Buffy wandered down the street, lost in thought. She should have been thinking about the strange new breed of demon that had recently arrived to menace the Sunnydale populace. After a week of no sightings, having only followed the trail of corpses they left behind, she'd hit pay dirt. A single demon (who'd obviously drawn the short straw) had jumped out of nowhere and attacked her. Since then, she'd only seen them in the distance, popping around like they owned the place. She couldn't even get a reading on how many there were. Tall, hulky, and covered in shiny scales, they should be spottable a mile away, and easy to track, but they could disappear at will.
She'd been spending her daylight hours while not at work trying to find their nest, to no avail. Which, added to the nightlong patrols and subsequent battles, left little to no time for the sleeping. The local demon bars didn't have much info either; just the rumors of those who'd met these demons and hadn't lived to tell the tale. While they avoided the Slayer like the plague, they were clearly gunning for the various demons that made Sunnydale their home.
All the signs pointed to a simple, ominous fact. They were cleaning house and moving in. Her books had yet to yield a positive ID, and she'd promised herself that she would break down and call Wesley tonight. She couldn't allow her feelings of inadequacy to threaten the lives of innocent people. And innocent demons, for that matter. There were some peaceable types here that didn't hurt anyone, and her concept of good and evil had become much more gray in her long years on the Hellmouth. The job description was essentially the same, to fight the forces of darkness and stop the spread of evil blah-de-blah. She just didn't think the Council had ever supposed that her 'innocents' were sometimes demons. Oddly enough, she felt more comfortable with those half-breed and full-blooded demons she'd made a tentative detente with than she did with pure humans these days.
She wasn't thinking of these issues now, though, she was thinking of Jacob Hamilton, her boss, her friend. They'd left him for her to find in the front room of the Magic Box two weeks ago. His dead body was mangled, and a message was carved into his chest. 'Leave Sunnydale,' it proclaimed, and she'd known it was the new breed of demons that did it. He had hired and befriended her, and this was his reward for associating with the Slayer. The honor of being the first casualty in a spanking new war.
She shouldered her way through the crowd of people in front of the Sunnydale Cinema, paying little attention to her surroundings, and picking at wounds that were best left alone. Her life had changed drastically in the past few years, and 'Uncle' Jacob had been one of the few people she could count on. He'd weaseled his way past her defenses and into her heart. He wasn't her Uncle by blood, of course, but the sentiment still applied. Slayer senses suddenly jangling, she came back to herself in time to feel a hand reach out and grab her shoulder. Already jazzed up from grief and lack of sleep, Buffy snapped. She whirled around, in full Slayer mode, grabbed the neck of the intruder and slammed him into the nearest building.
"Try it," she growled.
"Try what?" a cool voice responded, and Buffy's eyes came to focus on a familiar figure. She immediately dropped her hand, mortified.
"Oz?" she whispered.
"Oz," he confirmed, lowering his hands in submission as though taming a lion.
"God, Oz," Buffy muttered. "I'm so sorry. It's just," she fumbled for words, "a really tense time for me." She was thrown.
"Isn't it always?" he asked dryly. He watched her warily. She seemed really wound to him, and he wondered what extra horror had happened to make her so uptight. He guessed he'd find out soon enough, and he wasn't sure how he felt about that. He didn't know what he was doing here yet, and he didn't think jumping back into Scooby-age was a good idea. Avoiding them had been his main plan until he figured out what had drawn him back to Sunnydale.
He hadn't spoken to anyone here since he left after attacking Tara. Now that he was face to face with Buffy, he felt an odd sense of vertigo. It was as though no time had passed and nothing had changed. Buffy nervously tugged at her long braid as she watched him. She seemed to know what he was thinking, but she didn't speak. Oz realized suddenly that things were not the same at all. This was not the same bubbly young woman he'd last seen. Something, or possibly many somethings, had seriously changed her.
She stood frozen before him, her expression that of a cornered animal, and he gently placed a hand on her forearm. "Buffy?" he asked gently. "You OK?" His words snapped her out of her stupor.
"Shit Oz, I'm sorry. It's just been so long," she trailed off, and he got the feeling that she wasn't talking about him. So long since what? He didn't ask.
"You look good," he said, wondering why he was resorting to platitudes. What was it about her that made him want to break out of his natural reticence and start babbling? It wasn't that she didn't look good, Buffy had always been beautiful, but there was something different about her now. She seemed really thrown by his appearance, and he could tell that he'd caught her in the middle of a serious brood. What exactly was bothering him, and tickling at the edges of his conscious? Suddenly it hit him; she wasn't hiding her power. She used to only let the Slayer out when absolutely necessary, and spent the rest of her time convincing everyone that she could take it on and off like Superman's bodysuit. Somewhere along the way, the two seem to have gelled, and the effect was compelling. He felt the Wolf awaken beneath his skin and forced it back down. What had he missed?
"Thanks, so do you," she replied, regarding him oddly. Then, with a little shake, she seemed to come back to herself. "It's really good to see you," she said sincerely. "Do you want to come to the house so we can catch up?"
She sounded so tentative that his heart clenched. He wanted to say no, that he wasn't ready to deal with the others yet, but he was both concerned and curious about Buffy.
"I'm in," he said lightly, and fell into step beside her. As they walked further down the sidewalk, Buffy noticed a red, black and white striped van parked at a meter.
"Yours?" she asked, smiling slightly.
"Yep." He motioned her to get in. They were silent as he drove through the old familiar streets to her house. He felt tense about the upcoming confrontations and conversations inevitable with wronged exes and abandoned friendships. Sighing, he turned to glance at his companion, noting the measuring look she gave him. He parked in her driveway and followed her silently to the doorstep, waiting while she unlocked it. Stepping into her front hall after all these years was like stepping back in time. He half expected Willow to come running around the corner to greet him.
No one came, and the first thing he noticed was how unusually quiet the house was. There'd always been noise here made by one or all of the three Summers women and their various friends. The second thing he noticed was that Buffy didn't look around or call out to anyone in greeting. So she'd expected the house to be empty. He felt a measure of relief that no one else was home, he wasn't ready for all the inquisitive looks and questions. He slid out of his jacket and hung it up before following her into the kitchen. She tossed her purse absently onto the counter and opened the fridge.
"You want something to drink? I've got, uh, water."
"Water's fine," he assured, and they went to sit in the living room. The furniture was different, each piece not matching the others as it had before. She handed him his water and they sat down on opposite ends of the couch. He turned to face her, unsure how to proceed. "Where is everyone?" he asked, starting with an easy question. But watching her face, he knew instantly that he'd made a blunder.
"I live here alone," she said softly, looking down at her hands. "Dawn's living in L.A. with our dad, and mom..." she paused, painfully, "mom died about four years ago." His heart wrenched for her.
"Buffy," he began seriously. "I'm sorry. She was a wonderful woman."
She smiled gently at him. "Thank you."
"I wish I'd known," Oz continued, "I would've come home." She looked surprised at that. He even felt a little surprised. He glanced around nervously, wondering where to go from here. "So, did you graduate from UC Sunnydale?"
Buffy looked flustered as she tried to figure out how to explain. "No. I...well...you see it turns out that Dawn never existed." Oz stared at her incredulously, so she rushed to explain. "She was actually a mystical key that opened the doors to hell dimensions. Some monks were trying to hide her from this hell-god, so they made her human and sent her to me for protection. They implanted all our memories of her. The hell-god kicked my ass a lot, brain-sucked Tara, and finally found out about Dawn. Chaos ensued. Mom died. Buffy dropped out of school."
"What happened with the hell-god?"
She looked into his eyes for a brief moment, and he was suddenly certain that he didn't want to know. "She kidnapped Dawn and tied her up at the top of this tower. They began to bleed her, and all these horrible creatures from other dimensions started crossing into ours." She sighed. "It's always about the blood. I realized that since the monks made her out of me, I could stop the ritual, too. So I jumped off the tower into the portal and died."
Oz struggled to keep his face impassive, and barely managed it. "You don't seem so dead to me," he finally said softly.
She smiled at his characteristic way of diffusing drama. Then, thinking about exactly how she'd come back, she looked at him carefully before continuing. "They brought me back," she muttered under her breath.
"They?" he asked, suspicious.
"Well, Willow." She was speaking so quietly he had to strain to hear her words. "I...they...and... but they didn't know they were taking me out of heaven."
"Heaven," Oz repeated thoughtfully, and then held her gaze. "But Buffy, where else would you go?" The look on her face told him everything. That of all the people that supposedly knew and cared about her, he was the only one to be so certain about this. He felt enraged. Willow had obviously changed dramatically since he'd seen her last. He'd always been uncomfortable with her exploits into magic when they'd been dating, but that had been kid's stuff compared with this. With resurrection. That kind of magic... he didn't want to think about what she must have had to do to accomplish it.
And what had it done to Buffy? Had Will even thought about that? He felt floored by the rage coursing through him. He hadn't even felt this angry when he'd found Willow and Xander in the factory, or when he'd smelled her scent on Tara's sweater. The Wolf wanted out, and he forcefully shoved it back. Buffy seemed to see all this, and tried to diffuse the situation.
"Good old Buffy," she joked. "Can't even die properly. But next time, I'm gonna have my remains shipped to Hawaii so I wake up on a beach instead of six feet un…" she cut herself off quickly.
"You woke up in your grave?" His voice dropped dangerously low.
"Sorta," she replied nervously. "But I was able to...uh...claw my way out." This time, she heard him growl unmistakably. She couldn't figure out why he was so angry on her behalf. Only Spike had been this upset. Only Spike had assumed she'd gone to heaven right away. She sighed. What was she thinking, laying all her baggage on Oz like this? Especially the stuff about Willow. She was just so thrown by his presence here; it was making her babble. "Look Oz. I'm really sorry. I shouldn't be telling you all this, it's just..." He held up his hand to cut her off.
"I asked. Now where are they?" His voice was deceptively calm, but she could tell that he was seething. She couldn't figure him out.
"It's just me," she said finally. He looked confused so she elaborated, reluctant for him to see her life as pathetic now, like everyone else seemed to. "It's just me in Sunnydale." She saw the dawning realization in his face.
"They left you? Why?"
"To live their lives," she explained quietly. She saw his eyes narrow. "I didn't expect them to stay," she assured him. "I'm the one that has to be here. Sacred duty, yadda yadda yadda."
"And Giles?"
"In England. He and Willow moved there three years ago, after..."
Oz sighed. There was more? "After what?" he prompted.
Buffy spoke quickly. "I got shot. Tara got shot. She died. Will went all rampage-y, killed Tara's murderer, sucked all the magic from Giles' old texts, some Sorcerers, and a coven, then tried to end the world. Xander stopped her. Giles got the help of the coven in England and they stripped all of her magic. She can't even float a pencil these days, and she'll never be able to again." Then, to Oz's amazement, she moved closer to him and put a hand on his arm in comfort. "It's just as much my fault as hers, really, I should've seen it coming. Helped her more, I…"
"Buffy, that's ridiculous," he said flatly, and she stared at him, shocked. Oz had always been the epitome of cool, calm and collected --- even throughout the demise of his and Willow's relationship. This raw emotion was a new thing to feel pouring off of him, and she realized he might've changed at least as much as she had. "You can't blame yourself for Willow's actions," he insisted. "She always had a choice and she obviously started making the wrong ones." Buffy had also never seen Oz this talkative. He usually only listened and offered little by way of response unless it was absolutely necessary. "Not that I'm not glad you're here now," he added. He could see the surprise in her eyes, but he had no explanation for his behavior.
"I really am sorry," she whispered. "This must be so hard for you...coming here, being dragged back into my stupid life. And Willow..." He held up his hand again to stop her.
"No, I'm sorry for coming. After everything I did, I have no right."
Buffy looked confused. "What you did?"
"To Willow," he reminded her. "With Veruca, and then when I came back and attacked Tara."
Buffy just looked at him and sighed softly. "Oh Oz, you really have been gone a long time, haven't you?"
He stared. "You were ready to rip me apart, Buffy. I felt that out of respect for you, I should never come back."
"Respect for me?"
"Not only were you Willow's best friend, but you're the Slayer. I became the enemy."
She groaned. "Shit, what a mess. Why do we always wait until it's too late to turn to each other for help?" she wondered aloud. "Oz, I never saw you as the enemy. I was angry with you, and for some reason I felt personally betrayed."
"I understand," he interjected, this sudden honesty between them freeing. "I betrayed our friendship, and I betrayed the relationship between Slayer and Wolf."
Buffy was amazed. "I was never sure if you felt that," she whispered. They'd never talked about it, and she'd instinctively known not to discuss it with the other Scoobies.
"So it's alright that I'm here?" Oz asked, feeling the need to fully clear the air.
"Yes, of course. You're still my friend, Oz. If you only knew what I've been...you wouldn't be so worried about my opinion of you."
"I doubt that," he said seriously.
"I slept with Spike," she exhaled, and then held her breath for judgment.
Oz tilted his head and regarded her mildly. "That's not so surprising." Her mouth dropped open comically, his words having rendered her speechless. He tried to explain. "There's always been something between you two, even when you were trying to kill each other. And he understands a part of you that the others won't accept."
"I used him," she murmured. "He loved me, but I wouldn't let myself believe it was real. And after I came back… Everything was so harsh, so cold. I thought I was in hell. Spike didn't expect me to be all happy and heroic all the time. He didn't expect me to fix all his problems. All the money that my mom left got used up while I was dead. Will and Tara were living in my house, so I had to get a job to pay the mortgage and buy the food, and Social Services was trying to take Dawn away… So I had to be the mother, the friend, the provider, and the Slayer --- and I just couldn't find it in me to feel grateful." She sighed heavily. "That sounds so selfish."
Oz took advantage of their close proximity to reach out and gently turn her face toward his, locking eyes with hers. "Everyone expected way too much of you. Even before your mom died, and you died. And they moved in with you… and hello, couldn't they have gotten jobs to help you out?" His voice rose angrily, and he struggled to find his inner cool. He couldn't believe it. He, of all people, was babbling.
"What do you mean?" she asked softly, feeling overwhelmed.
He sighed. "They…not just they, me too. We all expected you to be perfect. You're so amazing at being the hero that we wanted you to be everything. Supergirl when we were afraid, and normal girl when we needed to forget the ugliness of the world. And with all the shit that went down, it's no wonder you turned to Spike." He began to growl low in his throat.
"Oz, it's not their fault. And I'm not exactly innocent. I said and did horrible things to Spike. It ended badly, and he went to get his soul for me. But when he came back, it was too late for us… so he left again."
He saw the sorrow and regret in her eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered.
She stood up abruptly and reached out her hands. "Enough with the depress-o talk," she insisted. "Wanna go out?" After a moment's hesitation, he placed his hands in hers, letting himself be pulled to a standing position.
"I'm in."