Daniel Osbourne rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. It was nice to be in a country with decent lodgings. He was even learning some Italian. None of it mattered though because sleep was still eluding him.

Things had been fine. His career allowed him to travel. He had mastered the power of his wolf. Being alone had been bearable.

He'd been to Sunnydale a year ago. Well, he'd stood at the edge of the crater, staying safely on the observation deck. It had been a whim. Just an odd urge.

The dreams had started that night.

The darkness, the screams, they were nothing. Just the flip side of his wolf dreams. He was used to them now, but sleep didn't come easy. No, because the darkness would fade and the screams would quiet, but she would be there, sobbing and alone.

Buffy. He swallowed. His wolf had always preferred Buffy, but he had never expected to dream about any woman other than Willow.

His first love with her quirky style and amazing mind had held him captive despite her infidelity with Xander. He had forgiven her. Easily. The wolf never had.

His own infidelity had brought the real terror of his dual nature to light. The security of his cage was only as strong as his tenuous control.

Willow had moved on, but he had been sure he never would. There had been a few women, when he was desperate for the illusion of companionship, but none of them had been more than a distraction. No one had moved Willow out of his mind until the dreams.

The dreams had changed everything.

Willow was a distant memory. A vague one at that.

As Willow faded, Buffy flared into full vibrant life. He could pull up her scent at will, warmed vanilla and a hint of cinnamon. The memory of her laughter would sound in his mind when something amused him. Images of her played through his mind most of the day, and music filled him constantly. He had filled notebook after notebook. He hummed the bit that had been playing through his mind lately, hearing it roar to life in his head.

Buffy was his muse.

He closed his eyes, losing himself in the music. Her golden hair flashed in his memory as she laughed and ducked his blow. Sparring had been Giles' idea,but it had solidified his place with the gang in high school. It had made him more than Willow's boyfriend.

The wolf had craved it, even then. The smell of her, sweat slicked and panting as they moved gracefully around the library, would fill him up. He had thought it was a response to the intense sparring. He'd been such a fool.

The phone's ringing startled him. He grabbed it and pulled it to his ear.

"Yes?" Who would be calling him?

"Oz." Giles' voice sounded in his ear and his stomach rolled. "I'm sorry to call you so late, but we've had quite the time trying to find you."

"Giles."

"Yes, well, we need you to come to London. Buffy is in grave danger and we believe you might be able to help her. I know you left for a reason. I wouldn't ask if there was another option." Giles sounded exhausted and the underlying dread in his voice had the hairs on the back of his neck standing.

"Don't think I'll have that problem anymore. I'll hop on the first available. Should be there sometime tomorrow." Oz flipped on the light.

"We'll send someone to collect you. The plane is waiting." Giles sighed. "I don't know if you've kept in touch with Willow, Xander, or Dawn but it would be best if you refrained from contacting them now."

"Got it." What the hell had happened? He had no contact with any of them, but they should be helping. Dawn had been so young when he was around, his memories of her were odd. He couldn't remember her scent. It made him uncomfortable. "How bad?"

"She needs you. Things, well, nothing is what it once was. I don't know where to begin."

"Don't. I have to pack." He wanted to see and smell Giles when he explained. Things were always easier that way.

"Yes, yes, your ride is on its way. I will meet you at London City." Giles sighed. "Thank you, Oz."

"It's Buffy." No other explanation was necessary. He hung up the phone.

There wasn't much to do. He had just gotten to Venice, so the normal sprawl of his belongings had yet to occur. The notebooks were still stacked neatly on the desk and most of his clothes were still packed in the duffle.

Oz glanced in the mirror. His hair was a little long, but it didn't matter. She needed him. Gods, Buffy needed him. A sudden image of her naked in the school basement flared to life. She had blushed, and he had been a gentleman. Damn, he'd been a fool.

He stood up and headed for the small bathroom. He needed to shave and clean up a bit. He also needed to think. A lot of water had flowed under and over the bridge since he had said goodbye to Sunnydale. Hell, the bridge had washed away and then sunk into the crater that devoured his hometown. He had to be prepared for the changes he would find. Well, accepting of them. Prepared would imply a clairvoyance he did not possess. He sighed and grabbed his jeans.

He had to get ready. They would be here any minute, and it didn't sound as if there was a lot of time to spare. He shoved his fingers through his hair and stepped into his jeans. There would be time to chase his tail later.

He focused on what was needful. Shaving and cleaning up took concentration. He rubbed the towel over his face and shrugged. It would have to do. He grabbed a fresh shirt and pulled it over his head. The cotton jersey fell into place. It still a smelled of that spicy soap he'd used in Istanbul.

The knock came as he shoved his notebooks into his backpack. He opened the door and smiled at the uniformed chauffeur. He'd been expecting a bespectacled, tweedy watcher type.

"Give me a minute." Oz smiled. "I'm almost ready."

"Of course, sir."

He looked at the millefiori pendant still sitting in it's box on the desk. He touched the smooth surface of the glass. Maybe he would give it to her. He closed the box and slid it in amongst the other treasures he had acquired. Each one of them was hers. Hell, he was hers if truth be told.

He turned and headed out of the room. It wouldn't be long. He sighed.