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SLASH FIC: Off to See the Wizard 4/? [Buffy/Anita Blake]
Title: Off to See the Wizard
Author: Feygan
Fandom: Buffy/Anita Blake
Pairing: Oz/Jason, Jean-Claude/Asher, Anita/Micah/Nathaniel, Xander/Andrew, Willow/Kennedy
Warning: violence, character-bashing, rape, were-bestiality
Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or the Anita Blake universe or its characters.
LiveJournal: http://feygan.livejournal.com
Home: http://www.darkgesture.com/fanfiction.htm
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CHAPTER FOUR
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"Wakey, wakey!"
Oz buried his face in the pillow for a second to keep from groaning out loud, then forced himself to sit up. He looked at Jason. "What time is it?"
The werewolf shrugged, a big shit-eating grin spreading his lips. "Time for us to be out and about. You need a wardrobe, and I need to meet a guy about a thing."
"A guy about a thing?" Oz raised an inquiring brow.
Jason grinned and slowly lowered his right eyelid in a wink. "Don't worry about it. There won't be any trouble. I promise."
"Why doesn't that comfort me?" Oz asked, but gamely climbed out of bed and dressed in the clothes Jason had brought him. The tee shirt was a little closer fitting than he usually went for, but otherwise the jeans and tee shirt ensemble was perfect. At least he didn't have as much bare flesh showing as Jason currently did.
Looking at the other man, Oz seriously had to wonder how the guy got away with dressing like that. Sure, in certain circles Jason's outfit would have been normal, but in the everyday world... it was just a tad out there.
What looked like shiny black leather bicycle shorts that left nothing to the imagination, including the fact that Jason wasn't wearing underwear, a tight red tank-top made out of what looked like knotted bits of string, and black leather bracelets. And when Jason turned... Oz felt his eyes go wide for one disbelieving moment before he got himself back under control. Peekaboo patches of clear plastic covered each butt cheek with only a thin strip of leather between each patch to keep from showing off his butt crack.
"How do you get away with dressing like that?" Oz asked.
Jason shrugged. "I'm me."
"Okay." As though that explained it all, and in Oz-land, it probably did.
* * *
Being Jason, and having a choice about where they were going to shop, they did not go to the mall. Sure, that would have probably been where they would have ended up if Anita was in charge, but she wasn't not today.
So Jason took Oz to a little shop called Mindy's House of Horrors, a trendy boutique filled with the kinds of things that the mall normally did not carry.
"So, what do you think?" Jason asked.
Even without any expression showing on his face, Jason could tell that Oz was surprised. "Maybe it's my originally small town sensibilities, but this place just completely blows my mind."
"I can tell," Jason said, a faint smile quirking his lips.
Oz glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, then went back to examining the strange world he had found himself in. There wasn't a whole lot here that he could see himself wearing, but... it was fascinating. "Why are we here?" he asked, a trace of suspicion appearing in his voice.
Jason grinned at him. "Don't worry, we're not going to get the bulk of your wardrobe from here," he said. "I told you I had to see a guy about a thing, and that's why we're here. That thing I need."
"Just to be sure." Oz wandered a little away to take a closer look at the contents of a display case.
Making sure not to stare at Oz's ass, Jason turned away to look for Hyperius Rex. He had some business to handle, serious business.
Stepping up to the counter, he knocked his knuckles against it three times, then waited.
The beaded curtain that led to the back "workroom" opened and the werecobra slipped through, dressed head to toe in a shiny leather dominatrix outfit with the chest area cut out. Little leather pasties covered her nipples, but did nothing to hide the awesomeness of her breasts. She had obviously paid a small fortune to have such beautiful D-cups.
"Neat outfit," Jason said with a wide grin and shining eyes.
She flicked her blue-black hair off her shoulder with one hand. "What do you want, dog?"
Looking directly into her slit-pupiled green eyes, Jason shrugged and let all sign of amusement slip away. "You've got something I want Hyperius. No more messing around."
She seemed to glide forward, her hips swaying gently. "Do you think you deserve it, dog-boy?"
"Eat me, snake." He let a little growl enter his voice.
She smirked. "Gladly." Leaning against the glass-topped counter, she stared directly at him with her disturbing eyes. "Now. Ask me nicely, and maybe you'll get what you want."
"Oh yeah?" his voice went low, husky.
"You wish. You know what I mean. If you ask nice, you'll get the package. Nothing more. Maybe less, if you keep pushing me."
"Fine." He crossed his arms, barely keeping the pout off his face. "Can I please, please, please have the package, dear and beautiful Hyperius?"
Her lips quirked in what very well might have been her version of amusement. "You just remember who asked who for what, dear."
She strolled back through the curtain and returned a few heartbeats later carrying a large, white paper wrapped box. "Here. I will charge it to your account."
Jason took the package from her, careful not to show how excited he was. "Thank you ever so much."
She snorted and moved away from him with a gliding grace. He was no longer worth her attention and she had no qualms about showing that fact.
Jason didn't care though. He had what he had come for. He was just glad not to have to deal with her notably bad temper.
Oz's eyes flicked over the package when he stepped up beside the other man, but he didn't ask questions. He just held up a pair of black leather pants and quirked an eyebrow.
"Very nice," Jason said. "But I thought you were more the jeans and tee shirt kind of guy."
Oz shrugged one shoulder. "I'm not in a jeans and tee shirt kind of world anymore. I might as well find the leather I'm willing to wear instead of being fitted out in total Matrix-wear. No chains and whips for me, please."
"But you'd look so pretty," Jason cajoled, before having to laugh at the total not-an-expression expression on Oz's face. "Relax. I'm not going to force you to wear anything you're not comfortable with."
"But Jean-Claude might."
"Yeah."
"Okay then. Let's go shopping for some mildly porn-looking clothes."
"Yay! An adventure."
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That night, Oz wore his new clothes to dinner. Jean-Claude passed an approving eye over him before giving Jason a nod.
"Looks like I'm pornalicious," Oz said dryly.
"What?" Jason couldn't believe he'd said what he thought he said.
Oz shrugged. "Just channeling my inner-Xander."
"Who?"
"Used to be a friend. He had a perpetual case of foot-in-mouth disease when it came to normal conversation. Funny though."
Jason shook his head. "You don't really say much, but wh..." His voice trailed away and he grabbed Oz's arm. "Come on, let's go over here." He began leading him away, his eyes locked on someone across the room.
"Whoa, what's with the hurry?" Oz asked, not fighting him. "Is something about to eat me?"
"No," Jason said, trying to maneuver them into the darkest corner he could find. "Anita's here, and she looks pissed. You definitely don't want to meet her when she's mad. She's been just a little too shoot first, ask question never lately."
Oz allowed himself to be tucked in the shadows. "Who's Anita?"
"Anita Blake," Jason said. "She's Jean-Claude's human servant. They haven't been getting along too well lately. You do not want to taste the fallout."
"Okay."
"Here, I'll go get us some drinks and something to munch on before dinner," Jason said. He squared his shoulders and called up all his courage before entering the line of fire.
He could still remember the days when he had allowed himself to be attracted to Anita. She had been pretty, brave and stronger both emotionally and physically than anyone her size had any right to be. She had definitely been a tasty treat.
That had been awhile ago, though, and things had definitely changed. Anita had stepped over the edge from strong protector to raging psycho bitch.
She didn't know it, but some people had taken to calling her the "Psycho Queen." And her title of Nimir-ra of the wereleopards only made the name more fitting.
Jason was a little sad that Anita didn't realize how far she had fallen. She still thought that she was in control, that she had managed to maintain some semblance of self even amongst the monsters. What she didn't know was that she had become one of the most monstrous of the monsters, a creature everyone feared for her complete lack of self-control. Even her leopards had taken to stepping carefully around her.
Jason crept around the bulk of the crowd until he reached the buffet table, where he grabbed a plate and began picking and choosing finger food.
"Jason, what's been going on?"
He barely kept himself from visibly flinching. Pasting a smile on, he turned toward Anita. "Hey Anita," he said, trying to sound cheerfully welcoming. It was hard when she was Looking at him like that.
"Jason," she said, her voice coming out as a low growl. "What's been happening? What happened the other night? What does Jean-Claude not want you to tell me?"
"Look, Anita, you might threaten me or whatever, but I work for Jean-Claude. If he doesn't want me to tell you something, then I'm not saying anything." Jason reached out and grabbed some crackers, adding them to his plate. "Anyway, there's nothing to tell you."
She gave him a disbelieving look. "I know when you're lying," she said. "And you're lying right now."
Putting on as non-aggressive a face as possible, Jason shook his head. "I'm not lying to you. There's nothing going on now that has anything to do with you. There are no problems for you to solve this week, Anita."
She stepped closer to him and he felt his skin wanting to crawl away. "Tell me what's going on," she demanded.
"Hey, leave him alone."
Jason felt his stomach drop as he turned to find Oz standing a few feet away.
"And who and what are you?" Anita asked, going for a normal tone but still sounding pissed.
"Uh, Anita, this is Oz and he's human. Oz, this is Anita Blake," Jason said.
"What, as in the Wizard of?" Anita said snidely.
Oz just looked at her, then shrugged. "Okay. I figure it's better than being named after a maximum security prison."
"What?" Anita looked as though she was wondering if she had just been insulted or not.
"It was a show on HBO," Oz said, shrugging again. "What were you saying to Jason to make him look that freaked out?"
"Jason's fine," Anita said, turning to him. "Right?"
Jason looked into the blank emptiness of her dark eyes and forced a nod. "Sure. I'm great."
She looked at him for a long heartbeat, then shook her head, her shoulders relaxing. "Shit. I was freaking you out, wasn't I? Dammit, I'm sorry. I just wanted to know what was happening."
"It's all right," Jason said. It felt like the air had suddenly been returned to the room. He felt just a little head-spun and drunk. It made him wonder where the next shock was going to be coming.
Anita reached out and touched his shoulder. He fought the urge to cringe back and just took it, maintaining his 'friendly, sex-fiendish, non-threat-to-alphas Jason' mask. He really didn't want trouble.
"I'm sorry," Anita said. "I do know that you're caught between two masters."
"Yeah," Jason said. And thank God you're not really one of them. It was bad enough she was Boverk and alpha to him.
Anita turned back to Oz. "What are you doing here?" she asked.
"In what way?" Oz raised one eyebrow Spock-like.
"Jason said you're human. So why are you here with the vampires and lycanthropes?" The monsters.
Jason knew that even though she sometimes thought of herself as being one of the monsters, that she didn't really mean it. In her own head, she saw herself as being better than the people around her and that she could never really be one of the monsters. She was always the exception to any situation.
"Jason is my friend," Oz said. "Jean-Claude was nice enough to let me stay here with Jason until I find a place of my own."
"Yeah right." Anita snorted. "What do you have that he wants?"
"Nothing," Oz said. "I think that he just respects Jason enough to want him happy."
Anita's lips quirked in total disbelief. "Believe me, Jean-Claude never does anything just out of the goodness of his heart. Either you or Jason has something he wants, and if you don't watch out, he's going to get it from you.
* * *
Looking at Anita, Oz could almost see Buffy... if Buffy had ever gone on a bad power trip and lost all sense of reality. Great power corrupted by a case of terminal bitchiness.
That slow moving Other inside him wanted to teach her a lesson. Even in her strength, she was weak, and the predator in him wanted to attack. She was not good for her pack, not filled with mindless arrogance the way she was. It made her unworthy of the position she carried.
Jean-Claude was supposed to be her mate, but she stunk of other males and did not support him. In fact, she saw nothing wrong with openly moving against him, trying to goad someone into challenging him. The Other did not respect that kind of betrayal.
Oz didn't really like Jean-Claude, but even in their short meeting he had garnered a little respect for him. But the fact that the vampire had laid his Mark on such an unworthy female made him question the basis of the power Jean-Claude had in this reality.
"Huh," he said out loud.
* * *
Anita didn't know what to think about Jason's friend. There was no sense of power from the guy, but there just wasn't something right about him.
He was too quiet. Too knowing. Too comfortable surrounded by all these monsters.
"Where are you from?" she asked.
"California."
"Where in California?" she pressed.
Oz just looked at her out of the calmest eyes she had ever seen. "A little town a couple of hours away from LA."
Anita felt frustration drawing her muscles tight. She had the sudden urge to touch her gun for no other reason that it was there. "How did you meet Jason?" she asked.
Oz shrugged. "We just kind of ran into each other. We actually have some stuff in common. He's cool to hang out with."
"Yeah right. Seriously, why do you hang around him?" Even while she was saying it, she wanted to take it back, but it was too late.
Jason went pale and glared at her. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"I... I'm sorry Jason. I didn't mean it."
"Then you shouldn't have said it," Oz said, sounding as calm as always, except that there was something dangerous burning in his eyes.
All Anita's danger senses flicked to high alert, which made her take an even more aggressive stance. "What do you care what I say to Jason? You do know he's a werewolf, don't you?"
"What does that have to do with anything?" Oz asked. "You're not a werewolf, but you're still a bitch."
It happened without thought. Her gun just kind of leapt into her hand and pointed itself between his eyes, her finger instinctively beginning to tighten.
"NO!" Jason screamed, lunging forward.
There was the harsh retort of the gun firing, then the quick spray of blood on the floor. Then came the screams and recriminations.
Anita felt as though she had stepped out of her regular life into a nightmare she was never going to wake from.
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CHAPTER FIVE
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Moments of stillest contemplation where seconds passed like centuries and every heartbeat was a lifetime.
Flashing image of Anita raising her gun and firing. Close up view of her cold-cold dark eyes, nothing remotely human behind them. She didn't even have the joy of the most conscienceless monster. She was empty inside, just this kind of void where substance had been eaten away by circumstance.
Then Oz was on the floor, feeling the bruises forming on his ass from the hard landing. Blood was soaking into his new pants and Jason wasn't moving. Jason wasn't breathing. Jason wasn't anything. He was just red-red meat piled on the floor, his chest a mess and a ruin.
"Oh god, what have I done?" Anita whispered in horror, dropping her gun with a clatter on the floor.
Oz scuttled across the floor to Jason's side. His hand trembled as he reached out to feel Jason's neck, searching for a pulse that wasn't there. "He's got no heartbeat," he said, his voice cracking.
Drawing up his old Scooby Gang courage, Oz forced himself to ignore the blood and gore and began to perform CPR, all the while silently praying. It had only been about half a minute. If he was lucky he might be able to bring Jason back enough that lycanthrope healing could kick in.
"Someone... please..." he gasped in between trying to push air into Jason's lungs and shoving on his chest. "Call 911. Do something. Help me."
The frozen moment that had held everyone else in the room suddenly broke.
Jean-Claude filled the peripheral of his vision, Asher close beside him. "Is there any sign of life?"
Oz shook his head. "Nothing. I think... I think he's really dead."
Even though he had only met Jason a couple of days before, he had really liked the guy. He had had the feeling that they would be real friends. It had been almost the same feeling he'd gotten the first time he met Devon, and they had been best friends since forever.
It was funny, living in Sunnydale had meant that people he knew and liked died everyday. But traveling the world meant he had actually gotten used to the concept that people didn't have to die young and violently. People were allowed to grow old and live a happy life.
It wasn't until he'd left Sunnydale that he'd realized how few old people survived long in Sunnydale. Or maybe it was the fact that most people didn't live long enough to be considered old.
He should have know better than to become used to a different kind of life. Tragedy followed him around wherever he went. Anyone that he even remotely liked was destined to either die a horribly messy death or turn against him in the most emotionally damaging way possible.
Thinking of the losses in his life brought up an image of Willow, as it always did. Beautiful, sweet, beloved Willow who he had wounded then in turn been wounded by.
Red hair flashed in his mind then was superseded by blond hair splashed with blood. There really wasn't anything that Willow and Jason had in common other than that visceral sense of recognition he had gotten from his first clear view of both of them.
Don't die, he thought, staring down at Jason's still face. I couldn't bear it if you stayed dead.
* * *
A deep, urgent thrum. Something was trying to call her attention, to tell her that there was something only she could do.
Reaching out with only the most delicate traces of her magic, she tried to Feel what was calling her.
Her power had grown to such astronomical proportions that if she were to turn her full attention on one person, they would be totally and completely destroyed. Cell dispersion on the micro-molecular level, which translated as the subject of her attention completely ceasing to exist.
She knew that Buffy and Giles had no idea of how powerful she had grown but that Xander had his suspicions. He had never asked though, somehow knowing that there were some answers it really was better not to know.
The fact that his oldest friend had become the nearest thing to a god was one of the mysteries that should be kept. Just label her an awesomely powerful wicca and leave it alone.
Sometimes her own power frightened her. The fact that her most idle of whims could somehow form themselves out of the aether without her conscious control was a frightening thing.
She couldn't even allow herself the freedom of disliking someone anymore for fear that they might just suddenly burst into flame or something.
So when someone called for her attention, she had to be almost comically careful not to crush their mind when she responded.
Following the source of the call, she found a familiar gold energy swirling with blue and purple.
Oz? she thought.
The still loved mind was writhing in emotional torment, completely unaware of the psychic scream he was making.
Unable to tell what the problem was from such a distance--not without possibly damaging him permanently--she sent him a thin stream of energy. Barely a trickle to the vast ocean of her power, but more than most people ever touched in their entire lives.
She didn't know if feeding him energy would help him, but at least he would know on a subconscious level that she was there, that she would help him if he ever needed it.
With a sigh of regret, Willow broke the connection to snuggle into the warmth of Kennedy's side. The sleeping Slayer made a murmuring expression of contentment and didn't wake.
I'll find out where he is tomorrow, Willow thought. Oz...
* * *
A world where the veil between life and death was as delicate in some ways as tissue paper. With the right amount of pressure, someone could tear right through to the other side, either from life to death, or from death back into life.
* * *
He didn't know why or where it came from, but he felt a sudden burst of strength flow through him.
Not even thinking of the impossibility of what he did, he slammed both palms on Jason's bloody chest and yelled, "LIVE!"
It was as though lightning shot down his arms and through his hands. Jason's body jerked under the onslaught and there was a harsh, wavering gasp.
Terrified blue eyes popped open and stared up at him in confusion.
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TBC...
Author: Feygan
Fandom: Buffy/Anita Blake
Pairing: Oz/Jason, Jean-Claude/Asher, Anita/Micah/Nathaniel, Xander/Andrew, Willow/Kennedy
Warning: violence, character-bashing, rape, were-bestiality
Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or the Anita Blake universe or its characters.
LiveJournal: http://feygan.livejournal.com
Home: http://www.darkgesture.com/fanfiction.htm
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CHAPTER FOUR
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"Wakey, wakey!"
Oz buried his face in the pillow for a second to keep from groaning out loud, then forced himself to sit up. He looked at Jason. "What time is it?"
The werewolf shrugged, a big shit-eating grin spreading his lips. "Time for us to be out and about. You need a wardrobe, and I need to meet a guy about a thing."
"A guy about a thing?" Oz raised an inquiring brow.
Jason grinned and slowly lowered his right eyelid in a wink. "Don't worry about it. There won't be any trouble. I promise."
"Why doesn't that comfort me?" Oz asked, but gamely climbed out of bed and dressed in the clothes Jason had brought him. The tee shirt was a little closer fitting than he usually went for, but otherwise the jeans and tee shirt ensemble was perfect. At least he didn't have as much bare flesh showing as Jason currently did.
Looking at the other man, Oz seriously had to wonder how the guy got away with dressing like that. Sure, in certain circles Jason's outfit would have been normal, but in the everyday world... it was just a tad out there.
What looked like shiny black leather bicycle shorts that left nothing to the imagination, including the fact that Jason wasn't wearing underwear, a tight red tank-top made out of what looked like knotted bits of string, and black leather bracelets. And when Jason turned... Oz felt his eyes go wide for one disbelieving moment before he got himself back under control. Peekaboo patches of clear plastic covered each butt cheek with only a thin strip of leather between each patch to keep from showing off his butt crack.
"How do you get away with dressing like that?" Oz asked.
Jason shrugged. "I'm me."
"Okay." As though that explained it all, and in Oz-land, it probably did.
* * *
Being Jason, and having a choice about where they were going to shop, they did not go to the mall. Sure, that would have probably been where they would have ended up if Anita was in charge, but she wasn't not today.
So Jason took Oz to a little shop called Mindy's House of Horrors, a trendy boutique filled with the kinds of things that the mall normally did not carry.
"So, what do you think?" Jason asked.
Even without any expression showing on his face, Jason could tell that Oz was surprised. "Maybe it's my originally small town sensibilities, but this place just completely blows my mind."
"I can tell," Jason said, a faint smile quirking his lips.
Oz glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, then went back to examining the strange world he had found himself in. There wasn't a whole lot here that he could see himself wearing, but... it was fascinating. "Why are we here?" he asked, a trace of suspicion appearing in his voice.
Jason grinned at him. "Don't worry, we're not going to get the bulk of your wardrobe from here," he said. "I told you I had to see a guy about a thing, and that's why we're here. That thing I need."
"Just to be sure." Oz wandered a little away to take a closer look at the contents of a display case.
Making sure not to stare at Oz's ass, Jason turned away to look for Hyperius Rex. He had some business to handle, serious business.
Stepping up to the counter, he knocked his knuckles against it three times, then waited.
The beaded curtain that led to the back "workroom" opened and the werecobra slipped through, dressed head to toe in a shiny leather dominatrix outfit with the chest area cut out. Little leather pasties covered her nipples, but did nothing to hide the awesomeness of her breasts. She had obviously paid a small fortune to have such beautiful D-cups.
"Neat outfit," Jason said with a wide grin and shining eyes.
She flicked her blue-black hair off her shoulder with one hand. "What do you want, dog?"
Looking directly into her slit-pupiled green eyes, Jason shrugged and let all sign of amusement slip away. "You've got something I want Hyperius. No more messing around."
She seemed to glide forward, her hips swaying gently. "Do you think you deserve it, dog-boy?"
"Eat me, snake." He let a little growl enter his voice.
She smirked. "Gladly." Leaning against the glass-topped counter, she stared directly at him with her disturbing eyes. "Now. Ask me nicely, and maybe you'll get what you want."
"Oh yeah?" his voice went low, husky.
"You wish. You know what I mean. If you ask nice, you'll get the package. Nothing more. Maybe less, if you keep pushing me."
"Fine." He crossed his arms, barely keeping the pout off his face. "Can I please, please, please have the package, dear and beautiful Hyperius?"
Her lips quirked in what very well might have been her version of amusement. "You just remember who asked who for what, dear."
She strolled back through the curtain and returned a few heartbeats later carrying a large, white paper wrapped box. "Here. I will charge it to your account."
Jason took the package from her, careful not to show how excited he was. "Thank you ever so much."
She snorted and moved away from him with a gliding grace. He was no longer worth her attention and she had no qualms about showing that fact.
Jason didn't care though. He had what he had come for. He was just glad not to have to deal with her notably bad temper.
Oz's eyes flicked over the package when he stepped up beside the other man, but he didn't ask questions. He just held up a pair of black leather pants and quirked an eyebrow.
"Very nice," Jason said. "But I thought you were more the jeans and tee shirt kind of guy."
Oz shrugged one shoulder. "I'm not in a jeans and tee shirt kind of world anymore. I might as well find the leather I'm willing to wear instead of being fitted out in total Matrix-wear. No chains and whips for me, please."
"But you'd look so pretty," Jason cajoled, before having to laugh at the total not-an-expression expression on Oz's face. "Relax. I'm not going to force you to wear anything you're not comfortable with."
"But Jean-Claude might."
"Yeah."
"Okay then. Let's go shopping for some mildly porn-looking clothes."
"Yay! An adventure."
.
.
That night, Oz wore his new clothes to dinner. Jean-Claude passed an approving eye over him before giving Jason a nod.
"Looks like I'm pornalicious," Oz said dryly.
"What?" Jason couldn't believe he'd said what he thought he said.
Oz shrugged. "Just channeling my inner-Xander."
"Who?"
"Used to be a friend. He had a perpetual case of foot-in-mouth disease when it came to normal conversation. Funny though."
Jason shook his head. "You don't really say much, but wh..." His voice trailed away and he grabbed Oz's arm. "Come on, let's go over here." He began leading him away, his eyes locked on someone across the room.
"Whoa, what's with the hurry?" Oz asked, not fighting him. "Is something about to eat me?"
"No," Jason said, trying to maneuver them into the darkest corner he could find. "Anita's here, and she looks pissed. You definitely don't want to meet her when she's mad. She's been just a little too shoot first, ask question never lately."
Oz allowed himself to be tucked in the shadows. "Who's Anita?"
"Anita Blake," Jason said. "She's Jean-Claude's human servant. They haven't been getting along too well lately. You do not want to taste the fallout."
"Okay."
"Here, I'll go get us some drinks and something to munch on before dinner," Jason said. He squared his shoulders and called up all his courage before entering the line of fire.
He could still remember the days when he had allowed himself to be attracted to Anita. She had been pretty, brave and stronger both emotionally and physically than anyone her size had any right to be. She had definitely been a tasty treat.
That had been awhile ago, though, and things had definitely changed. Anita had stepped over the edge from strong protector to raging psycho bitch.
She didn't know it, but some people had taken to calling her the "Psycho Queen." And her title of Nimir-ra of the wereleopards only made the name more fitting.
Jason was a little sad that Anita didn't realize how far she had fallen. She still thought that she was in control, that she had managed to maintain some semblance of self even amongst the monsters. What she didn't know was that she had become one of the most monstrous of the monsters, a creature everyone feared for her complete lack of self-control. Even her leopards had taken to stepping carefully around her.
Jason crept around the bulk of the crowd until he reached the buffet table, where he grabbed a plate and began picking and choosing finger food.
"Jason, what's been going on?"
He barely kept himself from visibly flinching. Pasting a smile on, he turned toward Anita. "Hey Anita," he said, trying to sound cheerfully welcoming. It was hard when she was Looking at him like that.
"Jason," she said, her voice coming out as a low growl. "What's been happening? What happened the other night? What does Jean-Claude not want you to tell me?"
"Look, Anita, you might threaten me or whatever, but I work for Jean-Claude. If he doesn't want me to tell you something, then I'm not saying anything." Jason reached out and grabbed some crackers, adding them to his plate. "Anyway, there's nothing to tell you."
She gave him a disbelieving look. "I know when you're lying," she said. "And you're lying right now."
Putting on as non-aggressive a face as possible, Jason shook his head. "I'm not lying to you. There's nothing going on now that has anything to do with you. There are no problems for you to solve this week, Anita."
She stepped closer to him and he felt his skin wanting to crawl away. "Tell me what's going on," she demanded.
"Hey, leave him alone."
Jason felt his stomach drop as he turned to find Oz standing a few feet away.
"And who and what are you?" Anita asked, going for a normal tone but still sounding pissed.
"Uh, Anita, this is Oz and he's human. Oz, this is Anita Blake," Jason said.
"What, as in the Wizard of?" Anita said snidely.
Oz just looked at her, then shrugged. "Okay. I figure it's better than being named after a maximum security prison."
"What?" Anita looked as though she was wondering if she had just been insulted or not.
"It was a show on HBO," Oz said, shrugging again. "What were you saying to Jason to make him look that freaked out?"
"Jason's fine," Anita said, turning to him. "Right?"
Jason looked into the blank emptiness of her dark eyes and forced a nod. "Sure. I'm great."
She looked at him for a long heartbeat, then shook her head, her shoulders relaxing. "Shit. I was freaking you out, wasn't I? Dammit, I'm sorry. I just wanted to know what was happening."
"It's all right," Jason said. It felt like the air had suddenly been returned to the room. He felt just a little head-spun and drunk. It made him wonder where the next shock was going to be coming.
Anita reached out and touched his shoulder. He fought the urge to cringe back and just took it, maintaining his 'friendly, sex-fiendish, non-threat-to-alphas Jason' mask. He really didn't want trouble.
"I'm sorry," Anita said. "I do know that you're caught between two masters."
"Yeah," Jason said. And thank God you're not really one of them. It was bad enough she was Boverk and alpha to him.
Anita turned back to Oz. "What are you doing here?" she asked.
"In what way?" Oz raised one eyebrow Spock-like.
"Jason said you're human. So why are you here with the vampires and lycanthropes?" The monsters.
Jason knew that even though she sometimes thought of herself as being one of the monsters, that she didn't really mean it. In her own head, she saw herself as being better than the people around her and that she could never really be one of the monsters. She was always the exception to any situation.
"Jason is my friend," Oz said. "Jean-Claude was nice enough to let me stay here with Jason until I find a place of my own."
"Yeah right." Anita snorted. "What do you have that he wants?"
"Nothing," Oz said. "I think that he just respects Jason enough to want him happy."
Anita's lips quirked in total disbelief. "Believe me, Jean-Claude never does anything just out of the goodness of his heart. Either you or Jason has something he wants, and if you don't watch out, he's going to get it from you.
* * *
Looking at Anita, Oz could almost see Buffy... if Buffy had ever gone on a bad power trip and lost all sense of reality. Great power corrupted by a case of terminal bitchiness.
That slow moving Other inside him wanted to teach her a lesson. Even in her strength, she was weak, and the predator in him wanted to attack. She was not good for her pack, not filled with mindless arrogance the way she was. It made her unworthy of the position she carried.
Jean-Claude was supposed to be her mate, but she stunk of other males and did not support him. In fact, she saw nothing wrong with openly moving against him, trying to goad someone into challenging him. The Other did not respect that kind of betrayal.
Oz didn't really like Jean-Claude, but even in their short meeting he had garnered a little respect for him. But the fact that the vampire had laid his Mark on such an unworthy female made him question the basis of the power Jean-Claude had in this reality.
"Huh," he said out loud.
* * *
Anita didn't know what to think about Jason's friend. There was no sense of power from the guy, but there just wasn't something right about him.
He was too quiet. Too knowing. Too comfortable surrounded by all these monsters.
"Where are you from?" she asked.
"California."
"Where in California?" she pressed.
Oz just looked at her out of the calmest eyes she had ever seen. "A little town a couple of hours away from LA."
Anita felt frustration drawing her muscles tight. She had the sudden urge to touch her gun for no other reason that it was there. "How did you meet Jason?" she asked.
Oz shrugged. "We just kind of ran into each other. We actually have some stuff in common. He's cool to hang out with."
"Yeah right. Seriously, why do you hang around him?" Even while she was saying it, she wanted to take it back, but it was too late.
Jason went pale and glared at her. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"I... I'm sorry Jason. I didn't mean it."
"Then you shouldn't have said it," Oz said, sounding as calm as always, except that there was something dangerous burning in his eyes.
All Anita's danger senses flicked to high alert, which made her take an even more aggressive stance. "What do you care what I say to Jason? You do know he's a werewolf, don't you?"
"What does that have to do with anything?" Oz asked. "You're not a werewolf, but you're still a bitch."
It happened without thought. Her gun just kind of leapt into her hand and pointed itself between his eyes, her finger instinctively beginning to tighten.
"NO!" Jason screamed, lunging forward.
There was the harsh retort of the gun firing, then the quick spray of blood on the floor. Then came the screams and recriminations.
Anita felt as though she had stepped out of her regular life into a nightmare she was never going to wake from.
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CHAPTER FIVE
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Moments of stillest contemplation where seconds passed like centuries and every heartbeat was a lifetime.
Flashing image of Anita raising her gun and firing. Close up view of her cold-cold dark eyes, nothing remotely human behind them. She didn't even have the joy of the most conscienceless monster. She was empty inside, just this kind of void where substance had been eaten away by circumstance.
Then Oz was on the floor, feeling the bruises forming on his ass from the hard landing. Blood was soaking into his new pants and Jason wasn't moving. Jason wasn't breathing. Jason wasn't anything. He was just red-red meat piled on the floor, his chest a mess and a ruin.
"Oh god, what have I done?" Anita whispered in horror, dropping her gun with a clatter on the floor.
Oz scuttled across the floor to Jason's side. His hand trembled as he reached out to feel Jason's neck, searching for a pulse that wasn't there. "He's got no heartbeat," he said, his voice cracking.
Drawing up his old Scooby Gang courage, Oz forced himself to ignore the blood and gore and began to perform CPR, all the while silently praying. It had only been about half a minute. If he was lucky he might be able to bring Jason back enough that lycanthrope healing could kick in.
"Someone... please..." he gasped in between trying to push air into Jason's lungs and shoving on his chest. "Call 911. Do something. Help me."
The frozen moment that had held everyone else in the room suddenly broke.
Jean-Claude filled the peripheral of his vision, Asher close beside him. "Is there any sign of life?"
Oz shook his head. "Nothing. I think... I think he's really dead."
Even though he had only met Jason a couple of days before, he had really liked the guy. He had had the feeling that they would be real friends. It had been almost the same feeling he'd gotten the first time he met Devon, and they had been best friends since forever.
It was funny, living in Sunnydale had meant that people he knew and liked died everyday. But traveling the world meant he had actually gotten used to the concept that people didn't have to die young and violently. People were allowed to grow old and live a happy life.
It wasn't until he'd left Sunnydale that he'd realized how few old people survived long in Sunnydale. Or maybe it was the fact that most people didn't live long enough to be considered old.
He should have know better than to become used to a different kind of life. Tragedy followed him around wherever he went. Anyone that he even remotely liked was destined to either die a horribly messy death or turn against him in the most emotionally damaging way possible.
Thinking of the losses in his life brought up an image of Willow, as it always did. Beautiful, sweet, beloved Willow who he had wounded then in turn been wounded by.
Red hair flashed in his mind then was superseded by blond hair splashed with blood. There really wasn't anything that Willow and Jason had in common other than that visceral sense of recognition he had gotten from his first clear view of both of them.
Don't die, he thought, staring down at Jason's still face. I couldn't bear it if you stayed dead.
* * *
A deep, urgent thrum. Something was trying to call her attention, to tell her that there was something only she could do.
Reaching out with only the most delicate traces of her magic, she tried to Feel what was calling her.
Her power had grown to such astronomical proportions that if she were to turn her full attention on one person, they would be totally and completely destroyed. Cell dispersion on the micro-molecular level, which translated as the subject of her attention completely ceasing to exist.
She knew that Buffy and Giles had no idea of how powerful she had grown but that Xander had his suspicions. He had never asked though, somehow knowing that there were some answers it really was better not to know.
The fact that his oldest friend had become the nearest thing to a god was one of the mysteries that should be kept. Just label her an awesomely powerful wicca and leave it alone.
Sometimes her own power frightened her. The fact that her most idle of whims could somehow form themselves out of the aether without her conscious control was a frightening thing.
She couldn't even allow herself the freedom of disliking someone anymore for fear that they might just suddenly burst into flame or something.
So when someone called for her attention, she had to be almost comically careful not to crush their mind when she responded.
Following the source of the call, she found a familiar gold energy swirling with blue and purple.
Oz? she thought.
The still loved mind was writhing in emotional torment, completely unaware of the psychic scream he was making.
Unable to tell what the problem was from such a distance--not without possibly damaging him permanently--she sent him a thin stream of energy. Barely a trickle to the vast ocean of her power, but more than most people ever touched in their entire lives.
She didn't know if feeding him energy would help him, but at least he would know on a subconscious level that she was there, that she would help him if he ever needed it.
With a sigh of regret, Willow broke the connection to snuggle into the warmth of Kennedy's side. The sleeping Slayer made a murmuring expression of contentment and didn't wake.
I'll find out where he is tomorrow, Willow thought. Oz...
* * *
A world where the veil between life and death was as delicate in some ways as tissue paper. With the right amount of pressure, someone could tear right through to the other side, either from life to death, or from death back into life.
* * *
He didn't know why or where it came from, but he felt a sudden burst of strength flow through him.
Not even thinking of the impossibility of what he did, he slammed both palms on Jason's bloody chest and yelled, "LIVE!"
It was as though lightning shot down his arms and through his hands. Jason's body jerked under the onslaught and there was a harsh, wavering gasp.
Terrified blue eyes popped open and stared up at him in confusion.
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TBC...