Buffy returned to the shop after speaking with Wes. Oz and Jezza appeared to be deep in conversation, but they fell silent when she came in. The Werewolf's head was covered over with black plastic, and it was impossible to see what was underneath. The three sat and chatted for another fifteen minutes, during which Buffy extracted a promise from Jezza to attend the meeting that night.
"We can escort you once you're done here," she offered.
"Kyon," the Sorceress said reproachfully. "I can take care of myself."
"I know, Jezza, but we all need to err on the side of safety right now. Please? For my peace of mind?" she begged.
"For your peace of mind, anything," Jezza smiled. "Now, Master Zebinchak, your time has come." She began to carefully unwrap the layers of plastic from his hair. Then she led him over to a deep basin and washed the dye mixture out. She rubbed it gently with a towel, but its magical nature allowed it to dry quickly on its own.
Buffy gasped as he stood up from the sink and Jezza ceremoniously whipped off the towel. His spiky hair was the color of pure, glowing silver, the exact same shade as his eyes. "It's perfect," she whispered.
Oz inspected his reflection in a mirror mounted on the tiled wall. The hair WAS perfect. The Sorceress was reminding him, as Buffy had, that his true nature was neither Oz nor Wolf, but OzWolf. He smiled.
An hour later, the trio entered Bert and Ernie's bar. The huge building was completely packed. Usually, it was divided into thirds using partitions and tapestries. The front third was where the bar was located; the middle third was storage and mostly empty; and the back third held their offices. The sections had been removed, and bodies occupied the entire space. Even the second floor, whose center was hollow to form a large, rectangular balcony overlooking the bar, was filled.
Ernie waved them over. "Kyon, this is some turnout!" he smiled happily.
"It's been great for business," Bert grumbled, plunking three drinks down in front of them.
Ernie swatted at him. "Oh, that's not all you care about," he chided. They watched in amusement as Bert's mouth twitched briefly into a smile before resuming his usual glare.
The occupants of the bar had been chatting loudly, but fell silent at the sight of Buffy approaching a table near the center. She gave Tay a hug and set down her drink. Everyone waited quietly for her to speak.
"OK," she began, with a nervous look around. "I guess we'll start. For those who don't know me, I'm Kyontar. I'm also a Vampire Slayer." There were several gasps and grumblings at that. "Not to worry, I'm on your side," she quickly reassured them. "It's true that I slay demons and vamps, but only the ones that prey on the innocent. Any urgent questions before I tell you what I know?"
"Did you find Pan?" a voice called out from the back.
Buffy smiled, unable to keep the relief from flooding her face. "Yeah, let's give a round of applause for the rescue squad!" She pointed them out in the crowd. "Come on guys, stand up." They obliged and got thunderous thanks from their efforts.
"How is he?" asked Clem.
Speaking loud enough for everyone to hear, she answered, "He'll live, but if they hadn't found him when they did, we would've lost him. You all need to understand how serious this is. We don't want to lose anyone else. That's why it's so important to check in with your district leaders every 24 hours. And why you MUST NOT travel alone at night."
"What exactly happened to Panchadu?" questioned an old man, glowing orange eyes betraying his fear.
"The demons that we're calling the Kuunchadri attacked him, carved a message in his chest, and left him to die in an alley," she said somberly.
Wertong stood. "What was this message, Kyontar?"
"Leave Sunnydale." She paused to let that sink in. "Here's what I know." She described in depth what she'd learned about the Kuunchadri thus far, including the identical message that had been carved into Jacob Hamilton's chest. Then, she shared her theories about their possible whereabouts and their purpose in Sunnydale.
"Do you think we should leave?" Tay asked, horrified by the news.
Buffy sighed. "It's not safe here right now, and I'd love nothing better than to fly you all to Disney World until I've solved the problem." Several patrons chuckled. "If you can leave town for a while, do it. I have contacts in the L.A. Underground and we can organize temporary housing and jobs for you there." She was pacing back and forth at this point, working it out as she went. "Tell you what, meet me at the end of the meeting if you want to leave. That way everyone will still be accounted for. Speaking of which," she continued. "I'll need the district leaders to stay after, too. For now, what's the verdict?"
The various leaders stood and reported on their district. Each had found multiple demons missing, causing a slew of concerned murmurs. "If I may speculate, Kyontar," Wertong proposed gravely. She nodded and gestured for him to stand. "It is possible that they simply left town before we got organized."
Buffy breathed a sigh of relief at his astute observation, and flashed him a grateful smile. "You're probably right. Thanks, Wertong." The demon bowed his head and resettled himself in his seat. "Keep an eye out for them just in case. I've got contacts in L.A. looking to I.D. these demons. My main goal right now is to find the Sorcerer. If he's in charge, I can stop him, and if he's not he can take me to his leader."
Sandri rose, once again nervous when all eyes fell on him. "What do we do if we can't leave, Kyon?"
"Go about your lives, but carefully," she advised. "Use the Buddy System at all times, and check in every 24 hours. If you can't run your errands during the day, find someone who can. Feel free to contact me. Your group leaders all have my number. During weekdays, I'm at the Magic Box. I'll do whatever I can to help, OK?" She could tell by their faces that she'd gotten the message across. "There'll be another meeting here on Saturday night at 9pm. Any questions?" It was quiet. "Right then, meeting adjourned."
The loud buzz of conversation filled the bar again as everyone discussed what they'd learned. Half of the patrons left at that point, leaving a group of about one hundred and fifty milling around Buffy. The district leaders stood beside her and made a list of the names and destinations of those leaving their group. All of them decided to go to L.A., so she told them to meet with their leaders again the following night. That would give her a day to work out where to send them and whom they should contact.
An hour later, Buffy and Oz were patrolling their way home. She'd been studying his new look, and reached out impulsively to ruffle his hair. "You like?" she asked, concerned. "It isn't too much?"
"I like," he reassured her. "And Jezza is great. Her place reminds me of Bert and Ernie's."
"Yeah, Jezza's a worldly babe. When the Furies came to mojo the bar, I brought them to meet her. She has enough power to protect herself, but she likes the way the Furies' magic soothes our inner beasties."
Oz was silent for a while, and then, "Can I ask about last night?"
She knew instantly what he meant. "What do you wanna know?"
"How'd you figure out you can heal people?"
She sighed, not eager to delve into her memories of that painful time. "It was an accident. About two and a half years ago I found Tay in an alley, half dead. She'd been beaten badly and…violated…" Oz stiffened. "I brought her home. Cleaned and stitched her up as best I could, but she didn't wake up. I was learning to use meditation to amp up my healing powers, so I went into a trance. When I placed my hands on her body, I could tell she had internal bleeding. I went to Jezza, hoping she could heal Tay. Turns out Jezza can't channel her power into others, but I can. She gave me a ritual to try, and it worked! I overshot, 'cause Tay healed instantly and I sorta went into a coma for a week. She stayed with me for a while, too scared to be alone, but eventually she went back to her own apartment. And she's doing great now," she finished.
"A coma?" he repeated, voice deceptively mild.
"I know… But, I'm not like Willow, I swear. I've only done it five times, and after the first time I learned to control how much I give. And it's not black magic, I'm not channeling someone else's power or invoking demons and gods, I'm just using what's already inside me," she rattled on nervously.
He tried to put her at ease. "Buffy, I trust you. My concern here is for your well being. You have this bad habit of putting everyone else first, cost be damned."
"Yeah, but that's my job," she argued. "I'm the Slayer."
"I like Kyontar better," he corrected with a smile. "The Council's definition of 'Slayer' is much more limited."
"No kidding! If they only knew that not only do I protect demon-types these days, but I also use my powers for healing, they'd…well, they'd wish they had some sort of hold over me so they could kick my naughty little ass." She grinned savagely, and his wolf leapt to attention beneath his skin.
He quirked an eyebrow at her knowingly. "You love it, don't you?"
"Love what?"
"That it isn't just death that you have to offer," he replied.
"Death is my gift," she murmured, eyes distant with memory.
"No," he countered. "Your gift is what you're doing for those demons. You were amazing in there tonight." He was pleased when the haunted look left her eyes at his words.
The next day was busy for Buffy. She got up extra early to visit Pan, taking care to clean his wounds and apply more balm. After checking his splints, she gave him another sleeping potion. The rest of her day was spent working at the Magic Box. As soon as she had a spare moment, she called Lorne.
"Kyon!" a happy voice sounded over the phone line.
"Huh?" she replied, confused.
"Caller I.D., Cream Puff. How are you?"
"You know me, same old same old," she hedged.
The Host sighed. "Which in Kyon-speak means you've got a big problem, no?"
She quickly explained the situation. "Can you find placement for a hundred and fifty?" she asked finally. "I'm sorry it's so sudden, but the situation has escalated, and I want anyone who's willing to leave out of town, pronto."
"For you, Kyon, I'd do nearly anything," he said with a smile. "No Celine Dion!" he shouted suddenly. "Sorry, Cream Puff, these demons have the absolute worst taste in music. Some days I think my head will explode. But that's Show Biz, right?"
"Right, Hostie," she grinned, pleased to be chatting with the anagogic demon. Somehow, he always made her feel better.
"Tell you what, Twinkie, let me check with my contacts, and I'll get back to you. It's a definite go, I just need to work out the details."
Buffy exhaled, relieved. "Thank you so much, Lorne. I swear you save more people in a single day than I've managed to in a decade."
"You exaggerate, honey, but it's much appreciated. You at the Magic Box?"
"Yep, 'til 6:00," she confirmed.
"OK, call me then and I'll be ready for ya! Love you, Cream Puff."
Buffy giggled, something Lorne alone could make her do these days. "Love you, too, Hostie."
That night, the demons leaving Sunnydale met with their district leaders and received their instructions for what to do in L.A. Buffy felt lighter, having ensured the safety of half of Sunnydale's Underground population, but quickly turned her attention to the remaining citizens.
The rest of the week followed in a routine fashion. She would check on Pan, go to work, and then meet Oz for dinner somewhere. Twice, he made it himself. Then they would patrol, check on Pan again, and stop off at Bert and Ernie's to see if anyone was reported missing. Oz spent his days doing research and visiting with the Dingoes. When Saturday rolled around, they still hadn't found the Sorcerer. They discovered new victims of the Kuunchadri on patrol each night, but only of the violent variety. So far, the peaceable types were taking her warnings seriously and laying low.
Saturday dawned bright and sunny, though the temperature was chilly for southern California. Buffy awoke to the screeching of her alarm clock at 7am and shivered as her arm met the cool morning air. Rising quickly, she showered and dressed herself in warm clothes. She arrived in the kitchen at quarter to eight, where Oz was perched casually on a barstool in maroon corduroys and a black polyester shirt with a pointed collar.
He watched her pause thoughtfully and assess the kitchen. She was dressed in boot cut black leather pants, and a matching satin blouse with flowing sleeves. The outfit set off her hair color perfectly. She had left it down today, but a few small braids in the front framed her face. Her hazel eyes were outlined in black kohl.
It was obvious that the color and texture of her hair was magical in nature. Combined with the patented warrior's stance that she didn't bother to hide these days, Oz thought she looked every inch the Goddess of Protection. She eyed him up and down with a small smile of approval, and he shivered.
"Here's what we're gonna do," she murmured seriously, breaking into his reverie. She glanced around the kitchen again, clearly finding it lacking. "Mochas and muffins at the Espresso Pump?"
"I'm in," he replied lightly, sliding off the stool to join her. They added boots and jackets to their outfits, and Buffy grabbed her weapons bag and purse. "My van for the big road trip?" he asked.
"Sounds good. I'll pay for the gas," she offered.
"We'll go dutch," compromised Oz. "But I'm getting breakfast since you got dinner last night."
They bought mochas and blueberry muffins from the Pump and then continued on to Pan's apartment. Grachen opened the door, looking exhausted.
"We brought breakfast," Buffy enticed him, attempting to make up for the early hour. She held out two trays of mochas and two bags of muffins as an offering.
"Thanks guys," he smiled. "Didn't know the Pump delivered." Buffy and Oz exchanged glances, knowing that Grachen couldn't even go out to the local coffee shop due to his appearance. "Hey, none of that," he protested, catching their expressions. "Daryol, Sandri, get your asses out here! Kyon and her Wolf brought breakfast!" They approached from their rooms, rubbing their eyes sleepily.
"How's our patient?" Buffy asked, once everyone was settled.
"Still sleepin' like a baby most of the time. He seems to be healing well, but you probably don't wanna take my word for it."
"Any fever or severe pain?" She put down her mocha and made her way to his bedroom, Grachen and Oz in tow.
"Nope, nada. Just sleep. I keep checkin' his pulse; he's so quiet. Whatever you're giving him, it's workin'."
"Good." She washed her hands and then gently removed the bandages from Pan's chest and torso area. Her mojo had helped a lot; the wounds were healing well and there was no sign of infection. She placed both hands around his swollen knee and closed her eyes to concentrate. Satisfied, she leaned down to murmur a few words in Pan's ear and a small smile graced his face. "He doesn't need any more sleeping potion," she concluded, relief evident.
"How does he hear you?" Grach asked curiously. "I've been talkin' to him all week, but he never smiles like he does when you do it."
"We sorta have a connection now, because of what I did," she said hesitantly. "Once he's healed, I'll sever it." Grach and Oz stared thoughtfully at her, and she nervously pushed a lock of hair away from her face. "Ready to go, Zeb?" she addressed the Werewolf lightly.
They said their goodbyes and promised to stop at the apartment on their way back into town. Pausing to stand in the driveway, Buffy gazed up at the vivid, blue sky for a long moment, and then twirled around in a circle, laughing. Oz watched in amusement, feeling how relieved she was at Pan's recovery. Her hair flew out around her like a gold and black cape and he reached out to touch it, unable to stop himself. "It's beautiful," he murmured, watching the sunlight shimmer and dance across it. With that, they jumped in the van and began their journey to L.A.
During the first hour of the trip, the duo took turns regaling each other with funny stories from their time apart. Oz had made friends and acquaintances all over the world, which gave him great material. Most of Buffy's stories involved Tay, Pan's gang, or Lorne, and he noticed that she didn't tell any about Dawn or the former Scoobies.
"So, Master Zebinchak, you've been here a week. Whaddya think? Still glad you came back?" Buffy asked during a lull.
"Very glad," he replied.
She grinned at him. "Me too. And we're making Wolfie progress, no?" she added.
"Definitely."
On Monday, his second day in Sunnydale, Buffy had left him a note to meet her at the Magic Box in comfy clothes at 12pm. He'd obliged, bringing lunch for them both, and found her in a back room that was tricked out as a training space. Weapons lined the walls, a large punching bag hung from the ceiling in one corner, and there were mats covering the floor. There was also a vaulting horse and a padded, puffy suit. He joined her on the mats, and they practiced the various meditation techniques that they'd picked up over the years. They spent two hours each day in this manner, with the second hour being used for reflex and dexterity training.
Their session on Friday had begun in much the same way, but after an hour of meditation, Buffy jumped up and grabbed some supplies from her duffel bag. Returning to sit cross-legged in front of Oz, she asked, "Do you trust me?" He nodded wordlessly. "Are you willing to try something magic-related?" At his curious expression, she explained, "I'd like to tap into my power source and use it to connect with you. Maybe we can take a peek at Wolfie."
"OK," he agreed, and watched her pour a circle of sand around them and chant until it glowed. Her eyes flashed, and he could tell that she'd accessed the source of her powers. When she grasped his hands, he was shocked to feel a low thrum of current pass into him, and the eyes that snapped up to meet hers were silver. He remained silent, using meditation techniques to keep his heart rate down. The Wolf awoke within him, but it seemed more curious than angry. He could feel it reaching back out of him to Buffy. She encircled it with the blazing weight of her magic, and the Wolf growled happily, sated.
"That's a great training space," he commented now, coming out of his memories to concentrate more fully on the road. He wondered who owned the Magic Box these days. The only person he'd ever seen there was Buffy, and she seemed to be running it by herself.
Her smile faded. "Giles, Xander, and Riley designed it for me back in the day. The new owner, Jacob, kept the Magic Box intact when he bought it from Giles. I saved him from a vamp the night he moved in, and that's how we met. He offered me a job, and said I could keep the room like it was."
"Jacob?" he repeated, wondering why that name sounded familiar.
She winced. "He died three weeks ago. It was the Kuunchadri's first major hit. They left him for me to find with a message carved into his chest, just like Pan." She couldn't stop the tears that leaked traitorously down her cheeks.
"Oh shit, Kyon, I'm sorry," Oz murmured, reaching out with one hand to gently brush the hair away from her face. Now he remembered. Jacob Hamilton was the first victim she'd mentioned during the meeting at Bert and Ernie's bar.
With effort, she swallowed her tears and brushed away the evidence. "He left the shop to his daughter, and she asked me to keep it open until she sells it." She sighed wearily, and then began to pull herself together. "I don't have time for this now. I have to focus on the job. I can't let them kill anyone else."
"We," he corrected gently.
She turned in her seat to face him. "Zeb…"
"I'm in," he replied firmly, meeting her eyes. "I want to be here, and I've got my reasons for that. Pity is not one of them. Trust me."
Buffy sighed in resignation, half terrified at the thought of bringing him into this war, and half relieved that she wouldn't be alone anymore. "Just don't rip up that 'get out of jail free' card, OK?"
"Deal." The remainder of the trip was spent in silence.