NOTE: Ozwolf works by my non-Jossed rules. He changes when it's darn well warranted.
"So, we Bronzin’ it tonight? Xander’s bringing Cordelia, You can bring Oz, and I’ll just sit in the corner and mope because I’m currently a social leper."
"Buffy, don’t be so hard on yourself. You’ll meet another guy."
"The only time I’ve met anyone in the past month is in a graveyard, and the conversation’s usually pretty short, if you know what I mean. So, what time can we expect you?"
"I’m not coming. I’ve got Calculus homework to do."
"You’d miss a chance to be with Oz? That’s a switch."
Willow blushed crimson. "He can’t go either."
"Why? His band can’t have a gig. There’s no place to play other than the Bronze."
"No, it’s not that. It’s—"
"What?"
"H-his time of the month." Willow chewed her bottom lip as Buffy laughed. "It’s actually not, there isn’t another full moon for two weeks, but tonight’s supposed to be the equinox, and since Giles couldn’t find anything in his books about it, Oz thought it would be better to be on the safe side, and, you know, stay in." Willow could imagine Buffy sitting on her bed on the other end, chuckling to herself and thinking how pathetic she was to be dating someone like Oz. Willow didn’t want to admit it, but she envied Buffy. After all, Buffy was the experienced one, whereas Oz seemed to lose interest past a few kisses. Maybe losing interest wasn’t the right phrase. It was more like he was holding back.
She snapped back to attention. Buffy was talking again. "…Sure you don’t want to go? We can drink cappuccino and be lonely together." Willow was about to decline, when Buffy went on. "Please? I need someone to be around for awhile."
Willow sighed, ever so softly, and answered. "All right, Buffy. I’ll meet you there at seven?"
"It’s a date! Now I’ve got to go find an outfit! Bye!" She hung up. Willow’s slipped the cradle into the receiver, and leaned back against her bed. It’s hard to be best friends with Ms. Emotional Rollercoaster, otherwise known as the Vampire Slayer.
Oz bolted the door, slipping the key underneath it. When he was coherent again, he could pull it back through. In wolf form, his claws were too big to reach it. His father wondered if it was a necessary precaution. He’d heard of the family ailment, and while he didn’t have it himself, he also knew that Oz had never before managed to get the shackles off and make it all the way to the door. Still, Oz liked to be safe. After he heard he almost killed Willow, he spent all morning in a fog, trying to decide whether to cut school and move to Canada. He’d heard it was nice. Lots of trees. Open space. Fastening the shackles first around his feet, then his wrists, he thought about what if he and Willow got married and moved there. Subconsciously, he tried not to think about changing. It was easier when you weren’t tense. Maybe they would have kids. Two, or three. Not that one wouldn’t be great, but he’d been an only child, and he’d always been envious of his cousins, who came from a family of twelve kids. Yes, twelve. They lived in the mountains. These weren’t the cousins that included Jordie, his family was in Northern LA He tried to reach them all week, to see what they knew about the equinox, but they seemed to be out at a family reunion. Oz puzzled over this, wondering why a family reunion hadn’t included his family, and then he’d dismissed it as being the family on his aunt’s side. Reclining back against the wall of the bare bonus room, he shivered, and drifted off to sleep. If he changed, hopefully, he wouldn’t remember it.
Willow stirred her cappuccino idly with a cinnamon stick. Briefly, she glanced out to the dance floor, Xander and Cordelia writhing around in a dance that was just a step above the Lambada. Buffy, at Willow’s own urging, was now out dancing with some guy named Todd. The music was giving her a headache, and she sipped the cappuccino with care. She shouldn’t have bothered to come.
Oz jerked awake, trying to catch his breath. He’d had the weirdest dream. Probably because he’d spent the night as a werewolf trying to struggle out of clothes and shackles. But wait. Something was wrong. It hit him, as he unlocked the shackles. There was no sign of any trouble. No weird-looking saliva (ick, but hey, you’ve gotta take the bad with the good), no tears in his shirt, and he was in about the same position as he was before he fell asleep. Checking his watch, he chuckled to himself. It was only nine thirty at night. He hadn’t changed a bit. That settled the Equinox question, he thought. He wondered where Willow was, and then remembered she said something about turning in early. Sliding the key back from under the door, Oz let himself out into the office/library, mostly his because his father was a busy executive, and his mother was on a lecture tour on women’s rights and empowerment. It always sounded to Oz like she was just a less commercialized self-help guru. Either way, they both were never around, and they bought him incredible presents to make up for it. Such as his guitar and amp. Sauntering into the bathroom, he looked into the mirror, checking his hair. The outfit didn’t matter, but the hair always had to be good before he did anything. Slipping in an earring, he decided he’d head to the Bronze and see if Devon was there. Though he didn’t think much of his best friend, he enjoyed the clear fact that they had nothing in common except for the band, and that, the more you thought about it, they were perfect foils for each other. Rifling through a pile of semi-clean clothes, Oz found his car keys, before remembering that his van was in the shop. Tossing them aside, he decided to just walk. Which was probably a good idea, he thought… He had an odd, restless feeling he needed to work off.
Willow lifted her head off of the table. Her cappuccino was cold, and the Bronze was silent and very dark. Looking around, she ventured a word. "…Buffy…?" The walls echoed the name back to her, and suddenly, the double doors across the Bronze opened. Angelus stood in the doorway, a stale wind flapping the tails of his trench coat. His eyes were cold steel, and he spotted Willow immediately. Baring his fangs, he stalked her, making his way to the booth with lightning speed. She tried to move, but her feet seemed glued to the table. In an instant, he was on top of her, jerking her head to the side, her v-necked shirt giving him easy access to her throat. Willow felt his fangs slide across her flesh, searching for a vein, she surmised. But the bite she expected didn’t come. His fangs danced over her neck, his lips kissing her gently.
"Willow…" He whispered, his lips meeting hers. "Willow?" Willow looked up, seeing only Angelus for a moment, then her gaze shifted.
"WILLOW?!!!" Buffy stood above her, growling, crossbow trained on Willow’s throat. Standing next to her was a huge frog.
Willow saw her reach for the trigger, and shouted. "Buffy!" And then, she woke up.
"Willow?" Buffy was calling, shaking her friend’s shoulder gently. "Are you okay?" Willow looked uneasily around. The Bronze’s younger patrons had already left, and Buffy stood in front of her with Todd. Toad was more like it.
Willow blinked, sleepily. "Yeah, I’m fine. Just nodded off for a minute there."
Buffy still looked concerned. "Will, is it okay if Todd takes me home? If you don’t mind, that is."
Willow grinned, shaking the haze out of her eyes. "Sure. I was just about to get out of here myself."
Buffy was still concerned. "Are you sure you’re going to be okay?"
Willow shrugged, taking a sip of her…yuck… cold cappuccino. "I’ll be fine. You go on. See ya Buffy."
"Okay. Later, Will." Buffy and Toad made their way through the small crowd in the club, and out the door. Willow sighed into her half-filled mug, and rose, moving towards the side exit. She didn’t want to run into Buffy right then. Or Xander, who was currently ‘Gettin’ Jiggy wit it’ Carlton Banks-style.
Willow’s Mary Jane’s padded across the damp concrete slowly, steam rising from various ventilation ducts around the building. Rethinking her choice of exit, she pulled on the side doorknob. It was locked. One of those indestructible fire doors too, that no one inside could ever hear you knocking on. Walking quickly towards the alley entrance, Willow chewed nervously on her bottom lip, and couldn’t help thinking any minute that someone would come striding out of the wall of steam—Oh, Hell. Of all the vampires, in all the alleys, it had to be him. Angelus, same calculating look in his eyes, stood at the entrance to the alley. Willow reacted immediately, running to her only possible source of escape, the door. Pounding desperately on it, she screamed as the music continued, and Angelus got nearer. Trying once more, getting no response, she abandoned the door, backing herself up against the wall, feeling for any kind of weapon. There was none. Willow squeezed her eyes shut, and felt a presence close in on her. Though she wasn’t looking, she imagined it like that scene in Alien where Ripley isn’t looking at the monster, and it opens up it’s mouth—Eww. Willow trembled, and dared open one eye. He wasn’t there. Some sort of dream again? A low growl startled her, and she turned. Standing at her right ear was Angelus. Willow did the only thing she could think of. She fainted. Angelus laughed heartily. It was like her to faint. He almost considered letting her go, but tonight he was hungry, and searching for the perfect snack. Willow would do nicely. Hauling her to his fangs by her shoulders, Angelus brang back her hair, her soft neck exposed to his teeth. Bottoms up! He thought. "Let her go!" Spoke a voice from down the alley. Now this was more like it, thought Angel. The figure then moved out of the cloud of steam, and Angel wasn’t so impressed anymore. The boy was short, dressed in the usual alternative fashion. "I said let her go." Angelus let go of Willow’s shoulders, holding her up by a handful of bright red hair. Whimpering, Willow was yanked back into consciousness. Her vision was blurry for a moment, and then she saw Oz at the far end of the alley.
"Oz! Run!" She tried to say, the words choked into obscurity by a terrified sob. In another instant, her face met with a wall. Angelus slammed Willow against the bricks, throwing her aside, and hissed two words to Oz.
"Make me." He said.
When Oz had first come into the alley, he knew he had no way whatsoever to stop Angel. He was about Willow’s height, and compared to Angel, not all that strong. But the moment he heard Willow’s sobbing, something happened to him. Suddenly, the moon seemed bigger and brighter. He felt his heart seize up, and then settle into a deeper rhythm, along with his breathing. Oz’s lips curled in a snarl, his canines elongating to a sharpness that rivaled that of any vampires. His fingers grew and twisted into sharp claws, the same feeling apparent in his Converse shoes. Hair follicles were teased into being, and Oz felt the tickle of the growth around his face, his vision dulling, his sense of smell sharpening to acuteness. From Angelus’ position, he couldn’t see the changes. He only saw one of Buffy’s little friends, standing there. "Wasting my time. Are you going to attack me or not? Come at me! Or if you don’t think you’re man enough for it, call Buffy over here." Angelus smiled when Oz opened his mouth. He frowned when Oz let out a howl.
Angelus wasn’t exactly afraid of werewolves. He’d fought some of them, and they were usually pretty mindless. But he’d heard of werewolves who learned how far to change, to retain most of their mind and willpower when they attacked, and those were the ones to watch out for. It was like a tyrannosaurus compared to a velociraptor. On the one hand, one is huge but doesn’t have any visual acuity. A mindless, ravenous beast. On the other hand, the others were smaller, but knew how to open doors. Angelus growled, Oz answering with only a half-feral roar. Just his luck. A velociraptor. The seasoned vampire feinted right. He realized he’d misjudged as Oz’s shoulder met his stomach. He felt his face, his neck, his chest slashed open in dozens of places. The werewolf did everything but sink his jaws into Angel’s jugular. Oz buried his jaws into Angel’s thick leather jacket, and the vampire decided quickly that he wanted no more of this fight. Slipping out of the jacket, Angelus ran, away into the night.
Willow watched, tears of fear for herself and Oz streaming down her face, mingling with blood from a scrape across her cheek. The Oz she knew would never hit anyone. Except that time with Xander… Her cheeks turned crimson as she thought about that day. Rising to a sitting position, she smiled. "Oz…" She let his name curl off of her lips.
Blinking, still confused after what he’d just done, Oz felt claws retract, and he let Angelus’ jacket fall to the ground. He felt another brief tickling around his hairline, ears, and nose, and knew he was back to normal…more or less. "Willow, I think something’s wrong with me. I should go back home as soon as possible. But first, we have to take care of you. Are you okay?" Oz pulled Willow to a standing position, and then corrected immediately, catching his girlfriend. Supporting her against his chest, Oz looked into her eyes briefly, before seeing that being attacked and shoved into a wall had done a number on Willow. She fainted in his arms, and before he knew what he was doing, Oz swung her over his shoulder. "Come on, Willow. Let’s get you home." About fifteen minutes into the walk, Oz felt a dampness on his shoulder, and sniffed. Blood. Willow was bleeding! Oz barely knew what he was doing, but he cut straight through a few backyards, over fences, finding some incredible fountain of strength to draw from. Reaching her backyard, Oz fumbled with the screen door, taking Willow’s limp form in through the kitchen and to the living room, laying her down on the couch. In closer examination, Oz saw that it wasn’t too much to worry about, just a small cut on her side. He was at first a little hesitant about invading his girlfriend’s space like that. Still, he cleaned it carefully, without doing too much staring. His mother would have been proud.
Paranoidly, he sniffed the air, thinking he might have heard something. Peaking into the garage, Oz realized that Willow’s parents were out for the night. Probably a good thing, considering that Willow’s father didn’t like ‘that grungy boy in the rock band’ who 'not that it really matters, Willow can make her own decisions, but isn't of our faith'. Oz sneered, quickly stopping when he found his teeth were sharper than usual. Finally at a position to glance at himself in a mirror, he ran one hand through his hair. It was like he was part wolf. Not even a quarter ways through the change, but just enough for his senses to be heightened. He was also a little taller, and felt stronger. Strangely, he liked the acuteness of scent and instinct. So much for the Equinox being a safe night, though.
"Oz?" Willow stirred on the couch, wincing in pain at the headache and bruises she felt. Swinging her legs off of the couch onto the floor, she cried out, biting her lip.
"Are you okay? What’s wrong?" Oz was in front of her, hands gingerly soothing the pain in her ankle with supernatural agility. "Your ankle?" She nodded. It was really beginning to feel all right, but she didn’t want Oz to stop the foot massage. After a few moments, his eyes met hers. "Better now?" Her heart almost melted. When he looked at her like that, Willow somehow just knew that she had found the person she would spend the rest of her life with. Not Xander, Willow thought, blushing at his memory even intruding on the intimate moment. He seemed so childish, so immature, so… Not Oz. She nodded.
"A little bit."
Oz smiled and slipped off her shoe, rubbing her ankle and foot. Willow blushed. No words were needed. When he was around, she always felt like they were connected. Still, this was one of the more exciting moments in their relationship. It was the only misgiving Willow had about dating Oz. They didn’t do much, kissing or groping wise. Granted, she hated those couples who hung all over each other in public, but that didn’t mean Oz couldn’t try and go a little farther when they were alone! Maybe she was giving him the impression that she wasn’t ready to go that far. In a rare burst of impulsive behavior, Willow kissed him, harder than usual, trying to kiss like all those actresses she’d seen on TV. Oz and Willow were both so engrossed that they almost didn't notice the sound of shattering glass from the front windows.
Oz broke away, arm flying up to block the volley of flying glass. Five vampires, including Angel, flashed their pointy-toothed grins. Angel hissed. "I want my jacket back." Oz’s hands tightened around Willow’s shoulders. "He can’t come in unless we invite him, right?"
Willow gulped. "He’s already been invited!" Angel’s form moved into the room, ghostly in the pale moonlight. "That’s right, Willow Rosenberg, my little rose. You are a bit like a flower, aren’t you? Pure, unspoiled…" Angel picked up a poker from the fireplace. "But not for long!" Angel licked his lips, sending a horrified chill through Willow. It’s effect on Oz was rather different. This time, the vampire was ready. As Oz came at him, he brought the poker around hard, managing only to knock the werewolf off balance…directly into the broken front windows. The vampires outside greedily lunged forward, grabbing Oz by either arm. Flailing, he tried to regain his balance, just as Angel swept his legs out from under him, bringing the poker down hard on the base of Oz’s neck. Willow crammed her wrist against her mouth to keep from crying out as she saw her Oz sink to his knees, giving a plaintive, puppy-like whimper before Angel hit him again, this time across the shoulders. Her eyes misted over, and she felt the onslaught of a sob when she was struck by the eerie silence of the house. Sounds were magnified. She thought she could hear her heartbeat. And as he turned around, she knew that Angel could hear it, too. He flashed her a grin, and Willow didn’t need to be urged this time.
She ran for the stairs, quickly thinking that the vampires would have the lower part of the house surrounded. Her only hope was to get a hold of Buffy, or even the police. "Gangs on PCP…" She muttered as she neared the landing, not bothering to check for an approaching predator. Angel’s eyes glassed over, enjoying the incredible thrill of pursuit, especially when the prize was one of Buffy’s friends. Not to mention a fresh, young virgin. He was startled out of his meandering thoughts by the growl of the vamps still out front.
"Come on, Angelus! Invite us in!" The scrawny little vampire wouldn’t live to be fifty, Angel thought. "We’re Star-ving!" He said the last part in a whiny little singsong voice.
Angelus arched a refined brow. "Oh, so sorry! How thoughtless of me. The girl is mine, so I assume you’d be wanting this?" He kicked Oz’s limp form absently. The vampires licked their chops and nodded. Angelus grinned. "Don’t you people know anything? They only eat dog meat in China." The vamps howled in protest, clawing at the invisible barrier that kept them from dinner. Spinning on his heel, Angel walked toward the kitchen, and then paused, fingering one of the small remaining gashes from his earlier encounter with Oz. "But I may make an exception in this case. As long as you’ve done your jobs and cut the phone lines." Angel rummaged through the kitchen, returning with two champagne flutes and a bottle of wine. "After all, why shouldn’t we leave two dead bodies hanging from the tree out front instead of one? More panache."
Whiny vamp spoke up again as Angel was climbing the stairs. "What do you need those for?"
Angel held up the bottle of wine. "To set the mood, of course! Not a very good year, but… She isn’t exactly the Queen of Sheba."
"Or the Slayer." Whiny vamp was asking for it. But Angelus was in a good mood. "You’re right. But then, Buffy couldn’t tell the difference between Colt .45 and Korbell." As he moved up the stairs, he began to sing softly. "I’m in the mood for love…"
