Daniel Osborne, known as Oz to his friends, would forever wonder what possessed him that day only a week after his thirty-fifth birthday. He didn't regret what he did; his life had been at a standstill, and his new career move had given him something new to explore and enjoy and excel at. His life had become crazier than his Sunnydale and London lives had been, as unbelievable as that sounded, but he enjoyed every minute of it.

It all began in the year 2015. It had been the night before the full moon, or more correctly, the morning before the night before the full moon. Oz lived in London with a handful of Slayers that had been in the slaying business for fifteen or so years. He didn't change into the wolf like he used to on these three nights; now, he could change at will, or not at all. The revelation of magic to the public had brought about the uncovering of a number of supernatural and fantastical creatures. While most people didn't know he was a werewolf, spells to help werewolves had been developed, and he used these to stop him from losing control whenever he changed into the wolf. It was the golden age of science and magic, and he had benefited from it marvelously.

Whenever the full moon came around, he still found himself feeling edgy and quicker to anger than was his usual. His senses sharpened along with his sense of protection for those people he considered 'his'. Any enemies he encountered during this time were shown no mercy.

Oz had been seated on the couch of his apartment watching an old episode of Stargate SG-1, trying to ignore the noises of the city that filtered up through his open third-story window. Closing the window would have helped, but it was hot inside. Because it wasn't even summer yet, the landlord refused to turn on the A/C. If it was hot, you either opened a window or you sweltered.

Oz didn't mind the heat inside or the cold outside so much, but his friends did. His friends would be the three Slayers that were based in London. All were Londoners when they were called; Oz was the only foreigner among them. Still, he'd known them for ten years, and they considered each other to be family.

General Hammond's voice filtered through the TV's speakers. "Colonel O'Neill, what the hell are you doing?" He sounded furious.

On the screen, Colonel O'Neill and Teal'c paused. Teal'c looked admonishingly up at someone off screen. O'Neill spun around and shouted, indignant, "In the middle of my back swing!?"

Oz blinked. There was something wrong with the colonel's face. There was a black patch on it as if the colonel had come up close and personal with silver nitrate. Oz focused on the spot and realized that it wasn't on the colonel's face at all, but on the TV screen. It was a spider and it had to be the smallest spider he'd ever seen.

There was something off about it. Oz got out of his chair and got closer to the screen for a better look. He blinked in surprise.

The tiny spider was staring at him.

There was no question about it. Its eyes reflected him as they gazed at him with great intensity.

Oz decided to be polite. "Um…hello."

The spider suddenly grew. Oz hastily stepped back and watched as the arachnid expanded in size until it covered the entire screen, then jumped off and faced him on all eight of its now-gigantic legs.

"Nice demonic spider," Oz said, glancing around for a weapon as he hastily backed away. He could feel the wolf rise within him at the anticipation of an opponent and almost growled the last word.

The spider changed its shape, morphing from an arachnid to a human woman in the span of seconds. She was as gorgeous as the London Slayers and about the same age. Honey-brown hair was piled haphazardly on her head, kept in place by a butterfly clip. Green eyes filled with age and wisdom gazed at him.

Oz's jaw dropped. "Okay. Definitely not something I see everyday."

The spider woman snorted, then guffawed, long and hard. She slapped her thighs in mirth. Oz just watched, wondering what the punch line was. Finally, she managed to calm down. "I'm sorry," she said. "It's not even that funny, but it's not every day that I hear that coming from you." She sobered suddenly. "But you don't have any idea what I'm talking about."

It took him a moment to place her accent, because it was neither English nor American. He realized it was Australian with a touch of American mixed in.

"I don't know about you, but it's not everyday that I get to meet Spider-girl," he quipped.

"Of course," she said. "It's understandable. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Clotho, one of the three Aspects of Fate."

Everything started to fall into place. Oz nodded. "The weaver."

She smiled. "That's right."

And then she changed again, this time turning into an older woman. She was middle-aged, slightly overweight, and had honey blonde hair. "I am Lachesis," she said. He was pretty sure her accent was Irish.

Lachesis changed into an elderly black woman. "And I'm Atropos," she told him. She was definitely American. She gave his hair the once-over. "Honey, you never did look good with blonde. And it'll take us forever to break you of that habit!"

Oz was back to being confused. "What?"

Lachesis re-emerged. "Forgive the other Aspects. They're having a little fun, considering that this is our last meeting with you. And we'll explain about that in a moment. We've come to make you a proposal."

"What kind of proposal?" Oz asked. What sort of proposal would Fate have to make? After all, from what he understood of it, Fate was the weaver, measurer, and cuter of the threads of life. If he had a fate of any kind, they wouldn't even have to inform him of it or get him to agree to it…or so he thought.

Lachesis took a seat on the recliner. Oz sat back down on the couch. "There are seven Incarnations," she began. "Two of them are the greater Incarnations while the rest are the lesser. The greater Incarnations are the Incarnation of Good and the Incarnation of Evil. We are the Incarnation of Fate. The other lesser Incarnations are Death, War, Nature, and Time. Whenever we are in our offices, each of us is Immortal. We are invulnerable. From the time each of us assumes an office, we cease to age and our bodies remain fixed in whatever state they were in before. However, once one of us abdicates from the office, his or her mortal life resumes." She smiled sadly. "For some of us, anyway."

"Okay." Oz wondered where this was going.

"Each office has different ways of changing office holders. Death, for example, takes up the office by killing his predecessor."

An eyebrow went up at that, but Oz didn't comment.

"The office we want to discuss with you, however, is the office of the Incarnation of Time. Chronos, you see, lives backward in time, from the moment he takes up the office to the moment of his conception."

"I'm not following you," Oz said.

Lachesis bit her lip as she sought a better way to explain it. "Before Chronos takes up the office as the Incarnation of Time, he is mortal. He lives his life in the normal direction. At the moment he takes up the office, his mortal life stops. He stops living forward in time, and instead lives backward, in the opposite direction to the rest of us."

"Why?"

"So he can know the future. An integral part of being the Incarnation of Time is making sure that effect always follows cause, and that the future that Chronos remembers can be arrived at from the past."

Oz's brow furrowed in thought as he processed that, nodding. "I think I understand that."

She smiled and continued, "Chronos lives backwards in time until the time of his mortal conception. Then, the office is passed along to his successor, and the old Chronos goes on to the Afterlife."

"The latest office holder is reaching the end of his term. He must pass on the Hourglass, the tool of his office, to his successor. The exchange will occur this evening. One way or another, the change in the office of Time must take place."

She took a deep breath. "This is our proposal. We would like to offer you a chance to be the next Incarnation of Time."

Silence descended. Slowly, Oz's eyes widened and widened some more until they were half way out of his eye sockets. His jaw dropped considerably. For the first time in ever, Oz was stunned speechless…and was showing it.

*****

Lachesis shifted to Clotho. The younger Aspect regarded him with concern. "You okay, Oz?" she asked, speaking his name for the first time.

His jaw snapped closed. He blinked. "You want me to be the next Incarnation of Time?" he asked, repeating what she'd said.

Clotho smiled at him and nodded. "Yes. You're the perfect candidate for the job."

The wheels churned in his head as he recalled everything Fate had told him. "…And you know that because you've worked with me in the past, since Chronos lives backwards in time."

"Right. But you can still refuse the job, because for you it hasn't happened yet." She shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. "No worries."

"Right," Oz repeated.