Title: Really Wanna Smack That Guy (1/1)
Author: Queena
Summary: Oz has a bit of a confrontation with the poophead. Buffy sees it.
E-mail: thessulah@aol.com
Disclaimer: Joss owns all of the characters. I claim no rights to them, except for Devon. He’s so totally mine. ‘Course, he’s not in this one, so that doesn’t really matter.
Author’s Notes: This me, picking up on even the slightest O/Bness in the show. Such as Oz raising his hand when Xander asked the ‘question’. Lyrics in the story by Tool, off of “Forty Six & 2” from their album ‘Aenima’. Spoilers for all through the fourth season.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Oz had found a nice and cozy space under a big, oak tree on the campus of UC Sunnydale. It was a sunny day, as usual, but a pleasant breeze was moving through the leaves above his head, sleeking it’s way through the sticky spikes of his hair. Yes, this was where he wanted to be right now. Not up in his room doing homework as he *should* be.

Besides, he wanted to try and get down that song he’d been working on. His favorite song, one that described everything in himself that he feared. The ugliness of what he was had made itself clear a week ago on Halloween and he needed a little therapy time. Therapy for Oz was playing, cleansing himself with music. It always seemed to work for him.

He was pleased with himself when he got the opening riff of the song down. He was just about to get down to the more complicated part, when his concentration was interrupted by an invading voice. “Hey, Oz.” Raising his head, Oz squinted against the offending sunlight to make out the form of Parker Abrams looming over him. ‘Prick’, Oz thought to himself.

He didn’t return the greeting, just stared up at the other boy, giving off what he hoped were foreboding vibes. Unfortunately, his face felt like it had an expression of indifference. Parker smiled falsely and crouched down to put himself at Oz’s eye level. “How’s it going?” Parker asked. When Oz didn’t answer or even give any evidence of actually hearing the question, Parker’s smile wavered. Clearing his throat, Parker decided to just get to the point. “Some friends of mine at Phi Cappa Zeta are having a bash this weekend, and if it doesn’t interfere with some prior engagement, I was wondering if the Dingoes could play there. They’re more than willing to pay a reasonable fee, of course.”

Oz pretended to consider it for a moment, staring the boy down. The fingers of his right hand, still rested listlessly against the strings of his guitar, twitched with the urge to just smack the smug look off of this Casanova wannabe’s face. However, Oz was never really one to give into the urge for violence. Instead he decided on a rather biting answer to the boy’s question. “Piss off, asshole.” His voice was droll, as usual, not letting on to the malice behind the words.

“Excuse me?” Parker asked, the smile completely falling off of his face.

Oz leaned forward against his guitar. “You must have a real set of balls, if you actually have the audacity to ask a favor from me after what you did to my friend,” Oz said, his voice now low, carrying a bit of a growl with it.

“What I did to your friend?” Parker shook his head, a confused look smeared across his face. “You mean, Buffy? All I did was help her loosen up a bit. And it’s not as if she didn’t enjoy it.”

“You little fucker,” Oz growled and moved to set his guitar aside, now fully prepared to mull the bastard crouched before him, but Parker stood quickly and backed away.

“Look, I don’t want any trouble, okay?” Parker said in a shaky voice, obviously perturbed at the thought of a fight with Oz.

Oz stood anyway and took a step towards Parker, who backed away again. “Then stay the hell away from Buffy. Don’t talk to her or even look at her. If she enters the same room as you, then leave, because I don’t ever want her to be reminded of the mistake she made in trusting you. And if you ever make an attempt to approach me again, I won’t hesitate to slap you like the bitch you are,” Oz said. His limbs were tingling with the strong urge to just jump the boy in front of him and beat him senseless. Biting his lip, Oz held back the growl that threatened to rise from his throat.

“Whatever, man,” Parker said, backing further and further away from Oz. “I have no intention of ever speaking to Buffy again.”

“You never fucking did,” Oz clipped out, taking another step towards the coward. His senses were going haywire. Something in his blood was singing to him. Kill. With an audible growl, Oz turned away from Parker. “Get the fuck away from me!”

Oz propped both of his hands against the base of the tree. He took long, calming breaths, his palms digging into the rough texture of the bark. His eyes were squinted shut as he fought against the darkness that suddenly threatened to envelop him. Leaning against the tree, he rested his forehead against his forearm, continuing to take long, deep breaths.

Neither he nor Parker had noticed Buffy standing only a few feet away. She’d witnessed the entire transaction of words. As Parker hurried away, sending worried glances behind him, Buffy just stared mutely as Oz took some time to calm himself. She’d only rarely seen Oz lose his cool and the few times that she had, it had been because Willow was in some sort of danger. Now, she’d seen it happen again, but this time it was while defending *her* honor. How sweet.

Still, she found herself rooted to the spot, standing numbly about ten feet behind the tree that Oz was now propped up against. A sigh of relief breathed across her lips when she saw Oz straighten, his face once again void of any kind of deep expression. He turned again, seating himself and taking his guitar in his lap. Buffy fully intended to leave and not let him know that she’d been eavesdropping on his conversation/confrontation with Parker, but as he started strumming the strings in a dark tune, she found herself moving closer to him. She stopped when she felt the palm of her hand hit the base of the tree, standing behind Oz as he quietly sang along with the tune.

His voice was nice and mellow. It didn’t have the strength or conviction of Devon’s, but it was a good voice all the same. It was so quiet, however, that Buffy was sure he must not have wanted anyone to hear him, which made her feel automatically guilty.

“I’ve been crawling on my belly, clearing out what should’ve been. I’ve been wallowing in my own chaotic and insecure delusions. I wanna feel the change consume me, feel the outside turning in. I wanna feel the metamorphosis and cleansing I’ve endured within...my shadow.”

“Oz?” Buffy asked quietly, finally moving so that she was standing to his side. He looked up and she saw the shadow that she cast across his face, wincing internally at the referral that made to his sung words.

“Hey, Buffy,” he offered her, quirking his eyebrow when she fell to her knees next to him. “What’s up?”

“I heard what you said to Parker,” she told him.

Oz looked down in something akin to shame, pretending to be utterly fascinated by the wood paneling of his guitar. “Sorry ‘bout that. I sorta lost my temper there for a minute. If I stepped over some invisible Slayer friend line, then just tell me,” he sorta babbled, well as much as he *could* babble.

“Why would you think that would make me angry?” she asked with a hint of a smile, craning her neck to try and see the look on his face.

Oz raised his head and looked her dead in the eye. “Because you’re the Slayer, the epitome of the independent woman. You, of all women, don’t need some testosterone-driven male to stand up for you. Plus, you get sort of snarky whenever Xander tries to be your savior.” He shrugged.

Buffy looked down for a minute. “I do get kind of bitchy with him sometimes, but deep down inside, just like any other girl, I like it when he stands up for me. I liked it even more when you just did it.”

“Why?” Oz asked.

Buffy smiled. “‘Cause it really means that you think of me as a friend and not just Willow’s best friend. Cause you care about me, I guess. It was sweet in that testosterone-driven kinda way. Thanks, Oz.” Impulsively, Buffy leaned over and hugged him around his shoulders. Oz jumped a little in surprise before raising a hand to rub her back.

“Course, I care, Buffy. I even love Mime Buffy,” he said with a nod. Buffy chuckled against his neck and pulled back to give him a large grin.

“I’m about ten minutes late for Philosophy class. The evil bitch monster of death is really going to stick it to me,” she said.

“You can handle it,” Oz said with a nod, pressing his hand against her shoulder to reassure her.

“I know,” Buffy said as she rose to her feet. “I’ll see you later.”

Oz watched Buffy walk away, not feeling any more shame for his little outburst of rage. Parker had deserved it. And if he had *really* lost his temper and ripped that doofus to shreds, he’d have deserved that too. Because any guy who had a chance with Buffy and blew it, was a complete dumbass. With a shrug, Oz began strumming his strings again, however, he had completely forgotten the tune he’d just had down a few seconds again. Huh.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I had a point when I started writing this story, but I forgot it. Damnit.