Author: Tracy Girlie
E-mail: bushman@total.net or tracygirlie@hotmail.com
Rating: G
Summary: Oz goes to an old friend for advice about the wolf within.
Notes: Thanks to Laura for her kick-ass beta job.
Spoilers: Everything up to tonight's ep.
Disclaimer: All characters in this story from Buffy the Vampire Slayer are owned by Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, FOX, and the WB Network.
Los Angeles has a peculiar smell to it. Diesel, exhaust, and in some sections, you can even smell the hard-baked concrete. All of these smells assaulted him, invading his senses. Oz tightened his grip on his steering wheel, deliberately blocking out the foul stench coming from a meat packing plant as he drove by.
The light pooled below the street lamps as the van ate up the distance to his destination. The streets were practically deserted. Occasionally, his keen eyes would pick out a shape in the shadows, identifying a person, a cat, or some other things that he didn't want to tangle with.
He raked an impatient hand through his hair - now longer and almost shaggy - and focused on driving. He had somewhere to get to. He had questions to ask. And he had finally figured out who held the answers.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Oz knocked repeatedly on the frosted glass, pausing to glare at the still-closed door every few seconds. His knuckles were getting raw, and he was considering looking in the van for a hammer when the light suddenly came on and the door was flung open.
Angel stood there, hair tousled, and a grim look on his face. He took in the sight of Oz quickly, eyes roaming up and down to note the changes in appearance since the last time they'd seen each other. "End of the world?" he asked casually.
Oz shook his head. "Not literally."
Satisfied, Angel stepped back from the doorway to let Oz in, careful not to extend a verbal invitation. Oz stepped easily into the dim office, nodding once to show Angel he wasn't insulted by the action.
"It's five-thirty in the morning. I just fell asleep a little while ago," Angel noted. "Something up?"
Oz paced in the small tiled space near the doorway for a moment, trying to phrase the question in his mind. He paused before speaking. "So, the demon's in you all the time, right?"
Angel grunted. "And I thought with Cordelia here all the time, I was building up a resistance to tactlessness." Oz's expression remained unchanged as they stared at each other for long seconds. Finally Angel sighed. "Let's go downstairs."
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Neither of them spoke as Angel bustled around his kitchen, making tea. He placed a couple of steaming cups on the table and then opened his fridge and stared at it, taking stock, before he made the offer. "You want breakfast?"
"How's Willow?"
Angel closed the fridge door and sat at the table. "She's fine. Physically."
Oz closed his eyes, grateful for any news at all. "Good."
"Emotionally destroyed, last time I saw her," Angel continued, remembering how Willow looked at Thanksgiving, how she'd ranted about guys leaving and giving up on relationships. Out of the whole group, Willow was always the one who looked for the bright side, in any situation. Her gift was that she usually found it. But when he'd last seen her, she'd been down, not willing to search for the bright side. It wasn't like her at all.
Oz's eyes opened slowly, pain suddenly evident in their depths. He didn't say anything, and sat absorbing the consequences of his departure. Finally, he found his voice. "Bad?"
Angel took a sip of tea and set the cup down, watching the leaves settle as he spoke. "You left her, and she misses you. More than she should. More than you deserve after leaving so fast, but she does."
Oz smirked mirthlessly. "Isn't this kind of a pot-calling-the-kettle-black kinda deal?"
Angel sighed, his thoughts turning to Buffy and his own abrupt departure. "Point taken." Oz lowered his head into his hands, rubbing at his forehead. Angel felt a sudden burst of sympathy for the younger man. He'd had two centuries to get used to the idea that some*thing* else was sharing body space. Oz had less than two years. "Where have you been?" he asked.
Oz seemed surprised by the question. "New Mexico. Arizona. Utah. Montana. Around."
"Why now?" Angel asked.
"I've been... learning more about the wolf. Its desires, its needs. I've been trying to find the line between me and it, so I can give the me part total control and go back." Oz looked tortured. "I'd been trying so hard to make it just disappear for all those times between full moons, you know?"
Angel nodded. "But it never disappears."
Oz shook his head. "It's always there, demanding things, heightening my senses. I'm not... I'm wasn't fully ready to be a human wolf."
"And you are now?"
"No," Oz replied quietly. "But I think I've learned all I can about roaming in the world and what the wolf in me wants."
Angel shook his head. "Don't ever think you've learned everything. It just challenges the cosmos to prove you wrong."
Oz nodded assent. "Point taken."
A moment of silence stretched out between them.
Oz ran his finger along a nick in the table's surface, staring deeply into the polished wood. "She was wearing green pants and this red-pink top with a bow," Oz began softly. "She was so... beautiful and sad... and... vulnerable." Angel raised his eyes. Oz looked haunted by the recollection. "She asked... asked me if... if I still loved her. How could she ask that?" Oz closed his eyes as the memory brought out the guilt in him again. "I could... I could smell... her tears... after I left. I was in the van, and I could... *smell* them." Oz's voice was barely a whisper as he spoke. "I could hear her crying, and I could smell them," he whispered. "And I left her. I almost couldn't do it. Almost." His eyes filled up with tears that refused to fall. "I miss her every moment of every day, and I don't know if she'll even speak to me again."
Angel leaned forward in his chair, resting his frame against the table. "Buffy didn't cry when I left," he noted absently.
"Not so you knew, anyway," Oz replied. "Once you were gone..."
Angel looked to the ceiling and tried to fight the feelings in his heart. "I had to go."
Oz nodded. "Right. With the curse -"
"It wasn't just the curse," Angel interrupted.
Oz looked at him, waiting for an explanation.
Angel sighed. "The demon, is in me, all the time, like the wolf for you. But it's different." Angel paused, trying to think of how to phrase what he had to explain. "My demon... It feeds off of pain. It... enjoyed it... when not being able to... love Buffy... fully... made life hard for me. I could feel it getting stronger the more time I spent around her, stronger because I was so tempted and we couldn't..." He broke off, losing himself in thought.
"You had to go to keep the demon in check," Oz paraphrased.
"I was still in control. It was just, harder, every day." Angel smirked to himself. "Damn thing's been having a field day since she came to LA a couple of months ago."
"She was here?" Oz asked. "Did Willow--?"
"She was here alone," Angel replied quickly, quietly. "We... Came to an understanding."
"I see."
"If the wolf's like the demon, Oz, it's never going to be easy. It's a constant struggle for dominance. You can't ever let your guard down, or it will take over."
Oz played with the rim of his cup. "It's not that tense for me. It's more a matter of shutting things out. Smells and sounds."
Angel leaned back. "Then why aren't you home yet? Are you having trouble keeping the world out?"
"No. I've mastered it, I think."
"Well, you had a good head start with your, um, stoic disposition," Angel noted.
"I guess."
"So, why?" Angel repeated.
"I wanted to know... if it ever got to the point where you weren't aware of it inside you. Where you could just be you, and not feel like you were holding something back." Oz looked sad. "I think the answer, based on what you just said, is no."
"Twice."
Oz met Angel's eyes across the table.
"The first time was when Willow gave me back my soul." Angel closed his eyes, remembering how Buffy looked as she stood over him, sword raised. "For a few minutes, I couldn't think or remember. I just was, and Buffy was there in front of me. She was so beautiful. I felt like I'd come home after a long trip. And I was alone. With her. For a few moments."
"I'm sorry, man."
Angel smiled sadly. "It's okay. I've gotten to be alone since then as well." His mind trailed back to the day when he was human. The lost day. "And she was there again. And it was perfect."
Oz eyed him warily. Angel looked utterly content for the briefest of moments before shadows closed over his features again. "I get the impression there's something you're not saying," Oz said.
"I have secrets to keep."
"The I guess it's a time-share situation with me and the wolf. I get twenty-seven nights of control, he gets three. I was just hoping... Willow deserves someone who can give her everything about himself. I'm not sure I can." Oz pushed his cup away and stood, readying to leave.
"It's worth it," Angel whispered.
"What?"
"The struggle to keep it in check all the time. The fight to be you and live you life regardless of what is inside you... It's worth it," Angel explained. "The second time… was when I was human."
Oz sat down again. "Human?"
"You can't tell anyone, Oz. Promise me."
Oz shook his head. "Creatures of the night oath not to say anything," he swore, crossing his fingers over his heart.
A small smile began to play across Angel's lips as he allowed himself to submerge into the memory of that day. "When Buffy came to LA, there was a Mora demon that I killed. The process kind of made me human. It was amazing." Angel's eyes got a faraway look as he stared past Oz towards his bedroom. "Buffy and I spent the whole day together. And there was no demon, no holding back. There was just us."
"What happened?"
The smile slid from Angel's face. "The Mora demon came back, and almost killed me. I wasn't of any use to Buffy as a human, I realized, so I asked the Oracles to reverse it."
"Oracles?" Oz asked.
"They're kind of like the Powers That Be, only more materialistic, I think. They erased the day and gave me the chance to kill the Mora demon again."
"And Buffy doesn't know?"
Angel raised his eyes to Oz's and stared at him seriously. "Buffy can't know."
Oz leaned back in the chair. "Wow. I'm sorry."
Angel smiled sadly. "I still have the day. That day with Buffy. No one can take it from me."
"So that's it then. Twice?"
"The rest of the time, it's just moments of virtual silence when the demon is controlled. When I can't hear it quite so well. But it's always there."
"And keeping it in check and being with Willow and living my life... that's something to strive for."
Angel examined the look on Oz's face. For the first time since he arrived, the younger man had a look of peace. "That day taught me something, Oz. That some things are worth all the effort. I think, for you, Willow is that thing."
"She is. And Buffy is for you." Oz made up his mind in that moment. He was going to give it a shot, and see if the woman who made his human life worth living would forgive him.
Angel didn't say anything, and Oz stood slowly. "Thanks for the talk. I gotta go."
They made their way in silence back upstairs, and Angel held the door open for Oz. The sun was just beginning to crack the horizon. "Where are you going now?" Angel asked.
"I'm heading home. Back to Sunnydale. It's time to beg forgiveness and try to live my life." Oz paused at the door, lightly clapping Angel's shoulder as he passed. "Do you...? Is there a message I can deliver for you?"
Angel didn't have to specify who the message would be for, and Oz didn't have to ask.
"Tell her... Tell her I really love peanut butter and chocolate."
