This story was written, in its entirety, the weekend after Phases reran in May. Final edits, however, didn't happen until December. Needless to say, the whole thing is completely Jossed now.

I'd like to extend a special thank you to Mary Beth, for being a most amazing encourager, editor and friend. Without her constant support and feedback, I probably would have written this and then deleted it, like I usually do with fanfic. So, if you don't like it, blame her *g*.

"So, Oz, what's on tap for you this weekend? Any good college parties happening?" Xander was leaning on Giles' desk, absently playing with a paperweight. This happened to be the same paperweight that had recently been used to work a major spell on Angel, but no one was thinking about such things at the moment. Xander, Cordelia, Willow and Oz were having a rare, supernatural-free moment. One that Xander, incidentally, was about to bring to a crashing end.

Oz reached his free arm over to a waterbottle on the table and took a swig. "There's a big one this Saturday, but Willow and I are spending the weekend together. No partying this weekend for me."

"Oh, serious nookie instead. I approve, I approve," said Xander, nodding in vigorous endorsement.

Willow, even curled up as she was in Oz's lap, still managed to look vaguely embarrassed at Xander's suggestion. Oz took another sip and tried to be breezy, but mostly looked uncomfortable. "Nah, none of that. We're going straight for bondage. Right, sweetie?"

Xander arched an eyebrow. "Willow! I didn't know you had it in you. Want to teach me? I can think of one person I know who could use an occasional tying up," he said, laying a suggestive hand on Cordelia's shoulder, who promptly whacked him upside the head. "Ow! What'd I say?"

"Pervert," Cordelia said, pointedly removing his hand from her shoulder.

"It's not that, Xander. Saturday's the full moon," Willow said. Xander still looked confused. "Grrr?" Willow said, holding up her hands in mock claws and giving him the don't-make-me-say-it-out-loud look. Finally, Xander remembered.

"Oh yeah, the big teeth/extra hair thing. How's that going?"

"Bigtime suck. The band had gigs lined up for this weekend, but no, I have to go chain myself to a cellar wall for three nights. Plus, I don't remember a thing when I wake up, and Willow won't tell me what happens, so it's just three nights gone." To Xander's surprise, Oz looked a little frustrated. Xander couldn't remember a single instance of Oz ever showing any sort of recognizable emotion.

Xander smirked. "Oh? What is it, Wills? He lick himself a lot or something?" Willow hit him with the sofa pillow. "Hey! What's with the hitting? All this aggression is not for the good."

"It's not a joke, Xander," Willow said, curling back into Oz's chest. "A little sensitivity would not be out of place here."

"Yeah," Cordelia joined in. "It's not his fault he has very bad hair days 3 times a month."

Buffy came in just in time to hear the last remark. "Hey! Is it secret identity hour?"

"Yes, and could we please move on? It's not my preferred topic of conversation," Oz grumped.

Buffy was more than happy to oblige. "Well, actually I'm here to ask you a favor. Could Giles and I borrow the van on Saturday? Xander, stop playing with that. It's not a toy." Xander returned the Orb of Thessula to its place on top of the nest of papers, books, and odd bits that made up the layer of debris on Giles' desk.

"Sure. What's up?" Oz asked.

"Not much. Just moving some stuff out of that place Spike and Drusilla were using here to the library. They had a bunch of books and tools and Giles wants to get it all someplace safe. Smack on top of the Hellmouth was, naturally, the logical choice."

"Whatever. Sun sets at 6.30; swing by around 5 to pick up the keys."

"Great. Thanks muchly. Oh, speaking of sunset, I want to get in a few patrols. We're getting a lot of out-of-town carpetbagging vampires lately, and they're way easy to hunt. See you at the Bronze?"

There was a general agreement, as if that wasn't what they did every night, and Buffy took off. Cordelia stood and stretched, causing Xander to momentarily lose all focus on anything but her long, elegant torso.

"Well, I've got to motor too. The ‘rents want to eat dinner all together tonight." Her tone made clear that she considered such traditions as family dinner to have gone out with the Waltons. "Coming, Xander? Xander?"

"Waa...Sure." Xander dragged himself back with some difficulty. "You two want us to drop you somewhere?"

Willow stood. "Yeah, can you take me home? I want to get started on that history paper. Oz?"

Oz shook his head glumly. "Nah. I have the van. You go on."

Are you sure?" Willow asked. "Will you be okay here by yourself?"

"I'm fine," Oz said with an artifical sincerity that made Willow look at him suspiciously. "No, really. You go on. I'll see you tonight. I just want to sit here a little longer."

"Okay," Willow said reluctantly. "But think happy thoughts." She snuggled back up to him and they kissed goodbye. Xander rolled his eyes and turned away until they were done, and then the three of them left.

Oz sat staring at the wall for a long while. The talk of his condition had made him depressed. Most of the time he was able to completely cut that part of his life off from the rest, but as the moon grew fuller each month, he would feel it slowly start to take over, pulling him away from the rest of humanity. The day before was always sheer torture, from the anticipation more than any physiological cause. And then there was the fear and sadness in Willow's eyes the next morning.

Giles walked in before Oz's thoughts could get too morbid. He was obviously surprised to find anyone there so late in the day. "Oh, Oz. Sorry. Hello. What are you doing here sitting alone in the dark?"

"Pondering what I'd be doing to Jordy right now if his mother wasn't my mother's sister."

Giles looked perplexed. "Pardon me?"

Oz sighed. "Nothing. Feeling sorry for myself. You know, the whole werewolf thing. I'm due this weekend, and the anticipation makes me not much fun to be around."

Giles took off his glasses and cleaned them self-consciously. "Well, yes, I could see where that would have an effect on your disposition."

Suddenly, Oz felt the need to vent. "It's just so ridiculous! I mean, there are times when I can almost forget it entirely. Then the moon starts to get bigger, and there it is again. I can't even come up with some sort of advantage it gives me. Like, Buffy has this whole secret identity-Chosen One gig to cope with too, but she at least gets to be really strong and fast. Angel will live forever, pointy objects allowing. The only thing I get out of being a werewolf is three nights out of the month I have no memory of."

"But you have people who can take care of you for those three nights. I'm sure there are people in your situation with no one they can tell," said Giles, feeling as though he should be the encouraging adult.

"True. And for this group I'm downright ordinary, I guess. Doesn't make it any easier." Oz was silent for a moment longer, then shrugged it off. "I guess I'll just have to finally get used to this is what I am. No turning back now." Giles opened his mouth to say something, but Oz stood and beat him to it. "Well, I'm going to run. I want to get some practice time in before tonight. Later." Oz took off, leaving Giles to feel he had somehow failed in his teacherly duty to restore Oz's faith. Then, doing as he always did in situations when he felt less than fully in control, he picked up a book.

The next day, as they had been doing every 28 days for almost a year, Oz and Willow repaired to the basement of the school. They had settled on this location after first rejecting Oz's house. He had told his father, but not his mother, and he didn't want to take the chance she would find out. Buffy had volunteered her basement, but Oz was afraid her mom would find out, and while Buffy's mom had proven remarkably resilient to Buffy's revelations about vampires, and had even reconciled nicely to her daughter being the Slayer, they had decided not to push it by introducing werewolves into the mix. The school basement, on the other hand, not only had the advantage of being deserted at night, but had a very handy cage the janitor used to store tools. A little judicious key copying had been called for, but now it was like home.

Willow stood back and inspected her handiwork. "How's that?"

Oz tested the closures on the shackles that bound him, wrist and ankle. "Feels good. Do you do this a lot? You seem to have a real flair for it." He tried to lighten the mood by smiling, but Willow blushed a little, then looked away. Too late, Oz remembered she didn't really like to joke about it, and would have kicked himself if he could move.

"I have some experience," she muttered to the wall she was suddenly finding so fascinating. It finally lost its appeal, and she turned her face back to Oz's tender gaze. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Really, I'm fine. About 5 minutes?"

Willow double checked her watch. "Yes." There was a brief awkward silence, then she said "So, what do you want to talk about?"

"How lucky I am to have you." Willow blushed again. "No, really. How many girls do you know that would lock up their boyfriend to keep him from menacing the local population, and act like it was the most natural thing in the world? You're pretty amazing, Willow Rosenberg." He raised his shackled hands to her face, gently stroking her soft skin.

Willow turned her head and closed her eyes, moving into his hand. "You're pretty amazing too, Oz." She leaned in closer to him and they kissed. They pulled apart, and Willow opened her mouth to ask him what had brought all this on, when Oz cried out in anguish. Willow knew what that meant, and her prior joy was replaced by heartrending pain. She stood and backed out of the cage. "I'll be right here like always Oz. See you in the morning," she whispered, as she locked the cage door.

A cot was set up right outside with a sleeping bag. She sat on the edge of the cot and watched the transformation. At first, she had tried not to watch, but his contortions; the way the bones twisted and reformed, and the slow terrible growth of the dehumanizing fur, drew her with a kind of sick fascination. But the actual change wasn't the worst part. Once finished, Oz started furiously struggling against the chains, biting at the shackles and slamming against the cage with the most force his limited range of motion would allow, snarling and howling all the while. He was strong, very strong, and the struggles were terrible to watch. Willow did so though, crying and holding a tranquilizer gun, until he wore himself out and lay, panting and whimpering, in the middle of the cage. Only then did she finally allow herself to slip into a tortured sleep.

The alarm went off just before sunrise, thankfully ending Willow's confused dreams of being chased by dark menacing figures. She quickly dressed, and then unlocked the cage. Oz lay curled up on the floor, sleeping lightly. She crept in carefully, knowing how well he could hear and not wanting to wake him. Even so, his ears twitched and he moved a little. She knelt down next to him, placing the clothes and waterbottle she had brought in with her off to the side. Then, she leaned back on her heels, and waited for the sunrise to work its magic.

As the first rays of sunlight were seen gently poking in through the small basement window, it started. The fur melted back into his skin, and the distorted bones and joints smoothed themselves into the right shape. The snout and toothy mouth retreated as well, and soon, the face laying there was that of her own dear familiar Oz. The thing that always amazed her about it was, unlike the change in the other direction, there was no pain. Oz continued to sleep through the whole thing. She had once asked Giles about that, and he had gone off into a learned discussion about body memory and subconscious battles, but she had boiled it down to one concept: his body did not want to change into the wolf, and fought hard against it, but welcomed the change back.

The now completely human Oz groaned and opened his eyes. Willow reached for the waterbottle. Almost a year of experience had taught her what to do first. "Here you go," she said, holding the waterbottle so he could drink. "Don't try to talk yet." Oz gratefully tossed back a big swallow of water, and then held out his hands to Willow, who had the keys ready and waiting. Wordlessly she unlocked him, then turned away to give him some privacy to get dressed. Once covered, Oz came up behind her and put his arms around her. Willow stayed facing away, afraid he'd see the tears she was desperately trying to hold hack. He kissed the back of her neck, his warm breath tickling the little hairs and making her giggle.

"That's my girl," Oz said. "How are you?"

"I'm okay," she said, finally trusting herself to turn around. "What about you?"

"I feel like someone's been beating me up, as usual. What the hell happens in here?"

A cloud passed over Willow's face. "Oh, nothing. You struggled a bit, then went to sleep. Like always." But Oz was observant, and saw the lie in her eyes. *What is she afraid of?* he thought, but as always chose to drop it, and kissed her instead.

"Ready to go?"

Willow nodded. "Sure. The sooner we can get out of here the better. Let's just get this stuff packed up."

"Sounds like a plan. Then let's get breakfast; I'm starved."