Fic: The Wolf Within (8/?)

[Erin <erin@xxxxxxxxxxx>]

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, none. Just ask, I'd love to say yes.
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 Eighth

Oz stood on Giles' front step, his shoulders hunched and his hands
shoved in the pockets of his dusty leather jacket. "Hi Buffy," he
said, in his soft, expressionless way. "Is Willow here?"

Buffy glared at the young man. "Why don't you just go, Oz," she said
in a low voice. "Haven't you hurt Willow enough for one lifetime?"

Willow came up behind Buffy, and touched her gently on the arm. "It's
ok, Buffy. C'mon in, Oz." Her face was carefully kept neutral, as
was her tone.

Oz walked inside, carefully stepping around Buffy, who was still
glaring. "I need to talk to you, Will." He afforded Buffy just the
barest of glances before he said, "Alone."

Buffy bristled. "There's no way in Hell, Oz..." she began, before
Willow intervened.

"It'll be fine," she said, turning to face the Slayer. "Go ahead and
go into the back room. I'll call if I need anything."

"But, Will," Buffy protested. "I don't--"

"Buffy, please," Willow interrupted. "I need to do this. Everything
will be ok." She brushed a stray strand of hair back from Buffy's
forehead, her touch amazingly gentle. "Please do this for me."

The Slayer couldn't refuse. "Ok. If you need anything, yell." With
one last glare in Oz's direction, she retreated to the back room.

Willow turned to face Oz. "Why did you come back?" she said, her tone
flat. Her eyes were cold, and Oz knew that she wasn't willing to give
even an inch.

"I came back for you," he said, looking up at her. His eyes were more
expressive than Willow could ever remember seeing, full of pain and
sorrow. Willow realized with a start that they were also bloodshot,
and underlined with dark circles. A worried look, manifesting as the
barest of lines between her eyebrows, began to appear on her face.

"If I were that important to you, you'd have never left in the first
place," Willow replied, more harshly than she'd intended.

Oz dropped his eyes, guiltily. "I...I had to get away."

"Away from me."

"Away from everything!" He ran a hand through his hair, irritably.
"After what happened with Veruca, I didn't know who I was anymore. I
didn't know _what_ I was. All I knew was that I couldn't do that
forever. Chained up three nights a month, month after month for the
rest of my life. I escaped more times than I care to remember, and I
had only been a werewolf for a couple of years! Can you even imagine
what I was thinking the rest of my life would be like?"

"I have some idea..." Willow said, softly.

"So I had to get away. See if I could find some cure, or some way to
help myself. I knew I couldn't stay around here, and keep hurting the
people I loved." Oz looked up at the ceiling, his carefully
expressionless facade breaking under the stress.

Willow looked at him with concern. "So where did you go?"

"Lots of places," Oz replied, wiping a hand across his sweating brow.
"First to L.A. Thought I could lose myself there, but it was too
hard. Too many eyes in the city. I ended up driving out to the
desert, all the way to New Mexico. I guess I was on my way east,
maybe Texas, or New Orleans. I never got that far, though." His eyes
got very distant. "I picked up a hitchhiker in the desert, someone
who recognized me as a werewolf. He told me...he told me that they
could help me. That I'd never have to be chained up again." Oz
swallowed around a lump in his throat.

"And he taught you?" Willow said, quietly.

Oz nodded. "He brought me back to his group, taught me what being a
werewolf was all about." Oz met Willow's eyes with an intent gaze.
"When I felt I knew enough, I knew I had to come back for you." He
moved swiftly, and caught Willow's arm in a firm but gentle grip. "I
have to go back soon. Come with me, Willow. Back to the Caern, back
to the people who have taught me so much." He pleaded with her now;
his voice was earnest and his body started to shake.

Willow shook her head; she was disquieted by the intense look he was
giving her. "Oz, I can't. I belong here, there's so much for me to
learn here, and so much good I can do. I'm sorry." She dropped her
gaze, rather than see the pain in his eyes.

"You can't..." He bit the words off abruptly. "It's Buffy, isn't it?"
Willow looked up at him in surprise. His face had hardened to anger,
and he spat out the Slayer's name like it was a curse. "She's the
reason why you _won't_ come with me."

"No, Oz," Willow said, shaking her head. "That's not the reason. I
have things I need to learn here--"

"Forget about Buffy. You have to come with me, Willow. I can't be
apart from you any more," Oz said. His hand had been steadily
tightening around her wrist until it felt like a vise; it felt like it
was burning her, his hand was so hot and feverish.

"Oz, stop," Willow said, trying to pull her arm away from his grasp.
This whole thing was too much to handle all at once; first Oz
returning, and then this manic need he had to be with her again, she
didn't understand it. "Oz, stop, you're hurting me!"

Buffy was at her side in a flash, causing Willow to wonder briefly if
she had been listening the whole time. She grabbed Oz's arm, and said
fiercely, "Let go or lose it, it's your choice."

The young man was taken aback for a moment, as if he had forgotten she
was there. He stared at her, bloodshot eyes meeting a cold gaze which
told him she meant business -- and then some. He dropped his gaze and
let go of Willow's arm.

"I think you'd better leave. Now," Buffy said, already steering him
toward the door.

Instead of answering, Oz just looked Willow in the eyes. "I'll come
back for you, Will. We're meant to be together. You know that."

Buffy didn't wait for her answer. She pushed him outside, not at all
gently, and shut the door. Looking back at Willow, she noticed the
redhead rubbing the arm that Oz had held. "You ok, Will?"

Willow sighed raggedly. A brief glance at the clock told her that the
entire exchange had taken just under ten minutes. Ten minutes, she
thought, it felt like ten hours. She smiled at Buffy, and said,
"Yeah, I guess I'm ok. I think he just bruised me." She looked down
at the red marks on her arm from his grip.

Buffy looked at the marks and frowned. Stepping forward, she lifted
Willow's arm so she could see the bruise in a better light. "Will,
these aren't bruises. These are burns."

* * *

Oz walked away from the welcoming light streaming out of the windows
where Willow was staying. There'd be another time. The Slayer
couldn't be around all the time. And then he'd make her see. He'd
make her see how much he loved her, how much they were meant to be
together. She already knew; she just didn't want to admit it. He'd
make her see.

* * *

Buffy spread some burn salve on Willow's arm. Things between them had
been subdued, to say the least, after the incident with Oz. I guess
she doesn't feel like talking much, Buffy thought. Though, I can't
say as I blame her.

Willow, meanwhile, had been having a hard time focusing her thoughts.
Things had finally started looking up for her; sure, she had some
strange stuff to deal with lately, but it was all going really well.
She made two great friends, both of whom were teaching her new stuff
about who she was and what she could do. And Buffy, who never liked
to leave her side, was teaching her how to defend herself. And...she
was teaching her something else, too, Willow realized. About what
best friends mean to one another. About how deep their feelings for
each other really seem to go. It was nice, and something that Willow
certainly wouldn't mind looking into further.

And then...Oz. Like a bolt out of the blue, he showed up just as
quickly as he had left before -- with no warning, no regard for her
feelings. She had loved him once, as deeply as she thought it was
possible to love someone. But when he showed up, she didn't feel that
same, familiar heartache. She hoped they could be friends, but...

"All done," Buffy said, re-capping the salve jar. "By tomorrow, that
should look a lot better."

"I still don't know why it happened in the first place," Willow said,
worriedly. "I mean, his hand felt hot, like he was running a fever,
but..." She shrugged.

Buffy looked at her friend sympathetically. "Well, maybe it's some
kind of werewolf thing. We can ask Nichole about it tomorrow morning,
when she and Chris stop by."

Willow jumped at the change of subject, grateful for the opportunity
to lighten the mood. "What's the deal with those two, anyway?" 

Buffy grinned. "Well, it sure looks like they love each other. I've
been subtly trying to get them to realize it, but it looks like
they're more interested in fighting."

Willow gave Buffy a worried look. "But...they're both Garou. I don't
think they're supposed to fall in love with each other."

"Why not?" Buffy asked, puzzled. "Is it the whole two different
tribes, Romeo-and-Juliet thing? That's been done to death. No pun
intended."

"No," Willow said, "I think there's some rule about Garou not...you
know... 'mating' with other Garou."

"Hmm." Buffy looked thoughtful. "Well, I've never been keen on the
rules anyway. We'll see what happens. Now, young lady," Buffy said,
steering Willow toward the back room, "You should get to bed. Long
day tomorrow."

Willow smiled at Buffy, a smile which didn't touch the sadness in her
eyes. "Um, Buffy? Could I ask you a favor?"

"Sure, Will, anything."

"Could you stay with me tonight? That whole thing...it kinda shook me
up. I'd rather not be alone." Willow blushed, although whether it
was from embarrassment at her weakness, or excitement, she wasn't
sure.

Buffy threw an arm around Willow's shoulders. "Sure, Will. I think I
can do that."

* * *

Nichole knocked on Giles' door promptly at eight o'clock the next
morning. Giles answered, holding a steaming cup of tea. "Oh, hello
Nichole, hello Christopher. Won't you come in?" He stepped back, and
allowed the two Garou to enter.

"Hello, Giles. Is the patient up yet?" Nichole asked, cheerfully.

"Well, no, she isn't. I was about to check on her in a few minutes,
make sure everything is all right. I'm not sure where Buffy is,
perhaps she had an early errand to run."

"Ok, well, I'd better wake her up," Nichole said, heading off for the
back room.

Chris sniffed. "Is that coffee?"

Giles frowned, and looked at his cup. "No, it's tea."

"Could it be coffee?"

Giles sighed, and went to the kitchen to brew a pot.

* * *

Buffy woke up to the sound of voices in the living room. She looked
around groggily, taking stock of her surroundings. Ok, window, bed,
door, Willow lying with her head resting on my shoulder...

What?

She looked down at the peacefully sleeping form, and remembered the
events of the previous night. All-in-all, it hadn't turned out too
bad, she thought, smiling. She heard the door open slowly, and saw
Nichole poke her head in. One look at the sleeping couple, and
Nichole was grinning like a Cheshire Cat.

Buffy frowned, and motioned Nichole out of the room with mock
ferocity. "We'll be right out," she whispered, and was relieved when
Nichole nodded and shut the door.

Buffy looked down at Willow. She hated to disturb her, but some
things couldn't wait. "Hey, sleepyhead," she said, giving the redhead
a gentle shake.

Willow groaned sleepily, and rubbed her eyes with the back of her
hand. "Wha' 'me 's 't?" She asked...sort of.

"Eight o'clock." Buffy smiled. "Time to get up, Nichole and Chris
are here."

Willow let out a tremendous yawn, and snuggled down onto Buffy's
shoulder. "Don't wanna."

Ah, you're killing me here, Red, Buffy thought. Out loud, she said,
"As much as I hate to say it, and believe me I do, it is time to get
up. C'mon, we can do this more tonight."

"Promise?" Willow looked up at Buffy, an eagerness in her eyes that
went straight to Buffy's heart and lodged there, firmly.

"Promise," Buffy answered, somewhat breathlessly.

"Ok, then," Willow said, jumping up out of bed. "I get first dibs on
the bathroom!"

Buffy stared after Willow for a moment, and then groaned and covered
her eyes with both hands. Shaking her head slightly, she whispered,
"Oh yeah, you're definitely killing me, here."

* * *

Several minutes later, both young women emerged from the back and
greeted Giles, Chris, and Nichole. Nichole was smirking, Buffy
noticed, but it was a pleased, happy smirk. The Slayer shook her
head. Weird.

"Well, I'm glad to see you two look so...well rested," Nichole said,
barely suppressing a smile.

"Yes, there is something we are and it's well rested," Buffy
responded, pouring some orange juice for Willow and herself. If
Nichole could play this game, so can I, she thought.

Nichole decided to let it go for the moment. Turning to Willow, she
said, "How are you feeling today?"

"Good." Willow pressed against the wounds which were now just fading
scars. "Seems like everything healed up just fine."

"Glad to hear it," Nichole said, walking over. She pressed against
Willow's side to make sure the wounds had healed internally, as well
as externally. Nodding in satisfaction, she said, "I see no reason
not to give you a clean bill of heal--" She cut herself off, staring
down at Willow's burned arm. "What's that?"

Willow followed her gaze, and lifted her arm a little. "Oh, that. I
just got a little burn last night..."

Nichole grabbed her arm, and looked at it more closely. "How did this
happen?" Her voice was tightly controlled, but rage burned in her
eyes.

"It's a long story," Willow said, bewildered at the peaceful Garou's
reaction. "Why?"

"You'd better tell me," Nichole said. "This burn is Wyrm-tainted."


END Part 8

Erin
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"C'mon. It's the Internet. Where men are men, and so are the 
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*email: erin@xxxxxxxxxxx