Oz looked at himself in the mirror, wincing at what he saw. He wasn't
someone who put a lot of stock in appearances, but his appearance lately...
He didn't want to finish the thought.

His eyes were dark and tired, and his skin was sallow. His hair hadn't been
dyed in... had it been two months or three? No longer spiky-- he didn't have
the patience anymore to run mousse through it-- it was longish and dull. And
he needed to cut it in the worst way. He sighed, turning away from the
mirror.

There were adjustments to make when you couldn't sleep for five months in a
row.

Well, that first month he had slept. The first month had been the reason he
had *stopped* sleeping. He liked to think of himself as someone with
strength. But even the strongest would have given up after some of the
dreams that had plagued his nights.

He didn't want to hurt anyone. But...

But deep down, he did.

Deep down, there was a dark part of him that screamed, a part that begged his
wolf to kill and tear and rip at the flesh of anything standing in his way.
He knew that the girl wasn't to blame. He knew that the blame lied within
his own motives, his own memories. But that didn't matter much. He wanted
her gone, killed, out of the way. He wanted her dead, it was as simple as
that.

He wanted her dead because he wanted what she had.

She had everything.

His darker self, his wolf, howled inside for her blood. It's rare that a
werewolf sees the sunlight but for Oz, that was all he had really known. He
had had the love of the sunlight caring for his wolf, dominating it with a
gentle sweetness that made it easier to accept the animal side. But now
there was nothing. Now there was darkness where there had been light. No
sun, taking care of him. Only the cold moon, staring down with its laughing
eyes.

She haunted him.

Green eyes he saw wherever he turned. Suddenly they would flash in front of
him, even when he was in the middle of a conversation, and he would pause in
wonder. Was it her? Was that Willow's sparkling gaze meeting his? Was she
there? Did she want him to come home to her? But then they would fade and
he would feel her presence depart as deeply as he felt it the first and
second and third times, those unnecessary breaks in their relationship where
they could have spent time laughing together, loving each other more
intensely than they ever did.

He had wasted time, he knew that now. So much time.... So much time that
could have been spent with her, more constructively. Time that could have
made much better memories for when they were forced to part, much farther up
the road. Time where he could have remembered being with her, instead of
cold and alone at his house or where ever he was.

Everything was dark where he was. Willow used to smile at him, and it was
like the sun was rising in his mind. Light shone everywhere. Bright and
blinding white light, the light of her happiness. The light that he felt
when she touched him. The light that he felt when she said his name. It
wasn't like that now. Now he was alone. And he wouldn't feel that light
again. Not without her.

He couldn't.

He wanted to go back. There was a desperation inside of him to see her in
real life, to touch her again. She had such soft skin, always warm. And in
those rare moments when it wasn't, she used to stick her fingers in his
pockets-- or better yet, she would grip his hand-- to warm them. Those
moments gave him a tingle that he could never quite describe.

Well, now he couldn't. He had been able to come close to describing it
through his music, when he was still inspired. But he was blocked.
Hopelessly, frustratingly blocked. He had nothing to write about if he
wasn't going to write about loving her, about the way it felt to have her
loving him.

What was the point?

He ached to be near her. He had thought about it, more than once... Going
home, just to watch her. He wouldn't have to tell her he was there. Just to
see her smiling face, to assure himself that she was content and even happy
would lift his spirits, he knew. An unending pain dwelled in his chest when
he thought about her, when he didn't think about her (which wasn't often),
when he closed his eyes and when he opened them.

There wasn't anything worth dreaming about since she wasn't in his life.
There wasn't any reason to stay awake. He wanted to go back.

His world was too dark without her in it. All of those broken relationship
cliches suddenly applied to him and he hated it. He hated having to turn off
the radio when a song came on that appealed to the side that mourned for her.
He hated the way his voice got grainy with emotion whenever it rained. He
hated...

He hated all of it.

And he really needed sleep.
* * * * * *

Willow looked up in frustration, her eyes glimmering with unshed tears. She
knew she had seen his face that time! Worn and tired in the smoke, he had
been there, right in front of her. Looking at her. Meeting her eyes.

But then the room had darkened and his face had vanished from her sight. A
tear spilled over and she angrily wiped it away with the back of her hand,
staring at the circle of candles.

A moment later Buffy walked in, swinging her keys with a grin on her face.
She halted and her smile faded, though, when she saw Willow sitting in the
middle of the room. A deep sigh left her body and her eyebrows drew together
in concern. "You know that spell is a little dangerous. It takes too much
energy out of you, Will."

Willow shrugged, uncaring of the danger. "If I want him to come home, I have
to try anything I can. Even if that means making sacrifices. This spell
makes him see me, like I'm right before his eyes... Maybe he'll figure out
that it's really me he's seeing and that I want him back. He has to come
home, Buffy. I need him."

Buffy knelt down next to Willow, who was now silently weeping, and encircled
her friend with her arms. She rubbed Willow's back tenderly, pulling the
hair away from her face, wiping away her tears. "He'll come home, Will. I
know it. He can't stay away from you much longer."

Willow's tears slowly stopped and she smiled at Buffy, hiding her weak cough
as a soft chuckle. She would never reveal how often she had been doing the
spell to Buffy. She would never let anyone know how much it had taken out of
her, or that the doctor had told her that she may not have much time left if
she continued to put herself under the stress that she had been under,
carrying the burden she'd been carrying. She was still strong, she knew.

She could still get him back.


The End



Mercury falling, I rise from my bed.
Collect my thoughts together,
I have to hold my head.
It seems that she's gone and somehow I am pinned by,
The hounds of winter are howling in the wind.

I walk thru the day, my coat around my ears
I look for my companion, I have to dry my tears.
It seems that she's gone.
Leaving me to soon.
I am as dark as December, I am as cold as the man in the moon.

I still see her face as beautiful as day.
It's easy to remember, remember my love that way.
All I hear is that lonesome sound,
The hounds of winter, they follow me down.

I still see her face as beautiful as day.
It's easy to remember, remember my love that way.
All I hear is that lonesome sound,
The hounds of winter, they follow me down.

Can't make up the fire, the way that she could
I spend all my days in the search for dry wood.
Bar all the windows and close the front door.
I can't believe, she won't be here no more.

Ohhhh, Yeah eh yeah.

A season for joy, a season for sorrow.
Where she's gone I will surely surely follow.
She'll brighten my day.
She'll warm the coldest night.
The hounds of winter, got me in their sights.

I still see her face as beautiful as day.
It's easy to remember, remember my love that way.
All I hear is that lonesome sound,
The hounds of winter, they follow me down.

---

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