Summary: Oz's presence has... repercussions. S2 E27

Disclaimer: I own whatever OC's I create, and not much more.

Feedback: Unlike most sound setups, I like positive feedback. Like most amps, a little bit of negative feedback can help as well.

Pre-fic Comments:

For the record? I. Hate. Plotbunnies.

Once I've nailed this one down (and skinned it to make a rug or something), this fic'll be done with.

* * *

"We've got a leak."

"Who, where, and how?"

"Daniel Osbourne, Sunnydale Calif, through his infant nephew."

"James Osbourne?"

"Yes. Daniel Osbourne has no idea what he is. Two Hunters that I know of have spotted him, one of which is the Slayer, reporting to a Watcher from the Watcher's Council."

"Damn. I'll send an operative to subdue him and remove him from the situation, before the shit really hits the fan."

"Make sure you tell /this/ guy that we're sitting on a Hellmouth here."

* * *

Oz looked down the corridor, as Willow went down it to her next class. His world had just been turned upside down, changing him into a monster, but she was okay with that.

"Daniel Osbourne?," a voice asked. In a school of teenagers, it was surprisingly grown up.

He turned to look. A tall European looking man was standing in the shadows of a bank of lockers, looking straight at him.

"I'm him," Oz said, simply.

The man nodded. "Meet me here at eight tonight, cub. You're coming with me either out of your own will, or in your own body bag."

With that, the stranger fell into the pool of shadow as if it were a deep pool of water. Oz went over to where he had been standing, crouching to poke at the floor. Solid.

"Found something?," Xander asked from behind him.

"Could be," Oz said. "Some stranger, death threat, then he faded away like scotch mist."

"Weird," Xander said. "So, did you know him or was it more a first date come on?"

"Didn't know him," Oz said.

"Going to hang around here for the twinkies, or leave on a life of luxury and adventure?"

Privately, Oz thought he had enough adventure as it was in this town. He shook his head.

"It's no big. He knew I'm a werewolf, though."

"Really?," Xander asked. "Wow, we only just found that out ourselves. Now, I know for a fact that the G-man has a date with a stack of books bigger than him tonight, and that Buffy's still moping over a guy dead longer than she's been alive. How about we have a stakeout tonight?"

"Sure," Oz said. The younger boy had far more experience with strangers giving death threats, knowing the Slayer and all. "Trank?"

"Trank?," Xander asked, confused.

"Should we bring the tranquiliser gun?"

The White Knight grinned suddenly. "Sure. That thing is more fun than a weasel down your trousers, or being beaten up by a guy you've never met before."

* * *

"Remind me again why Willow isn't here?," Oz asked.

"Her parent's're on another study kick," Xander said. "They're into shrinkology. Uh, loaded the gun?"

Oz checked that the dart with the anaesthetic was loaded into the tranquiliser gun and ready to fire. "Check."

"And three," Xander counted, looking at his watch, "two, one, showtime!"

With the last word, the stranger from that afternoon melted upwards from the same shadow that he had disappeared into. Xander immediately jumped the somewhat disorientated man, doing his damndest to put the man into a hold of some sort.

"OZ, DART HIM BEFORE HE REALLY GOES NUTS!," Xander shrieked. "MAKE WITH THE TRANKS ALREADY!"

The stranger, paranoid to a fault, panicked at the word 'dart'. He had /no/ intentions of being caught and used as a guinea pig by men in white coats wanting to benefit mankind through his unique self. Claws grew from his fingertips, and his canines elongated as he started biting and scratching Xander. Blood started to flow from each as Xander managed to bloody the man's nose through some agency, finding reserves of strength from God alone knew where.

Then the teenage werewolf finally got a clear shot. He took it.

Xander panted as his enemy collapsed. Blood was freely flowing from his arms, torso and face. Scratches decorated him, and punctures from the ma--creature's fangs. The blood from the creature's bloodied nose had sprayed all over Xander's face, coating it in a mask of red.

"Oz, I'm not going hunting with you," Xander said. "Unless we're hunting twinkies or coke bottles."

* * *

Giles was having quite a delightful night sorting through a shipment of books he had just received. He had skimmed through 'Prophecies of the Blood', and was currently paging through 'Table's Guide To Liches And Their Creation'. He was enjoying this as much as a normal person would like watching a movie whilst having a two litre tub of hokey-pokey to themselves.

So he was quite put out when Oz and Xander interrupted him. His level of put-outed-ness escalated when he saw the copious amounts of blood decorating Xander and the man the two were dragging between them.

"Dear Lord, what on earth have you two miscr--"

"Chain, G-man, we need lots and lots of chain," Xander panted. "This guy was hard enough to keep busy, I don't wanna do it again."

Giles kept his questions to himself temporarily. He supplied the two youths with a length of stout chain, and a padlock. Once the stranger was firmly tied to the book cage's infrastructure, he got out the First Aid kit and a bottle of disinfectant, handing them and a pile of clean rags to Oz to clean up Xander.

"Why, might I ask, have you physically assaulted a complete stranger with intent of grievous bodily harm?," Giles asked, cleaning his glasses. He spotted a grey blur that Oz was holding. The Watcher put his glasses back on. "And with MY tranquiliser gun, I might add!"

"He was threatening to kill Oz!," Xander protested. "Check out his hands and his teeth! He's like Dracula reincarnated! We're taking B-movie horror here!"

"True," Oz agreed.

Giles carefully crouched to look at the figure's hands. True to the boy's report, they did have long claws on the end. After opening the unconscious man's mouth, he also confirmed Xander's report of fangs. To be honest, Giles was surprised that the man had avoided slicing his mouth wide open.

"What on Earth is going on here?," Giles asked in bewilderment. "I'm afraid I don't know of any agencies wanting to kill lycanthropes that were supernatural themselves."

"Maybe he's some demon whose best bud got killed by a werewolf, or something," Xander volunteered. He wasn't feeling too generous right now, considering that he was being patched up due to that guy.

"Well," Giles said, "the demon in question is waking up now. We can ask for ourselves."

* * *

Post-fic Comments:

A thousand blessings, and a thousand curses upon that guy who posted the link to Sennadar. I keep losing weeks of reading time to that series!