AUTHOR'S NOTE Only one more chapter after this! I hope you've all enjoyed the story!
DISCLAIMER I own nothing canon from either X-Men or Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
Oz said very little that day, although he usually was so quiet that the mutants hardly noticed. Dr. Grey tired to avoid him as often as possible anyway and her husband Scott obviously did not like him. Storm had been less eager to talk to him since she saw him as the wolf and even Professor Xavier left him alone.
After lunch, he found himself sitting in the front room with the young mutant with a witch streak in her hair. Rogue, she had called herself. He glanced at the elbow-length gloves she wore and remembered what she had told him about her powers. People got hurt.
Neither one of them said anything for awhile. Finally, Rogue said quietly, "We heard you last night."
Shame made his face burn. "Sorry."
She shrugged slightly. "It's okay." She was quiet for another moment before asking hesitantly, "What's it like?"
His first reaction was to glare at her for making him think about that which he was trying to forget. But then he looked at her face and saw that she felt alone like he did when he first woke up that morning in the Sunnydale woods. As much as he wanted to tell her to leave him alone, he was not in the mood to be that mean.
"It's like…" He trailed off, unable to describe it.
Rogue glanced out the window. "You don't remember it. I forgot."
He sighed and stared at the floor. "If only," he muttered.
She looked sharply at him. "But I thought you said – "
"I didn't used to remember," Oz admitted. "Now I'm starting to."
Her voice trembled a bit. "What does that mean?"
She looked scared of him. He took a minute to think of a way to explain it so that she would understand. "Rogue, if you touched my skin for five seconds, what would happen?"
With a wary look, she said, "You'd probably get a little tired."
"Five minutes?"
She gave him a harder look. "That would be bad."
"What about if you didn't touch me at all?"
At that, she rolled her eyes. "Nothing. I told you that my power only kicks in if I touch other people."
He nodded and turned back to the window. "You control who you touch, so you control your power. When I'm human, I have complete control over my actions. I don't turn anyone – "
She frowned. "You mean like biting them?"
"Exactly. And when I'm a wolf, I know that there are people I can trust to lock me up." Oz looked at her and smiled. "But you don't have to worry. I'm just a human."
Rogue looked skeptical for a minute, then slumped back in her seat. "Yeah right, and I'm just a girl who can't even hold hands normally with her boyfriend."
"Hey."
The girl reluctantly looked up at him, her expression almost a challenge to refute that truth. "I once knew a girl who fell in love with a man she was destined to kill," Oz told her. He frowned. "In fact, she did kill him. But after that, they were able to find a way to make things work."
She raised her eyebrows. "After she killed him?"
He chuckled. "Rogue, I'm a werewolf. But trust me when I say that that's the least of the weird things in my old life."
Although she did not look entirely convinced, she did look slightly happier. A minute went by, then she got to her feet and said, "I'm going to go find Bobby." She turned at the door and said softly, "I hope you have an okay night."
"Thanks."
Then she was gone. Oz looked once again out the window over the snowy grounds and smiled slightly to himself. He never would have imagined that Buffy and Angel's relationship story would be comforting to anyone.
As the sun neared the tops of the pine trees, he met Professor Xavier at the elevator and followed him down to the Danger Room. The door slammed shut and locked, providing him a sense of security just like the two nights before. And again, he waited for the change.
…
The werewolf was intently occupied with tearing the wires and gears out of the chest of one of Xavier's training robots. It was almost two hours after sunset. The robot stood little chance against the razor sharp wolf claws.
It was not long before there was nothing left for the creature to tear out. It left the tangle of metal in the middle of the floor and began prowling the perimeter of the room for something else to destroy.
A low whoosh caught its attention. Curiously, it headed for the source of the noise. The open doorway was interesting. The wolf sniffed the air and bounded through the door.
…
Professor Xavier sat calmly in his wheelchair down the hall from the Danger Room. He heard the werewolf coming toward him before he saw it. When it rounded the corner, it stopped and stared at him.
It did not look quite as menacing up close, though Xavier knew it could, and probably would, kill him given the chance. At the moment, it merely cocked its head, watching him.
Although it was not threatening him at the moment, Xavier knew that he only had a moment to do what he had to do. Possibly only seconds.
He closed his eyes and reached out with his mind. When he touched the werewolf's consciousness, it was blinded by rage like it had been the last time he attempted to reach it. But this time, he pushed deeper into the mind, searching for Oz, who had to be buried in there somewhere.
Either the wolf could not sense the psychic probe or it did not care, because it remained pacing at the end of the corridor. Xavier searched through the layers of animal thought, straining his considerable power, until finally he found what he was looking for.
Using what mental strength he had left, he took hold of Oz's consciousness and pulled it toward the surface.
Oz suddenly found himself standing in the hallway beneath the mansion. He felt like he had been blasted awake, as if by a really loud alarm clock. He wasn't supposed to be here, was he?
Professor Xavier was standing at the end of the hall, watching him. Something felt different. Something was wrong. Oz looked down at his hands and felt his heart nearly stop. They were the hands of the werewolf.
