Title: A Werewolf in London 1/2
Author: Kim
Email: lawyergirl152003@yahoo.com
Written: February 20, 2004
Pairing: Giles/Oz
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Through Chosen
Distribution: LJ, GRB, ODD, WG, etc.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. They belong to Joss, ME, Fox etc.
Feedback: Constructive criticism craved.
Thanks to phendog and malnpudl for the betas. Phen, as always, keeps me in commas and makes me focus. Linda tightened it up tremendously and helped Oz’s voice along. This story is so much better because of you both.
This was written for Phendog’s Live Journal Giles Birthday Ficathon.
Written for spikyllama
Three requirements: An unexpected phone call, something lost, and a furtive kiss.
Two things you DON'T want: Declarations of true love, unhappy ending.
The chill air urged Oz not to tarry as he walked along the London streets. So far, he found the city less than what he had hoped. The press of people triggered his urge to flee, to find places where he could run for miles on end with no one around. The scents of the city offended his heightened senses. Wolves might not smell quite as well as vampires, but they certainly weren’t as sense-blind as humans. Still, London was . . . London. You couldn’t love music as much as Oz did and not schedule a pilgrimage.
He turned the corner, eyes constantly scanning the crowd. Oz rarely admitted the real reason for his constant vigilance. He told himself that it was from years spent growing up on a Hellmouth – you paid attention, or you got dead. But, deep down, and for three days a month, he would admit what he was always looking for – prey. He never kidded himself; he might have control over the wolf inside, but it was always there.
Up ahead, he caught sight of a man who seemed very familiar. He sped up, dodging around the pedestrians, no easy feat in the late afternoon throng. As he approached, he saw it was indeed Giles, lost in thought, navigating his way through the crowd without appearing to pay the slightest bit of attention.
Ducking around a harried mother pushing a stroller, or pram--whatever they called them here--he reached Giles’ side. “Hey,” he said, by way of greeting.
Giles glanced at him, and it took several seconds before recognition dawned on his face. “Oz!” he exclaimed. “Whatever are you doing in London?” He gestured at Oz’s black hair. “I almost didn’t recognize you.”
Oz smiled slightly. “It seemed appropriate for London - an homage of sorts.”
“The glory days of punk music.” Giles smiled in return. It made Oz remember how much he had liked Giles, that Giles had other interests beyond books and Slayers and demons.
“Where are you staying?” Giles asked, glancing at the large duffle that Oz carried.
“Here and there, nowhere particular.” Oz replied, as they continued walking.
Giles gestured up the street. “Well, my flat is right around the corner; you’re more than welcome to stay, if you’d like.”
Instead of engaging in the usual dance of ‘I wouldn’t want to impose’ and ‘No, really, you’d be most welcome,’ Oz merely replied, “That’d be great.”
Upon reaching the flat, Giles unlocked the door and entered ahead of Oz without offering an invitation. Oz stepped inside and looked around. Whatever Giles did, he did well at it. The living room was large but inviting, dominated by a fireplace at one end. Bookcases lined the walls, framing the brown leather furniture; an antique liquor cabinet nestled in one corner. Giles stood in the center of the room. “The kitchen is over there,” he gestured to a door at one end of the living room. “Down the hall are the bedrooms and the bath. The guest room is the first door on the left, and the bath is across the hall. Make yourself at home. I’ll make some tea, unless you’d prefer a bottle of ale? I have Fuller’s.”
“Whichever you’re having is fine.”
Giles shrugged. “It’s been a long week. Fuller’s it is.”
While Giles went to get the beer, Oz took his bag to the guest room. It was a simple room, decorated in soothing shades of green. Oz was surprised, however, by the presence of a TV, DVD player, and mini-stereo. Returning to the main room, he accepted a bottle of beer from Giles before sinking down onto the couch. “Gotta say, I’m a little surprised by all the electronics in the guest room.”
Giles laughed as he sat in a chair, “Yes, well, Dawn helped decorate the room. She said if she had to visit from time to time, she didn’t have to be deprived.”
“Ah, I see. The kid has taste.”
Giles took a long pull from his beer. “At least she keeps her music to a decent level and plays better music than her sister’s wretched noise.”
Oz remembered some of Buffy’s workout sessions in the high school library. “That wouldn’t be hard,” he murmured, surprised when Giles laughed loudly and tilted his beer in salute at the comment.
“So,” Giles asked. “Where have you been? None of us heard from you after you left Sunnydale.”
“I went back to Nepal,” Oz began. “After Willow and that girl, Tara?” He continued at Giles’ nod. “After I lost it, I knew the wolf wasn’t nearly as under control as I thought. So, back to the monks. I lived there for a couple of years, until I knew I wasn’t going to lose it again. Since then, I’ve been traveling, seeing places I want to see, finding out as much as I can about my wolf.”
“So, you’ve tamed it then?” Giles asked intently, leaning slightly forward.
Oz stared at his beer and thought for a moment on how much to share. If anyone might understand, it would be Giles. When he met Giles’ eyes, it was with a feral grin. “There is no taming the wolf. I know that now. It’s not a part of me that can be housebroken. I can control it, control the change. I can even direct the violence, but I’ll never get rid of it.” He stared at a point over Giles’ head, seeing forests and plains, feeling the turf beneath his feet and the thrill of the hunt. “I don’t want to tame it. It’s wild, and it’s free.” He locked eyes with Giles again. “And, it’s a part of me.”
Giles leaned back, a look of satisfaction briefly crossing his face. “I’m glad you’ve made peace with it then. It’s hard for most of us to come to terms with what we are, let alone when changes such as yours are thrust upon us.”
For a moment, his face was unguarded, and Oz realized he was seeing more of Giles than he ever had before. No longer hiding behind the layers of Watcher, librarian, authority figure, or adult, he merely was what he was. And Oz was intrigued.
“What about you?” he asked, wanting to keep Giles talking. “What have you been doing?”
Giles explained about the destruction of Sunnydale, the creation of the army of Slayers, and the decision to rebuild the Council. While he talked, they moved to the kitchen to prepare dinner. As the food cooked, Giles continued talking about his move back to London and dealing with hundreds of new Slayers and very few Watchers. “Thus, here I am,” he finished. “Spending each day trying to recreate the Watchers Council and improve it at the same time. I’d like to complain and say that it’s dreadfully dull and taxing, but, actually,” his green eyes flashed with delight, “I’m having the time of my life.”
Hungrier for news of friends than he would have believed a day ago, Oz asked, “Are the others here, helping?”
Serving up the food on plates, Giles carried them to the table. “They are helping, but they aren’t here.” Gesturing that Oz should begin eating, he started his recitation, beginning with Willow, whom he assumed Oz was most eager to hear about.
“Willow operates the Council’s American headquarters. Regrettably, the majority of demonic activity still seems concentrated in the United States, so, it made sense to have more of the Council’s resources located there.”
“Did that cause problems with the remaining Watchers?” Oz asked around a mouthful of piquant curry.
“Among some,” Giles admitted. “Even more so when we began recruiting Watchers of different nationalities. But,” he gave a theatrical sigh, “the sun has set on the British Empire, and it is no longer necessary, or prudent, to send Brits all over the world. Willow has done excellent work both recruiting and training Watchers,” he proclaimed proudly.
“So Buffy helps Willow?” Oz assumed.
Giles laughed. “No, Faith is actually helping Willow in America.”
Oz lifted an eyebrow, a world of surprise conveyed by that small gesture. “Faith?”
Giles’ grin acknowledged the unlikelihood of that team. “Let us just say that is a long story for another night and more than a few pints. But, in short, Faith has reformed and is training Slayers in Cleveland. That’s where the current active Hellmouth is located,” he explained before Oz could question Cleveland’s selection. “Buffy is actually in Italy. She asked that, until Dawn is finished with her education, she be put on leave, so to speak. It’s very important to her that Dawn have some stability and normalcy. She assists with large problems, though. She recently returned from helping Faith with a demon uprising in Spokane.”
Oz paused in the process of lifting a forkful to his mouth. “Buffy and Faith working together? I’m surprised the city is still standing.”
“You have no idea,” Giles said wryly. “Actually, Buffy and Faith appear to have mended their rifts, which might even be greater cause for alarm. The amount of havoc the two of them can wreak is, well, apocalyptic, to put it mildly. We’ve all decided that it’s best to keep the two of them on separate continents as much as possible.”
Oz took a moment to contemplate the two Slayers and grimaced at the thought of the damage they could do. “And Xander?” he asked about the last of the core group.
The pride was back in Giles’ voice. “Xander spent the first year and a half or so traveling around Africa gathering up all of the newly-activated Slayers. It was certainly a learning experience for him.”
“And now?”
“Now, Xander is in charge of special missions for the Council - finding new Slayers, coordinating extraction teams if someone is in danger. Interestingly, however, his travels take him more and more frequently to Rome.”
“For Buffy?” Oz couldn’t imagine that Xander would try and retread those waters.
Giles snorted at the thought. “No, for Dawn. She’s become quite beautiful, and from what the girls tell me, Xander is entirely smitten. He’s trying, however, to let her grow up a bit before pressing his suit, so to speak. Buffy laughed the last time we spoke, though, because, apparently Dawn decided long ago that Xander was the one for her, so she’s patiently waiting for him to be ready.”
“So Buffy’s okay with it?”
“Buffy,” Giles paused for a reflective moment, “has matured quite a bit. She enjoys Rome and, for once, is taking the time to discover the woman she’s become and is in no hurry to rush headlong down another path without weighing her options.” If Giles’ pride at Willow’s and Xander’s success had been apparent, it was blinding now. His joy at the woman his Slayer had become seemed to lend him an air of contentment as well.
Dinner finished, they retired to the living room where the remainder of the evening passed in light discussion about music and whether current mainstream punk artists could even be considered as such, given their widespread popularity.
Finally, Giles yawned and announced he was headed for bed. “Would you like to do some sight seeing tomorrow?”
“Wouldn’t want to impose,” Oz replied.
“My weekend is free,” Giles stated. “I don’t propose that we go to the typical tourist places, but there are some things I think you’d like to see.” He flashed Oz a quick smile. “Some things I’d like to show you.”
“That’d be great,” Oz answered, climbing off the comfortable couch to head to bed himself.
“We don’t need to get an early start; so sleep as long as you like,” Giles said over his shoulder on his way down the hall. “Good night.”
“Night, Giles.”