Chapter Twenty
"Ugh! Stupid, obstructive, stupid… book!"
Oz looked up from his seat on the couch to see Willow scowl at the offending object, punctuating each insult with a smack to the long yellowing pages. With a sigh, she slumped back and contented herself with sullen glares. Why wasn't it being helpful?
"Don't let Giles see you doing that."
"Well, it should be more useful! Instead it just keeps referring me to other books - that I've already read or can't find - and they refer back. It's like being stuck in a very slow ping-pong game."
His eyes shone with the laughter that didn't pass his lips as he watched the frustrated girl hit the book one last time for good measure, albeit with much less force than previously.
"Bad, bad book!" she grumbled again before glancing over. He had that look she had come to know so well. She suddenly felt pleasantly foolish; his quiet smile that had calmed her panics so often before, working its magic again. "Did you find anything?"
Oz cast his gaze down to the open pages that lay propped up in his lap. "Lots slightly… disturbing, but none particularly useful."
Nodding, Willow pulled another creaking volume towards her across the desk and began scanning wearily.
The studious quiet resumed for a few minutes as the two teens flicked and scanned through centuries worth of knowledge; of demons and battles, myths and diaries, Slayers and warriors, spells and ancient magics. The rhythmic beat of Giles's pacing feet echoed in the main library; tired metal creaked as the book cage was nudged by an absent shoulder while outside, the nearly full moon hung low and bloated in the thick night sky. The soft lamps glowed golden in the small office, casting smooth shadows across the dark walls.
Oz could already feel it pushing under his skin. Circling and swelling impatiently inside his bones and blood. Stalking the boundaries of his human mind like the caged animal he was deep down, waiting for its chance to strike through his weakened defences. Losing everything he was, with no way to stop it. Closing his eyes with a silent inhale, the motionless boy attempted to practice the meditation techniques Giles had taught him. When his breathing had settled into a slow steady rhythm and the pool of his mind was calm again, he opened his gaze to the rest of the world with a sense of familiar trepidation. He could resist the primal call of the wolf for the most part, for now, but the physical signs were already well established. His eyes were increasingly sensitive to the light and dark; sounds and smells were ever greater amplified to his sharp senses. These restless nights were usually put to use with extensive research or patrolling. Anything he could do to help. Anything to distract.
He could feel it even now; an intrusive toxin slowly spreading throughout his body, poisoning everything he was. Every part of him was fine-tuning for the coming moon. Every day he became less Oz, and more wolf -- and it scared him more than he would ever admit. He knew it would be so much more intense tomorrow. It was only a few days.
His body stiffened as a very particular scent caught his attention. Soft vanilla and fresh honeysuckle drifted together with the lingering taste of parchment and page, aged ink and something that defied expression. Oz tilted his head an inch to the side in a remarkably animal gesture. The other occupant of the room shuffled and adjusted her head upon her hand as another pleasant wave washed through the air.
Oz fought the urge to close his eyes as he inhaled slowly. Ever since he'd first changed, he'd found himself increasingly able to recognise each individual human scent. He knew Annie, Mike, Giles and Jenny by heart, and was even vaguely aware of them during the rest of the month, when their emotional states were particularly heightened. It was an... interesting side effect to have. It had certainly proved its use at points in the past. But this, Willow's scent, was something -- else. A slight smile lifted his mouth. Was anything about this girl not unusual?
He frowned suddenly as her scent filtered into his mind and his thoughts temporarily fell to disorder. The subtle layers seemed to grope blindly in the back of his mind, as if attempting to grasp and trigger the almost-nothing shadows that drifted there. He shook his head in quick sharp movement and dispelled the uncomfortable confusion. It was like having a severe case of tip-of-the-tongue syndrome. At least, that was what it was beginning to feel like. Oz was getting almost used to the bursts of uncertainty that kept creeping up on him at odd moments. But no matter how much time he gave over to the unsettling sensation, nothing ever came from it. It was frustrating the stoic teen no end, so he had taken to dismissing them as quickly as they came.
He forced his eyes back to the page, but knew he was fighting a losing battle. He couldn't concentrate. In the quiet of their shared space, every sound caught his ears through the ajar office door. He could hear Giles's leather shoes squeak softly; someone was knocking the leg of the table in a steady thoughtful beat; the doors of the weapons cupboard sighed as they were pried open. And the warm, sweet scent that continued to tease his senses, was the most distracting pull on Oz's attention. Strangely seeming to calm and excite the wolf in equal measures, it took a lot of his formidable self-disciple to maintain his usual neutral expression.
His thumb tapped the page absently. Through dark lashes, his gaze landed on the figure that leant upon Giles's old desk; a serious face absorbed in the secrets contained within the aged pages before them. Her hand travelled lazily, sliding up the slope of her slender neck to play with the fine hairs at her nape. Scarlet threads twirled around her fingertips in distracted thought.
Oz dragged his gaze away and ran a hand through his hair, anxiously looking anywhere else in the small office. So much for the meditative calm breathing, he thought dryly.
~o~
He picked up the raised voices before she did. His head turned towards the muffled sounds. A few moments later, the arguing voices of Annie and Mike increased in clarity and volume, along with striding steps as feet crossed the polished floor. Willow caught his eye and both moved to the doorway as the heated exchange beyond gathered centre stage.
"...something stupid, I can tell!"
"You don't know anything Mike! I'm just going for some air, I can't stand being cooped up."
Jenny watched the quarrelling kids from the table as Giles moved to intercept if any mediating would be required.
Mike caught Annie's coat collar, forcing her to turn around. "It's hard on all of us, you know! You always do this! Don't shut us out."
With a flick of coal black hair, the young woman jerked out of his grip angrily. "Spare me. I'm just going for a walk, which by the way, I don't need your permission for!" She shot him an aggravated glare and spun on her heel as she stormed for the doors. "Don't worry, I'll try to not to die in the next fifteen minutes!" she called mockingly over her shoulder as with a resounding bang, Annie blew out the library.
Awkward silence hovered in the wake of her exit. Mike stared at the doors for a second before with a sigh he rubbed the back of his neck and turned around to see the assembled audience to their little scene. He shrugged, embarrassment pushing in amongst the irritation.
"She'll be alright." Mike looked over to Oz, who stood against the office door frame beside a very worried looking Willow. "Annie can take care of herself."
The younger boy rubbed his face and made a low murmur of acknowledgment. "I know, I know. It's just so annoying when she takes off like that. Like she has to fight this war all by herself."
"It's been a rough week. For everyone. Let her have some alone time."
Mike nodded slowly at the Watcher's solemn words. With an apologetic glance around at the others, he moved quickly back up the steps to his own abandoned research.
~o~
Oz had walked back into the office to pick up the tome he had been struggling through when he heard a sigh behind him. Turning around, he saw her click the door shut and press her palm against the wood.
"People are tense."
"You get used to it."
She looked over, subdued anxiousness in her eyes. She clearly wanted to talk more. Oz sat down on the arm of the old leather couch. "Giles knows something is coming. Even if he won't share." He shrugged. "Guess he figures we're due for another run-in with the Master. No-one finds that idea fun."
"But, you guys have fought him before, right?" Willow stared at the older boy who finally looked up and met her gaze.
"Ranks pretty high on the list of experiences I'd like to never repeat."
Silence fell between them once more. Willow picked at the wool of her maroon jumper. "He's not unbeatable," she blurted abruptly. Walking across the room, she placed her hands on the back of the desk chair. "It's just... Well, I mean..." With a puff, she blew some hair off her forehead and tried again. "You know, where I came from?"
Oz gave a nod to encourage her to continue.
"Well, there Buffy managed to stop him. She had to face some pretty scary stuff to do it, but she did it. I know you, we, don't have her, or well any Slayer here, but -- you guys are really strong. I mean, you've been fighting him for years; you've saved a lot of lives. You've done a lot of good. I- I believe we can stop him. We'll find something. We've always beaten the evil before, always found a way. This is nothing we can't handle. I know it." She finished with a confident nod and a bright smile. She felt better now. Somehow just saying it out loud to someone made it feel true, all the more real.
Oz felt himself smile faintly. A small hopeful part of him stirred briefly and for a moment, he could believe her.
"Okay."
Her nose crinkled so gently as she smiled back. All full and warm, teeth flashing, eyes bright and deeply alive -- a proper grin. She smiled with her whole face, her whole being. And it was like a shot of surging adrenaline to a sleeping heart. He looked away and found that his own was still lingering on his face.
This was not good.