Chapter Text
Drifters
by Maz
Driving away was the hardest thing he had ever done. His chest hurt; a sheer and physical pain. Her face; the tears streaming, that hitch in her breath. His heart broke again at the thought.
But, at the same time there was the certain, deep-seated knowledge that he had no choice. He loved her, with every thing he was. But he couldn't be with her; not until he knew, not until he understood himself.
So he drove. Got out of town along the coast road. Trying to put some distance between his life and his future.
Now, six hours later, he was looking for a place to pause. He had four weeks to prepare.
The confusion, the fear, guilt and anger, had faded; leaving, finally, resignation underlain with despair.
He had killed.
Somehow, in the crazy two years since Jody bit him, he had avoided that. Giles had prevented it; protected him from himself. The Scoobies had caught him that first full moon and locked him up, providing a safe haven for three nights a month for the rest of that year, and for the next, until he was confident enough to build his own cave to hide in. They had blown up his first cage, and he had helped. Graduation!
But now he had killed a human being. An intelligent and sentient creature. His wolf was at war with his reason, as his mind; his twenty-first century mind filled with ideals of peace and tolerance, was at war with the under-mind; the wolf. The wolf, who knew that luxury was a temporary and false promise. Because life alone was subsistence survival; a long tiring hunt for a meal, which was never enough to satisfy. The wolf knew that the price of having no pack was a solitary slide into starvation. And he had killed his only potential pack.
Until now he had successfully forced the wolf into submission. But the cost appeared to be a conflict that had produced a rift in his mind; the human, with his high ideals, untutored philosophy, yearning for peace, the wolf, cowed but angry, gathering its energy, taunting him with the promise that one day...
Her words had made promises, calling directly to the wolf: companionship, shared hunts, running free. Things he had never allowed himself.
And God help him! Her words had reached him, although it was her he had killed. The fractured pictures that were his human memories of the wolf were as confused as his human reason. The wolf had intended to kill Veruca, even as it yearned for the belonging she promised. And eventually, as the afternoon sun began its decent towards the horizon, that thought gave him a small measure of hope; the hope that his humanity could influence the wolf.
Ahead, Oz spotted a rest area by the beach and parked behind a light screen of trees. He pulled up as close to the sand as he could and got out to stretch weary muscles, feeling all the tension of driving and agonising. The sky was clear, with a hour 'til sunset, loads of time to set up camp and loads of driftwood, thrown high above the tidemark by some winter storm.
Apart from the mattress and blankets, which lived permanently in the back of the van, he had his guitar and his bass, some music and a few clothes. No food, but he wasn't hungry, or maybe just couldn't summon the energy it would require to do anything about it. He had been loading the van before going to find her. To tell her. Somehow knowing he would need a quick get-away. But she had come to him. Too soon. And afterwards, in the face of her pleading and her tears, all he could do was grab that last, half filled bag and run.
Sitting on the beach, watching the sun set, feeling his life fall apart and away, it hit him again - the look on her face. Sitting through the warm night, blindly watching the stars, he allowed the chaos free reign through his mind. Images of the cage in the crypt. The chase. Images of the lab and her fear. After he had killed Veruca, her fear. Then the bite of the bolt and then nothing, as the tranquilliser took hold.
By sunrise he had moved on to memories of picnics on the beach with the gang, or with Willow alone. Playing silly games, laughing, kissing and cooking sausages.
That day he fled inland.
*****
The first week went by unmarked. He found a store in a small town, bought bread and stocked up on easy to cook, long-life food; tins and packages. The next day he found another store and bought a can opener and a pan. Each day he drove; searching continuously for a quiet place to stop, somewhere with trees to screen the van from the road. Stopping there, no matter how early in the day. Learning that such places were not as plentiful as he had imagined. It didn't matter what time it was. It wasn't as if he was heading anywhere in particular.
And then it was three weeks to prepare and he knew he had to take hold, plan and act. Another small town. He spent the majority of his money on the measures he had been thinking through, all unknowing, over the past week. Roll bars fitted inside the body of the van, welded direct to the chassis, a crossbar set in brackets to prevent the back doors opening without it being unlocked first and finally a grill, separating the seats from the cargo compartment. The manacles and chains were fixed to the roll-bars.
Driving out of town, feeling satisfaction at having achieved this small measure of security, he pulled up at an intersection to allow a mother and small child to cross in front of him and it was all gone again; lost in the wave of loss and sorrow for all the things he knew he could, and would, never have.
But, intense emotion can only last so long, before it wears out both itself and its host. He began to stay in places for more than one night. The third week he stopped for three days, long enough to earn some money waiting tables at a road-side diner, covering for the regular guy being sick. He slept well. Then it was two days to go and time to find a quiet place, where it would be safe to stay a while. He found it on the second day, just as he was beginning to feel desperate. A track heading up into the hills, overgrown enough to reassure that no traffic came this way. He drove to the end to be certain and found the derelict hut it had once served.
Parking in the lee of the hut he prepared his camp. Gathered wood for a fire, stripped the cargo space and piled everything on the front seats. The mattress was clumsy to fold, but it fit across the seats, with all his other possessions, out of harm's way. Finally, as the sun neared the horizon, he climbed into the van and locked himself in.
*****
The next morning, feeling groggy and tired he inspected the damage. His wrists and ankles were cut and sore from the manacles, his memories were of anger and fighting helplessly, there were new scratches in the interior paint work, but he was safe. He had survived. Hope raised its tentative head.
After that, he grew more confident. He still had no idea what he was doing, where he was going, if he was going anywhere. But, he now felt he had a chance. Over the next month he worked more often. Stopping wherever he saw a 'help wanted' sign, doing all sorts of odd jobs, interacting with people again, even if only on a casual basis. Occasionally he busked in the street; until the police moved him on. After the second full moon, waking on the third morning to find another vehicle sharing his secluded rest area, he blacked out the rear windows with spray paint and acquired a cardboard sun-screen to block the front windows. After the third full moon, he felt he had his system perfected.
He wandered north for a few months, then on a whim, turned east. Early Autumn found him in the Montana mountains, above Great Falls, where he got work at a tourist hunting lodge. That was a good place, good people. The owner was a quiet man who used to be a reporter on TV news, before, he said, the addiction of the mountains just stopped him from going back to the city one day. His wife was fast and furious, still worked for some city firm by remote satellite link to her computer. Oz suspected that her income subsidised the lodge and kept it open.
The trees were turning and their rich golden colours soothed him. He woke before dawn and went for long walks before work started, scrambling over rocks and through clear running streams. He found a perfect look-out and on more than one morning sat and watched the sun rise. He chopped wood, cleaned rooms, tended the bar, served food and sold maps and tourist knick-knacks at the small gift shop. He felt comfortable there, with these people, and as the full-moon approached he almost told them the truth; opened his mouth to explain that he would have to go away for three days, but he would be back. But a burst of laughter behind him, from a group of city hunters in the bar, joking about shooting a wolf once, somewhere, on a previous trip, somewhere else, shut that impulse off and instead he quit and drove away with two days to spare.
*****
He kept going south, until he realised he had begun to miss the ocean; its calming rhythms had meant more to him than he knew. So, he headed back west, travelling slowly, and when he hit the coast road he saw a sign for Sunnydale. It was not actually that far, in miles, but it seemed an eternity away.
The next small town looked promising for work, but he was running close to his monthly deadline, so he concentrated on finding a place he could stop for three days. A mile past the last house he found it. It was perfect; a rest area, well screened by trees, long enough to allow him to pull right out of the way. During the days, he stayed near the van and just soaked up the sun, or went for walks along the beach. Time enough to look for work once it was over.
*****
The third morning, bleary, sore, bruised in new places, as always, he fumbled open the locks and blinked at the light. He had staggered a few steps, stretching and yawning, before he noticed the figure sitting cross-legged, twenty feet away, back resting against a tree.
"Xander!"
"Coffee?" Xander asked, lifting a thermos "I know how you like it, but I put in a bit more sugar. Figured you might need it."
Oz took a few minutes to react and stumble over. Xander rose and passed him a cup.
"Have you been here all three nights?" Xander went on.
"Uh? Yeah. Sorry. Bit much to take in"
"Oh! You mean the whole 'wow! what are you doing here? what a coincidence' thing?"
"Yeah, 'bout sums it up"
"Saw your truck in town the other day. Didn't place it at first. Pure chance I saw it last night. I was on my way home" He laughed looking back towards the road "I needed a piss."
"Home?"
"Yeah. I live just up the road. Saw the truck. Man, you've sure got some strong moves. I swear it was rocking on its shocks. Anyway, I figured it was best to just wait and practice my cool opening lines. Well, I went home and made coffee, obviously. You good with that?"
Oz looked down and found the cup empty. "Uh, yeah, thanks"
"Want more? Okay, come with. You can give me a lift. I'm sort of vehicularly challenged at the moment."
Together, they restored the interior of the van to its usual state of organised chaos. Then Xander gave the simple directions that took them to a trailer park a further half a mile out of town.
Sitting at the small table in Xander's trailer, drinking more coffee while Oz idly strummed his guitar, Xander had to laugh. "This place? Oxnard. Well, just outside. Bit of a hike to get to work, but hell! Exercise is good for you. At least, so they always told me. It only takes me about forty-five minutes to get into town. You really didn't know where you were?"
"I've sort of just been driving for the last few months. No maps, just taking whatever road looked good on the moment. What are you doing here?"
"Well, short version. I set off on my road-trip. Got to Oxnard. The engine fell out of the car and I'm still here."
Oz just kept looking at him.
"Okay, I work at the Fabulous Ladies' Night-club" In response to the quirked eye-brow he added "Well, its not fabulous and its not for ladies, but it is a night-club... sort of."
Oz started to pick out a few bars on his guitar and Xander laughed as Oz misquoted the chorus line "... Don't be sad. 'Cause one out of three ain't bad."
"No, seriously" Xander laughed "It really isn't so bad. I started out in the kitchens. For the first month or so. Washing dishes. No one really bothered me, or even spoke to me. Then one night... Well anyway, I didn't have to do that again. But the point is that after that, it kind of changed and I got promoted to bar duty and I got to meet people and like I say, they just saw me as Xander, the guy with the false ID. Except I guess they didn't know that, about it being false I mean. And I was free. Free to be me. No history. No dorky school kid stuff in their heads. They just see Xander, and they like me. It was kind of weird at first. But, I got to like it and I'm comfortable now."
"A lot of people like you Xander. Maybe, you just like yourself more now?"
Xander laughed, embarrassed by how far the conversation had moved. He got up to make more coffee, just for the chance to turn his head away and break the mood that was developing. "So, what about you? What is your road-trip excuse? What happened to college? I thought you were all set to go to UC Sunnydale and do the college thing?"
"Yeah, so did I. And I was. I did most of a whole semester. Then..."
Xander looked up as Oz ground to a halt, his eyes sympathetic again as he realised this was not some light-hearted jaunt for his friend.
Oz told his story; the whole thing with Veruca, the fact that he almost killed Willow, the fact that Buffy had stopped him and that Willow was safe; because he was not there. "It's like my whole life is gone. Willow; she seems like a dream now. I can't remember anymore what loving her was like. But, somehow, it is still there too. Inside. I can't touch it, but it will always be there.
Xander smiled sadly "You will. Find it again I mean. What you can't know is what it will mean when you do. Whether it will be the same, or something different."
"And your saying that it will be okay, whatever it is?"
"I guess I am."
"I do know it won't be the same. I'm too different. I've been alone for months, with nothing to do but," twisted grin, "lock myself up three nights a month. I've done a lot of thinking."
"Come to any conclusions?"
"No. Just more circular arguments."
"Maybe you should stop thinking then. Let it lie there for a while. It might sort itself out, if you don't worry at it. Suddenly, one day, it will be all clear in your head, like you always knew it, but just didn't recognise it until now."
Oz smiled back up at him "Maybe."
"You know?" Xander said "I don't think I've ever heard you say so much in one go before."
"Oh, well, that's company. I don't do so well in large groups. My company voice is mostly silence."
Xander made breakfast. A big greasy fry-up, to give them both energy he said, since neither of them had had much sleep.
Later Oz walked in to town with Xander. With his testimonial as a hard worker, from Mike and Jackie at the hunting lodge, he found short-term work in a tourist hotel; general help in the kitchen and rooms. The season had really wound down and most of the casual work had moved on. The hotel was not that busy.
Over the next two weeks they fell into a pattern. Oz started work first, so he would leave Xander to tidy away the breakfast things. Xander would walk down to work later and Oz would join him when he got off at 9pm and sit at the bar nursing a beer, ignoring the working girls, mostly ignoring the strippers and occasionally getting hit on by a customer. Those he would turn away with a smile and a shake of his head. Quite often, when Xander looked around, he would see Oz in conversation with another customer. He seemed relaxed and to be enjoying the company, although Xander doubted that the drunken meanderings of the late night crowd could be as interesting as the college conversations he imagined Oz had left behind. Then at 2am, when the club itself closed, he would drive them both back to the trailer.
Oz found that he enjoyed staying with Xander. As he got to know him, he enjoyed his conversation and the occasional startling insights into why people did things, or why things were the way they were. Before, he had always been on the edge of the group; an extension of Willow, and although he would have said that Xander was a friend, they had never really been close. Now though, he found this more relaxed and confident Xander, both thoughtful and intellectually challenging. Xander was both practical and pragmatic. On more than one occasion Oz saw him break up a potential bar fight, before it really got started. Then, with a disarming grin, smooth the ruffled feathers and either escort the offenders out, or serve them another drink.
Some mornings they would sit over the breakfast dishes discussing the people in the bar the night before, constructing complex histories for any who had particularly caught their attention or making half-assed plans for what to do on their days off, which always came to nothing. Sometimes Oz would just listen as Xander held forth on some minor point in the lyrics of the song playing on the radio or told stories about the vampires and monsters the Scoobies had met and fought before Oz joined the group.
But as two weeks turned to three, Oz began to get twitchy. He knew he would have to leave.
It was on the Saturday morning, four days before the full-moon, that Xander suddenly broke off his description of the world tour he was constructing for Oz, for when he hit the big time, to say "Can I come with you?"
Oz paused before answering. "On the world tour?"
"No, I mean when you leave, next week." He stopped himself for a minute. "Oh, sorry. No. I guess that wouldn't work would it? Forget I said that. I just... could see you working up to it. Full-moon coming. I know you think you have to leave. I mean, your job is coming to an end anyway, isn't it? I know you were trying to work out how long you had and whatever. I just thought... Well, never mind. You'll be fine. I'll be fine. You don't want someone else along for your big journey anyway. I mean, it's not supposed to be like that, is it? It's kind of a personal thing."
"Why would you want to come with me?" Oz asked.
"Huh? Well, I like you, and I've been here more than a year, and I did set out to do a road-trip. You know? See America. I just guess that I've enjoyed the last couple of weeks. Enjoyed having company and I guess I feel it's time for me to move on too?"
"Yes, I'd like that" said Oz.
On Tuesday Oz quit his job and drove back down to the rest area.
Each morning Xander brought coffee, before heading off to work. On Thursday night Xander left the night-club bar for the last time and on Friday they packed all their belongings into the van and drove away.
Once again Oz headed inland. Xander had no desire to go anywhere in particular, that had been the point when he first left Sunnydale, but, he said, he had never seen the mountains. As for Oz, he seemed to be permanently fixed in drift mode. They stopped wherever they could find work and drove whenever they couldn't; usually sleeping in the van, but stopping at a motel when hand basin washes no longer served.
They talked idly, sometimes deeply; setting the world to rights in casual phrases. Oz set about educating Xander in as wide a range of music appreciation as his somewhat diminished collection of tapes allowed. Xander chatted sometimes about Sunnydale, wondering aloud what everyone was doing, deliberately mentioning Willow, telling Oz stories of childhood games and all-night research parties. Oz played his guitar, when Xander drove. Xander began collecting badges, with the names of towns and places on. He never wore them, just kept them in a box next to the mattress. Something to remind him he said; something small enough not to evict them from their bed.
*****
"So what's that like?"
"Huh?"
"You said that you remembered the wolf? I thought that when the wolf was there, you were gone?"
"Yeah. I was at first. But, it's like, in the last few months, maybe the last year, I have got a bit more."
"More?"
"The memories are clearer, still fragmented, but I do remember."
"Do you think the Wolf and you are getting to know each other? Or something? What do you remember?"
Oz glanced over at where Xander was leaning casually on the wheel, using his elbows to steer as he gazed out at the empty road ahead. "Well, mainly chains and the inside of the van, recently."
Xander laughed, glanced over and returned his grin with a rueful look of his own. "Okay! Get that! But what about before?"
"The cage."
"Smart ass!"
".... and fighting." Off Xander's glance he added "Fighting the chains. The Wolf doesn't like being locked up."
"You never felt tempted to let it out?"
"No!"
"Why not?"
"It, I, It! It killed Veruca, almost killed Willow, remember?"
"No, I mean since then. Further north, in the mountains, there must be places miles from any human. You could...."
"No!"
"Yeah, I guess not. After all, there might be a family camping anywhere these days. Can't have you smorgasbording on the happy campers."
"Tasteless Xander."
"No, I would think they would be very tasty. Once they stopped twitching."
"Shut up!"
"Okay."
*****
That night, lying on their backs staring up at the roof of the van, before sleep arrived:
"Can you communicate with the Wolf?"
"No. I just remember stuff. I can't control it."
"So maybe control is the wrong idea. Anyway, that's not what I asked."
"Communicate....? Hmm!"
The next morning Oz woke up to find he had rolled over in the night and had his arm around Xander. He got up softly, to avoid waking and embarrassing his partner, or maybe himself.
*****
"Do you miss it?" Oz asked thoughtfully "The Scooby stuff?"
"Oh no! After a year of not being smacked into walls, or dodging swords? I think I can safely say 'I really don't!'"
*****
Their first full moon together they found a secluded spot, far from any town. Xander helped Oz strip the van. He set out his tarp and sleeping bag on the ground beside it and then watched Oz prepare.
Oz seemed to have a well established routine; he stripped off and Xander watched him lock on the manacles, wrapping a torn t-shirt around the steel as padding. Xander pushed the doors closed and heard the snick of the lock. Then he waited.
The risen moon was still hidden beyond the surrounding trees when he heard the first sounds of scratching, claws on metal, from inside.
Xander built a fire.
The scratching was replaced by howls and the van began to shake.
Xander pulled out a pan and cooked sausage and beans over the fire, concentrating on the flickering of the flames.
At midnight Xander gave up on trying to sleep and concentrated on keeping the fire going instead; huddled in his bag, chin resting on his knees and his arms wrapped around his legs.
About two o'clock the noise and the shaking finally lessened and then stopped. Xander slowly got up and crept around to the front of the van, peering in at the windscreen. The bright moonlight showed the wolf lying on the floor, panting. It looked as if it had fought itself to exhaustion. Hearing its low rumbling growl and breathing a prayer of thanks that Oz had proved to be a good welder, Xander finally lay down to sleep.
That proved to be the pattern for the next two nights. During the day, Oz was listless. He slept a little but, on the whole, tried to stay awake; explaining his theory that if he was tired at sunset, the wolf would tire more quickly during the night. Xander was not sure his own observations supported that theory, and said so. But, he was glad enough of even half-awake company.
After three days of boredom and three disturbed nights he was very glad to move on. "Next time we need to find a place a bit closer to a town." he said "Maybe I could get a job. You know; night-shift. Or, maybe I should find a hobby, like cross-stitch or wood carving."
"If it's something to do at night, I'd go for wood carving; cross-stitch would ruin your eyes."
*****
They kept moving, meandering; going nowhere, slowly.
Xander was fighting a loosing battle with a map when he suddenly paused to ask "Did I ever tell you about the Hyena?"
Oz glanced away from the road to look at him. "Willow mentioned it once. You were possessed."
"Hmm, I can guess the way that conversation went. It would have been something like; ''Bug Lady, Hyena, Incan Mummy, possibly nightmare clown, soldier'." He didn't sound the least upset by this all too accurate insight into his friend's thought processes. "At least I didn't get the computer demon or the demonic egg possession" he added smugly.
Oz grinned. "I think she was trying to warn me. Not about you, stupid! About the dangers of the Hellmouth."
"Oh, yeah, and I am a prime example to all new Scoobies; what to avoid doing in any given situation."
Oz's grin turned sly, "She gave me the full scoop on the love spell too."
"The full...? Like Cordy and Joyce and...? Oh God! Is nothing sacred to that woman?
"Forget that! I was going to say something meaningful. I was! The hyena."
"Why don't you tell me about the Hyena, Xander?"
"Right! Yes! This is important! And deep! And meaningful! Damned if I can remember it though. Oh no! Wait! The hyena. I got possessed and I told them I didn't remember it." Oz nodded his agreement that this was the story he had heard. "But I did. I kind of lied. It was all a bit embarrassing. Eating a pig and all. Not to mention pack behaviour." Xander gave an exaggerated shudder and laughed. "Actually, that was kind of nice, in a twisted, out-of-control sort of way."
Oz negotiated a tight hair-pin bend before replying "I can imagine that. Pack. It would be, seductive."
"Yeah" Xander sighed. "Anyway, they reversed it. As they always do. And I was me again. The hyena was gone. Is gone. But, it's like it left a mark. Sort of a shadow, or, or a flavour, somewhere deep inside me. Sometimes I think I can talk to it. Maybe not talk. More, feel it, what it would be thinking or what it would do. Especially when things got a bit hellmouthy. It, she, helped me in a fight. Gave me an extra burst of energy or something."
"She?"
Xander laughed "Trust you to latch on to the important details. Yes. She."
"So, you are saying...?"
"Maybe you need to get to know your inner wolf."
Xander resumed his battle to fold the map and Oz... cogitated.
*****
The first time Xander woke to find Oz snuggled up to him, still asleep, he didn't move until Oz woke up, gave a small start and pulled away.
Xander sat up, smiled at him, and went to make coffee.
Oz lay back on his own pillow with a 'Hmmph'. Then he shrugged, deciding that if it didn't bother Xander, then he wouldn't let it bother him. He had come to rely on Xander's company and really didn't want any awkwardness to mar the smooth pattern they had developed in their strange life together.
*****
"So tell me more about the Hyena."
"What do you want to know?"
Oz was strumming his guitar, playing snatches of random tunes as they occurred to him, while Xander drove.
"You said it was female?"
"Yeah. Pack leader. Made me the leader of the little pack of five that ran amuck through Sunnydale for a short time. I wasn't there for Principal Flutie. You know that, don't you?"
Oz nodded a 'yes'.
"But I was pack leader, so I guess even that was kind of my responsibility."
"You didn't set them up to it though." It was not a question.
"No" Xander agreed "I was too busy being locked in your book cage at the time."
"My book cage, your book cage; something else we have in common."
"Cages can be good. They can save lives. As long as they don't out-live their usefulness."
"Are you getting deep on me?"
"Nah! just felt like a good line."
"hmm."
"With the soldier," said Xander, reverting to topic "it was like I was trapped inside my own body. Able to watch what he was doing, but unable to do anything about it. He didn't know what was going on. He didn't recognise Willow or Buffy or Angel. He was operating on his training. Luckily, Willow was there, as a ghost, to stop him shooting anybody. He was pretty freaked. But the Hyena," Xander paused and drew in a breath, as if to fortify himself. "That was me. At least, it wasn't, but I was there. Am I making any sense?"
"You weren't trapped and watching?"
"Yeah, that's what I mean. The Hyena sort of tapped in to my baser instincts. And maybe added a few of her own. It was fun! You know? Picking on the little kid, instead of being the kid who was picked on. Being the leader; that was a rush too. I attacked Buffy, did you know?"
"No, I didn't hear that one."
"Well good! Some things remain private. The Hyena; she was a she, but I was a straight up male. She wanted a mate. Someone as strong as her. We recognised that in Buffy. I kind of forced myself on her."
"What?"
"Well, I tried. She fought me off. Thankfully! Hit me with a desk and took me to Giles. Hence the book cage."
"Plus, you were attracted to Buffy at the time."
"Oh yeah, big high-school crush. She came into our lives like a tiny blonde whirlwind and everything went to Hell. I lost Jesse." Xander paused again for a moment or two, staring blankly out at the road ahead, before he pulled himself together again. "And she was just so strong. So certain. So full of destiny. She didn't always know what she was going to do, but she always did it with determination. She was solid, and I just wanted to cling on to her. Like she was the only log floating in the ocean."
"Now you're getting poetic."
Xander laughed, a slightly choked, relieved sound, "Well, we can't have that. What were we talking about?"
Oz took pity on him and went back to the beginning of the conversation. "The Hyena."
"Oh yes! The Hyena! What did you really want to know?"
"How it felt."
"Okay. Honestly? It felt good. I said that already didn't I? You know, I spent a lot of time not really thinking too much about it. Years. But in the end I had to face up to it. What I can admit now is that we weren't separate entities in a single body. We were one. Those feelings of joy and pleasure came from me too. I know I said she added some basic instincts of her own, but once they were there, they were mine. I wasn't exactly a calm person then, you know?"
Oz quirked an eye brow "And now you are?"
Xander laughed "Well, maybe not so much. But I was worse then. I was carrying around a whole load of insecurities and resentments. I got this power, and I couldn't handle it. I went kind of mad. It wasn't just the Hyena; it was mad-Xander too."
"And when she was gone?"
"Straight into denial and repression. I think it was almost a year before I even allowed myself to think about it. Even longer before I looked at it seriously. The trouble was, you probably know this already, I had to learn it the hard way; repression doesn't work. It was all still there; a tangled mess of resentment and fear." Xander gave a short bitter laugh. "Made me a bit difficult to live with sometimes. I think, that might have been part of what made me so hard on Angel. You were around then. You saw how I was."
"You saw a similarity?"
"Maybe. He was always fighting himself. Like if he relaxed, he was afraid he would kill everyone. Yes, I suppose I saw a similarity. Didn't make me sympathetic though."
"I got that."
"Yeah. I was pretty obvious about how I felt."
"So what eventually happened to get you to this current happy state of acceptance?"
Xander laughed again. A more relaxed and forgiving laugh this time. "I took a road-trip. Okay, so I know I didn't get very far. But, I had time with nothing to do but think. I met new people, who didn't know the Sunnydale me. They accepted me for what I was and that gave me space to be myself. Haven't we done this speech already sometime?"
"Maybe, but I didn't have the background then."
Xander took a breath. "You know? It wasn't only the Hyena I came to terms with in Oxnard."
"Yeah, you've changed a lot."
"I'm happy with myself. For the first time in my life.
"I found out I was gay too."
"Huh!"
Xander laughed "That's it? That's all I get? I come out, for the first time to someone who has known me for years, and all I get is a 'huh'?"
Oz gave him a slow smile. "Not really in a position to take the moral high-ground; even if I wanted to" he said, and quirked his eye-brow.
"Are you flirting with me?"
Oz sighed and looked down. "No. Sorry. I..."
"Hey! Don't sweat it! I know!" Xander placed his right hand dramatically over his heart. "Your heart belongs to another." He paused and looked straight into Oz's eyes. "Seriously. Don't worry! I'm not about to come on to you. I know about not making assumptions, and not rushing people, and what do you mean 'you're not in a position...'?"
*****
Then came the morning Oz woke up to find his head resting on Xander's shoulder, his leg slung across Xander's thighs, his morning erection pressing into Xander's side and Xander's arm around him.
He felt Xander shift, beneath him, and turn his head slightly to look down at him. "We keep waking up like this."
"Yeah."
"I like it." Then Oz's head fell back down on to the mattress as Xander stretched, groaned, and got up; shuffling down the mattress, until he reached the open doors of the van. "I'll make coffee" he said.
When Oz surfaced, dressed and sort of awake, Xander went back to the van to find the rest of his clothes.
"Do we need to talk?" Oz asked, as they gradually re-established their humanity, with the aid of caffeine.
"Probably" said Xander.
"Go on then."
"Uh huh! You're the cuddler, I'm the cuddlee. You start."
"Okay. I like it too. Is that a good start?"
"Probably the best!"
"But, you were right too. What you said last week. At least you might have been." Xander just looked his question, so Oz continued. "I don't know who owns my heart right now. I feel it should be Willow. But I don't know any more. She seems so long ago, so far away."
"Hey! It's okay! No rush, no pressure. I'm not looking for you to give it to me. I mean, I like you. And cuddling is nice. Really. But, like I said, I'm not about to come on to you. I don't want to screw up what we've got here. Okay?"
"Yeah. Okay."
"Right then! Lets get this show on the road!"
For a few days Oz delayed going to bed, until he knew Xander was already asleep, and then he tried to stay on the other side of the van. He even considered sleeping outside, but it seemed that would be making a big a thing, out of something they were both trying to play down. Xander had been so considerate, not making anything of it. Anyway, it was nice waking up in someone's arms.
*****
Full moon was once again approaching. Their fourth, or was it their fifth, together?
Xander wasn't sure if he was just getting accustomed to the noise, but he had found it easier to get to sleep the last couple of months. He suspected that the wolf fought less in its chains. Oz was not so sure, but he agreed that he felt better in the mornings. He had taken to meditating when he first got up, while Xander organised breakfast. When asked what he meditated about, he gave a self-deprecating laugh and said that he was 'trying to learn to love his inner wolf'.
They had found work on a farm for the last three weeks. Xander wasn't exactly sure what State they were in. The two sons of the family, twin boys, had gone away to college the previous Fall and their father, Tom, was running late with the spring chores.
They ate with Tom and his wife, Marianne, and slept in the van in the barn.
The local town was a fair sized place, with a mixture of old-rich neighbourhoods, slums and a bit of industry. They went into town with Tom and Marianne one Friday night; Tom was headed to his regular bar for his weekly drink, while Marianne visited with friends. They ended up staying with Tom all evening. It was Marianne who drove them all home.
Three weeks of home cooking, good conversation over the kitchen table at night, access to a proper bathroom and regular laundry; they were once again sorry to leave a place.
Oz offered to find a spot and come back in a week, but Xander didn't feel right allowing Oz to go off on his own to face his demon. It was not that he could really do anything to help, but somehow bailing on the moral support front didn't seem right. He was surprised at the flash of relief that crossed Oz's usually calm face when he refused to countenance the idea.
*****
"You know. You might be right."
"Of course I'm right! What am I right about?"
"Communication. I've been thinking. If I let my mind drift, I can almost feel it, inside."
"What does it feel like? And please don't drift while you're driving."
"No, not when I'm driving, but like now. I can relax and let the world drift by and feel it inside. It's almost like it's there, asleep but dreaming. Dreaming me."
"Are you a man who dreams he is a wolf, or a wolf that dreams it is a man?"
Oz laughed "Yeah, maybe. Except, there is no doubt that this is not a dream. Monthly evidence of that. But maybe, maybe I can feel it now."
"So? What do you feel?"
"As if it is warm, sleepy, but on the verge of awareness. I feel as if, if I could just reach out, I could touch it."
"You think it is warm and feels safe?"
"Yes, I think so."
"So it likes you?"
*****
The spot they eventually found was passable, although not perfect; a rest area a few miles beyond the next town, screened by short scrub and spindly trees. But this was flat country, so the chances of finding something better, were poor. They backed in as far as they could, right up against the grass verge, away from the road, and made camp. No fire tonight, for fear of attracting attention, but the camping stove provided a hot meal, backed up by the apple pie Marianne had thrust upon them as they left.
For the first time they did not make camp for three days. The road was not heavily used, but a van parked for three days in such a spot could attract attention. Each morning they put the van back together and drove into town.
They spent the days in diners, drinking bottomless cups of coffee, in the public library, where Oz could catch a nap and in walking the streets, checking out the situation, seeing if there was any work that attracted them for the next week.
Each afternoon they drove back to the rest area and pulled back as far out of sight as they could.
It was in the dark hours of the third night that Xander was woken by the sound of a powerful engine and an anti-socially loud stereo. He raised his head blearily and peered under the van. A car was pulling in. Thankfully it pulled up near the entrance and the music stopped abruptly as the engine was cut.
Xander gave silent thanks for small mercies and snuggled back down into the warmth of his sleeping bag. The occupant of the car had not come for them; probably hadn't even noticed them.
It wasn't until one door of the car was wrenched open that Xander realised his sleep was over for the night. The argument between a man and a woman seemed to be in full flow as the woman scrambled out the car.
Once again, Xander peered out from beneath the van. He could see the car and the woman's feet as she backed away, screaming. "No! Come on! You said I wouldn't have to. You said, if I didn't want to, I could say 'no'."
The driver's door opened and a pair of male legs walked around the front of the car.
"That was before. Now it's different. He wants you. And. You. Will. Do. It." The last words were accompanied by a gasping scream from her.
Xander crawled forward, out of his bag, so he was peering around the front of the van.
The guy had grabbed her by the hair, forcing her head back and her back to bow, as she tried to stay on her feet.
She whimpered again. "Please Clyde, please. You said I didn't have to."
He wrenched her forward, so she staggered towards him, almost bent double. "Do you have any idea who this guy is? If he wants to fucking watch you do it with a fucking elephant, you'll do it, and smile."
Xander gasped and glanced quickly up to the door of the van and then at his watch. 3am, no help there. But he couldn't just lie here and do nothing, could he?
The woman was crying now; great sobs, still held in place by his hand in her hair.
"For God's sake woman, stop that fucking racket!" He pulled her back upright and swung his free arm wide and open-handed, to catch her hard behind the ear with a neck rocking slap. She cried out again and slumped to her knees.
Xander slowly climbed to his feet, standing in the dark by the driver's door. He glanced into the van and saw the wolf; its nose up to the grid of the cage, obviously interested, but undisturbed by the noise outside.
The man let go of her hair and lifted back one foot. "Don't worry, that won't bruise. This might though!" and his foot swung forward, slamming into her hip. She slumped sideways to the ground.
As he lifted his foot again, this time aiming at her stomach, Xander somehow found himself running. He barrelled into the guy and they both went down, rolling together in a tangled heap.
*****
The wolf had watched the dispute with interest, but no alarm, until it saw its Pack/Human running into the fray. Somewhere at the back of its mind there was a denial; a 'no, no, no!' Agitation arose. Wolf/Oz watched Pack/Xander rush forward and grapple the man to the ground. He watched them tumble and roll to the floor. He saw them roll apart and Xander climb to his feet, just as the Other/Man rushed forward. He saw the flash of the knife. He smelt the blood as Xander/Pack staggered back, clutching his arm. The knife lay on the ground between them.
He watched as Xander/Pack began to circle, away from the woman as she lay on the ground hugging herself, facing his attacker.
Wolf/Oz felt his alarm grow. He began to pull at his bonds, crashing the chains and rocking the van.
*****
"What the fuck you got in there?" The man asked, momentarily distracted.
"You really wouldn't believe it." gasped Xander, as he tried to pull himself together. But as he spoke the guy sprang, punching Xander in the face and following through with a kick to his body.
Xander fell, then tried to scramble backwards, out of reach, as the guy bent to pick up the knife.
*****
Wolf/Oz was becoming desperate. The 'no, no, no' in the back of his head was still beating its back-ground tattoo. But in addition, there was the need to be calm. As this feeling grew, a new refrain took over 'think, think, think' and paws began to change, elongate and separate; still not human hands, but now able to function as such.
Oz/Wolf searched wildly, getting his bearings, searching for the hiding place where the human hid the key. As he remembered more of his human actions, he grabbed the key from the hook by the cage.
*****
Xander was trying to get to his feet and 'oh, fuck, what do I do now?' His shoulder hit the trunk of a tree behind him and he felt the memory of the Hyena rise. He growled and began to gather himself into a crouch, to give himself enough leverage to pounce as the guy approached, ignoring the snarls coming from the direction of the van.
The knife was shaking slightly, but still held firmly, and threateningly, at waist level as the man again approached. "You should keep out of other peoples' business" he snarled. "But since you've chosen to be in; well you get this."
Xander sprang, keeping low. The knife flashed as he grasped the wrist and pushed up with his legs forcing them into close contact, the knife now above their heads as each of them strained. He lifted his knee, trying for the balls, but made contact with the guy's thigh instead. At that moment the guy staggered slightly and Xander's leg hooked around his. They both fell to the ground. In the fall Xander lost his grip on the knife hand but managed to get his elbow onto the guy's throat. He lowered his head and bit at the exposed neck beneath his arm. The guy yelled out in pain and alarm, rolling them over and trying to pull free.
"What the fuck?" he screamed. "You fucking bit me! You bastard!" His indignation seemed to give him a extra burst of strength and suddenly he was on top, bringing the knife up, intent now only on finishing this quickly.
He neither saw nor heard the growl of the approaching beast; not until the Wolf hit him hard with clawed feet, sending him rolling away again. The wolf's own momentum sent him into an ungainly somersault, but he ended on all four feet and pounced again.
Xander lay dazed for a second, but the adrenaline was still pumping fast and he staggered to his feet.
By then it was too late to do anything, even if he had wanted to, even if he could. The wolf, ignoring a bleeding slash across his own chest, was worrying the man, who's own cries were already fading.
Xander collapsed back to the ground and sat watching as the wolf finished its kill. Somewhere inside a voice was saying 'Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Oh fuck! You're next. What do you do?' but higher brain functions refused to engage.
The wolf snarled as he pulled his mouth away from the bloody neck below him. His head swung round and he gazed at Xander with glowing amber eyes.
Without conscious thought, Xander dropped his own eyes to the ground, then lowered his body, so he was lying flat on his back. He tilted his head back exposing his neck and waited, eyes closed. The faint voice inside was now screaming 'Stupid, stupid, you're going to die, he's going to rip your throat out' but Xander couldn't move. Didn't even know how to start.
He felt, rather than heard, the wolf approach. Hot breath hit his face and he screwed his eyes tighter. Then, the gentle prickle of teeth, touching but not biting, seeming to encompass his whole neck and a warm tongue against his skin. The hyena instincts were vividly forward in his mind and he began to relax.
The mouth was withdrawn and the wolf backed away slightly, sounding a low, growling rumble from deep in its throat. Xander rolled over onto his front and, keeping his eyes lowered to the ground, slowly rose to his hands and knees.
The wolf came forward again, sniffing and gently butting him with its head. Xander found himself sitting back on his feet with his arms around the wolf's neck alternately grabbing hold of its fur and stroking it.
"My god Oz. Are you alright?"
The wolf snuffled into his neck.
They sat like that for a moment or two, before Xander became aware that what he was now hugging was not the wolf he had seen in the van, nor was it a man, but something half way between the two. "Oz, can you hear me? Is that you Oz?"
The wolf-man growled again, panting heavily, as his features began to shift slightly more towards human. He opened his mouth and in a voice distorted and harsh, he growled "B' ge' me back t' the cage. K'w'kly!"
"Okay! Okay!" Xander tried to pull himself together. "Come on then, come on, this way" Keeping his back bent and one hand on the wolf's neck he half staggered, half ran, back to the open doors of the van and the wolf jumped in. "Sorry man. I can't do the manacles. I'll just have to lock you in. Please be careful. Don't hurt yourself."
He slammed the doors shut, leant back against them and began searching the camp site for anything to prop them with, since he had also not been able to set the bar in place. There was nothing. "Oz man, we got to make this operable from both sides." he muttered to himself as he scrambled round to the cab and opened the passenger door.
The wolf was back in full and jumped up against the grid of the cage. He didn't seem to be as violent as Xander had feared, which was reassuring, considering the only plan he could come up with for securing the doors. Xander grabbed the length of clothesline they used on those occasions when a stream was easier to find than a Laundromat and raced back to the rear, tying the door handles together as firmly as he could. Only then did he begin to relax, slumping back and beginning his slow slide down into a heap, head resting back against the door. He could hear the wolf, snuffling and snarling quietly inside.
He was just beginning to think that this was a good place to stay, at least for the rest of this lifetime, when a tentative voice interrupted his exhaustion.
"Hey man? You okay? Your dog, he alright?"
TBC