Chapter Twenty-Nine

Mike felt unusually buoyant as he jumped up the steps towards the school and into the morning sun that filled the sparsely populated quad. He leant against at the railing, basking in the warmth, taking a mental health recharge as Larry had used to say. You had to use these little moments to ground yourself, remind yourself that you were more than just the fight to survive. Mike exhaled slowly, taking a minute to just feel human again. Switching his attention back his surroundings, he found the sight before him made him suddenly miss his old skateboard for one nostalgic moment. The Sunnydale High campus had always been a surprisingly good arena. It had been the one perk of being forced to stay late for detention. Mike stopped and quickly caught himself just before he relapsed totally into BHM territory. Before Hellmouth was a time of blissful ignorance long gone. They could never afford to imagine things could ever go back to the way they were. Not with their lives.

He was soon distracted from his wandering train of thought however by the sound of a rather forceful exit out of the school. Heavy, sullen steps echoed across the quad, disproportionate to her small size. She didn't seem to notice him, her face cast towards the ground, stride quick and expression under its usual thunder cloud. Mike recognised the canvas duffle bag that hung over her shoulder, the strain of her arms betraying its hidden weight. Edging the top of his sunglasses down his nose, he grinned mischievously as he stepped up his pace, jogging over to meet her and calling out in greeting.

"Ay up Raggedy!"

He watched her flinch slightly, though whether it was with surprise or distain, he couldn't quite tell. However there was no mistaking the fist that collided hard with his shoulder as he soon as he came within striking distance.

"Ow! Yeesh, I swear you don't even hit the vampires that hard!"

Annie's face remained unmoved, rigid with irritation as she watched the boy in front of her vigorously rub his bruised arm with a whimper. She lowered the duffle to the ground and narrowed her eyes.

"I hate when you call me that."

"Yeah no kidding," Mike huffed, carefully edging a step away just out of precaution. "I still don't get it, Raggedy Ann was cute!"

"Sure if you're five years old."

Mike rolled his eyes. He didn't know quite what made him so keen to poke the bear with her old nickname; the distain it invited was inevitable despite all the affection it was said with. But then again, no-one had ever claimed he was smart, and his mouth did have a habit of running ahead of his brain. He grasped his shoulder tentatively and winced. Annie was certainly never one to pull her punches at the best of times.

"I guess Oz isn't the only having a grouchy time of month," he muttered.

He saw her fist rise again out the corner of his eye and hastily hustled out of reach, quickly placing a stone bench between then and holding up his hands.

"Okay! Okay, I give!" He allowed a hint of a smile onto his face. "Just don't hurt me. Again."

Annie scoffed though her mouth softened in return, as she sheathed her hands back into the safety of her folded arms. Flicking a wisp of smoky hair out of her eyes, she regarded him curiously.

"What are you doing here anyway?"

He gave a look of exaggerated patience, spreading his arms wide to embrace the stone and linoleum fortress of Sunnydale High that guarded the gateway to Hell under their feet.

"For the pure dedication to education, my dear! A feast for the mind and treat for the senses awaits behind every classroom door." He dropped his arms and winked over the top of his sunglasses. "We can't all be sophisticated college drop outs like you."

Annie raised a thin sceptical eyebrow, unimpressed by the unusually flirtatious mood her friend was in. "Save it for the juniors, Casanova," she said coolly. "I meant what are you doing here this early, you never normally roll out of bed until five minutes after registration."

He sighed. "Sure you won't marry me, Annie? No one else will ever give me quite the same quality of abuse. If you must know, I actually do have work to catch up on. In case you've forgotten it's not too long until graduation, and assuming I somehow survive our undead classmates, I'd be super bummed out to be denied that opportunity because of grades or low attendance. Even Oz is trying harder this time around. Anyway, what about you?" he asked, turning the scrutiny back on his comrade. "You're generally more of a night owl. Did you just miss us?"

"You wish," she scoffed. "Just picking up some supplies."

His expression quickly turned serious as he touched her arm with a cautionary grip. "You're not going out on your own again, are you?"

She rolled her eyes, tugging her arm free. "Keep your pants on. Just restocking." Annie hoisted the duffle back to onto her shoulder, unable to disguise the grimace that came with the fresh pressure on her bruises.

Mike eyed his friend's aches and pains sympathetically. "You look like you've been in the wars. Eventful wolf-watch last night was it?"

"Why don't you ask Willow, she was there," Annie snapped bitterly.

Mike's eyes grew wide in surprise. "What? What happened? Is she ok?"

"Oh she's just dandy. Got on her high horse, pumped a werewolf full off tranquiliser and then snuggled up next to him the cage. Fun chick."

"She…she shot him?" The bemused student shook his head, trying to catch up with the sudden revelation she had just thrown at him. "I don't…What was she even doing there?"

Annie's lip curled with mockery. "She just can't keep away from him apparently."

He frowned in confusion. "Oz?"

"Duh! Who'd you think?" The young woman threw her hair back impatiently. "Come on, Mike! She's moony eyed over him, wake up would you!" Abruptly whisking around him, she stalked off towards the street, muttering under her breath, "Mark my words, that girl will bring trouble down on us."

Mike stood there for a moment, face oddly blank and hand absently scratching the back of his head, trying to digest this latest information. Trust Annie to kill his buzz, he thought dejectedly. Mind you, she wasn't quite the most reliable source of facts when it came to the redhead. To be honest, he didn't get what his friend's problem was with Willow, but there were some definite issues there. He wasn't quite dense enough to have missed the decidedly frosty atmosphere between the two members of their little group. Maybe it was a girl jealousy thing? He shook his head in an attempt to bring his thoughts back on track. The point was that there may well be more to the story. It couldn't hurt to investigate a bit further anyway, before feeling totally embarrassed and sorry for himself.

Well either way, it was another riddle to add to the strange story of their doppelganger witch. Resolved to find out for himself, the boy snapped himself out of his stupor and hurried into the school, making a beeline for their unofficial clubhouse.

"Woah."

Despite all he had seen since taking up the mantle of vampire buster, Mike somehow still managed to forget what damage his own friend could do when he was in his monthly out-of-body-experience. It was impressive. Doing a quick double take around the room, he wished again that Ozwolf was on their side as much as human Oz was. An ally with this much firepower could prove very helpful.

"Giles?" he called out as he walked further into the deranged state of the library. "Willow?"

He couldn't imagine they would be anywhere else; they certainly had their work cut out putting the library back together by the look of it. The 'closed until further notice' sign on the door he had typically ignored when he came in was definitely warranted, if slightly unnecessary. It wasn't like the rest of the student body were falling over themselves to check out any extracurricular reading.

"Michael? Is that you?"

Mike turned to see an exhausted looking Giles stick his head out the office and blink at him with a slightly bemused expression. That seemingly permanent frown was still creasing his brow, fevered thoughts working away behind his eyes, as if he were constantly worrying over a dozen different problems simultaneously. Which he probably was. Frustrated intellect often had a way of masquerading as absentmindedness.

"Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt you guys when you got your hands full," he apologised. "Looks like I missed some excitement. Need any help?"

Giles glanced down at the bits of broken chair in his hand as if he couldn't remember why he was still carrying them. He adjusted the tilt of his glasses and cleared his throat. "Yes, well you could say that, but we have it under control, thank you." Regarding the student before him with fresh focus, he added, "Don't you have class starting soon?"

"Free period," he lied easily. The Watcher looked dubious but seemed to let it go, turning to disappear back into his office without further comment.

"Jeez, take a day off sometime," the teenager muttered under his breath. Crossing behind the table, he climbed the steps and wandered into the stacks. It didn't take him long to find Willow among the dusty rows, crouched down among a small rock fall of ancient books.

Several volumes already under her arm, she frowned at the spine of another leather bound text in her hands as she wondered whether this particular collection of the Writings of Dramius should be filed under Demonology or Dark Magic. So great was her concentration that she nearly bumped into the shelves when she heard her name suddenly spoken from behind her.

"Hey Will."

Willow quickly shot out a hand to steady herself, dropping the heavy tome on her toes in the process. A curse slipped past her lips, which made her friend raise his eyebrows at the rare sound.

"Mike," she sighed, "don't scare me like that!"

"Oh man, I'm sorry!" Bending down to grab the fallen book, he quickly helped her stand up. "A little jumpy are we?"

"Well yeah… when people sneak up on me," she mumbled, hopping a little on the spot to relieve her sore foot before jostling the stack of books in her arms back under control. "I guess it's a Slayerette habit." Turning to look at him properly, she cracked a grin and blew some hair off her face. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

He shrugged, unable not to return her smile. "Just dropped in to see if you guys needed any help. Heard the library was a little worse for wear."

Willow looked a bit abashed in response, fingering the corner of one of her books as her eyes avoided his. "Yeah, maybe a little."

"Looks like Giles is putting you to work anyway, huh?"

She looked up and smiled. "Suppose. I don't mind though, I like to help. Plus I feel kinda responsible."

He saw her wince so slightly at her words, as if mentally reprimanding herself for revealing too much. Mike decided then to throw caution to the wind, seeing no point in both of them playing evasive. After all this was one secret she couldn't really keep to herself. He figured he was already the last one to know about the night's drama anyway. Typical. Her teeth had begun to worry her bottom lip adorably when he stepped in.

"Yeah I heard. Don't worry, it's not the first time Oz has broken his chains." He shrugged. "You did what you had to do."

It wasn't just a reassurance; it was an invitation to share.

Willow hesitated, thoughts whirring, as she made a concerted effort to watch her words carefully. Mike's manner was pleasant enough, even if his expression was a little concerned and unsure, and she could find no good reason to even attempt to lie. It was completely futile to deny it, she realised. It wasn't as if everyone else didn't already know. Her nocturnal visit hadn't exactly been inconspicuous. She gave a small apologetic smile. "I… I guess it's a good thing no-one ever comes in here but us."

"Yeah, definitely helps to avoid the awkward questions. Even the principle doesn't ask about half the stuff that goes on. Denial is a pretty strong and refined skill around here." He passed the book back to her with a rueful smile. "Hell, I should know. Even after everything I saw at factory, I still didn't quite believe Oz's little secret until I saw it for myself."

"He told you?" Willow didn't mean to sound sceptical, she was more curious than anything. Experiencing as she had Oz's stubborn reticence first hand.

Mike shook his head. "Nah, Larry did. Figured forewarned was forearmed I guess. Plus I think they were keen to have another wolf-watcher on the rota. A night off quickly becomes a golden commodity round here, know what I mean?"

Willow returned the knowing smile. "Tell me about it, Buffy used to tell me off for drinking too much coffee just trying to keep up with her. It, it made me even more jumpy if you can believe it." She gave a small nervous laugh, feeling her self-conscious babble starting to take over again. "But yeah, living on the Hellmouth is pretty exhausting for us normals for sure. I used to wonder how Buffy managed to juggle everything like she did, she just had endless energy, you know, all pro-active with pep and stirring speeches. Part of the slayer handbook I guess."

"Well I'll have to take your word for it," Mike said with shrug. "Though from what Giles has said, having a slayer round here would certainly have come in handy. And not just for keeping Oz's furry tantrums in check. "

"Yeah…." Willow trailed off awkwardly. "Still…you guys seem to have things pretty under control. I mean, if you can't lock up your friends in a big cage when they get a bit bitey…well, who can you?" Keen to prevent herself from anymore embarrassed rambling, she gave a quick smile before returning her attention to the bookcase.

Mike watched as Willow visibly relaxed as she resumed her task, an unconscious line of concentration settling on her brow as she attempted to alphabetise the more obscure titles in Giles's collection. He couldn't help but feel slightly dejected. She seemed more than a little reserved around him all of a sudden. An air of slight awkwardness seemed to have developed between them after the previous afternoon. She was trying hard to hide it, but he could sense it; an unusual moment of perception for him he had to admit. It seemed Willow was just too used to wearing her heart on her sleeve. He should remind her to never play poker.

He cleared his throat, attempting to inject some casualness back into his tone. "Well it's good you know now anyway. We can always use another person on full moon patrol." He shoved his hands into his pockets a little sullenly. "Just don't expect much thanks. Oz can be a bit of dick on his Jerry Garcia days."

Willow cast a look over her shoulder. "Can you really blame him? I mean, it's a lot to go through on your own. And we can all get a little cranky."

Mike raised his shoulders defensively. "Just sayin, don't be surprised if he gives you the cold shoulder for a few days."

Willow lowered her eyes with a sigh. "I won't."

The two teens shuffled in stilted silence for a few moments. Willow shoved the last of her books onto the shelf and stooped to pick up another stack at her feet. Mike followed her lead and grabbed up the first volume he saw, glanced at the incomprehensible title and immediately swapped it for another one.

"You know, you seem awfully calm about all this."

Willow slid her eyes over at the forced nonchalance in his voice. "Well….it wasn't….a total surprise."

"Oh?" Mike turned to her, curiosity peaking as his mind jumped from one deduction to the other. It took a moment for the obvious conclusion to dawn on him. "Ah, guess our dimensions are parallel in some ways at least." He grinned slightly to himself as the absurdity of the situation hit him again. "So you guys were tight, huh? In your world?"

"Yeah," she said, casting her gaze down absently to the tome that lay forgotten in her hands, her voice soft. "Once."

"Well it was good of you not to freak out. Oz beats himself up enough thinking that everyone hates the wolf inside him."

"I could never hate him."

Willow spoke so quietly, Mike wasn't sure if they were meant to be heard or not. Yet it was hard to miss the infinite tenderness that filled such few words, the sad warmth in the slight curve of her lips, the way her features seemed to soften in the mist of memories. Her thumb stroked gently along the page edges in an absent caress in response to her private thoughts. He saw it then. A truth so profound, so obvious, that he couldn't but berate himself so being so spectacularly stupid. He knew.

"You love him."

That got her attention at last. He saw her stiffen immediately as Willow started out of her reverie almost violently. Just as quickly, she turned around and away from the shelves, her expression full of panic, her task forgotten.

"Oh, Mike, I didn't –"

"It's ok." He forced a smile, brushing off her objections with a half-hearted bravado. "Oz always gets the best chicks."

Willow faltered, just stopping herself short of asking exactly how many girls Oz had had. She brought her thoughts back to the more important, immediate point. She shook her head and took an earnest step towards him.

"It's not like that, Mike, I didn't –"

"It's fine, I get it."

Feeling his face start to burn, a humiliated Mike suddenly couldn't get out of the library fast enough. He turned even as he felt her grip on his arm, pulling him back to her eyes.

"No, you don't understand," she could hear her voice racing in panic, an urgency that was almost pleading. He couldn't leave, she had to explain. "There's, there's a history…it's just…he was, back home, we were…"

Willow hadn't intended to spill this particular secret today, in this way or to this person, but it just came tumbling out, so desperate was she for Mike to understand. She couldn't stand to lose his friendship over some stupid misunderstanding, over something she couldn't help.

She saw his eyes widen for a moment as comprehension flickered in his expression. Her heart seized and it seemed an eternity until he spoke again.

"Oh," he mumbled finally, immediately cursing himself for such a dumb response.

"And being here…I can't stop feeling…"

Willow trailed off with a torn expression, unsure whether she was simply digging a deeper hole for herself. The pregnant pause stretched on, piercing her with tenterhooks. She awkwardly let go of his arm when she realised that he wasn't trying to run away anymore. Her ribs were starting to hurt with the force with which she was gripping the books under her arm, and she absently thought that she should really put them down in the circumstances.

Mike found himself staring in the middle distance as he struggled to process all the implications of this newest twist. He blinked slowly, frown deepening, before realising that Willow was still watching him anxiously, waiting for more of a coherent response.

"Wow. That's….That's pretty messed up."

He saw her flinch and was quick to amend his words.

"No, no, I just meant…that's gotta mess with your head." He waved his hands somewhat futilely, trying to articulate his thoughts. "Him here, him there…you know."

She glanced away, her expression oddly blank all of a sudden. "Yeah."

"Does he know?" he asked at last.

Willow hesitated for only a moment. "No." She met his eyes, and the request for complicity in her secret in her face was clear.

He sighed in defeat. "I would give some serious thought to telling him, if I were you. Before anyone else gets hurt."

"Mike…I'm so sorry."

He knew she was. Mike might be an expert at feeling sorry for himself, but he certainly didn't envy the situation she was in. Shrugging as casually as he could, he offered up a small smile of condolence. "Hey, I've had worse rejections."

Willow tried to smile, not sure if she should.

Mike turned to leave, pausing only to mutter one last thought, as if it had just fully occurred to him.

"You must really want to get home."

The innocuous words seemed to echo around the library in cruel accusation that only she could hear. Willow stood perfectly still, unable to muster a goodbye even though he was long gone. Finally lowering the long forgotten books, she sat down next to them and closed her eyes in sudden and sheer exhaustion. She didn't know how much longer she could survive this.

/o/

Good god she was bored.

The daylight hours lasted an age around here, stretching on ad nauseam. California sucked sometimes. Over 3000 hours of sunlight a year, always hot and always sunny, it was such a drag. If they lived somewhere with some shit weather, some dark cloud cover, it would maybe be more bearable. But no, they had to live in the fucking desert.

Plumes of dust billowed into the air as she swept through the hallways, the aged floorboards creaking under her stiletto boots. Becca wrinkled her nose in disgust. She hated this place, hated that they were forced to cower inside filthy hovels while the humans roamed the streets under the gaudy protection of their precious sunlight. Of course, it wasn't helped by the fact that her fellow dwellers had the living standards of vermin and made no effort to maintain the condition of their nest.

Snarling under her breath, she kicked the shin of an unconscious body that was slumped against the wall. There was a muffled howl and curse as her victim was roused briefly from their alcohol induced slumber, but she ignored it and strode on. Pathetic rats, all of them, unworthy of the privilege of immortality.

Yanking back the crimson drapes that covered the broken doorway, she stepped into what was once the drawing room of the house and marched to fireplace. Grabbing a dark green bottle from the mantle, she hissed in anger at the lack of contents and proceeded to shatter the empty projectile against the far wall.

"Someone's cranky."

She bristled at the familiar condescension in his voice. Resisting the urge to let the demon out then and there, Becca snarled low in warning as she turned to face his usual dank corner. She could see his sneer from the shadows, his white teeth gleaming mockingly even as he licked the fresh blood from his lips.

"I could hear you sulking from up the stairs. Turning to the bottle a little early today, aren't you?"

"What can I say, being confined with you for twelve hours would drive any woman to hard liquor."

"Ouch," he purred, touching a hand to his silk shirt. "You do wound me so. Feeling a little redundant are we?"

Becca rolled her eyes, lip curling. "That's rich coming from the glorified babysitter."

He smirked as he watched her pace around the room like a caged cat, his keen black eyes glinting like hematite in the candle lit room. "Jealous he didn't give you the job?"

"Oh yeah, not getting to waste my time keeping tabs on some pathetic little human really cuts me up," she snapped sarcastically.

"A pathetic little human that kicked your ass." Damien smiled provokingly. "How is your foot these days?"

Becca snarled and lunged for him, eyes burning bright amber, fangs flashing. With a sickening crack, she grabbing his throat and lifted him from the sofa, slamming him up against the wall. He engaged eagerly, his own demon spoiling for a good fight; it was one of the few good releases of frustration and boredom in these long hours. Fisting her hair, Damien snapped her neck to the side with enough strength that would've decapitated a human. He threw her aside, sending her smashing through the last remaining intact table in the room. Becca rolled onto her back as he strode over, and with a venomous snarl she kicked his legs out from under him before he could grab her. Both crashed to the floor, the two grappling vampires descending into a rolling mass of dusty leather and rippling growls as each fought for the upper hand. Damien let out a howl as her stiletto heel collided against his shin. His fist cracked across her face, but she caught it just as quickly and threw him over her shoulder. Becca slammed her heel down on his neck, pinning him down as she ground her boot into his throat.

"You tell me," she hissed dangerously, leaning close to his face as she pressed even harder. "How's my foot healing?"

"God, you two are so boring," drawled a southern accent from the doorway. When her words got no response from the duelling immortals, their unwanted intruder just rolled her eyes, flicked some ash from her cigarette and invited herself in anyway. "Why don't you just screw and get it over with?"

That drew a disgusted growl from Becca, but the young interloper wasn't the least bit bothered, more concerned as she was with blowing the perfect smoke ring. Her electric pink and blonde hair was cropped short but for one long braid that she lazily tucked behind her studded ear. "Put yourselves out the misery before we have to kill you."

"Please," Becca scoffed, her features morphing back to human before twisting in distain, "some of us still have standards." Reluctantly, she eased the pressure and slowly removed her foot from her squirming companion, both recognising that the game was over for now. With a playful growl, Damien dusted himself off and slid gracefully back to his feet.

The punk-haired vampire watched with slight amusement as the couple broke apart and sullenly skulked away from each other. "You know, if you're gonna play rough, should at least have a safe word."

"Safe words are for wusses," retorted Damien, touching his throat only briefly before casting a wink in her direction, to which the young girl flicked the finger in return.

"Is there something you wanted?" Becca demanded, fixing their visitor with a pointed glare.

"Yeah actually," she said with a distinct air of disinterest. "Hector says they need one more for tonight, so you might wanna go check in with him."

"Well look at that, Becca gets to play with the big boys after all." Damien chuckled, his grin wide. "Enjoy the babysitting."

Becca shot him an icy scowl, fingers flexing with the urge to wrap around his neck and choke that smug smirk off his face. However her scathing retort was interrupted by an impatient sigh from their ungracious messenger.

"Are you going to finish your dinner?" the girl questioned Damien in a bored voice, gesturing vaguely with her nearly burnt out cigarette. "Or do you just enjoy an audience?"

He tutted with a smile. "Always in such a rush, Roxie. Nothing wrong with savouring life's little pleasures," he reprimanded playfully, before striding over to the whimpering figure that lay slumped in the corner, the silent witness ignored by all.

The woman's eyes grew wide in fear for only a second, before a strangled gasp escaped her throat as his deathly cold fingers seized her ravaged throat once more. Damian hauled up her weakly flailing limbs with ease, a look of almost amusement on his face as he turned to address his companions once more.

"Still, never let it be said that I'm not generous."

Becca folded her arms loftily, quirking an eyebrow in disgust. "I don't want your leftovers, Damien. I can hunt for myself."

"Suit yourself," he dismissed with a shrug, toying his finger around a soft brown tendril as he brought the terrified woman's cheek to his. Closing his eyes, he sighed in anticipation, smiling to himself as he could hear Becca's stomach rumble from across the room.

"Please…"

The whispered plead drew a giggle from Roxie as she finally discarded her cigarette and eagerly joined Damien, her face morphing quick as light to stifle the ragged breath of their victim.

"Now, don't that just break your heart?" He shook his head with an almost sincere regret, before turning to Becca with a wolfish smile. "Last chance?" She glowered and his grin flashed once more through gleaming fangs as he swiftly sunk his own teeth into the other side of her neck.

Though she gave a good impression of cold distain, when he glanced up and held her eyes with that smug intensity, the way he let the fresh blood drip down in tantalizing trails, the vigour and lust with which he fed….Becca felt her fingers twitch in temptation. She licked her lower lip subconsciously and watched him bite harder in their strange foreplay. With a scowl, she forced herself to turn and stalk away, swatting back the heavy curtain as she disappeared into the following corridor. It really was infuriating how he could do that.

But she had her own mission to run now. Feeling her stomach grumble once more, she growled under her breath. Nightfall couldn't come fast enough.

/o/

The sun dipped below the clouds, edging ever closer the horizon and casting a golden hue through the dusty library air. School had emptied hours ago, all except for the two teachers and two students that currently occupied the fortress of books, heads bowed and feet slowly pacing as they poured over words and languages that held the secrets of worlds few would ever know about. Companionable quiet had been their fellow as they worked, but as the light dimmed around them, stirrings began to move them from their solitude.

Oz shifted uncomfortably in his chair at the table, feeling the hairs on his neck and arms start to prickle in warning. He cast a low glance over at the redhead who shared his space, only to find that she either was too engrossed in her Wicca studies to have noticed, or she was trying very hard not to. He let out a breath he didn't realise he was holding, his gaze shifting to the clock above them. They were cutting it a bit close tonight.

As if on cue, Jenny emerged from the office then, jacket folded over her arm and binder against her chest.

"Think I'm calling it a night guys," she said briskly, before calling out to Giles in the depths of the stacks. "Rupert, I managed to get the computer up and running again, but I'll need to pick up a new modem tomorrow."

Giles's head popped out from behind a bookcase, glasses askew and blazer looking a little worse for wear after 48 hours. "Oh, yes…very good."

"Try not to sound too enthused," Jenny muttered with a weary smile.

"No, no I'm very grateful for…for your technological….ministrations…"

"Yeah whatever," Jenny waved him off indulgently before turning her attention to her young charge. "Are you coming home, Willow?"

"Oh…um," Willow cast a quick look at the boy beside her before awkwardly turning her attention back the book propped up on her knees. "No, no think I'm ok thanks."

Oz watched her for a moment, expression inscrutable as ever. He sighed under his breath, hating the words even as he uttered them. "Go," he said quietly, though not unkindly.

Willow glanced over sharply, her voice earnest and firm. "Oz, I told you –"

"I know," he said tiredly as he stood up. "But…please?"

The adults looked between them tensely, feeling awkward, as if somehow intruding.

Willow hesitated, clearly torn, before reluctantly submitting to his request. "Okay."

Standing up from the table, she gathered her things together in silence and reached for her jacket, before pausing. Abruptly walking over, she caught the stoic teen in a hard hug, finally giving into the urge to hold him, however briefly – sensing that he needed the contact perhaps even more than she did right then. So it wasn't totally selfish, she reasoned with herself. She closed her eyes and breathed him in as much as she dared. It was an instinct she was tired of fighting – not when they both needed the assurance, the comfort, the promise.

Oz started in surprise, stiffening, before slowly raising his arms to wrap around her in tense fists, clamping his jaw shut against the rumbling growl that threatened to rip from his throat. Did she have any idea how much it hurt to be close to her?

"I'll see you in the morning, ok?"

It wasn't really a question. She drew back to meet his eyes firmly, a fierce warmth there that he couldn't quite place, like a memory from a dream. He managed a tight smile, nodding, not trusting himself to speak. Her hands brushed his arms as she pulled away, keeping the contact between them for as long as possible.

Giles watched Oz's gaze follow after Willow as she left. He dropped his head with a sigh, wondering how on earth to broach the subject he wished more than anything to avoid.

"Oz – "

The boy didn't look round. "You're going to tell me the same thing as Annie. And my better judgment. I know."

"Oz…forming…emotional attachments to someone so transient in our world, is dangerous…and painful. For you both. This isn't her world, she can't stay."

"I know." The student dropped his gaze, his low voice cracking with the effort. "I just wish that made it somehow easier."

Giles's eyed the teen before him sympathetically, wishing any one of the hundreds of books he had read in his life could have offered him any help with what to say in such an untenable situation. Their conversation was cut short however with the impending full moon, which they both had to prepare for.

As the cage not yet repaired sufficiently, Oz was relocated to the boiler room in the basement of the school. The student quirked a wry smile to Giles's awkward apologies. The conditions didn't bother him and a cage was a cage, as far as the wolf was concerned. It was going to be a restless night either way.

/o/

The sun had set half an hour ago, she was running late. The last customer had been a killer, a rare and blissfully ignorant tourist, unaware of the unofficial town curfew and deaf to her polite dismissals. Fumbling with the keys, she locked the door and winced at the screech of metal as she managed to secure the shutters. The streets were quiet, which was good and bad, depending on how you looked at it. Her car was only down the road. She dug around in her bag, quickly checking she had the keys close to hand. It was then she felt it, her skin chilling in warning.

She spun around, her breath quickening as her eyes darted in vain. A dozen incantations sprung to mind but she found her voice stolen in the sudden void of air. She cursed her lack of foresight, why had she not done a map sweep before she left? Battle magic had never been her forte. The shadows had lengthened unnaturally, darkness spreading in for all sides, a presence indistinguishable from the night that cloaked them. She froze rigid in fear as a silky voice finally whispered from next to her ear.

"Hello, Grace."

~o~