He retrieved his black, denim jacket from the coat rack. Watching Buffy closely, he reached out to grab the end of her long braid. "I like the hair," he commented. It was longer than he'd ever seen it, the plait ending a few inches above her waist. Her previously light blond tresses were now varying layers of pure gold and black. "Is it real?"
"Mmm, a friend of mine showed me this great hair salon. Sorta off the beaten path. The Sorceress there decides what everyone gets. Then, she uses magically enhanced dyes to pull it off. Most people here don't pay attention anyway, and the ones that do assume I'm wearing a wig."
"Yeah, as an experienced non-magical dye artist, it's just not possible to get real hair that color the normal way," he commented.
"If you're here a while, I'll take you there." She smiled briefly at him, and then walked to the hall closet to pull out a long, dark leather duster. It looked familiar, but it took a moment for him to place it. "Spike's?"
She nodded, still facing away from him as she loaded herself up with weapons. "He left it here --- last time. Said it belonged to me." Turning to face him, she unconsciously fell into a warrior's stance. She was sizing him up, he realized, but he was momentarily distracted by the figure she presented. It never occurred to her just how awe-inspiring she looked at these times. Her green eyes blazed with danger and purpose, her body language simultaneously screaming protector and predator. The leather coat suited her well, and Oz hitched in a breath at the sight. Bringing his mind back to the reason behind her intense stare, he locked eyes with her and nodded briefly, hoping she'd get the message.
Buffy scrutinized Oz, wondering if she could talk him into driving to their destination while she walked. She felt vaguely bad as she calculatedly assessed his potential as a fighter. He regarded her calmly and she realized with a jolt that he knew exactly what she was doing. She waited for the recrimination, but none came. Just a brief nod to tell her that he understood his own assets and limitations, and would not be a liability in a fight. She nodded back and stepped aside to give him access to the weapons chest in the closet.
"I take it we're walking?" he asked finally as they stepped outside.
Buffy smiled. "There's a new group of nasties in town making snacks of the local populace. Hence the walking, in case they show."
"So this is a business trip?"
"Not entirely. Part patrol, part info gathering, part checking up on some friends."
He nodded, taking this in. "And the demons?"
She gave him a short summery of the events of the past weeks. "Way I see it, one of two things is responsible for the disappearing act. Either they can teleport themselves, or they're playing for a Sorcerer that's doing it."
"So they live in another dimension," Oz replied thoughtfully, putting the pieces together.
"Bingo," she replied. "That explains why I can't find a nest, and why they're only seen when they're attacking someone."
"So are they moving in? Or making way for the Sorcerer --- or a third party?"
She sighed. "That's the million dollar question."
"Giles time?" Oz felt bad bringing up the former Watcher, but it seemed necessary.
"More like Wesley time. Gonna call him later. I was hoping I'd run into them tonight. Do some observing, a little killing, and then… well, then I'd enact my grand master plan thus far."
"Ahh," he replied, understanding. "You wanna catch one. Maybe do a little motivational speaking?"
"Not original, I grant," Buffy acceded. "But it's all I got."
"It's a workable plan," Oz agreed. They walked on in silence, each stretching out their senses. "So where's the gang now?" he asked finally.
"Giles and Olivia live together in Bath. Willow and Xander settled permanently in London. Will's been seeing a girl named Natasha for about two years. Anya left Sunnydale after the wedding that wasn't. The Scoobies have officially disbanded," she concluded sadly. "Xand swore off supernatural honeys, Olivia gets all twitchy if I call Giles with Slayer business, and Natasha doesn't even know that Will was a witch. The gang's sworn off the swingin' Hellmouth-y lifestyle for good."
"Wedding that wasn't?"
She explained the events of that disastrous day. "Turns out the old man was just a demon trying to exact revenge on Anyanka, but Xand still called off the wedding. In front of the whole church."
"Huh."
"So what have you been up to?" she asked curiously.
"Travel," he replied simply. "Wolf things."
Buffy laughed. "Still on that mission to suppress your inner puppy?"
He blinked. "Isn't that what I'm supposed to do?"
She turned to look at him as she stalked along gracefully. "Short answer? No."
He couldn't hide how flustered he felt, and seeing it, she laughed again. "Why not?"
"A question first," she requested. "Has it worked? The suppression?"
Sighing, he replied. "No."
"There's your answer," she smiled cryptically.
"Buffy…" he protested, wondering how the Chatterbox herself managed to be more laconic than he did when she chose to.
"Oz…" she responded in kind, and then had pity. "Last time you came here, you'd spent months with Tibetan monks, learning to suppress the Wolf. You didn't even change on the full moon. It all seemed fantastic, but then what happened? One emotional hiccup, and you wigged, Wolfed, and tried to eat Tara."
"Not my finest moment," Oz agreed. "But what then? Just give up cuz it didn't work that one time?"
Buffy flapped her arms in consternation. "You know Oz, I always assumed there was a brain lurking behind the fangs and stoicism."
She fell silent again, and he stared at her. "What?" he prompted.
"Okay, another question," Buffy replied. "Is it that bad, being a Werewolf?"
He gaped at her. "Isn't that obvious?"
"No, lame-brain, it's not obvious. If you asked me the same question about being the Slayer, I could write you a billion paged thesis on the subject."
He sighed, trying to see it through her approach. "What do you want to know?"
"Are there times when you like it, when you feel the Wolf inside you and it feels right? When you feel at home in the night and your senses come alive?"
His head jerked up. "How did you know? I never…"
She waved a hand at him. "I know you always made it sound like it was black and white. Who's driving, Oz or the Wolf? Never both. But I don't buy it, and I'm the Slayer, so I can see the way you walk and the way you watch and hear everything. Answer the question."
"OK, sometimes it's exhilarating. Like the Wolf is part of me, and not just some demonic possession deal like with vampires."
"Good," she smiled. "Now do you see where I'm going with this?"
"Not exactly. The Wolf part is still a savage beast that kills without conscience. I can't control it."
Buffy growled at him. "That's what the Slayer is, Oz." He stared at her in disbelief and she nodded. "I've always known there was something the Watcher's Council kept secret. I felt darkness inside myself. Spike saw it, Dracula saw it. None of the Scoobies understood. They didn't want to understand, cuz then they'd have to deal once and for all with the fact that I'm an abomination. Not just a girl like they needed me to be. Which is funny since for the most part everyone accepted Anya…"
"Dracula?" Oz interrupted.
"Yep. The Unholy Prince, himself. Long story," she explained.
"Lemme guess. He sensed your darkness and wanted you to join him."
"Apparently not that long," she replied, nonplussed. "Anyway, I found out later I was right. A guy named Robin Wood came to town tracking Spike. One of the Slayers Spike killed was this dude's mom. I ran into him patrolling and brought him home to patch him up. He gave me this sacred box that his mom managed to steal from the Council vaults before her death. Thinking I'd help him, he told me his story. Wood left town the next day once I assured him Spike was gone. And I opened the box. It told the story of how the First Slayer was formed when Sorcerers, who became the Watchers, chained her to the earth and forced the aspect of a powerful demon into her. And that's our lovely legacy. Supernatural rape."
Oz didn't know what to say. For the second time since running into Buffy, he felt his beast struggling to get out and avenge this person that he called friend. "It's a lot to take in," he offered.
"I know. But the point is that I understand, somewhat, how you feel. The demon in me kills indiscriminately, too. I am the purpose and the leash."
"How is it that you have that control?" he asked sadly. "What makes us different? Cuz the only Werewolves I've met that got in touch with their inner beast still couldn't control it. Like Veruca."
"Couldn't, or wouldn't?"
He paused thoughtfully. "You think? When she said she'd accepted it as part of her, I figured she was using the uncontrollable nature of the beast as a fatalistic excuse for not caging herself up. I guess that would explain why she could remember everything that happened."
"I think she had control, but she embraced the darkness instead. Werewolves aren't like vampires, your soul doesn't leave, but you have a beast inside you whose affinity with the moon allows it temporary control. But you already proved that that's not the end all be all. You managed to transfer your Wolfie trigger from a time of mystical unrest to a time of emotional unrest. I think you becoming a Were on the Hellmouth is a factor, too. With all the bad mojo... Maybe that's part of what went wrong with Willow. She didn't have a chance to develop her powers without the dark influence of the Hellmouth constantly eating at her."
What Buffy was saying made a lot of sense. "How do I get to where you are?" he questioned, not really expecting her to have an answer.
"Not sure," she smiled reassuringly. "But maybe we can work on it." She paused. "That is, if you're gonna stick around a while."
Oz smiled back, feeling somewhat lighter. "I think I might." They were silent again and he thought over the series of events that had led to this moment in his life. He couldn't help but feel hopeful. Even if Buffy was wrong, and he was never able to control his beast, it was such a relief to stop denying what he was. Maybe his denial had made it worse. He sighed.
Stretching out his senses again, he noticed that they were in an area of Sunnydale that he hadn't been aware existed. To the untrained eye, it seemed like just another section of the warehouse district. But he could feel, almost smell, the supernatural presence pervading everything here. Not exactly evil, just neutrally non-human. He looked at the Slayer, strolling watchfully beside him, and could tell she was picking it up as well. She didn't look alarmed, so he stayed quiet.
They were walking down a street that wound its way through broken down, nondescript row houses, so Oz was surprised when Buffy took a sudden left down a decrepit, tar pathway. He followed, staring quizzically at the stone building before them. Its few windows were blacked out, glaring eyes in the growing dusk. The only feature that set it apart and drew notice was an odd looking symbol painted on a door leading down into the building's basement level. He had no idea what the symbol meant, but it reminded him of the demonic languages in Giles' old books. Glancing nervously to the empty street behind them, and then back to the symbol, he felt with sudden certainty that he wouldn't be able to see it were he not a Werewolf.