Fic: The Wolf Within (10/?)

[Erin <erin@xxxxxxxxxxx>]

As promised, here's part 10, aka "the Buffy & Willow Warm Fuzzy Hour".
Nothing explicit though <insert complaints here>. :)

TITLE: The Wolf Within
AUTHOR: Erin (erin@xxxxxxxxxxx)
SPOILERS: None, really.
RATING: PG-13 at worst, because of some violence. It is a
Buffy/Willow fic, so if that bothers you, or it's illegal to even
think of a Slayer and a Witch getting it on, then just don't read it.
Or move.
DISCLAIMER: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all characters belong to Joss
Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and Fox. I'm just borrowing them for a bit.
I'll put them back when I'm done, no worse for wear (but maybe a
little happier). Most of the werewolf stuff is copyright White Wolf,
such as Garou, Crinos, Child of Gaia, Glass Walker, etc.
ARCHIVE: Currently, I believe my stories are being archived at the
following places:
Kim's Corner -
http://www.fortunecity.com/village/villageplace/93/
Bill's Page -
http://members.spree.com/entertainment/kerrison29/default.htm
Gary's BtVS Fanfiction -
http://psycho.simplenet.com/fanfiction/index.mv?index+buf
Please let me know if I've left someone out, or if one of the URLs is
in error. Anyone who isn't listed here who wants to archive my
stories is welcome to, just let me know so I can add you to the list.
Thanks.
FEEDBACK: Constructive comments are encouraged.
SUMMARY: (Buffy/Willow) Willow discovers that there is more to her
than meets the eye, and it could tear her life apart.


Part the Tenth

Chris entered the Dream of Gaia magick shop, his black "Will Write
Code for Sex" t-shirt, black jeans, and trenchcoat setting him off
from the rest of the store's clientele. He made brief eye contact
with Nichole, who was at the counter helping a customer. Some New Age
nut-job, he thought. Just like Nichole. Unconsciously, a smile crept
over his face.

"Is this Lavender Oil synthetic, or essential? I need real essential
oil, no synthetic," the customer was saying. Nichole just kept
nodding, and making affirmations.

He wandered over to the book section and was simply amazed at how many
books had the words "Celtic", "Atlantis", or "Pyramid" in the title.
If I could write a book on the Celtic Pyramids of Atlantis, I'd make a
fortune, Chris thought.

Finally the last customer left, somewhat satisfied. Nichole walked
over to Chris and exhaled wearily, brushing her bangs back from her
forehead. "Whew!" She exclaimed, "If I don't see another person who
needs aromatherapy questions answered, it will be too soon."

Chris quirked an eyebrow at the woman. "Yeah, I guess I don't realize
how lucky I am, being in the software business. Most of _our_
customers are sane."

"Don't make fun," Nichole replied, poking Chris in the arm. "Besides,
you're one to talk about their beliefs. You've seen spirits all over
the place, and if someone called you a nut you'd be very offended."

"That's true," Chris admitted. "But the difference is, I know I'm
right. I don't know that they're right." Nichole sighed in
exasperation. "Speaking of spirits," Chris continued, "have you had
any luck?"

Nichole nodded, somberly. "The best I could do was a general
direction and distance. I don't know how much good it's going to do
the girls, though."

Chris shrugged. "Impossible to say until they find out for
themselves. Anyway, I held up my end. The manacles will be here by
tomorrow morning, latest."

"I still can't believe we're doing this," Nichole said, shaking her
head. "I mean, the Children of Gaia tribe is about as loving and as
understanding as they come, but it never even occurred to us to try to
reclaim a Black Spiral. It's just never been done."

"All the Garou tribes consider it a more efficient use of resources to
kill a Black Spiral, rather than take the time and effort into trying
to 'rehabilitate' them," Chris replied, matter-of-factly. "We are
fighting a war, after all."

Nichole frowned. "Maybe that's the problem, maybe we've been going
about it the wrong way."

"Well, if they can do it, they'll be legends. Their names will go
down in the Silver Record. But to be honest..." He trailed off.

"You don't think they can."

Chris shook his head. "No, I don't."

* * *

Willow looked at the woman dozing next to her, hair spread out on the
pillow like fine golden threads. She smiled; in sleep, Buffy was just
as beautiful as when she was awake. Here, lying in one another's
arms, they were completely at peace. All the worry lines faded, and
their eyes, which reflected the remembered pain which came from years
fighting on the Hellmouth, were untroubled. When Buffy was awake
though, she lost the peacefulness, but gained a vitality, a strength
of purpose about her which could not be ignored. It was that strength
of purpose and courage in the face of vampire and teenage foes alike
which drew Willow to the Slayer in the first place.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Buffy had asked, as they lay down
together. Willow knew that the question grew out of a deep concern
for the hacker's well-being; Buffy would lay down her own life before
she'd do anything to hurt her friend.

She didn't reply, she just captured the Slayer's lips with her own.
They were so gentle, so tentative at first; light touches left trails
of fire across their skin, skin which was sensitive and ached to be
touched. There was no rush, though; it had taken them four years to
get to this point, and there was an unspoken decision to take their
time and enjoy every detail, every moment they had together.

Knowing what awaited them lent a sense of immediacy to their act.
This is what Buffy must feel like every day, Willow thought, knowing
that within hours, maybe, they could be fighting for their lives.
Willow had always been careful to try to stay out of harm's way
before; she was the witch, the hacker, the person who helped
behind-the-scenes. The fighting she left to her best friend. Not
anymore.

"Mmmm..." Buffy murmured, shifting closer to Willow and draping an arm
across the redhead's stomach. The redhead, in turn, began tenderly
stroking the Slayer's hair. Buffy opened an eye experimentally. "So,
it wasn't a dream. I really am in bed with the most beautiful woman
on earth."

"I don't know about you," Willow replied, kissing the Slayer gently,
"but I know I am." She looked over at the alarm clock. "I suppose we
need to get up and get some practicing in today."

"I thought we already did," Buffy said, with a mischievous grin.

"Not that kind of practicing," Willow responded with a smile. "I
think we need to get up, it's already mid-afternoon."

"Mid-afternoon? How long have I been asleep?" Buffy asked, puzzled.

"Ten minutes." Willow grinned. "We were just...ah...we were occupied
for a long time."

Buffy sat up and looked at the clock. Her eyebrows shot up.
"Apparently a three-hour long time."

"You don't hear me complaining."

* * *

Buffy stepped out of the shower and began toweling off. It was a good
workout, she thought. Willow was a fast learner, smart and didn't
flinch away from taking or giving a hit. The Slayer heard the phone
ring faintly from the living room.

"I'll get it!" Willow yelled. She was already showered and dressed,
so she ran to the phone to answer it. "Hello?"

"Hi Willow!" Willow immediately recognized Chris's cheerful voice from
the other end. "Got a sec?"

"Sure," Willow replied, nodding to Buffy who had just entered the
room, clad only in a couple of Giles' fluffy white towels. It's
Chris, she mouthed to the Slayer, who nodded in reply.

"Nichole has a pretty good lead on where you guys can find a Gurahl,
so she's going to map it out tonight and talk to you guys about it
tomorrow. I made some phone calls, so those manacles for your ex
should be arriving by FedEx, mid-morning tomorrow. Got it so far?"

Willow nodded. "Gurahl, manacles, gotcha."

"Great. Now, the only problem is that Oz will probably try to come
after you tonight. Unless you make yourself scarce, you risk a deadly
confrontation, and I'm sure you don't want it to come down to kill or
be killed, right?" The tone in his voice sounded more like 'Please
tell me I'm wrong,' but Willow ignored it.

"No, I don't want that."

"Ok then. You, Buffy, and Giles have to get out of that house.
You're going to be staying at 431 Hemingstone Road. It's a motel.
I've made arrangements for you under the names Ann Heston and Robert
Young, got it? Now, you can't take a car straight there; don't forget,
you'll be tracked by someone who has all the senses of a bloodhound,
so you've got to confuse your trail. What you're going to do is take
the 311 bus to Market Street. At Market Street, transfer to the 116.
Take the 116 to Myers Road, at Myers Road get off the bus and walk
three blocks north to the bus stop there, where you will pick up the
78. The 78 will let you off right out on Hemingstone Road. Got it?"

Willow furiously wrote all this down on a pad of paper. "Got it."

"Ok, read it back to me."

"All right, we're going to be staying at a hotel on Hemingway Street,
and we're going to take the 911 bus to Market Street."

She paused, and heard nothing but silence on the other end.

Finally, Chris said, "I'll be right over."

* * *

Willow, Giles, and Buffy stepped off the number 78 bus. Giles took
his first deep breath since they began their little trek almost an
hour ago. "Ah, public transportation. I had forgotten the joy," he
remarked mildly.

Buffy looked up at the sign. "Motel 6?" She remarked incredulously.
"Chris is some big, rich, powerful Glass Walker, backed by some big,
rich L.A. syndicate, and we're staying at a Motel 6? Oh he is so in
trouble."

"He mentioned something about being low profile," Willow said with a
shrug. "Anyway, Giles is registering under the name Robert Young, and
for tonight I get to be Ann Heche." Willow frowned, and double
checked the paper Chris gave her.

"You can say that again," Buffy mumbled, stifling a grin.

"Oh, Ann _Heston_. What was that, Buffy?" Willow asked, arching an
eyebrow.

"Nothing!" Buffy flashed a winning smile at the redhead. "C'mon Ann,
c'mon Robert. Let's go."

* * *

Willow turned up the TV. She was trying to concentrate on the show,
but Buffy, who was chafing from being cooped up, was being
distracting.

"I can't believe I can't even go out on patrol," she was saying,
pacing back and forth rapidly.

"He doesn't want any of us to run into Oz," Willow replied, for what
seemed like the tenth time.

"It would just be a little patrol. I miss the night air," Buffy said.
She stopped walking, and leaned up against the room's only table.
Idly, she tore a piece of paper off the notepad, and began folding it.

Willow looked at her sympathetically. "I know you don't like to hide
like this, but it's only for one night. Once we get those manacles
we'll go looking for Oz, and see if we can capture him." She frowned
as a paper airplane bounced off her forehead. "Surely there's
something else you could be doing."

"You're right," Buffy replied. She walked over to stand in front of
Willow, who was sitting on the room's one queen size bed. Crouching
down, she practically straddled Willow's knees as she took the TV
remote from nerveless fingers. She clicked off the TV.

"Wha...did you have in mind?" Willow said, her breathing becoming
increasingly rapid.

Buffy leaned forward, her mouth close to Willow's ear. "I thought I'd
make love to the woman I love, my best friend," she whispered. A jolt
of electricity went through Willow's body, causing her to gasp.
"Unless you had a better idea?"

Willow shook her head slightly. "I was going to suggest a couple of
diet sodas and a rerun of ER, but I like your idea better." Buffy
flicked out a tongue, barely brushing Willow's earlobe. "I _so_ like
your idea better," Willow added.

* * *

A dark figure approached the house with trepidation. He couldn't
smell anyone, but their scent lingered in the air as if an
afterthought. He looked in the front window cautiously, and saw no
one inside; the house was dark. His eyes narrowed.

Rough, calloused hands grasped the door handle and shoved; the door
splintered and flew open. The figure entered the house, and looked
around, often emitting a loud, sniffling noise.

They were gone. They left again. _She_ left. She was hiding from
him.

Oz left the house, and caught the scent she left on the breeze. East,
the scent told him. He went East.

* * *

Buffy and Willow lay in each other's arms, drowsing sleepily. Happily
too, I might add, Buffy thought. This whole thing with Oz, the
werewolves, all of it would be so worth it even if the only thing to
come out of it was their love for each other.

"I love you, Willow," Buffy said, somewhat impulsively. The words
always gave her a warm feeling, but not quite as warm as when Willow
said them back to her.

"Mmm, I love you too, Buffy," Willow replied, snuggling down closer to
the Slayer. Moments later, her breathing became low and regular.

Buffy smiled, and allowed herself to follow Willow into sleep.

* * *

Oz stood, confused. The scent had told him East, and had led him to a
bus stop. He couldn't tell, though, which bus had been taken, or
where they had ended up. He growled through sheer frustration.

"Hey, buddy," Oz turned toward the source of the voice, a man dressed
in a shabby peacoat. The man had his hand out, palm up. "You got any
spare change for the bus?"

Oz grinned at the man, teeth bared. If the man didn't know better,
he'd swear that the kid's teeth were pointed. Oz's black eyes were
back-lit by a bright green flame.

The man immediately backed off. "Uh, I think I'll walk. Better yet,
I think I'll ask Mr. Nice Policeman over there for some change." The
man backed away, almost running toward the police car driving slowly
down the street.

Oz's eyes narrowed as the police car approached, and he stepped back,
losing himself in the shadows.

END Part 10


--
Willow: "She's like this cleavagey slutbomb walking around going,
'Ooh, check me out. I'm wicked cool. I'm 5 by 5.'"
Tara: "5 by 5? 5 what by 5 what?"
Willow: "See, that's the thing! No one knows!"
*email: erin@xxxxxxxxxxx