Entry tags:
SLASH FIC: Off to See the Wizard pt 7/? [Buffy/Anita]
Title: Off to See the Wizard
Author: Feygan
Fandom: Buffy/Anita Blake
Rating: FR-15
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
.
CHAPTER SEVEN
.
Sitting cross-legged on the floor, her hands calmly folded in her lap as she focused on the visions flashing across the backs of her eyelids.
Her body may have been safely ensconced in her Workroom, but her astral self was far away, sifting carefully through the various worlds, searching for even a trace of that familiar and beloved presence. So far there was nothing.
She had woken up this morning knowing that she was going to have to track down Oz, find out if he was all right or not. The fact that he had been so panicked the night before had left her a bit unsettled, especially once her mind had woken up enough to realize that there really had to have been some apocalypse-level badness going on for him to have lost his cool to such a degree.
Now that she knew he wasn't in the world anymore, that he was somewhere out there, hopefully on an alternate Earth, she knew she had to do whatever necessary to find him and save him if he needed saving.
Willow had long since accepted the fact that what she and Oz had shared was long over. But that didn't mean she didn't still love him, wouldn't always love him. He had a piece of her heart that he carried with him wherever he went, and no matter what happened, she would always do whatever was in her power to make sure he was as safe as she could manage.
He was still her Oz.
* * *
He was buried under the blankets on his borrowed bed when the door burst open and Jason bounded in.
"All right, no more mopey face!" Jason yelled, throwing himself knees first on the bed. Oz barely managed to move himself out of the way before he ended up a falsetto.
"What's up?" Oz said, deciding to ignore for a moment the events of the night before. That old Sunnydale mentality was raising its little head and he was going to let it.
Jason gave him a momentary weird look, then shrugged. "I just wanted to say thank you." He leaned over and slapped Oz on the arm, a very guy kind of thing to do, though not nearly as demonstrative as Oz had come to expect Jason to be.
"Okay," he said.
Jason cocked his head, as though waiting for more, then just grinned when nothing else was forthcoming. "Yeah. I'm really grateful that you did that for me. I really thought I was a goner. I just can't believe that Anita would really shoot me."
"I don't really know her, but it seems to me that she's got some control issues," Oz said softly.
Jason sighed. "Yeah. It's weird though, she wasn't always like that, you know? She actually used to be pretty cool. I just don't know what happened to her."
Oz didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything. He didn't know Anita, and that was a fact of the matter. He had suspicions, but no real knowledge.
Even though he had left the Scooby gang before events in Sunnydale really started getting scary, he had been there through enough to know the kind of horrific stress his friends had been facing. He had been there long enough to watch as they were slowly sucked out of themselves, until sometimes it was impossible to tell where the monsters ended and the people began. And the things Willow had told him about in her infrequent letters... it had made him kind of glad that he had left when he had.
Battling dark gods and killing humans, even if they were trying to get Buffy's sister Dawn... it was all very Bad News Bears. It just felt as though things in Sunnydale had steadily been getting worse, heading toward some final showdown that would probably end in dead friends and mind-crushing grief.
He didn't know what he would have done if he had had to watch Willow die and been helpless to stop it. Which made his leaving a good thing, even though he still felt kind of guilty about deserting his friends right when they were being dragged down into the muck.
So even though he didn't know Anita Blake, on one level he kind of did, because he could totally understand that stress did crazy things to the human brain. And even in the few minutes he had really seen her, it was obvious to him that she was under some serious pressure and really not handling it at all well.
"Yeah, man," he said, because really, what else could he say?
Jason shook his head and flopped forward on the bed, relaxing limply into the pile of blankets. "So, what do you wanna do today?"
"Huh?"
Jason grinned. "Come on, man, we're young and we're breathing. Let's enjoy it while it lasts."
Oz snorted, amused. "Okay."
"Great." Displaying an entirely inhuman agility, Jason leaped from the bed to land on his feet. "Let's go have some fun!"
* * *
From the minute he had woken up, Jason had been filled with this vibrating kind of energy. The fact that he was alive just left him completely overjoyed, and he had the undeniable need to share the feeling with the people around him.
Leaning against the door with his arms crossed, he watched as Oz got dressed. He probably shouldn't have been keeping such a close eye on the other man, but there was something fascinating about the guy.
Oz slipped on a pair of black jeans and a close-fitting black tee shirt with "YES, IT'S THE APOCALYPSE ALL RIGHT (i always thought i'd have a hand in it)" on the front in electrical blue. All that smooth pale skin covered up in black cotton was oddly appealing, the shine and twinkle of piercings only drawing more attention to that lean, not overly tall body.
"What?" Oz asked, catching him looking.
Jason shrugged. "Just thinking that you're tougher than you look."
"It's not hard when you consider the fact that I look about as tough as a wet noodle," Oz dead-panned.
Jason laughed a little. "Okay, whatever. You ready to go yet, or you need more time to get beautiful?"
Oz glanced down at himself. "Shoes, pants, shirt..." He looked at Jason. "I'm ready."
"But is the world?" Jason opened the door and stepped out. "Come on."
"Where?"
"The world, baby, the world. We shall see the many sights and visit the wonders of this earthly plain. And if we're real lucky, there might possibly be beer in our future."
"Mind-boggling."
"I know."
.
Oz in a club was like a fish in water. He just seemed to fit amongst the crowd of young, happy people, even if he didn't talk a whole lot and his mere presence created a mote of silence in the otherwise hectic environment. He just kind of swayed a little, watching the band on the stage, his fingers twitching slightly as though he were the one playing guitar.
Jason danced his way through the crowd back to where Oz stood. "Here," he said, holding out a plastic cup.
"Thanks." Oz's fingers brushed his as he took the cup. Strangely, Jason felt a flash of warmth go through him.
"Yeah. So... What do you think of these guys?" He jerked his chin toward the stage.
Oz's lips quirked slightly. "They're pretty good. Guy knows his chords."
"So... you wanna dance?" Jason felt his eyes go wide and his lips twist in a grimace as the words just kind of popped out of his mouth.
Oz looked at him.
"Uh," he said, flushing. He shuffled his feet a little and took a gulp of his beer. "Yeah. Um, honest truth, man, you wanna dance... with me?"
He knew that he was kind of a flirt-slut, but there was something about Oz that made his usual lines feel completely awkward. He didn't want to come off as some horny dork, but he had a feeling that that was exactly the image he was presenting, and he really wished he could impress Oz, but that wasn't happening.
Oz cocked his head, a thoughtful look on his face. Then he shrugged. "Okay."
A wave of exultant relief went through Jason as he reached out and grabbed Oz's hand, pulling him forward through the crowd toward the dance floor. He knew he had a too-wide grin on his face, but he couldn't help himself. This was just such a perfect moment.
Writhing on the dance floor, rubbing his body against Oz's lean form, he was happier than he had been in a long time.
The last few years of his life had seemed like an out of control downward spiral. He had tried hard to hold it together, but he had known that he was slowly losing it. And somehow, the mere presence of Oz had saved him, or was going to save him, or something he just didn't have the words to express.
Whatever was going on with him, he was just happy to have Oz here with him, in this place and time. It just felt right on so many levels.
So throwing all deeper thoughts to the wind, he wrapped his arms around Oz's neck, leaned his head against the other man's shoulder, and breathed in the scent of him. There was just something so familiar about Oz's smell, something that made him think of home, which he had never really had before. Sure, being around Pack made him feel safer and more welcome than anything in his life ever had, but it was different with Oz, more realer, honest.
It was just too bad Oz wasn't a werewolf. That would be the only thing that could ever make it better. To have Oz be Pack.
* * *
They made it back to the Circus in time to be caught by Asher.
"Jean-Claude would like to see you," the vampire said, his focus on Oz alone.
Even though nothing showed on his face, Oz felt a bit of a nervous sizzle go through him. He had known this was going to happen. He had made himself too interesting the Master of the City, and now he was going to have to come up with some answers he really didn't know. "'Kay."
Following Asher through the maze of the circus, he couldn't help being a little glad that Jason was there with him. Sure, there probably wasn't a whole lot Jason could do against the Master vampire that happened to be his boss, but there were moral support issues going on and that was cool.
They reached the doors to Jean-Claude's office and Oz had to draw in a deep, fortifying breath before going in. He really didn't want to face this moment, but if there was one thing he had learned from his life in Sunnydale, it was foolhardy bravery in the face of impossible odds. All he had to do was put on his Xander face.
"Welcome, M'ser Osbourne, I hope you have had a truly pleasant evening," that smooth, sex-laden voice said.
Oz ignored the shiver that wanted to go down his spine. He knew vampire tricks when he felt them and he wasn't even going to go there. "I'm good," he said. Without waiting for the invite, he sat down on one of the chairs in front of Jean-Claude's desk.
"I have a few questions for you, mon ami."
"I thought so."
Jean-Claude crossed his hands on the desk. "How were you able to heal our dear Jason? What was that power I felt in you last night?"
Oz shrugged. "I don't know. Nothing's ever happened like that with me. It was very weird."
"You have never healed anyone before?" Jean-Claude raised an eyebrow.
Oz shook his head. "No. It felt kind of familiar, but I've never healed anyone."
"Hm." Jean-Claude looked at Jason. "And how do you feel, Mr. Shuyler?"
Jason grinned. "Never better."
"Interesting. Very interesting."
The way Jean-Claude was looking at him made Oz want to squirm. Except he didn't do things like that.
"Yeah, interesting," he muttered.
* * *
With a small curse, Willow jumped to her feet, tossing her hair over her shoulders.
No matter what she did, she couldn't focus tight enough to find Oz. Maybe if he was calling her name she would be able to reach him, but as it was... nothing but blank universal space.
Blowing out her cheeks, she tried to think of something to do. She had to find Oz. He needed her.
"Ah hah, why didn't I think of that before?" she said to herself, giving a little laugh.
She snapped her fingers and a silver bowl carved with ornate sigils for clear vision appeared on the floor before her. She concentrated and it filled with water.
Kneeling on the floor, she placed her palms on the rim of the bowl, muttering softly under her breath.
As she spoke the lights dimmed and a mix of swirling lights rose up into the air from the bowl. Higher and higher they spun until they filled the whole of her view, the lights blurring together until they became the images of a thousand worlds, a hundred thousand worlds, worlds beyond count, spinning faster and faster in a dizzying blur.
Weakness fluttered through her. She hadn't expected this spell to take so much out of her, but she knew that she couldn't stop, not until she found Oz.
Gazing upwards at the millions of worlds she almost felt despair... there were so many. But she refused to give up and began the hardest part of her task, finding the right Oz in this mass of possibilities.
Tracing the unique magical signature of her Oz, she began picking through the various worlds, marking off whole strings of realities as being too far off the mark. A world where men rode on the backs of dragons and flamed the silvery acid-drips of falling death. A world where men in black robes and white skull masks terrorized a castle full of children with slender sticks while a thin black haired boy with blazing green eyes strode forward with foolhardy bravery to face his every nightmare. A spaceship floating through the velvet dark of space, a brown haired man in red leather facing down a giant with tentacles for a goatee wielding a curved blade. A world where dozens of men and women fought to the death in a once peaceful glen, their swords flashing as they tried to behead each other, blue-tinged lightning reaching toward the sky with angry fingers. A world where strangely dressed people stepped through a metal ring and one of the figure's eyes glowed alien white. A world where dinosaurs walked the earth and a group of people leaped from a green jeep with a red sigil on the side to run for the dubious safety of the woods. A world where a woman with red hair fought zombies with a tireless strength, flashing fangs as she cursed and wove a path of destruction. Another spaceship, this one smaller and more cramped, a young girl huddled in a corner whispering to herself, her dark eyes rising in question as though she felt Willow's gaze, her lips screaming for "Simon!" A world where a dark-skinned woman flew through the sky, her eyes pupil-less and white as she formed lightning clouds around herself, preparing a large blast. A world where a dark haired girl roared through the night on a Ninja motorcycle, a barcode proudly displayed on the back of her neck as she led her people to freedom. A world where a small boy tried to duck past laser-shooting garden gnomes while a strange looking green kid posed in the open doorway of the house laughing. A world where four boys bundled up in parkas stood at a bus stop, talking and waving their hands as they waited to go to school, the fat one screwing up his face pettishly. A world where a man dressed in red and blue flew through the sky, blasting red lasers from his eyes as he fought a giant robotic creature. And even more worlds, each strange and alien and holding nothing that she really cared about, not in this time and place where she had things to do and people to find.
As she focused on the purity of water and the honesty of air, the worlds began to peel away one-by-one, two-by-two, then dozens at a time until only one world remained. Shining silvery-blue in the darkness, the shadow of a distant earth beckoning her on with the warmth of a familiar presence. Oz.
Taking a deep breath, Willow lifted her hand, drawing the world close until it almost touched her palm, then tossed it across the room where it splashed against the wall-length mirror of the closet's sliding door and sunk into it.
Willow panted for breath and threw herself flat on her back on the floor. She turned her head to look into the mirror, a slight smile tugging at her lips as everything went dark.
The last thing she saw as consciousness left her was a blurry far-off view of that other world. But she knew that it was only a matter of time for that image to become clearer and closer until Oz was perfectly in focus.
She had found him.
* * *
Rocking back and forth on her bed, Anita felt more tears seeping down her face, trying to drown her in weakness. She didn't know what was happening, but for the last few hours she had been crying without really knowing why.
There was something wrong with her and she didn't know what. It made her fingers itch to clutch her gun. She hated being such a wimp, and the fact that she couldn't seem to stop herself only made it worse.
"Why are you crying? Shouldn't you be out there doing something?"
"Shut up," Anita said, pressing her face into her kneecaps.
"Aw, poor Anita, so lost, so confused. Everyone's left you, haven't they? You're all alone."
"If I was alone, you wouldn't be here," Anita said, raising her head, blinking her eyes blearily.
The small blond woman bent forward until their faces were on the level. "I've always been here. You know that. Whispering when you couldn't hear me. But you can hear me now, can't you?"
"Yes."
It was true. There had always been a voice whispering in the back of her mind. She had ignored it for most of her life, focusing her attention outward rather than giving that shadow of a thought form. But something had happened, something had broken in her mind. Now that voice had burst from her full-fledged and given a human form.
"Why are you here?" Anita asked.
"To keep you company. To help you focus."
"Focus on what?"
"The task you need to perform," the woman said.
Anita scrubbed at her eyes with her hands, feeling almost like a child for a moment. But she had never really been a child, not since her mother's death. "What are you talking about?"
"You know what you have to do, Anita. There's evil out there, waiting for you to... handle it."
Anita sniffed. "Why I do I need you?"
"Every hero needs a friend. And I'm your friend, Anita. The best kind of friend you'll ever have."
A feeling of warmth went through Anita. She knew she should be suspicious of it, but it was so comfortingly natural that she couldn't even care.
"What's your name?" she asked.
The specter smiled, a disarmingly sweet expression. "Buffy."
TBC...
Author: Feygan
Fandom: Buffy/Anita Blake
Rating: FR-15
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
.
CHAPTER SEVEN
.
Sitting cross-legged on the floor, her hands calmly folded in her lap as she focused on the visions flashing across the backs of her eyelids.
Her body may have been safely ensconced in her Workroom, but her astral self was far away, sifting carefully through the various worlds, searching for even a trace of that familiar and beloved presence. So far there was nothing.
She had woken up this morning knowing that she was going to have to track down Oz, find out if he was all right or not. The fact that he had been so panicked the night before had left her a bit unsettled, especially once her mind had woken up enough to realize that there really had to have been some apocalypse-level badness going on for him to have lost his cool to such a degree.
Now that she knew he wasn't in the world anymore, that he was somewhere out there, hopefully on an alternate Earth, she knew she had to do whatever necessary to find him and save him if he needed saving.
Willow had long since accepted the fact that what she and Oz had shared was long over. But that didn't mean she didn't still love him, wouldn't always love him. He had a piece of her heart that he carried with him wherever he went, and no matter what happened, she would always do whatever was in her power to make sure he was as safe as she could manage.
He was still her Oz.
* * *
He was buried under the blankets on his borrowed bed when the door burst open and Jason bounded in.
"All right, no more mopey face!" Jason yelled, throwing himself knees first on the bed. Oz barely managed to move himself out of the way before he ended up a falsetto.
"What's up?" Oz said, deciding to ignore for a moment the events of the night before. That old Sunnydale mentality was raising its little head and he was going to let it.
Jason gave him a momentary weird look, then shrugged. "I just wanted to say thank you." He leaned over and slapped Oz on the arm, a very guy kind of thing to do, though not nearly as demonstrative as Oz had come to expect Jason to be.
"Okay," he said.
Jason cocked his head, as though waiting for more, then just grinned when nothing else was forthcoming. "Yeah. I'm really grateful that you did that for me. I really thought I was a goner. I just can't believe that Anita would really shoot me."
"I don't really know her, but it seems to me that she's got some control issues," Oz said softly.
Jason sighed. "Yeah. It's weird though, she wasn't always like that, you know? She actually used to be pretty cool. I just don't know what happened to her."
Oz didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything. He didn't know Anita, and that was a fact of the matter. He had suspicions, but no real knowledge.
Even though he had left the Scooby gang before events in Sunnydale really started getting scary, he had been there through enough to know the kind of horrific stress his friends had been facing. He had been there long enough to watch as they were slowly sucked out of themselves, until sometimes it was impossible to tell where the monsters ended and the people began. And the things Willow had told him about in her infrequent letters... it had made him kind of glad that he had left when he had.
Battling dark gods and killing humans, even if they were trying to get Buffy's sister Dawn... it was all very Bad News Bears. It just felt as though things in Sunnydale had steadily been getting worse, heading toward some final showdown that would probably end in dead friends and mind-crushing grief.
He didn't know what he would have done if he had had to watch Willow die and been helpless to stop it. Which made his leaving a good thing, even though he still felt kind of guilty about deserting his friends right when they were being dragged down into the muck.
So even though he didn't know Anita Blake, on one level he kind of did, because he could totally understand that stress did crazy things to the human brain. And even in the few minutes he had really seen her, it was obvious to him that she was under some serious pressure and really not handling it at all well.
"Yeah, man," he said, because really, what else could he say?
Jason shook his head and flopped forward on the bed, relaxing limply into the pile of blankets. "So, what do you wanna do today?"
"Huh?"
Jason grinned. "Come on, man, we're young and we're breathing. Let's enjoy it while it lasts."
Oz snorted, amused. "Okay."
"Great." Displaying an entirely inhuman agility, Jason leaped from the bed to land on his feet. "Let's go have some fun!"
* * *
From the minute he had woken up, Jason had been filled with this vibrating kind of energy. The fact that he was alive just left him completely overjoyed, and he had the undeniable need to share the feeling with the people around him.
Leaning against the door with his arms crossed, he watched as Oz got dressed. He probably shouldn't have been keeping such a close eye on the other man, but there was something fascinating about the guy.
Oz slipped on a pair of black jeans and a close-fitting black tee shirt with "YES, IT'S THE APOCALYPSE ALL RIGHT (i always thought i'd have a hand in it)" on the front in electrical blue. All that smooth pale skin covered up in black cotton was oddly appealing, the shine and twinkle of piercings only drawing more attention to that lean, not overly tall body.
"What?" Oz asked, catching him looking.
Jason shrugged. "Just thinking that you're tougher than you look."
"It's not hard when you consider the fact that I look about as tough as a wet noodle," Oz dead-panned.
Jason laughed a little. "Okay, whatever. You ready to go yet, or you need more time to get beautiful?"
Oz glanced down at himself. "Shoes, pants, shirt..." He looked at Jason. "I'm ready."
"But is the world?" Jason opened the door and stepped out. "Come on."
"Where?"
"The world, baby, the world. We shall see the many sights and visit the wonders of this earthly plain. And if we're real lucky, there might possibly be beer in our future."
"Mind-boggling."
"I know."
.
Oz in a club was like a fish in water. He just seemed to fit amongst the crowd of young, happy people, even if he didn't talk a whole lot and his mere presence created a mote of silence in the otherwise hectic environment. He just kind of swayed a little, watching the band on the stage, his fingers twitching slightly as though he were the one playing guitar.
Jason danced his way through the crowd back to where Oz stood. "Here," he said, holding out a plastic cup.
"Thanks." Oz's fingers brushed his as he took the cup. Strangely, Jason felt a flash of warmth go through him.
"Yeah. So... What do you think of these guys?" He jerked his chin toward the stage.
Oz's lips quirked slightly. "They're pretty good. Guy knows his chords."
"So... you wanna dance?" Jason felt his eyes go wide and his lips twist in a grimace as the words just kind of popped out of his mouth.
Oz looked at him.
"Uh," he said, flushing. He shuffled his feet a little and took a gulp of his beer. "Yeah. Um, honest truth, man, you wanna dance... with me?"
He knew that he was kind of a flirt-slut, but there was something about Oz that made his usual lines feel completely awkward. He didn't want to come off as some horny dork, but he had a feeling that that was exactly the image he was presenting, and he really wished he could impress Oz, but that wasn't happening.
Oz cocked his head, a thoughtful look on his face. Then he shrugged. "Okay."
A wave of exultant relief went through Jason as he reached out and grabbed Oz's hand, pulling him forward through the crowd toward the dance floor. He knew he had a too-wide grin on his face, but he couldn't help himself. This was just such a perfect moment.
Writhing on the dance floor, rubbing his body against Oz's lean form, he was happier than he had been in a long time.
The last few years of his life had seemed like an out of control downward spiral. He had tried hard to hold it together, but he had known that he was slowly losing it. And somehow, the mere presence of Oz had saved him, or was going to save him, or something he just didn't have the words to express.
Whatever was going on with him, he was just happy to have Oz here with him, in this place and time. It just felt right on so many levels.
So throwing all deeper thoughts to the wind, he wrapped his arms around Oz's neck, leaned his head against the other man's shoulder, and breathed in the scent of him. There was just something so familiar about Oz's smell, something that made him think of home, which he had never really had before. Sure, being around Pack made him feel safer and more welcome than anything in his life ever had, but it was different with Oz, more realer, honest.
It was just too bad Oz wasn't a werewolf. That would be the only thing that could ever make it better. To have Oz be Pack.
* * *
They made it back to the Circus in time to be caught by Asher.
"Jean-Claude would like to see you," the vampire said, his focus on Oz alone.
Even though nothing showed on his face, Oz felt a bit of a nervous sizzle go through him. He had known this was going to happen. He had made himself too interesting the Master of the City, and now he was going to have to come up with some answers he really didn't know. "'Kay."
Following Asher through the maze of the circus, he couldn't help being a little glad that Jason was there with him. Sure, there probably wasn't a whole lot Jason could do against the Master vampire that happened to be his boss, but there were moral support issues going on and that was cool.
They reached the doors to Jean-Claude's office and Oz had to draw in a deep, fortifying breath before going in. He really didn't want to face this moment, but if there was one thing he had learned from his life in Sunnydale, it was foolhardy bravery in the face of impossible odds. All he had to do was put on his Xander face.
"Welcome, M'ser Osbourne, I hope you have had a truly pleasant evening," that smooth, sex-laden voice said.
Oz ignored the shiver that wanted to go down his spine. He knew vampire tricks when he felt them and he wasn't even going to go there. "I'm good," he said. Without waiting for the invite, he sat down on one of the chairs in front of Jean-Claude's desk.
"I have a few questions for you, mon ami."
"I thought so."
Jean-Claude crossed his hands on the desk. "How were you able to heal our dear Jason? What was that power I felt in you last night?"
Oz shrugged. "I don't know. Nothing's ever happened like that with me. It was very weird."
"You have never healed anyone before?" Jean-Claude raised an eyebrow.
Oz shook his head. "No. It felt kind of familiar, but I've never healed anyone."
"Hm." Jean-Claude looked at Jason. "And how do you feel, Mr. Shuyler?"
Jason grinned. "Never better."
"Interesting. Very interesting."
The way Jean-Claude was looking at him made Oz want to squirm. Except he didn't do things like that.
"Yeah, interesting," he muttered.
* * *
With a small curse, Willow jumped to her feet, tossing her hair over her shoulders.
No matter what she did, she couldn't focus tight enough to find Oz. Maybe if he was calling her name she would be able to reach him, but as it was... nothing but blank universal space.
Blowing out her cheeks, she tried to think of something to do. She had to find Oz. He needed her.
"Ah hah, why didn't I think of that before?" she said to herself, giving a little laugh.
She snapped her fingers and a silver bowl carved with ornate sigils for clear vision appeared on the floor before her. She concentrated and it filled with water.
Kneeling on the floor, she placed her palms on the rim of the bowl, muttering softly under her breath.
As she spoke the lights dimmed and a mix of swirling lights rose up into the air from the bowl. Higher and higher they spun until they filled the whole of her view, the lights blurring together until they became the images of a thousand worlds, a hundred thousand worlds, worlds beyond count, spinning faster and faster in a dizzying blur.
Weakness fluttered through her. She hadn't expected this spell to take so much out of her, but she knew that she couldn't stop, not until she found Oz.
Gazing upwards at the millions of worlds she almost felt despair... there were so many. But she refused to give up and began the hardest part of her task, finding the right Oz in this mass of possibilities.
Tracing the unique magical signature of her Oz, she began picking through the various worlds, marking off whole strings of realities as being too far off the mark. A world where men rode on the backs of dragons and flamed the silvery acid-drips of falling death. A world where men in black robes and white skull masks terrorized a castle full of children with slender sticks while a thin black haired boy with blazing green eyes strode forward with foolhardy bravery to face his every nightmare. A spaceship floating through the velvet dark of space, a brown haired man in red leather facing down a giant with tentacles for a goatee wielding a curved blade. A world where dozens of men and women fought to the death in a once peaceful glen, their swords flashing as they tried to behead each other, blue-tinged lightning reaching toward the sky with angry fingers. A world where strangely dressed people stepped through a metal ring and one of the figure's eyes glowed alien white. A world where dinosaurs walked the earth and a group of people leaped from a green jeep with a red sigil on the side to run for the dubious safety of the woods. A world where a woman with red hair fought zombies with a tireless strength, flashing fangs as she cursed and wove a path of destruction. Another spaceship, this one smaller and more cramped, a young girl huddled in a corner whispering to herself, her dark eyes rising in question as though she felt Willow's gaze, her lips screaming for "Simon!" A world where a dark-skinned woman flew through the sky, her eyes pupil-less and white as she formed lightning clouds around herself, preparing a large blast. A world where a dark haired girl roared through the night on a Ninja motorcycle, a barcode proudly displayed on the back of her neck as she led her people to freedom. A world where a small boy tried to duck past laser-shooting garden gnomes while a strange looking green kid posed in the open doorway of the house laughing. A world where four boys bundled up in parkas stood at a bus stop, talking and waving their hands as they waited to go to school, the fat one screwing up his face pettishly. A world where a man dressed in red and blue flew through the sky, blasting red lasers from his eyes as he fought a giant robotic creature. And even more worlds, each strange and alien and holding nothing that she really cared about, not in this time and place where she had things to do and people to find.
As she focused on the purity of water and the honesty of air, the worlds began to peel away one-by-one, two-by-two, then dozens at a time until only one world remained. Shining silvery-blue in the darkness, the shadow of a distant earth beckoning her on with the warmth of a familiar presence. Oz.
Taking a deep breath, Willow lifted her hand, drawing the world close until it almost touched her palm, then tossed it across the room where it splashed against the wall-length mirror of the closet's sliding door and sunk into it.
Willow panted for breath and threw herself flat on her back on the floor. She turned her head to look into the mirror, a slight smile tugging at her lips as everything went dark.
The last thing she saw as consciousness left her was a blurry far-off view of that other world. But she knew that it was only a matter of time for that image to become clearer and closer until Oz was perfectly in focus.
She had found him.
* * *
Rocking back and forth on her bed, Anita felt more tears seeping down her face, trying to drown her in weakness. She didn't know what was happening, but for the last few hours she had been crying without really knowing why.
There was something wrong with her and she didn't know what. It made her fingers itch to clutch her gun. She hated being such a wimp, and the fact that she couldn't seem to stop herself only made it worse.
"Why are you crying? Shouldn't you be out there doing something?"
"Shut up," Anita said, pressing her face into her kneecaps.
"Aw, poor Anita, so lost, so confused. Everyone's left you, haven't they? You're all alone."
"If I was alone, you wouldn't be here," Anita said, raising her head, blinking her eyes blearily.
The small blond woman bent forward until their faces were on the level. "I've always been here. You know that. Whispering when you couldn't hear me. But you can hear me now, can't you?"
"Yes."
It was true. There had always been a voice whispering in the back of her mind. She had ignored it for most of her life, focusing her attention outward rather than giving that shadow of a thought form. But something had happened, something had broken in her mind. Now that voice had burst from her full-fledged and given a human form.
"Why are you here?" Anita asked.
"To keep you company. To help you focus."
"Focus on what?"
"The task you need to perform," the woman said.
Anita scrubbed at her eyes with her hands, feeling almost like a child for a moment. But she had never really been a child, not since her mother's death. "What are you talking about?"
"You know what you have to do, Anita. There's evil out there, waiting for you to... handle it."
Anita sniffed. "Why I do I need you?"
"Every hero needs a friend. And I'm your friend, Anita. The best kind of friend you'll ever have."
A feeling of warmth went through Anita. She knew she should be suspicious of it, but it was so comfortingly natural that she couldn't even care.
"What's your name?" she asked.
The specter smiled, a disarmingly sweet expression. "Buffy."
TBC...