolf's eyes before lifted her gaze to look around them, "Can we sit?" she asked.

------

Oh bitchy place to end, but I needed a break here, and hey, at least it's out now.

Next one will definitely be out sooner than this one took, half is already written, but then again it is the hard chapter where the two, "have the talk"

No, not that one, I'm pretty sure they both know where babies come from.