Oz thanked the activities director of the campus recreation
center.
After months of persistent prodding, he had finally persuaded
the man to
sign on the band for a weekend gig.
It would be a welcome change of venue for the band, and
for himself in
particular. He'd always enjoyed their sets at the Bronze,
but lately, he
found himself dreading them. The place reminded him too
much of Willow
and lost opportunities.
He wondered if he'd ever have the chance to tell her he
was sorry, to
tell her he understood. As the days past, he doubted
it more and more.
The realization that he would most likely never see her
again had
settled into the pit of his stomach like a lead weight.
Although he
never discussed it with anyone, his thoughts were constantly
centered on
Willow.
As he made his way to the exit, his ears picked up phrases
from a
conversation between two women sitting at a table by
the wall.
"You saw him, too? Isn't he the most gorgeous thing on two legs?"
"Mmmm, that blonde hair, those cheekbones. I could eat him alive."
"And that British accent, talk about seductive."
Oz froze in his tracks. He turned to the bulletin board
hanging on the
wall beside the door and pretended to peruse the assorted
ads posted on
it.
"Wonder where he lives. He can't be a student. I've only
ever seen him
around at night."
"Billie said she saw him walking toward that old house
at the end of
Crafton Street."
"Way out there? Nice and secluded. The perfect place for
a night of loud
sex."
The women's salacious giggles followed Oz out of the building.
***
The thought of Spike roaming the streets of Sunnydale
made Oz's skin
crawl. If it were true, and he had no doubt that the
vampire was the
object of the women's lust, there was a good possibility
he was behind
the disappearance of Willow and Xander.
He turned off the van's headlights as he neared the house.
A thick hedge
of tall trees bordered the house on both sides, and the
lawn was
overgrown and ragged. The stereotypical horror setting,
straight out of
a B-movie. He stopped a few feet from the driveway and
got out. The yard
was silent and empty, and a faint light filtered through
a dingy window
along the front of the house. Oz crept around the exterior
of the
building in search of another, less conspicuous, entrance.
***
Spike broke away from Willow's impassioned kiss as a
minion appeared in
the doorway.
"We've got company," the underling announced.
Willow's body tensed, and Spike laid a comforting hand on her arm.
"Where?" Spike asked.
"Skulking around the back."
"Wait in the corridor. Make sure whoever it is gets well
inside before
you take him," Spike ordered.
The minion nodded and left.
"Spike?" Willow asked with trepidation.
"It's all right, baby," Spike told her. "Nothing to worry
about."
***
Oz held his breath as the door creaked on its rusty hinges.
He stood
motionless and waited to see if his intrusion had been
detected. The
house was quiet and still. Leaving the door ajar, he
crept across the
cracked and faded linoleum that covered the kitchen floor.
He strained his eyes against the darkness of the corridor
and took a few
cautious steps. He stopped. Listened. Sniffed. Willow's
unique scent
permeated the stale air of the house. His heart jumped.
She was here.
The minion sidled up on quiet feet behind the intruder.
Oz sensed his
presence as the vampire moved directly behind him. Oz's
nerves began to
tingle, and he turned toward his stalker. The vampire
snarled once,
raised his clasped hands, and clubbed the trespasser.
The force of the
blow spun Oz around, and he fell, face-first, onto the
floor.
End.