FIC: A Wiccan Gets The Wiggins 9 & 10 (revamped and reposted)

A Wiccan Gets the Wiggins
(and the girl!)

by badbard

(de_badbard@xxxxxxxxx)

See first part for relevant disclaimers and explanations.

* * * * * * * * * *

9.

We ended up spending the morning breaking into Giles' apartment. Buffy stood by on lookout duty as I fiddled with the lock, dangling rat entrails over it as I chanted opening incantations. Yes, disgusting I know.

I'd asked her to kick in the door, but the ex-Slayer had simply looked at me like I was crazy. Then she'd asked me if her manicure meant nothing to me. As I had to admit the sparkly black nail polish went really well with her oh-so-tight 'breaking and entering' bodysuit, I'd ended up casting crime the ol' Wiccan way.

Buffy gestured towards the rat entrails I was poking tediously through the lock.

"I hope that's nobody we know."

"Amy's safe running circles in her wheel," I huffed.

"Tell me why we're doing this again," asked Buffy, "when we could be watching Xena re-runs?"

"Giles has been acting real weird," I reminded her, "plus I need to do some serious research and the school library is, er..."

"...combusted," grinned Buffy. “So what're we doing research on anyway? Why Willow would rather read about dates than go on them?"

"What?" I spun around to glare at her and she studied her reflection in her polished black boots.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

To my surprise Buffy didn’t tease me back. Instead she blushed. Cleared her throat. Blushed again.

"I just meant we could be, er, elsewhere," she mumbled, peeking up at me through silky blond strands. "Doing other stuff. Stuff I dreamed about last night."

"Oh!" I gasped as re alization began sinking in. Buffy meant me and...and her.

On a date. As a couple. All couply and together. Maybe there’d be ice-cream. And romantic videos! And uh, dinner for two? And possibly a slinky red number and oh yes. Smoochies. Many, many more of the smoochies. With accompanying hugging. And touching. Mmm, yes.

Warm bubbly feelings flooded right through me. Willow and Buffy. Buffy and Willow. Together just like I'd always wanted.

At that point in the fantasy, reality intruded. Oz and Xander came up the walkway.

The warm feelings rushed away to be replaced with something resembling anger, mixed in with a whole lotta confusion.

Why couldn't Buffy have wanted this when she was the Slayer? Why couldn't she have made
her moves on me before Oz became my main squeeze? My only squeeze? Before Oz had been my wonderful first?

And even more importantly, why was she doing this now? What was changing?

Xander issued Buffy with a look that was a dash of curiosity, a dash of suspicion, a dash of anxiety and mostly just a typical heaping of lust.

"Hello...Buffy," he came up with, holding out his hand cau tiously in handshake formation. "Feeling better to slay...uh today. Feel better today?"

"Sure," said the Slayer, rolling her eyes at him as she favored him with a friendly little push that sent him reeling back onto his butt. Nobody looked more surprised than Buffy.

"Wow!" she chuckled, helping him to his feet, "looks like I ate my cereal this morning."

"What cereal would that be?" asked Xander doubtfully, still trying to feel her out. "Kellogg’s Special Slay? Corn-stakes? Vampire Bits? Nutra-slain?"

"Huh?" said Buffy. When I realized sh e hadn't said 'Willow Bits' I gave a sigh of relief.

"Willow," said Oz. My sigh turned into a gasp for air.

"Yes?" I squeaked.

"Hello," said Oz.

"Hello," I squeaked.

"How are you," said Oz, coming up behind me to wrap strong arms about my waist. Glancing over my shoulder I saw both his adorable lip stubble and Buffy's less-than-adorable murderous rage.

Ot oh.

"I missed you," added Oz, lipping at the side of my neck. Buffy deliberately turned her back.

"Gotta break into Giles' place," I explained hurriedly, moving out of Oz's familiar embrace. "Gotta find out what's up with him."

But Oz wasn’t easily foiled. He reached and turned me around gently to gaze into my eyes.

"I'd rather find out what's up with you."

"What if ‘I need a chill pill and I need it yesterday’ is home?" interrupted Xander. "What if his security system involves his half-asleep self coming out with a shotgun? No glasses, shoot first
and tell the police implausible stories later. We better knock and find out."

Before I could break away from Oz to stop him, Xander did just that.

Even worse, Giles himself answered the door.

"Good morning all," he greeted us, predictably holding a cup of tea. "About time you lot got here. How are you, Buffy?"

His question was pointed and he actually lifted his glasses in order to get a better look at his ex-Slayer, which was freak-worthy in itself.

"Fine, Mr Giles," answered Buffy, rubbing her head a little. "Why is everybody asking me that? It's the holidays. I graduated. I survived high school. I'm friggintastic!"

"Good, good," said Giles calmly, sipping at his tea with a smug little smile. "Do come in. I have some experiments I wish to conduct. You'll all be a great help, I'm sure. Yes, even Mr Harris, astonishingly enough."

We all trooped inside and stood around Giles’ sagging bookcase. Oz's warm breath coated my
neck. Did he have to stand so close? Did his closeness have to send shivers down my spine?

I couldn’t help noticing Buffy out the corner of my eye. A Buffy who was taking deep calming breaths. She sounded like she was running a marathon. And boy, did she look angry.

Xander was sulking. Also he was alternating between darting suspicious glances at the librarian and confused ones in Buffy’s direction.

I took the opportunity to step away from Oz so I could dump the rat entrails out the window. Then I skulked around the bookcase, searching for a particular volume on weaponry. I found and hurriedly pilfered, ‘A Condensed History on the Creation of Animated Weapons’ and skulked over to slip it under Oz’s baggy sweatshirt.

My boyfriend arched one brow, but naturally stayed as cool as…Oz. Because he’s always with the cool.

Giles didn’t appear to notice; he was too busy serving up tea for us all and looking much too pleased with himself.

Once we were all seated around his coffee table he continued with the confusing behavior.

"Let's play a word association game," he suggested. Since when do we play games around tea? Since never!

We usually just sit around and Giles makes dire proclamations about dire evils and Xander cracks corny jokes. Then him and Oz sorta smirk at each other and then Buffy either puns or says something to rile Giles up a little and then I have a revelation about research and then Xander makes some sort of inappropriate sexual remark about monsters. It’s all fairly routine for us and this is not it. This is weird and disturbing.

Giles continued with the weirdness. "I'll say a word than everyone says the first word that comes into their head."

"Well I'm bored already," grumbled Xander. He quickly subsided when Giles’ cold glare came to rest heavily on him.

"Nothing reveals the subconscious like the immediate instinctive reaction," purred the Englishman. "We should grasp this opportunity to learn more of ourselves and each other. It could save somebody's life."

His eyes came to rest on his onetime Slayer. I shivered.

"Night," he began, enigmatically.

"Day," Oz suggested.

"Nighthawk," grinned Xander. "Otherwise known as the original boy wonder!"

"Slower internet connectivity," I decided.

Giles shook his head at me. Obviously I wasn't very good at this game.

"Hunting," said Buffy.

She shrugged when we all looked at her. "Hey, that's what night's for. Your prey comes out to play but they can't see you coming." She looked at Oz as she said this.

Giles poured more tea.

"Heart," he ground out ominously.

"Tasty," muttered Oz without thinking.

"Gross!" cried Xander, which I doubt was in response to the original word.

"Buffy," I whispered. It just slipped out.

I couldn't help it. Her name did strange things to my heart; made it beat erratically, made me ache with long-buried longing.

"Willow," she whispered back and only then did I become aware of our audience. Our very intent and interested audience who were all giving us searching looks.

Oz, a stunned one. A realizing one.

Xander, a lop-sided leer.

Giles, a speculative, scheming shifting of the eyes from Buffy to me, and back again.

"Love," he said drolly.

No-one answered.

* * * * * * * * * *

10.

"Well, this is uncomfortable," muttered Xander after what seemed like about a decade of sitting in stone-cold silence. "I'd get up but I need to have my legs crossed right about now."

"Willow," burst out Oz unexpectedly.

He sounded almost frantic and that gave me the wiggins because Oz does not do frantic. He does calm, cool, and collected, and he does irony, but nope, no frantic in his ensemble. Oz wasn't meant to be perched on the edge of his seat, staring into my eyes as he reached for me with hands that shook.

"Willow," he insisted. "I love you. Willow?" Pleading puppy dog eyes begged for me to say it back.

"Gag me," muttered Xander rolling his eyes and folding his hands over his crossed legs. "And just so we're clear, that invitation does not refer to G-man or Wolfie. Because I'm straight, is why. Which is more than I can say for..."

"Shut up, Xander," bit out Buffy. "This is between me and Oz."

"It is?" grunted Oz, lurching to his feet and standing up ramrod straight. The tension was rolling off of him and filling the room.

I heard the question mark in his tone and my mind began beeping like a heart monitor.

This wasn't good. This wasn't laidback Oz. This wasn't happening.

I had to be dreaming. This was a nightmare. Any moment now ‘Buffy in a short black raincoat’ would appear and I’d realize it was just a dream and wake myself up. Oh please…

"It is?" echoed Xander, grinning for all he was worth. He was grinning a little too widely – I could see the hurt barely hidden in his dark eyes. But still, as always, he was with the jokes.

"Anyone care to place a bet? Twenty on the Buffster? Anyone?"

My tummy was hurting. I rubbed my eyes and tried to ignore the feeling of sick dread worming its way around my gut.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Giles giving his smug little smile. I started sweating.

Why wasn't he stopping them?

Why was he...enjoying it so much?

"Oz," I whimpered but he ignored me in favor of getting right up in Buffy's face.

"Willow's my girl," he practically snarled. "You're g etting in the way of that."

"Yo Giles, break out the beer and popcorn," said Xander. "We're gonna have ourselves one woozy of an ass-whumping."

"Shut up, Xander," hissed Buffy. And to Oz. “Hey, Hairball!"

Oz growled. Literally. Did he look a little more unshaven than usual?

Buffy's finger prodded at his chest. "Back down before I put you down." She said this conversationally.

I wanted to get off the couch and stop them but something was stopping me.

Something that thrilled me with fear and made me feel even sicker inside. I was being fought
over.

Little Willow Rosenberg, computer geek, class nerd, nobody special, had inspired two suitors to come to blows over her. Who would’ve thought? Not uh, me.

"Listen to me, Oz," began Buffy, clenching her fists and stepping forward again, "Listen closely 'cause it's not like you can press the pause button and hear it all again. You're not half good enough for Will. Not half."

"Like you are?" Oz demanded, his voice sounding strangely thick. "You're the wrong gender for
starters."

"Score one!" crowed Xander sipping his tea a little more enthusiastically. His hand twitched where he grasped the handle.

"Oh yeah?" grated back Buffy. "You're really one to talk, aren't you, Wolf-boy? Look up the definition of species."

"And that's score one for our favorite Bufferini!" Xander cheered. "What an evenly paced match we're watching, boys and girls, and girls who like girls."

"Xander, shut the hell up." The Slayer's voice now trembled with rage. Oddly-calm Buffy was gone.

I pushed myself back into the couch for comfort. I was officially wigging big time. I couldn’t have said something if I wanted to. My tongue was rooted to the top of my mouth in fear. I glanced desperately over at Giles.

Was it possible that his smile seemed to be even perkier?

A storm-cloud rolled across the sun dousing the morning light that had been streaming through the window. How symbolic. That’s Sunnydale for you.

Suddenly Oz's hand shot out and pushed Buffy backward.

Hard.

My hand went to cover my mouth as she sprawled on the floor at his feet, hair askew, face hidden.

Oz glared down at her, chest heaving as wave after bushy wave of coarse black fur sprouted from his torso. His chest expanded and almost filled his baggy sweatshirt. The pilfered book was squeezed out onto the floor with a clunk. But I don’t think anyone was interested in the book at that point.

"Whoa," gasped Xander, and the teacup slipped from his fingers to smash onto the floor. "Call Ripley's or the zoo, and please, somebody tell W olf-boy it isn't the full moon. It isn't even freakin' night."

I pulled my legs up and hugged them to my chest in pure, panicky reaction.

“Giles?” I managed to gasp out.

The Watcher looked across the distance between us and lifted a teaspoon with an eerily calm smile.

“More sugar in your tea, Willow?”

Oz's hands jerked up and spasmed, stubby claws hammering out through his fingertips. His shaggy head tilted to study the victim at his feet. Yellow e yes lit up with bestial cruelty. Sharp fangs raked over his thick lips in hungry anticipation, drawing thin lines of blood that were quickly lapped up by his slathering tongue.

Somehow I pushed myself up onto unsteady feet.

Buffy. Buffy was in danger.

Buffy was about to be kibbles and bits for my boyfriend.

I was moving. Across to the confrontation. I don’t know how.

"Willow, no!" cried Xander as my fingers raked through the hair covering the werewolf's misshapen arm. It was so coarse.

"Oz," I pleaded shakily, not caring that in this form he couldn't understand words.

"Oz, don't hurt Buffy. I'd never forgive you. Don't hurt her. Don't hurt my Buffy."

I sounded desperate. I was.

Glinting yellow slid up to meet mine. Drool slipped between his lips. Hot fetid air washed over me as he snarled and bristled.

I closed my eyes. I bit my tongue so I couldn't scream. I prayed to anyone but the lost gods that I wouldn't faint and be food.

Something rough scraped the skin off my cheek.

Petrified, my eyes shot open.

The unholy wolfman! The unholy wolfman was...touching me!

Oh, I was gonna need lotsa soap and some serious therapy. Then I was gonna need a tetanus shot.

I stood there quivering, not breathing, using all my willpower to avoid fainting on my face, and then…something happened. Something unbelievable, and wonderful, and incredibly reassuring. And did I mention, unbelievable?

The yellow eyes were still focused on mine and they were starting to dim…to regain human intelligence. The hairy lips were curving upwards in an awkward imitation of a smile.

"Oz," I whispered in utter amazement.

It wasn't the werewolf brushing up against me. Not really. It was Oz. My Oz.

I'd made contact with the man inside the wolf.

Wow.

"Willow," hissed Xander, "just look at what you're petting. C'mon, this is making me sick. And hot. Which confirms my suspicions that I'm sick. Very, very sick."

I couldn’t look away from Oz but I could hear the relief in Xander’s familiar voice. Yes, that’s right, relief sounds exactly the same as fear does on Xand. It takes the form of bad jokes.

Buffy’s voice broke into my chaotic thoughts.

"Don't you ever..."

I snapped out of my amazed stupor just in time to see her flip her body into a standing position. I hurriedly thanked all the gods but the lost ones she was alright. If Oz had hurt her…

"EVER, touch me again, Wolf. I mean it."

The erstwhile Slayer’s voice was cold and flat and I really didn't like the shuttered look in her eyes.

More than anything I wanted to throw my arms around her and squeeze the breath out of her just so I could hear her squeak out that she was fine, and maybe 'cause I wanted to cop a feel, but I had a feeling that wouldn't be the best idea.

Buffy stared down at her clenched fists for long moments. Then she looked somewhere in my general vicinity without actually looking at me.

"Will," she whispered. "I'm sorry, I lost my temper. My bad. Thing is, I don't trust myself around you. But after this morning, I do…" her restless gaze whipped over the unnaturally tranquil werewolf who was still staring adoringly at me..."trust him.”

She turned on her heel and walked out.

"Buffy," I cried, "where are you going?"

The door slammed shut in answer.

"Whoa Nelly!" said Xander, and got up to go after her.

On his way out he stopped by Oz and rolled his eyes. "Oz, man, you gotta cut down on the steroids. Your monthly cycle is getting all skewy."

Oz growled, just a little.

Xander laughed nervously and exited with all due speed.

"That was most interesting," Giles commented, eyeing Oz from where he was still ensconced in his favorite chair.

I turned warily to eye him. And yes, Oz the incredible wolfman was still looking at me.

Giles sipped his tea and flashed that nasty grin. “My Faith was right all along. That child had an uncanny eye for who was doing the ‘down and dirty’ as she used to put it. Well, well, little girl, I had no idea how dirty you lot really were. And you! Makes me wonder what this town is coming to."

Okay, I was wigging now. Majorly. With shivers on top.

"Giles?" I squeaked.

"Who?" he answered.

TBC in 11.