Title: Over-Riding Instict (1/1) Author: Queena E-mail: thessulah@aol.com Rating: PG-13 Summary: After his nightmare, Oz runs to Buffy and finds himself and argument. Disclaimer: Joss owns the characters used in this story. I have no claim to them. Author’s Notes: This is a sequel to “Truly There” and “To Say I Missed You”. Dedication: To Magpie. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Things were dim in this place, the lights low and orange during this late hour as Oz hurried through the deserted halls. Behind doors that he passed he would hear the sounds of conversation, some had sleepy music playing. One room that he passed carried the sounds of lovemaking to his able ears, but he ignored this, the darkness surrounding him making him all the more eager to make it to his destination. Finally, he was there and pounding on the door urgently. It wasn’t answered quick enough for Oz’s liking and continued his loud knocking, discomforting his knuckles with the force he was using. “Keep it down, buddy,” he heard an angry voice say behind him, but he dismissed it without offering an apology. Squeaky voiced college boy could just go fuck himself for all Oz cared. Hell, that was probably what he was doing before he had been interrupted by Oz’s banging. The door swung open when he was in mid-knock and he had to pull back suddenly to avoid knocking the girl before him in the middle of the forehead. “Oz! What the hell are you-,” but he cut her off quickly, pushing her back into the room and kicking the door shut behind them. The room was even darker than the hallway, just a bit of dim light filtering in from the campus security lights. It gave the curtains an eerie glow, sending a small shiver down Oz’s back and causing the hackles on the back of his neck to rise just a bit. He let out a sigh and stepped forward, his hands falling on her shoulders. Her skin was warm and reassuring under the silk of her nightshirt, the nipples of her unbound breasts brushing teasingly against his own chest. However the heavy darkness of the room was making it impossible for him to push down that panic. “Oz, what’s wrong?” she questioned in a worry-filled voice. “The lights. We have to turn on the lights,” he explained, hating the frantic rise in his voice. She was away from him in a split second, the quick break of their physical contact unnerving him. He curled his hands into fists, trying to alleviate the empty feeling that was left there when she was no longer under his palms. Suddenly the room was filled with a warm light and he had to squint against it, his eyes unused to the darkness. He raised one hand and held it against the brightness until his eyes got used to the change in lighting. It dropped slowly and he saw her standing at her bedside, studying him with a confused look on her face. The light of the lamp was shining on her white, silk pajamas, her hair was bed rumpled. “Oz, what’s going on?” she asked, her brows furrowed. He tried to speak, but his mouth had gone dry with relief. She was in one piece, of course, looking ethereal in her schoolgirl innocence. Something that years of facing monsters hadn’t stolen away from her. Her hazel eyes were filled with concern for him, conveying silent questions that Oz didn’t want to answer. He stepped up to her, quickly closing the distance between them. His hands rose to cup her cheeks in his palms as he silently studied her. Her eyes grew wide with surprise, her brows shooting up, and yet she didn’t pull out of his touch. With the ball of his thumb, he stroked the soft skin just under her eye which was still marked with poorly removed eyeliner. He noted the slight shudder that ran through her. It had taken him this long, to feel her silken skin beneath his fingertips, to realize just how amazing she was. Maybe that’s why it stung so much when she pulled back and swatted his hands away in annoyance. He turned his face away, trying to disguise his hurt from her. “You didn’t come all the way over here to touch my face, did you?” she snapped, turning her back to him. His fingers itched to reach out and touch the golden strands of her hair, but he repressed the urge. One brow rose when he saw just how neglected her roots were. Sighing, he took her by the elbow and turned her back around to face him. The annoyed look in her eyes stung him once again, but he was too relieved to see that she still had both of them to really care. “You’re okay.” It was a relieved statement, not a question. “I’m just dandy. Peachy keen, if you ignore the fact that I was woken up at three in the morning when I have a Humanities class tomorrow at eight. But, hey, you seem to think that it’s Bother Buffy Day, so why don’t you tell me why you’re here? You know, you probably woke up half of the dorm with that pounding,” she spat out. He felt sick to his stomach for a second, the anger in her voice feeling like a punch to the gut, but suddenly he didn’t feel it anymore. Instead he felt the anger rising in him. It was the anger that he had only just begun to discern. He couldn’t feel it really before the night that he’d killed Veruca. Now, it came in hot and cold blasts to his chest, causing his heart to shrink back from it. Every time it happened he could feel the wolf rising in him, hungry for a fight. He’d tasted blood, which made it harder and harder for him to control the beast because it was always on the look out for more now. “Why you even bother is beyond me. What do you even plan to do with that degree once you get it?” The words slipped from his mouth, full of anger and menace. Targeted to hit just the right spot. Her fight for normalcy. She drew herself up as though she had just been slapped and he felt a small smile twitch at the corner of his lips. She saw it and her face flushed hot with rage. “I didn’t know until now, but I think that I’ve finally thought of the perfect place to shove it,” she bit out between gritted teeth, taking a threatening step towards him. The creak of his teeth gritting together made him shiver as if he had just heard someone scrape their nails along a chalkboard. But the need to fight against his animal was strong. He reminded himself that he was a human being and that good people do not talk that way to each other. He reminded himself of the person he was and the person he wished to be, but it didn’t take away from the pain her words caused. He’d come here to protect her, as was his nature to do, but she had used it against him, whether she knew it or not. He felt like a dog who had just been kicked by his master and was ready to bite to protect itself. “Where is that, exactly?” he questioned, pressing himself to remain calm, no matter how his nature taunted him. She sighed and shook her head, going to turn away, but she thought better of it. She glanced at his face from the corner of her eye, sucking in a calming breath. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you, Oz, and at this point I’m beyond caring. All I want is to get a little sleep tonight. If you have something to say to me, say it. If not, I’d like you to please leave.” Oz opened his mouth, but nothing came out. It was stupid really, waking up in the middle of the night from a nightmare and running here, waking her from her sleep. To add to the oddity, he’d fondled her face for no reason and now she was most certainly uncomfortable in his presence. “Good night, Oz,” Buffy said firmly, gesturing for him to leave. He sighed and headed toward the door, stopping there to turn back and look at her. “I-I’m sorry, Buffy,” he told her. Not waiting for her to respond, he opened the door and took his leave of her. *********************** Oz squinted in the bright sunlight and wiped the beads of sweat off of his forehead. He stood at the edge of a construction site, the dust rising up from all of the men hard at work in the large, dirt clearing. The loud sounds of machinery assaulted his ears and started a dull ache in his temples, but he ignored it as best he could and started further onto the site. He passed many beefy men at work, some with jackhammers, some driving forklifts and bulldozers. He noticed one man with his shirt stripped off, a small beer belly hanging over the waistband of his dusty jeans. The man was joking with his comrades and seemed more approachable than any of the other thicknecks that he’d passed, so Oz made his way over to him. “Excuse me!” Oz shouted over the loud din. The man turned to him and squinted in the sunlight, holding one hand over his eyes. “Yeah?!” the man said back to him. “I’m looking for Xander Harris. I was hoping you could tell me where I can find him.” “Oh! Xand! He’s standing about thirty feet to your left, kid! Right there with the jackhammer!” the man answered. “Thanks!” Oz said, giving the man a small wave after he’d saluted him. Stepping carefully through debris and skirting widely around the workers, Oz headed in the direction the man had pointed. He still didn’t recognize any of the workers as Xander, but he continued. Finally, he spotted a man about the same height as he remembered Xander to be, but if this was his old friend, then he had changed a lot since he’d last seen him. He was clad in a dusty white A-shirt tucked into his lowriding jeans, his back to Oz. Muscles rippled over his sweaty arms and back, tendons popping out from the strain of controlling the large jackhammer in his work-gloved hands. “Xander?!” Oz yelled, but the roar of the machine was too loud to be heard over. “Xander!” he tried again, but it was no use, he couldn’t be heard. He sighed and waited for a moment, but Xander (if it was Xander) didn’t turn around, and he was beginning to get impatient. Slowly, cautiously, Oz reached out his hand and touched Xander’s sweaty shoulder. He immediately regretted it when he saw him jump and bit, then the jackhammer started to bounce out of control a bit, screeching against the cement loudly and obnoxiously. Xander brought the machine under control and quickly switched it off. Dropping the jackhammer, he pulled off his yellow hard-hat, followed by his safety goggles and spun around with an angry look on his face, huffing a bit. His brows crinkled up a bit. “Oz!” he said with surprise. “Hey, Xander,” Oz said and offered up a small wave and a chagrined shrug. “Don’t do that!” Xander yelled and pushed Oz. Oz stumbled back a bit, surprised at the force of the shove. It was Xander’s turn to look chagrined. “Sorry, but you can’t surprise people when their working one of those things.” “You got a minute?!” Oz asked, still yelling over the sound of the machines. Xander pursed his lips together and looked down his nose at Oz through squinted eyes. After studying Oz closely, which Oz had to fight not to squirm under such close scrutiny, Xander gestured with his head for Oz to follow him. Oz kept on Xander’s heels as he was led to a trailer just off to the side of the site. Outside of the trailer was a table that had to large, coffee thermoses and an array of baked goods. Oz waited silently as Xander got himself a cup of coffee. After he took his first sip of the steaming liquid, black, Xander turned to Oz and perched on the edge of the table. “So....what’s up? What are you doing back?” Xander questioned, getting straight to the point. Oz crossed his arms over his chest and shrugged. “I felt it was time that I came back,” was his lame answer. “Ah, I see. Got some weird preternatural wolfy sense that your business wasn’t finished here, huh? Well, I hope you know that Willow hasn’t been sitting here waiting for you like some lost little lamb. It took her a while, but she got over you, ya know,” Xander told him defensively. “I expected she would,” Oz said quietly, looking down at his shoes. “So. What’s the what? Why’d you come to see me? Or better yet, how did you find out where I was?,” Xander asked, tossing his half full cup of coffee into a nearby trashbin. He pulled out a pack of gum and popped a piece of it into his mouth. “Well,” Oz said, shifting his feet and letting his arms fall back to his sides. “I went to see Giles, but he was at work, so his ...uh...wife told me where I could find you.” “Met Olivia, huh? Classy lady, don’t you think?” Xander said with a bit of a smile, popping his gum loudly. “She seemed nice. Pretty,” Oz said. “Yeah, well, why don’t you get to the point, Oz? We’re only allowed fifteen minute breaks,” Xander said shortly, pushing himself away from the table to stand at his full height. “I wanted to ask....” Oz paused for a moment, trying to think of the best way to string his words together. “Do you know what’s going on with the slaying scene. I mean, are there any new badies that you know about? Any....thing after Buffy?” Xander wiped the sweat off of his tanned brow and shook his head. “I don’t really talk to Buffy that often anymore,” he said, a little sadly. “Don’t suppose you know about Riley, huh?” Oz shook his head. “Well, he and Buffy were an item. Now, he and Willow are an item. I’m sure you can put that puzzle together without much help. Anyway, Buffy kinda thinks that I sided with Riley in the whole break-up, but I didn’t really *side* with anybody.” “Why would she think that you sided with that guy?” Oz asked, clearly confused. “Because I didn’t exactly stop associating with him. Even if I had wanted to, I couldn’t,” Xander said with a shrug. “Why’s that,” Oz questioned. “‘Cause I work with the guy. Can’t exactly shun someone who might have to save your life some day,” Xander told him. “He works here?” Oz asked, glancing over his shoulder, out at the site bustling with workmen. “No, not here. Look, it’s a long and complicated story, I don’t really have the time to tell you right now. What’s wrong, Oz? I mean, you show back up after a year and a half, all of which you’ve been completely enshrouded in mystery, asking me questions that, no offense, I don’t really feel like answering. When you left, you pretty much left the group, so as far as I’m concerned, you’re an outsider again.” Xander finished with a scowl. “I have to get back to work. You want answers, ask Giles or Buffy. You’re getting nothing from me.” Xander went to walk passed Oz, but Oz stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. Xander turned back quickly, knocking Oz’s hand away from him. “Better yet, why don’t you go ask Willow, huh?” Xander spat out. “You remember, the girl whose heart you broke. Sorry, man, but I have little sympathy for you.” Xander started to walk away, but Oz could feel the anger rising up in him again. He was unable to hold back one last remark. “Maybe I’ll ask Cordelia. Think she’d know?” Xander whipped around and for a split second, Oz thought he was going to hit him. Instead, Xander just narrowed his eyes and bit out between gritted teeth. “Fuck you, Oz.” With that Xander pivoted and walked away. Oz cursed under his breath after Xander left him. He was going to have to keep his animal at bay if he didn’t want to alienate his former friends anymore than he already had. That was easier said then done. For the last year and a half he’d been doing nothing but aquainting himself with his wolf, living with it and allowing *it* to live. Back in civilization, where one had to worry about interaction he couldn’t be as coarse as his wolf wanted to be. But he could no longer overlook what made his wolf howl in protest. This was going to be hard. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The End