Part One

Another typical night at the Bronze. Dingoes were playing, Willow, Buffy and Xander had a table in the back. Willow, staring at a certain spiky-haired guitar player, sighed.

"What's with you?" Buffy asked her friend, not used to this pensivness.

"Oh, nothing," Willow replied, brushing a strand of fire-red hair out of her face. "It's just that Oz has been acting....well, strange lately." Willow cut off her sentence abruptly and stared pointedly at Xander.

"Huh? Oh, I get it," Xander said. "I'm no longer a consultant to your life. Well, by all means, let me go make my presence a nuisance elsewhere." Xander got up and stormed off in a huff.

Willow sighed again. "I wish I hadn't had to do that, but the last thing I need is for Xander to pitch an Oz-isn't-treating-you-right fit."

Buffy laughed. "Well, you know he's worried about you. I mean, your boyfriend DOES become a slavering beast monster with a nasty case of death-breath every month." Her efforts at humor were rewarded with a blank stare. "Uh.....ok. Scratch the death-breath part. Now tell me what's wrong."

"Okay, the other day I went over to Oz's to help him study." Willow cought the look Buffy was shooting her. "Seriously! It was a no-smoochies-allowed study date." Willow pinned on her best innocent expression, which was met with a giggle from her best friend. "Well, anyway, it was. I got there and let myself in and went straight up to Oz's room. I was being quiet because I wanted to surprise him. His bedroom door was open, so I just peeked in. Oz was sitting on his bed, staring at this picture in a silver frame!" Willow looked to her best friend for comment.

"So?", Buffy asked. "What of it?"

"He looked sad. And when I said 'hello', he jumped like I'd caught him killing a bunny or something. And when I asked him who the picture was of, he said 'nobody' real quick and shoved it into a drawer. Then he acted like nothing had happened. But he was very preoccupied the rest of the time that I was there, and he didn't even try to break out no-smoochies rule! He's never done that!"

Buffy patted her friend's hand. "Well, I wouldn't worry too much yet. Give him some time to tell you about it. You know better than any of us how private Oz is. If it's important, I'm sure he'll tell you."

Willow still looked very troubled. "I'm sure you're right, it's just all unlike him. I can't help but worry."

Meanwhile, onstage, Oz was staring at Willow and about a million miles away from what he was supposed to be doing, playing on auto-pilot. *Sooner or later, I'm gonna have to tell her about Elena. She's gonna have to know about the whole mess.......just in case.* Suddenly, he felt a chill trace it's icy fingers up and down his spine. He shivered, and there was something almost... familiar about the touch, like the touch of an old lover......

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Several miles from the Bronze, a girl stood outside of the main bus terminal under the velvet blanket of the night. She was dressed all in black, an old black Ozzy Ozbourne tour t-shirt, black jeans, black leather jacket, black combat boots. At her feet was a battered black backpack. Her hair was also black, mixing with the gloom of the night. Her nose was in the air, almost as if she were scenting for something. Suddenly, a sharp smile creased her ice-white face. "There you are, Oz," she muttered. "I told you that you would never be able to hide from me." She shouldered her backpack and began to walk further into Sunnydale, bringing Oz's past to him.

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Continues
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