The werewolf was strong. Very strong. With one blow, it sent Buffy flying into the sound system. She wasn't hurt, but she was trapped underneath a rather heavy speaker. Buffy heard a lot of screaming. She heard Oz screaming. He was injured, or worse…

With no regard for how much damage she caused, Buffy hurled the speaker off to the side. Seizing a set of chains she had planted before the show, she leapt to her feet, and got a good look at her opponent.

The werewolf was on the now-empty dance floor. It was clearly not a normal wolf. It was built roughly like a human, or maybe a bear. It had thick, dark fur, clawed hands and feet, and a very wolfish snout. It growled at her.

Buffy wasn't used to fighting animals. Vampires were monsters, but they were at least intelligent. But somehow, she knew what to do. Maybe it was a Slayer thing. Or maybe it was some billion-year-old primal instinct. She stepped fully onto the stage, and let the wolf look at her. Her body tensed, awaiting an attack.

Instead, the werewolf fled. It didn't just walk away, it bolted, leaving a very confused Slayer on the stage.

Buffy turned to Oz. His left shoulder was bleeding, and he was clearly in pain. But he was holding himself together. Buffy took his right arm and helped him up.

"Let's get you out of here. Can you walk?"

"Yeah."

Buffy helped Oz off the stage.

"We need to get you back to school. I think Xander knows first aid."

There was another reason they weren't going to the hospital. Oz had been bitten. He needed to know what that meant.

Buffy passed Cain as she walked outside. Neither said a word. Cain's gaze lingered briefly on Oz's shoulder before he left.

Buffy really needed to stop him.

Cordelia had to admit it – Willow had good taste in guys. Because damn if Xander giving a shirtless Oz first aid wasn't the sexiest thing she had seen in a long time.

A loud thump brought her back to reality, as Giles dropped a pile of books on the table.

"We need to get to work," Giles said. "We're operating very much in the dark, and we need information more than ever. Oz has been bitten by a werewolf, and he needs – we need to know what that means."

Everyone nodded. Giles started handing out books.

"Cordelia, the Black Chronicles. Chapter fourteen deals with werewolves. I'm not sure how reliable it is, but it might point us towards others sources. Write down any names you find."

"I'm on it." She got a piece of paper and pencil out of her bag.

"Angel, can you read Russian?"

"Yeah."

"Diary of Dmitri Vasilov, werewolf hunter in the nineteenth century. Xander, does Oz still need first aid?"

"I need alcohol to disinfect the wound. The stuff Nurse Jackson has is too weak."

"Mrs. Weber keeps a bottle of vodka in her desk. Second drawer on the right."

"Got it. Oz, keep pressure on the bite." He walked out briskly.

"Uh, Jenny –"

"Internet." She was already starting up the library computer.

"Willow, the Codex Noctis."

Willow grabbed the massive tome out of Giles' hand.

"And Buffy," he handed the Slayer a stack of books and a spiral-bound notepad, "here are the Watchers' Diaries. I've, uh, indexed the various slayers who've encountered werewolves." He tapped the notepad.

"Don't the diaries go back thousands of years?" Buffy asked, the trepidation clear on her face.

"They do. Those are only the last five centuries. The previous ones weren't even in English."

Buffy grimaced.

"Found anything?" Buffy asked Willow.

"Nothing, really," Willow sighed. "It's like Giles was saying - lot of stuff about werewolves, but it's all contradictory." Willow slammed her book shut. She slumped against the end of a bookshelf.

Buffy was fairly certain of the reason for her friend's distress. "How are you holding up?"

"It's... complicated. I mean, I want to help Oz. I want to find something to help him deal with this." Her voice quivered. "But at the same time... I'm scared of him now."

"Because he's a werewolf?"

Willow nodded wordlessy.

Buffy sat down next to her friend. "Look. Oz being a werewolf doesn't change anything."

"Does it?" Willow turned to Buffy, her eyes watering up. "How do you know?"

"Willow," Buffy put her hand on her chest, "I'm engaged to a vampire. I know what it's like to be in love with a monster." Buffy didn't like that word. "Monster" wasn't how she would describe Angel. But she couldn't come up with a better one.

She looked at Angel. "The thing is, Will, it doesn't matter that he's a monster. I know Angel loves me. I know he cares about me more than anything. And I know that no matter what the demon in him wants, he's never going to hurt me." She turned back to Willow, one hand on Willow's jaw. "And that's what matters."

"Found anything good?"

Angel turned around to see Oz looking over his shoulder. He looked back at the book and sighed.

"If you want to kill werewolves, plenty. He spends entire pages on the best kind of musket to use on a werewolf, how to make silver bullets, and how to distinguish werewolf tracks from normal wolves."

"I see."

"I can also tell you that this guy was basically a serial killer. He'd shoot someone if there was any chance they were a werewolf. In fact, he says that they're easier to kill when they're human. He also recommends taking out their families, just to be safe."

In fact, the guy wasn't that different from how Angel himself had been.

"Oh."

"On the bright side, I'm pretty sure I killed him in St. Petersburg, and I'm suddenly not so remorseful."

Oz smiled at that. "So at least you did some good."

"Don't get me wrong. I thought he was just some drunk. If I'd known who he was, I'd have turned him into a vampire so he could do even more damage."

"You were really that bad?"

"I was a monster. And I still am. Only now I control it."

"How?"

Angel turned to Oz.

"Well, for one thing, I have a soul. That's what makes me different. I still crave the taste of human blood, but I won't take it."

"True. But even if you're a vampire, you're always yourself. I saw the werewolf – it was an animal." Oz sat cross-legged beside Angel. "How can I control myself when I'm like that?"

"I don't know," Angel shook his head. "But we'll be there for you. See, that's the other thing. I was alone for a hundred years, avoiding any human contact. Now I have friends in the world. And not just Buffy – Willow, Giles, Xander, even Jenny and Cordelia."

"Me too?"

Angel looked at Oz. Of all the people in the room, he knew Oz the least. He knew Oz was a guitarist, he was dating Willow, he was Buffy's boss… and he was now a werewolf. That was about it. They had only first met at Buffy's birthday party two weeks ago.

But that was when everything had changed. And Oz had helped them fight the Judge. He had driven Willow, Xander, and Cordelia up to Vandeburg to steal the rocket launcher. He had stood with the other Scoobies and rained crossbow bolts on Spike's boys. Oz was made of tough stuff – most people would be freaking out right about now.

"Yes, Oz. You, too."

Buffy was getting frustrated.

For one thing, most Watchers wrote in a style that was fairly archaic – in other words, boring. A few were more interesting, and one or two could have made it as a fantasy author, but your average Watcher made Joseph Conrad look like Douglas Adams. It probably didn't help that most Slayers didn't live on Hellmouths, and had much less interesting careers than Buffy's.

Not that she hadn't found anything interesting in the Watchers' Diaries. It was fascinating to read about her predecessors. Of particular interest was Emelie Duchamp, a French Slayer from the late seventeenth century. She had had extensive contact with a young werewolf named Pierre-Antoine Bastian. Her Watcher, Albert Dawes, wrote:

"Despite several hours spent contemplating this fact, I cannot fathom why Emelie continues to remain in contact with Mssr. Bastian. While he seems to be able to control himself, he is at best a distraction to her, and at worst a danger. She has stated that it would be impolite to cut off contact with a friend. I have reminded her that a Slayer has no friends, but to no avail. It must be a French thing."

Buffy smiled. Reading between the lines, it was obvious from the text that Emelie was in love with Pierre-Antoine. The relationship also seemed to have done some good – she lived for three and a half years, significantly longer than most Slayers.

But while this anecdote had provided one tidbit – namely, that it was possible for a werewolf to control themselves – they still hadn't found much information. Knowing that it was possible was good, but that didn't help much.

"Anyone else found anything?" Buffy yawned. "My brain's just about turned to mush."

"Same here," Jenny sighed. The others murmured assent.

"I've had no luck with the names Cordelia gave me," Giles set a book down on the table. "The problem seems to be that every account we've found is secondhand at best, and most of those come from werewolf hunters. The werewolves themselves don't seem to leave much in the way of records, so there's no information to help Oz deal with being one."

"Maybe I can help you with that."

Eight heads turned to see a wiry, black-haired boy in a leather jacket standing in the doorway. By the looks on everyone's faces, nobody else recognized him. But Buffy did.

"Pike?"