DISCLAIMER: Joss, high priest of coolness, please take no offense that I have borrowed your wonderful characters. I don't own them, I don't presume to own them, don't sue or kill me, wonderful people at WB!
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Part Seven
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(Sunnydale General Hospital)
Buffy had gotten a neighbor to call the paramedics, and they'd gotten there in record time. She watched Oz's reluctance to hand Willow's limp form over to them, and then his protests, before they let him ride with her to the hospital. The Slayer took it upon herself to reach the Rosenbergs, Xander, and Giles. Mr. And Ms. Rosenberg were hysterical, and had hung up on her after she'd assured them that Willow wasn't dead. They were away for a weekend, but something told Buffy that they'd both be on the first ride back to Sunnydale. Ms. Harris answered at Xander's house. She was going to come down immediately, but Buffy told her that it would probably be best if she and Xander came in the morning, during visiting hours. Giles wasn't at home. She didn't want to wake her mother at all, so she footed the few miles to the hospital.
An hour had gone by after she arrived, and Buffy had all but given up hope of being told anything when the Rosenbergs burst in. Apparently, they'd only gone to a nearby cabin for a few days. Mrs. Rosenberg pulled Buffy along after the doctor agreed to let them see Willow. Buffy partly wished she hadn't gone with them. The doctor took Willow's parents aside, Ms. Rosenberg's hand covering her mouth in an effort to keep quiet. Buffy sat on a bench a ways away. She tried not to hear, but caught snatches of the Doctor's dialogue. Words like ‘sliced', ‘transfusion', ‘operation', and ‘critical' left her shaking. The Rosenbergs took it pretty well, eventually going home when they were assured that Willow wasn't in immediate danger. They would be contacted if her condition changed. The doctor left, and Buffy approached her friend's room quietly.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Steady, but not very strong, came the rhythm from Willow's heart monitor. Buffy pressed her forehead against the cold glass of the window, peering in at her best friend. Angel had killed Ms. Calendar, and now had almost taken Willow. She felt so awful. Her best friend. …And this might not have happened if I had… She sank down onto the floor, allowing a few tears to escape before pulling herself together. She had to be strong, had to be alert.
Buffy yawned. She was normally a night person, but it must have been three A.M. Maybe there was a coffee machine around. Strolling through the maze of hallways, she found herself at the lobby. Ah, coffee. Not exactly Starbucks, but it would do. She pulled a cup off of the stack, picking up the pot.
"Mind getting me a cup…?" Came a soft, tired voice from behind her. Buffy was startled into spilling the pot of coffee over the counter, whirling quickly into a fighting stance in case it was a vampire. It wasn't.
Oz looked… Awful. Probably as awful as they both felt. Cuts from glass covered his arms, a purplish bruise circled his neck from the rope. His shoes and clothes were torn beyond help.
He looked away as the coffee spilled over the counter. "…caffeine isn't good for me anyway…" He said, his bloodshot, yellow/green eyes focused somewhere against the opposite wall. Buffy didn't know what to say. "Oz…" She trailed off.
He turned a small object over in his hands, teeth baring slightly. His voice was strained. "Is she going to be okay?" The voice was almost small, frightened. Buffy nodded. "The doctors said that she was stable. They think she's got a good chance."
He pocketed the object, his eyes turning a feral yellow in the dim light. "But you don't know if she's going to be okay." Oz rose, stalking towards Buffy. The slayer tried to tell herself that Oz was going through the same thing, instinctively taking a step back at the same time. "You don't know if she's going to live through this." His teeth flashed. "You don't know if when Willow wakes up, she won't have brain damage, or be a vegetable!" Buffy felt her back bump into the counter. For a split second, she didn't know whether he was going to throw something or attack her. In the end, his hands just fell to his sides, and he backed off, collapsing into a chair.
She normally would have been the compassionate, caring Slayer, but now was just not the time. She hadn't slept, she was dirty, and her best friend was lying in a hospital bed. "Do you think this is my fault? Is that what you think? I was trying to do my best to protect Willow. Not to mention everybody in Sunnydale, including you!"
"I'm indebted." Oz mumbled, half meaning it.
"Ha. Real funny, Wolf boy." Buffy had subconsciously moved into a fighting stance. "Maybe if you hadn't gone crazy, I would have gotten to Willow in time."
"Maybe if you hadn't tried to strangle me, *I* would have gotten to Willow in time." Oz had finally looked back up.
"Oh, well, in case you didn't remember, you were the wolf jumping around all over the neighborhood."
"I was fighting off four vampires! Isn't that supposed to be your job?"
"I can't be everywhere at once!"
Oz snarled. "How about with Willow? I thought you two went to the Bronze together. Where were you?"
Buffy clenched her fists, evading the question. "What about you?! Where were you?!! Aren't you supposed to be her boyfriend?!"
"I AM her—"
"You stayed at home in case something happened to you! Maybe this all happened because you aren't any good at getting the facts straight about your little disease or whatever and you left her alone! Don't get angry at me! You weren't there!!" She finished off the last volley of accusations, adrenaline rushing, she stalked past him. "I'm going to check on Willow."
"Why didn't you kill him?"
Buffy stopped dead in her tracks, her face ashen. "…What?" She asked hoarsely.
"Why didn't you kill him? When you had the chance. Why didn't you at least let me kill him?" He almost seemed evil in his sudden calmness. It wasn't his way of releasing anger. He wasn't angry at her anymore. But he was going to damn well get some answers.
"…Because." She wiped a tear from her face. "…I still l-love him. Even after everything he's done. Believe me, I've tried. I've almost been there so many times by now—"
"Can you kill him now?" The question again sliced through her train of thought.
She thought. And thought. And thought some more. She thought for what seemed like ages. Finally, she partially sobbed in confession. "I…Don't know." She looked pitiful, thinking of Willow, and Angel, and all of the others.
"Then it's settled." Oz was quiet, resolute, as he stood and gathered his things.
"Where are you going?" Buffy moved after him as catlike grace carried Oz swiftly over the floor. He didn't say a word, heading swiftly out of the hospital, down the steps. "Hey! Oz! Where are you going?!" Realization literally smacked her upside the head. "Oz, no. You can't just go off on a crazy mission to get revenge! He'll kill you."
"I fought him once, and survived."
"This time he knows not to underestimate you. Let me take care of this myself! I don't want you getting hurt!" She rushed down the steps, blocking his path. "Let Giles and I figure out a plan. We'll go after him—" He grabbed Buffy by the shoulders.
"No we won't." He forced her aside, turning around. "Angel didn't get away with it. Willow is a bigger target now than she was before. Not to mention me."
"But, Oz! He's got Spike and Drucilla and all their people. It doesn't matter if you've fought off a couple. What will you do against an army of vampires?" He didn't answer, but headed out into the darkness that was very late night Sunnydale. "Oz!"
"I'll get my own army!" He called, waving, almost cheerfully. Buffy thought he must have finally snapped.
"What?!" She ran after him. "Oz, slow down! Where do you think you're going, anyway?!"
Oz halted briefly, and said in a low, very serious voice, his mouth tightening into a grim smile, "I'm going where the wild things are." He broke into a run, his manner suggesting an overall Ozness, as if the speed he had achieved could be dismissed as an amble.
Buffy ran a hand through her hair. She really, really, didn't need this.
* * *
(Oz's House)
Oz perched on a chair, having swabbed most of his cuts with peroxide. He held the portable phone in his right hand, knowing full well that this was the point of no return. He could stop now, or follow the foolish enterprise til the end.
He reached into his breast pocket, pulling out a small, silver Claddagh ring. Oz had found it placed on Willow's finger during the ride to the hospital. It was encrusted with a small amount of her blood. Rage built inside him, and Oz put the ring onto a chain, fastening it around his neck. He dialed the familiar number.
RRIINNG! RIINNG! A female voice from the other end came through. Oz bit his lip, and continued.
"Hi. It's Oz. Sorry, I know it's late to be calling you, but… I was wondering something. Do you have a minute, Aunt Maureen?"
THE END...OR IS IT? STAY TUNED...
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