Title: An American Werewolf in Westbury, Part 3/3
Author: Neena (varscona_pal@yahoo.ca)
Pairing: Giles/Oz
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: All things Buffy belong to Joss Whedon, ME and Fox, etc. I have no claim on them; I only wish I did.
Feedback: Totally!
Distribution: just ask.
Spoilers: Set between seasons six and seven, with Giles in England with Willow.
Summary: There’s a bad, naughty moon rising…
WARNING!: This chapter contains seriously warped naughtiness involving an animal (or whatever you would consider a werewolf to be). It’s twisted. Sorry.
The shadows began to lengthen in Giles’ bedroom as the afternoon wore on. After Giles had brought them both some lunch, they’d spent nearly the entire day just laying in bed and getting to know each other. Oz told stories about his travels that made Giles laugh. Only Oz could manage to make travelling in Tibet humorous. He’d laughed more in one day than he had in the previous two years combined. It felt as if the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders.
“Are you hungry?” asked Giles, when he realised it was getting close to dinner time.
“For food? Not really,” Oz answered, and playfully nipped at Giles’ belly. Giles squirmed under the tickling tongue.
“Remember what I said about biting, Oz,”
“Don’t worry, I won’t break the skin, I promise.” He continued to nibble at Giles’ flesh, pleased at the reaction it provoked in him. When at last he’d nibbled his way to the prize, Giles sat up and stopped him.
“What time is it?” he asked anxiously.
“Giles, chill. We’ve got at least another hour before sunset. Plenty of time for a little…” he finished by taking Giles’ hard penis into his mouth. Giles groaned and fell back on the bed. He watched the spiky-blond head nuzzling at his groin and wondered how he’d got so lucky.
It was then that the pieces fell into place. His “luck” was manufactured—brought about by the meddling (but well-meaning) Willow. He was seized by a brief flash of anger, but with Oz’s talented mouth working it’s magic on him, he quickly let it drop. After all, did it really matter how they’d come together?
Willow was humming quietly to herself as she strolled through one of the estate’s many herb gardens. She was still hyped about her match-making success with Giles.
Morgan, one of the youngest Wiccans , passed her quickly, clutching a burlap-wrapped parcel close to her chest. Willow waved, but the girl didn’t seem to notice. Davina, Sue and Rachel followed hot on her heels, also carrying off bundles in their arms.
“Hey guys—what’s up?” Willow called after them.
Sue waited for Willow to catch up with her “Luanne sensed a dark presence on the property this morning, but it’s hidden somehow. We’re going to do a spell to reveal it so we can get rid of it.” Strictly speaking, Sue knew she wasn’t supposed to tell Willow, because, technically, she wasn’t a member of the coven. But Sue had never been very good at keeping secrets. And besides, Willow was…well…Willow.
“How is this dark force hiding itself?” asked Willow.
“Well,” said Sue, really getting into it. “Luanne thinks it’s hiding inside someone, waiting for some kind of trigger to release it. It could be anyone—even you or me!” She seemed excited at the possibility.
“Can I help?” asked Willow. “I’ve had loads of experience with the baddies—I could be kinda handy to have around if one shows up.”
“I don’t know,” said Sue. “The revealing spell uses some dark magicks, Willow. You know you’re not allowed to dabble with that stuff.”
“Oh, of course not. I didn’t mean ‘help’ as in ‘help with the spell’. I meant more like ‘help beat the beastie with a stick if it tries to get away’ kind of help. I just want to watch.” Willow was itching for some action—even if it was only to observe others performing spells. The chance to watch a real coven at work was an opportunity she didn’t want to miss.
Sue seemed to consider it carefully for a moment before happily agreeing to allow Willow to tag along. She brought her to a part of the building she’d never been in before. Willow had always imagined a Harry Potteresque dungeon behind those heavy doors, and was a little disappointed when it turned out to be a sunny (if largely empty) room. It had the feel of a dance studio, with windows all along one wall, letting the sunshine pour in. There were no curtains, and the room was stifling hot. Some of the women started opening windows to let the air circulate.
“Willow,” said Luanne, welcoming her inside. “I take it Sue has already filled you in on our situation?” Sue gave her a guilty little shoulder shrug and scurried over to help the others with their preparations.
“She might have mentioned something to me,” said Willow, attempting to cover for her gossipy friend. “I just wanted to watch.”
“I don’t suppose it would do any harm to have you watch. But you must promise to leave if you feel uncomfortable at any time.” Willow agreed readily and took a seat near the door.
The others formed a circle in the centre of the room and opened their burlap bundles. From where she was sitting, Willow couldn’t see what was in them, but the smell made her glad they’d opened all the windows.
Oz grinned at Giles, who was still panting in the wake of his orgasm. Giles managed to rustle up enough energy to smile back.
“We still have time,” Oz said, snuggling up to him.
“God—you’re going to be the death of me.”
“Relax—I’ll do all the work. Just turn over…”
When Giles refused to budge, Oz pushed and prodded at him. “Just turn over…” he repeated. Giles finally gave in and rolled onto his stomach. “Good. I’ll take it from here.”
Giles heard him digging through his bedside table and smiled into his pillow. The bed dipped slightly on both sides of him as Oz straddled his thighs. Delicate hands started massaging his back, kneading his muscles until he was so relaxed he very nearly fell asleep. Then the hands started on his legs, rubbing and stroking their way up to his thighs, releasing all the tension in his muscles. By the time Oz’s greased fingers slipped up between his legs, Giles was more than ready to accommodate him.
“God—where did you learn to do that?” asked Giles, limp and tingly from the massage.
“Oh…here and there,” Oz replied, bending down to kiss him softly on the rump.
“Ahhhh…” Giles sighed.
“Wait for it,” Oz scolded. He slowly guided the head of his penis into Giles’ opening, pushing past the tight ring of muscle until he was fully sheathed inside of him. Giles grunted softly as his body adjusted to the intrusion. It had been so long, he’d forgotten what it felt like to have another man inside him. Giles lifted himself off the bed and propped himself up with pillows to give Oz a better angle. Looking back over his shoulder, Giles watched, captivated, as the young man slowly rode him. It was a sight he could watch for hours, if it weren’t for the strain it put on his neck. Reluctantly, Giles gave in to his body’s demands and faced forward again.
Willow was engrossed in the ritual that the coven was performing. She was able to translate most of what they were saying, and she wasn’t too surprised to find out that the horrid smelling packages contained freshly-slaughtered pig’s intestines—an enticement to bring out the hidden evil.
At one point during the proceedings Willow wished Giles could be there with her—he’d be fascinated. But he was busy ‘entertaining’ his guest.
That’s when it dawned on her that the dark force Luanne sensed could be hiding itself in Giles’ new friend. In fact, she was the most likely suspect—Luanne only sensed it’s presence that morning, and his girlfriend was the only new arrival on their property.
And the coven was about to summon the darkness lurking inside her.
Willow felt the blood drain from her face. In true Scooby fashion, Giles had probably asked out the only woman in Westbury that came equipped with her very own resident evil. Willow quietly snuck out of the room, then bolted down the maze of corridors that led to Giles’ quarters. She prayed she wasn’t too late.
“Oh…oh God, Giles!” Oz gasped.
‘About bloody time’, thought Giles, wishing he had even a fraction of Oz’s stamina. And he knew he must be imagining it, but Giles could swear the young man had gotten bigger—he could feel himself stretching even more.
“Giles!” Oz uttered. His voice sounded edgy, but under the circumstances, Giles mistook his panic for passion.
Then the pain started.
Oz’s leisurely and gently rhythm broke and became fast and frantic. He pounded himself into Giles with enough force to cause tearing. Giles yelled out in pain and shock.
“Jesus, Oz! What are you doing?”
All he got in reply was a deeply inhuman growl. Giles’ heart tripped in his chest as he struggled to get out from underneath the werewolf. Sharp claws dug into his back, pinning him in place. The growl became a full-throated howling as the werewolf ground relentlessly into the man beneath him. Giles bit back his screams, fearful of the effect they would have on the rutting beast on top of him. Just when he thought he couldn’t take any more, the werewolf’s howling peaked, and Giles felt hot, thick seed filling him.
Too scared to move, Giles played dead. Laying as still as he could, he prayed that there was some trace of Oz left—that was his only chance of getting out of this alive. He felt the werewolf’s wet muzzle nudging the back of his neck. Giles fought the urge to flinch and remained limp. The nose routed through his hair, sniffing determinedly. Then the howling started again, but a different kind of howl—one so mournful it raised goose-bumps all over Giles’ body.
Just then, Giles heard the door bang open, followed by a string of incomprehensible words in a voice he recognized as Willow’s. He felt a crackling gust of wind around him and the werewolf was suddenly gone—as if he’d been plucked off of him by a giant hand.
Giles opened his eyes and took in the scene. The werewolf was huddled harmlessly in the corner, surrounded by a blue-glowing barrier. The white bandaging around his shoulder had come unravelled and looped down to the floor pathetically. Giles looked over at Willow who was still in the doorway, breathing rapidly. Her eyes were black with barely contained magicks. Giles tried to get up but found the movement caused him too much pain.
“Giles!” Willow cried, and ran over to him. He sensed her hands hovering over him; sensed, too, her desperate need to heal him.
“No, Willow,” he said, calmly. “No more magicks. I’ll be fine.” He grunted as he tried once more to get up. “Well…I’ll be fine once I’ve seen a doctor, at least,” he amended.
Willow glanced quickly at the creature in the corner, deciding it posed no immediate threat. She grabbed the housecoat off the floor and wrapped it around Giles.
“I’m so sorry, Giles. This is all my fault,” she moaned.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “How can any of this be your fault?”
“Well, there was the charm…and then they did that spell…and I should have known your new girlfriend would turn out to be a werewolf or something.” The words were scarcely out of her mouth when the realization struck her. Werewolf. Giles was with a werewolf. She looked at Giles, her black eyes wide, then she turned her attention back to the creature in the corner.
“Willow, if anyone needs to apologise, it’s me,” said Giles softly.
“Is that…?”
“Oz?” Giles finished for her. “Yes, it’s Oz.” Giles managed to roll onto his back and winced as he put pressure on his fresh wounds. He cinched the housecoat around his waist modestly.
Willow stared speechlessly at him, a black jealousy forming just beneath the surface.
When Luanne appeared in the doorway, followed by two other women, she could feel the remnants of Willow’s magicks and the tension between her and the Watcher. She worked quickly to diffuse the situation, leading Willow out of the room and leaving the other witches to deal with Giles and the werewolf.
“Willow,” she said, once they were alone in the corridor. “I know what you must be going through right now…”
“I seriously doubt that,” said Willow, bitterly. “That werewolf in there used to be my boyfriend. A few minutes ago I nearly killed him. And when I found out it was Oz, a part of me got so jealous that I wanted to kill Giles. I’m evil, Luanne—I don’t think I’ll ever be anything but evil again.” Big fat tears rolled down her face.
Luanne put a friendly hand on her shoulder. “Willow…you are not evil. What you are is extremely powerful and emotionally fragile. That’s a dangerous combination, and that’s why you’re staying here with us. But at least now you’re aware of that. Deal with your emotions first. If you can understand them, you’ll be one step closer to harnessing your power.”
Willow nodded slowly, and wiped the tears away with her sleeve. She felt drained and sad, but the anger and jealousy were gone now. She tested herself by thinking about Giles and Oz and the awkward situation she’d found them in. Still no anger, and the jealousy was bearable.
“They’re not going to hurt Oz, are they?” she asked Luanne, peeking over the older woman’s shoulder to look through the open door.
“No. We’ll simply contain him until he changes. He’ll be much safer here than he would be anywhere else, I promise.”
Giles emerged from the room, propped up by one of the young witches. He was pale and shaky, but at least he could walk. He stopped in front of Willow, forcing himself to look her in the eyes.
“Can you ever forgive me?” he asked, his voice scarcely above a whisper. Willow took a moment to think, then drew closer and took over for the girl who was supporting him.
“That depends,” she answered, just as quietly. “Can you ever forgive me for what I did to you?” Their eyes locked in a shared moment of regret.
“Willow—I was never angry with you. I knew it was never your intention to hurt me, and I knew when you did, that you would punish yourself more for it than you ever really deserved.”
“Well…ditto,” said Willow, hugging him gently. She began leading him down the hall. It was going to be a slow and painful journey, but together they could handle it.
“So…” said Willow, a trace of curiosity in her voice. “You and Oz?”
Giles groaned. “It’s a long story.”
“I’ve got time,” she replied, and smiled up at him. He returned the smile, and knew at that moment, that they would be alright.
Giles awoke the next morning in the hospital. Willow stirred from her uncomfortable pose in the only available chair, and smiled when she noticed he was awake.
“About time you woke up, you sleepy-head,” she joked.
“It feels like I haven’t slept at all, actually,” he grumbled, pulling himself up into a semi-sitting position. In truth, he hadn’t slept much. He’d spent most of the night being interrogated by various doctors and counsellors about his injuries and how he came about them. He remained tight-lipped about Oz’s involvement, but he knew they’d all assumed he’d been raped and was too traumatised to talk about it. They’d insisted on keeping him overnight for ‘observation’. Right now all he wanted was to get dressed and go home with Willow.
“There’s someone here who wants to see you,” said Willow with a conspiratorial twinkle in her eyes. She called out; “Oz! He’s awake. You can come in.”
Oz poked his head in the door before timidly approaching Giles. Willow made a discreet exit, giving her friends some privacy.
Oz shuffled his feet, avoiding Giles’ eyes.
“Oz?” Giles asked, holding his hand out to him. Oz took it in his own and cautiously peered at Giles from under his lashes. “You do know this is not your fault, don’t you?”
“I was there, Giles. I remember what happened. It was my fault—I should have had more control…God! I thought I killed you,” said Oz, crumpling onto the bed next to Giles.
Giles squeezed his hand. “Well you didn’t. I’ll be fine, Oz. But I don’t think we should go sneaking around anymore.”
Oz sat up, blinking at Giles blankly. “You mean you still want to see me after last night?” he asked, amazed.
“I’ve had worse dates,” Giles said, and they both let out a little laugh.
“You’re an incredible man,” said Oz, and leaned in to kiss him softly on the lips.
Giles took hold of him and deepened the kiss, playing his tongue over the young man’s teeth and tongue, parting only when the need to breathe made it necessary.
Giles looked at Oz oddly. “Oz?” he asked; “if we’re going to be openly dating, would you prefer if I call you Daniel?”
“Would you prefer me to call you Rupert?” Oz countered.
“Right. Oz it is, then,” said Giles, and picked up the kiss where they’d left off.
END