There is absolutely no excuse. Over a year is far, far too long between updates and I will be honestly stunned if I have any readers left. However, overdue as it is, here is the next instalment.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
~o~
"Move!"
Annie's voice was barely audible over the guttural roar of the enraged animal that lunged through the broken cage door and hurled itself towards them.
She reacted without thinking. Honed reflexes kicked in as she all but threw herself aside, skidding to the floor at the same moment Annie dodged the other way. Willow scrambled across the ground, flinching away from the angry growl beside her as the wolf slammed into the counter. The floor shook with the impact, making her teeth jar painfully as the world blurred into a pressing miasma of noise and fear around her.
Pain shot up through her knees from where she collided into the floor, making her grimace, but she quickly jerked up with horror as a shout and thundering snarl abruptly echoed over from the direction of the table. It was too fast. Time seemed to hold her prisoner and Willow found she could only watch with wide eyes as she saw the huge wolf going tooth and claw after Annie – tearing across the room in a bolt of grey fur and snapping jaws. The young woman was a fast and agile prey to pursue but the wolf gave eager chase, the thrill of the hunt a primal instinct that overruled all others. Willow's heart leapt into her throat as she saw Annie turn on her heel and grab up a wooden chair, hurling it back at the rapidly approaching animal with all her might. She winced despite herself as she watched the chair find its target with a violent force, drawing an irate roar in response but barely slowing down the wolf's attack.
"Get the gun!"
Willow jolted as the sharp command pierced the air, cutting through the terror that had momentarily stunned her into paralysis. Annie hollered the words over her shoulder as she flew up the steps in a futile attempt to outrun the creature that snarled behind her, ripping its way through the hastily scattered furniture as if it were nothing more substantial than forest leaves. She felt a familiar adrenaline break through the shock and fear, filling her with a single-minded determination and galvanising her into action. "Distract him!" she shouted back, pulling herself roughly to her feet and twirling on the spot to lunge over the counter.
"What do you think I'm doing!" Annie snapped furiously, stumbling away from the staircase and retreating into the stacks as the wolf leapt up to the balcony in one terrifying bound. "Playing fucking fetch!"
Willow ignored the retort, already scrambling to hoist herself up. The edge of the countertop cut into her stomach but still she reached and stretched, fumbling blindly along the hidden shelf on the other side, feeling for the rifle that should be there. She flinched as she heard Annie yell and felt the floor tremble again as a bookcase came crashing down, but she didn't dare pause to look behind her. Pushing the sickening déjà vu from her mind, she swore under her breath and redoubled her frantic efforts to locate the tranquiliser gun. Yet the hard metal of the barrel escaped her fingers and she abruptly felt panic stab through the pit of her gut like shards of glass.
What if they keep it somewhere different?
It was a delay she couldn't afford, and the thought was enough to turn her numb with dread. But then she glimpsed it – stowed away on the low shelves on the far side of the alcove. As more deafening chaos erupted from the balcony, Willow practically vaulted over the counter, tumbling down head first and toppling ungracefully to the other side. She sucked in a pained breath but didn't stop as she lunged across the floor and knocked everything off the shelves in her haste to grab the rifle. Freezing relief flooded her system as she finally hauled the weapon into her grip. Clutching the gun with white knuckles, she staggered to her feet as her index finger found the trigger with the touch of habit.
As she spun around, Willow nearly dropped the gun in shock. A shrill scream tore from her lips as she suddenly found herself face to face with a large and very angry werewolf. It jumped up onto the countertop with a fluid ease and seemed to tower over her, overwhelming strength and balance combined into a perfectly deadly combination. It glowered down at her hungrily, black eyes burning like smoking coals and ears flat against its head. A deep growl cracked through the air like thunder, lips pulling back to reveal white blades of needled teeth as muscles rippled and bunched in its shoulders, preparing to pounce. Willow blinked dumbly for a second, frozen in the captivating power of the wolf's flashing onyx gaze. Had Oz always been that big? And that… wolfy?
She snatched back her senses not a second too soon.
With a yelp she lunged aside, hurling herself through the open door to her right as she fled into the office in the same moment that the wolf leapt for her with a vicious snarl. Great shuddering crashes followed in her wake but she didn't stop to glance back as she tore through the small office, survival instinct clamouring up through her body until all she could hear was the pounding ache of panic that strangled the air in her lungs.
Yanking open the glass door with such force that she was surprised it didn't shatter on impact, Willow flew back out onto the library floor, the loping wolf hot on her heels. She thought she heard her name being screamed over the roar in her head, but everything was quickly drowned out as she felt the unmistakable presence of her pursuer bearing down on her back with a frightening speed. With a last ditch of desperation, she tried to twist out of the way, only to stumble painfully over her own feet and go sprawling to the ground. Breath was crushed from her chest and horror seized her insides as she felt the gun knocked out of her grip, only to see it go skidding out of her reach across the polished floor.
Willow felt the promise of tears prick her eyes, fresh wounds of immeasurable regret that would never get the chance to fall. Not like this, please. Yet she knew it was too late. Helpless fear swallowed her whole for a fraction of a second, tightening into a solid knot of ice in her throat. Her trapped heart was beating so frantically she numbly wondered if it wasn't trying to break its way out of her chest and somehow escape its fate. She caught a fleeting glance of her looming death over her shoulder before she squeezed her eyes shut and drew her last breath, bracing for the agonizing impact of claws on flesh.
But it didn't come.
"Hey!"
Willow wrenched her eyes open as an angry yell echoed through the air, jolting as she felt something pound into the floor to her left. Rolling onto her side, she dared only the quickest glance behind her and felt her eyes widen at the sight that greeted her. The wolf growled and snarled, distracted in its pursuit only a few steps away from her, tossing its head and snapping its teeth at the assault of books that hailed down from the balcony railing, colliding into its hide with a fierce accuracy and sizable force. Damn, that girl had a good arm. Through the haze of adrenaline, she dimly realised that this was the second time the hostile young woman had spared her from the grasp of certain death.
Yet Willow barely had enough time to absorb the scene before she abruptly swung her gaze away and quickly reached out a hand. She gritted her teeth against the burning pressure that welled up through her body, reaching with her mind and fighting to control the potential power that stung her fingertips. The magic answered her. As soon as she felt the cool weight of metal fly into her waiting grip, she instantly twisted onto her back and leaned up, sighting the gun with a tense but steady hand. In the same moment, the wolf turned and lunged back towards her, great paws thudding heavily against the floor, jaws wide and a terrible snarl in its throat. Willow didn't blink. Squeezing the trigger and unconsciously bracing for the familiar recoil, she shot Oz dead in the chest.
The wolf gave a high pitched whine of distress that tore her apart inside as it crumpled to the floor. A violent tremble rocked the animal, making it twitch and whimper before finally falling still under the tranquiliser dart. Willow's heart was still beating too hard and too fast to be healthy as she scrambled back and pulled herself to a shaky stand, her eyes never leaving the fallen creature at her feet. He looked so small all of a sudden, rendered vulnerable and unprotected and left so very alone in the darkness. She felt her heart crack against her ribs with pain and resisted the urge to glance away. God, she hated seeing him like this. It just wasn't right.
She felt Annie cautiously walk over to join her, but couldn't summon the strength to raise her head in acknowledgment. For a moment they both just looked down at the inert form of their friend in subdued silence, taking the time to regain a regular rhythm over their breathing. Anything to avoid looking at each other, anything to delay dealing with all the unresolved issues and contradictions that lay there.
"Not a bad shot," the young woman mumbled grudgingly at last, almost under her breath.
Willow felt a ghost of a smile pass over her lips, but the memory was bittersweet. "Not my first time," she said quietly.
After another beat of shared silence, she heard Annie sigh and finally steeled herself to look up and away from Oz. Still avoiding each other's eyes, both girls glanced around the state of the library and winced.
"I… I suppose we should get him back into the cage?" Willow ventured reluctantly.
There was a grim set to the other woman's mouth as she nodded silently, her face twisting in a wry grimace. "Grab a limb."
Between the two of them, they managed to drag and heave the large animal back into the broken cage, Willow flinching as she accidently toed him in the ribs a few times in their efforts. An unconscious wolf was extremely heavy and difficult to manoeuvre, and she had quickly learned that it never got any easier.
Once they had him settled as comfortably as they could, the uneasy allies suddenly found themselves plunged into the crushing quiet of the aftermath. Annie withdrew back to the library floor without a backward glance, but Willow didn't even notice as she instantly dropped to her knees beside the wolf, her anxious eyes sweeping over his form before locking on the slight but steady rise and fall of his chest. Reaching out almost tentatively, she buried trembling fingers into the tough grey sea of his coat, fighting to keep a reign on the assault of emotions that blocked her throat and stole her voice. Tenderly, she ran her hands over the wolf's shoulder and down his chest, biting her lip as she found the point of the dart that she had embedded in his flesh, almost lost within the thicket of fur that covered the powerful muscles underneath. Bracing her palm against his ribs, she gently eased the drugged needle out of his body with steady and practised fingers. Once removed she laid it aside, as far away from them as she could physically reach, before placing her hand over the invisible wound on his chest, stroking her fingertips lightly over his heart in silent regret and apology. She cast a nervous glance back to his face but the wolf didn't stir under her ministrations, lost to the fog of chemicals that coursed through his blood.
She vaguely registered the sounds of items being shunted about and carelessly shoved back onto tables and shelves. Willow knew she should feel bad for not helping with the clear up, but just the thought of leaving his side made her stomach knot up and fingers seize tighter into the warm pelt under her palms. She knew it was a selfish and irrational impulse, but it was one she didn't have the strength to fight anymore. Her legs felt numb, her energy waning rapidly in the retreat of adrenaline, and she doubted she could have stood just then even if she tried. There was the murmur of a voice from somewhere within the library, followed by the click of a phone, but Willow found herself losing her grasp on measurable time as the minutes ticked on around them.
Seconds could have stretched into hours for all she knew.
Annie's gaze flickered in her direction with a furtive regularity, observing in silence as she loitered across the room, keeping a wary distance. Every so often she would pause in her compulsive tidying up as if unable to help herself, casting a disapproving eye over the girl who sat cradling the wolf's limp form in the broken book cage. Her brow would furrow darkly, her lips pursing like she wanted to comment, but Willow couldn't care less at whatever unspoken thoughts were going through the other girl's head. All she cared about was being close enough to ensure his heart was still beating, to feel the burning heat of his body and soft growl of his sleeping breath.
With infinitely gentle movements, she shuffled closer and carefully pulled the wolf's head into her lap, relishing the warm and heavy weight against her body as if it were the only anchor holding her together in this cold and foreign world. The only thing keeping her from drowning in the unknown. It felt like it had been years since she had been this close to him, able to hold him with all the fierceness in her heart, and it felt unbelievable good just to touch him again. To prove to herself that he was really real and whole, that he was still with her… even in some small way. For the first time in so very long, Willow felt a calming sense of contentment ebb over her, a soothing reprieve that she drank in gratefully. The emotional relief swamped her with exhaustion, almost dragging her down where she sat, her body huddling protectively over the animal in her arms.
Only when she heard the library doors swing open some time later did she finally tear her focus away from Oz. Blinking blearily, unaware that she had been softly crying, she raised a hand to brush away the tracks from her cheeks and glanced up to see a dishevelled Giles rush anxiously into the room. Annie moved over to meet him, their expressions equally grim as their lips moved in a tense conversation that was too fast for her to follow. She quickly lowered her gaze back to wolf beside her as she felt their gazes turn in her direction, not ready to face the questions and hard concern in Giles's eyes just yet. Willow had had enough of impossible confrontations for one night. She let the sound of their voices wash over her but didn't even try to listen, her attention lost once more on the werewolf that lay slumped across her lap.
Annie took her leave in usual brisk fashion not long afterward, not keen to hang around a moment longer than she had to and unwilling to reveal or explain the details of her clash with Willow. Awkward quiet lingered in the wake of her exit as Giles cast his gaze over the battered state of his library with a weary sigh. It was by no means the first time his beloved books had been caught up in the furore of a battle for survival and it would certainly not be the last – the librarian had resigned himself to that expectation a long time ago. He laid his palm down affectionately on top of the pile of texts that had been hastily stacked up on the countertop, as if drawing a tenuous sense of comfort from the dusty pages under his hand. Closing his eyes, he allowed himself a moment to try and order his thoughts, to digest the haphazard facts he had managed to glean from a more than usually cagey Annie during their brief exchanges. The young woman had been far from forthcoming on the phone, informing him only of the dramatic turn of events in her usual clipped way before assuring him of their safety – and he had failed to gather much more insight upon his return to the school.
'Okay, so the world didn't exactly end, but I figured you'd appreciate a heads up anyway.'
Taking in the state of the library, some things were fairly obvious. Giles turned his head towards the book cage once more, a curious and worried frown creasing his expression. Other aspects however, were far more opaque.
Willow's head was bent over the wolf, a fall of tangled red hair veiling her face from his concerned gaze. The sight of her close proximity to the animal did nothing to calm the nervous fear that piped up from the back of his mind. Unconscious or not, a werewolf was still an incredibly dangerous beast to be around, and Giles was not at all comfortable with the way the teenager sat so willingly close to the creature in her arms. She must know what Oz was by now, and the Watcher had no doubt that she was smart enough to be aware of all the risks and danger that came with such a curse, and yet she made no motion of intending to let go of him anytime soon. If anything, she seemed utterly unperturbed by the threat the wolf embodied, content to quietly hold him in an embrace that felt strangely intrusive to witness.
His brows drew together as Giles thought back to Annie's brief words of explanation, of how the young witch had shot the fearsome animal at almost point blank range – with perfect aim and without hesitation. Clearly she was no stranger to this deadly ritual and she had to have some skill to be able to bring down a wolf like that. Giles pinched the bridge of his nose, frowning to understand the fresh connections and theories that struggled to push their way through his sleep-deprived mind, unsure what to make of this new development or how to possibly proceed.
Still rather at a loss for how to even begin, Giles cleared his throat pointedly and watched her give a small jerk as she drew her attention up in his direction at last. She raised her head from where she sat curled up next to the wolf upon the library floor and blinked at him dully, and it seemed to take her a moment to really see him. Concerned sympathy immediately broke the Watcher's resolve as her gaze met his and he got the chance to properly take in her appearance for the first time. The poor child was drained, physically and emotionally, and it was painfully clear she was in no state to endure further stress tonight.
Letting out a deep breath, Giles pulled off his glasses and dropped his gaze in tired submission. "I – I'm going to call Jenny," he said finally, rubbing his thumb and index finger across his eyes with a grimace. "She really should know you're safe."
Willow winced guiltily. "Giles…" Her voice cracked as if unaccustomed to use and she had to try again before she could get the words out. She met his face imploringly. "Please, please tell her… I'm sorry."
Giles studied her for a moment before offering a solemn nod in acknowledgement. She watched him disappear into the office before turning her attention back to the animal she clung tightly to, so very grateful for the chance to finally be alone with him. Releasing a shaky breath, she leaned down and hugged the unfeeling wolf with all the strength she could summon, wrapping him up in her embrace as best she could despite their awkward positions. It was the first real opportunity she'd had to let her guard down around him, the closest she had been to him ever since that terrible night in the library that had changed her life forever – and she wasn't prepared to give it up. Not yet. The aching void in her heart suddenly twisted anew, reaching out for something that was so close yet always just out of reach. The force of it caught her by surprise, making her stifle a sob as she realised just how much she still missed him. Even though he was physically here, even though she could see and speak to him every day, the pained grief never went away. To be denied all the moments she had taken for granted, to draw close to him just because she wanted to, to take his hand, to lean against the warmth of his body or steal a kiss – it had taken its toll on her. Willow closed her eyes and clenched her hands around fistfuls of thick fur, gripping with all the fear that he would be wrenched from her life all over again. Her palm slid over his ribs again and the tension slowly eased out of her body as she drank in the steady, thudding rhythm of his heartbeat under her fingertips – the gentle sound a lullaby of comfort to her lonely soul.
After a long moment, she drew back and let her gaze travel over him with a soft glow of wondrous curiosity, a tender smile touching the corners of her lips. Loving fingers stroked absently through the subtle patterns in his pelt, over his ears and down his neck, unafraid of the jaw of deadly teeth resting against her legs that had so nearly ended her life this night. He was beautiful, the wolf. Terrifying, dangerous and daunting, yes – but undeniably graceful and dignified in bearing, intelligent and deeply powerful. All lean, sinewy muscles, piercing eyes and flowing agility. Full of warmth and strength, secrets and contradictions, he was a creature of haunting wild beauty. Her mouth tugged in affection as she brushed her hand over the top of his head, observing how the tangled tufts there seemed to stick up in little spikes almost like his human hair. Her gaze drifted down his front legs to the huge paws that lay limp and heavy now, sheathing unfathomably sharp claws, and a chill coursed down her spine as she recalled just how close she had come to meeting her end there.
"You keep trying to kill me," she muttered with a wry smile, shaking her head. "Why do I put up with you?" Leaning down, she pressed a kiss between the ears of the sleeping wolf, lingering for as long as she dared before forcing herself to pull away. Her wolf. Willow heard the little voice that murmured defiantly at the back of her head and found she didn't have the heart to correct it, so she just sat back and let it comfort her.
"Willow."
She started from her reverie as a tired but firm voice spoke up from across the room. Looking over, she saw Giles watching her almost sadly from the library floor, his gaze flickering between her and the wolf with wary concern.
"I think you should come out now."
"No."
The word left her before she could stop herself and she mentally cringed as she realised how rude she sounded. Quickly offering an abashed smile, she rushed to amend her curt statement.
"I mean… I'm okay."
Giles sighed as he walked over, rubbing his fingertips into his brow as if warding off a headache. "You have to understand, I realise he's sedated, but it's still too –"
Yet the girl shook her head resolutely, cutting him off before he could finish, and the Watcher didn't fail to miss the way she tightened her hold on the wolf almost possessively.
"It's fine, honestly," she assured, a strained note of pleading entering her voice.
Giles frowned softly, vividly reminded of just how adamant Oz had been about keeping his secret from this girl, the fearful desperation that had lurked behind those guarded eyes as the boy implored to the Watcher with that same determination. He let out a deep breath. The Watcher was not looking forward to the impending morning's revelations or the added tensions it would bring. Giles would be lying if he said he wasn't worried about how the boy would handle this turn of events – Oz was hard to read at the best of times and all too prone to shutting people out when things got emotionally rough. And yet, as so much seemed to lately, he couldn't help feeling that the outcome would ultimately depend on Willow. He could only hope that she might reach the troubled werewolf where the others had failed.
He knew the boy would resent him for not keeping his word, for not keeping his secret from the one person he had most feared finding out, and the thought made the Watcher recoil in guilt. But for better or worse, it couldn't be helped now. Whatever they might each have wished or hoped for, it seemed fate had other plans.
"Willow," he spoke gently now, coming to stand in the doorway to the book cage as he held her gaze with resigned eyes. "We really need to get the cage secured before dawn."
She hesitated, looking so torn at the prospect that Giles felt a wave of affectionate sympathy punch a bruise through his heart. But he forced himself to push on regardless, refusing to let sentiment overrule better judgment. He offered her a kind smile of encouragement. "Come on."
Willow looked down to the wolf for a long moment, something unreadable in her eyes despite the conflicted pain etched within her features, before slowly and carefully extraditing herself and moving to stand up on slightly numb legs. Giles gave a small nod before retreating back into the library, leaving the teenager to follow him out of the cage, more than a little reluctantly and with many a backwards glance.
Bowing her head, Willow kept her uncharacteristic silence more out of sheer exhaustion than anything else as the two of them worked together to manoeuvre the battered cage door back into place as best they could, which mainly involved propping it up and pushing the card catalogue stand in front of it. It was highly unlikely the tranquiller would wear off before sun up, but it was always better to take precautions, especially in this Sunnydale where the fates seemed particularly ill tempered. Giles would repair it properly come morning.
Catching her attempting to hide a huge yawn behind her hand, the librarian smiled and suggested perhaps it would be a prudent idea for them to follow Oz's fine example and try to grab a few hours of sleep themselves. Willow started to nod her agreement but was soon overtaken by another yawn that left her weaving slightly on her feet. The Watcher knew it was hardly an ideal situation, he would much rather have driven her back to Jenny's and allow her to recover properly from the night's ordeals, but Giles was nothing if not practical. They couldn't leave Oz unattended, even sedated, and he strongly suspected that the young witch would reject any such idea out of hand anyway. It was clear that she was determined to stay, though he shuddered to think of the risks she had taken in coming there in the first place. At least here, he could keep an eye on both of them.
/o/
Pulling up a chair opposite the cage, Willow tried to find the most unobstructed view through the bars as she listened to the shuffling sounds of furniture that came from the office over her shoulder. She was glad Giles had finally agreed to her insistence that he take the couch, and she couldn't help but smile as she reflected back on his futile encounter with her infamous resolve face. Out of all the people in her life, she had used that particular tactic on Giles the least, preferring to reason with his logic and intellect, but it was nice to know it was still effective. Alternate reality or not.
Satisfied at last, Willow settled down in the large wooden chair and tucked her feet up. Propping her chin in her palm, she let her gaze wander over the mass of fur and limbs that was the sleeping wolf just beyond the bars of the book cage, lost in thought.
Two worlds, two realities. Two very different histories had played out across these dimensions, as separate and independent of each other as siblings parted at birth. And yet, she kept coming across a series of subtle counter-points, parallels and flashes of convergence. Certain turns of the road that were fixed on the map, regardless of every other divergence that took its fancy. Willow felt like there should be something comforting in that tenuous sense of connection with the world she once knew, but instead she found only heartache.
She'd been with him from the beginning – before.
Willow had always known about the lurking animal he struggled with inside, almost from the same moment he had found out himself. She'd always soothed the hardest moments with silent understanding and physical assurance, always shared the fear and doubt with him, always been there when he woke up. But not here.
She didn't know how long he had lived with the curse in this reality, but the burden and resentment seemed to weigh so much heavier on his shoulders now than she had ever seen before. That simmering anger and darkness that she had glimpsed in him in those rare unguarded moments; the cool distance he unconsciously pushed at everyone around him; the way he absorbed himself in the fight for other people's lives at the expense of making one of his own – suddenly it all made that much more sense. Obviously the others here were aware of the situation and supported him in much the same way the Scooby Gang had, but Willow knew only too well that Oz would only let them help with restraining the animal he so hated becoming. When it came to the boy, he didn't let anyone get too close. She knew how much he resented that part of himself, even though he hardly ever spoke of it and tended to dismiss any uncomfortable conversation with his usual dry stoicism. It was a dark aspect of his life that he closed off as much as he could, always fighting and suppressing what he couldn't control until it simply refused to be caged any longer – breaking free in a savage fury, splitting the clouds to howl at the moon soaked night with such anguish it broke her heart.
It frustrated and worried her no end, but it was the one part of his life where Oz's trademark nonchalant ease vanished and ruthless stubbornness took over. He had always believed he could handle it by himself. He never wanted to entangle his friends with the beast inside him, as far as he was concerned, it was his curse to bear and it was a fate he had resigned himself to. She knew that – he had done it with her too, but to a lesser extent than anyone else. Willow shut her eyes and pushed back the welling tears, biting her tongue to hold them at bay.
He'd been alone.
The thought ate her up inside. Resolve suddenly whipped through Willow, snapping like fire and settling into a furnace of determination in the centre of her chest. This world was cruel enough, it had taken almost everything from those who dared to fight for it, and she would be damned if she let it break them. Willow vowed to herself that whatever happened when he woke up – she wasn't leaving him alone to that darkness anymore. No matter how long it took, she would make him see that he was worthy of so much more than he was denying himself.
"I'm not going anywhere," she murmured softly. Her bright eyes burned with conviction as they swept tenderly over the slumped form in the book cage next to her. "I promise."
~o~