By Ailie McFarland
Email: aixla@juno.com
Fandom: BtVS
Spoilers: “Flooded” (slight for “All The Way”)
Rating: PG-13
Archive: http://www.geocities.com/aixla/fanfic.html ~ or ~
http://home.earthlink.net/~aixla
Distribution: Oh! Well, if it helps at all, I’m gonna say yes.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Never has been. Never will be.
Author’s Note: I’m expecting to get Jossed on this one (not with the Oz
part, but with the general concept). Actually, I’m mad at myself because
I have seen this coming and had the idea for a while, but never got
around to putting it down on paper. Now I’m writing the obvious. Sigh.
REQUEST: I got Willow’s Latin from an online dictionary. If you speak the
language and realize I’m not making sense (which I’m sure I’m probably
not) please e-mail me to let me know!
The knock at the door caught Willow by surprise. Buffy was on patrol with
Spike, Dawn was staying with at a friend’s house, and Xander, Tara, and
Giles were helping Anya do inventory at the Magic Shop. In fact that was
where she needed to be herself, so as she opened the door Willow resolved
to get rid of whomever was on the porch as quickly as etiquette would
allow.
Of course, all that flew right out the window when she realized who was
standing in front of her.
“Oz?”
“Hey.” He was slightly shaggier than she remembered, sporting a crop of
red hair that almost covered his ears. It appeared he had decided to
revert to his natural hair color, although Willow couldn’t be sure since
she had no idea what that natural color might be.
As she fell into his friendly embrace, she realized he felt the same as
well. His scent had changed slightly; he smelt more of nature and incense
than smokey clubs and guitar strings. Still, being this close was enough
to stir that little bit of her that would never quite get over their
relationship.
A slightly awkward silence fell as Oz stepped over the threshold and
Willow closed the door behind him. “So,” she grasped for words. “What are
you doing back in Sunnydale?”
“A little bit of business,” he replied, rocking back on his heels. “But
it can wait. I was hoping we could do some catching up first.”
Willow smiled. “Of course. Come in.” She led her guest into the living
room of the Summers’ home. “Can I get you something?”
Oz settled himself on the couch. “Yeah. Coffee’d be nice. Been driving
all day.”
Buffy had consumed the last of the coffee on her way out the door that
morning, but a little thing like that wasn’t going to keep Willow from
serving her guest. “Infervesco scaphium.” She had no sooner spoken the
words when two steaming mugs of the dark liquid materialized on the
coffee table. Pleased with herself, Willow sipped from hers and smiled at
Oz.
But Oz did not return the smile, and made no move to raise the mug from
the table.
“What’s wrong?” Willow tilted her head to the side, concerned.
Oz cleared his throat. “Actually, that’s why I’m here.”
“For coffee? ‘Cause that’s pretty much a worldwide phenomenon.”
“No.” He took a deep breath. “Giles called me last week.”
“He called you?” Willow was confused. “How could he do that? None of us
knew where you were.”
Oz avoided her eyes. “After what happened last time, he agreed to help
with some research, keep his eyes open for anything that might help with
my ... new situation. So I always made sure to keep him updated on my
whereabouts.”
“But you didn’t bother to tell me?” The hurt was evident in her voice.
“What, you didn’t trust me or you didn’t want to be bothered by me?”
“Neither. I just figured I’d disrupted your life enough. And that you and
Tara needed your privacy.”
Realizing that he had made somewhat of a valid point, Willow let him
continue.
“He’s worried about you, Willow. I am too.”
“Worried about ...” She thought back to the conversation she and Giles
had in the kitchen a few weeks prior to this. “Is this about Buffy? Did
he tell you what I did?”
Oz nodded.
“And what, you don’t think it was a good idea? You think she’s better off
in the ground or in some hell dimension than here with her family?” Her
voice rose in anger. “It’s not like I rushed into it or anything. I
planned it for months. I did tons of research. I weighed the consequences
and the outcomes and decided Buffy was worth the risks. And it wasn’t
just me. Xander, Anya, and Tara were all on board.”
He tried to calm her. “I don’t doubt that. And I’m not here to pass
judgement on what you did. I wasn’t here. I don’t know what happened.”
“That’s right. And neither was Giles.” Suddenly realizing that Oz was
somewhat in agreement with her, Willow paused. “Then why are you here?”
“Because he says you’ve changed. That since this succeeded you seem to
think you can do anything and everything with magic.”
“Well not everything, but a lot. ” Willow admitted. “I’m much more
powerful than I was when you left.”
Oz sighed. “I know. But just because you have that power doesn’t mean you
can do whatever you want with it.”
“I know what I’m doing.” Anger was making her restless, so she stood and
strode across the room.
“I don’t doubt that, either.”
“Really?” Willow turned to face him. “You came half-way around the world
to tell me that?”
Now it was Oz’s turn to be frustrated. “No, I meant ...”
“If you don’t think I can do it then you obviously think I’m
incompetent.”
Silence fell as Oz tried to think of a different way to reach her. “How’s
Amy?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Everything.” He crossed the room to join her. “Amy was more than
competent. Look where she ended up.”
Willow laughed. “I’m so much more powerful than she ever was, than I was
back then.”
“And you didn’t used to be so conceited either.” When Willow had no
response to that, Oz continued. “The point is, she got into something
that was way over her head. And you still can’t undo it.”
“That’s different,” she protested. “A spell cast by someone else is so
much more difficult to break, and the circumstances ...”
Oz interrupted this time. “Circumstances don’t matter. She got herself
into a situation that she can’t fix. Magic is dangerous, Willow. People
can get hurt.”
“Only if someone screws up.”
“Not true,” Oz pointed out. “What about the spirit you created when you
brought Buffy back? You didn’t screw up, you just didn’t know enough
about the spell you cast."
“But we dealt with it and moved on. Besides, that ...” Willow realized
something. “Giles didn’t know about that. How did you?”
He looked at his shoes. “I talked to Tara.”
“Great. It’s nice to know everyone I love is ganging up on me. Don’t let
the door hit you in the ass on your way out.” Deciding that the
conversation was over, Willow headed toward the kitchen.
But Oz was close behind. “We aren’t ganging up on you, we care about you.
And when neither of them could get through to you they asked me to try.”
“And I asked you to leave,” Willow said quietly, seething.
“No, you ordered me to leave. You never would have done that before, just
like you never would have threatened Giles the way you did. So I know
you’re not yourself. And I’m not leaving until you figure that out, too.”
That did it. Willow turned on her friend. “Fine. We’ll do it your way.
Crudesco statua.” There was a strange crackling noise, and a bright
flash. When the air cleared an Oz shaped statue stood in the middle of
the kitchen, frozen in granite with his hands in his pockets and his
mouth open as if he was about to speak.
“You don’t wanna leave?” Willow leaned in to inspect her handiwork. “Well
now you can’t.” Slightly tired from the energy expended in the argument
and the spell, she decided to get a glass of water from the fridge.
Sipping her drink, Willow contemplated the stone figure on the other side
of the counter. In a way, she had kind of proved his point for him. Using
magic against her friends was something she definitely would not have
done in the past. Still, he had asked for it. He had walked into her
house and demanded that she change her life, without hearing her side of
the story.
But she couldn’t leave him like that forever. Hopefully the spell had
caught him so fast he wouldn’t even know she what she had done. And if he
did realize it, there were always forgetting spells. Regardless, she had
to do something.
“Lentesco,” she murmured as she rinsed her glass and placed it in the
drying rack. “Look, Oz, I’m sorry. Can we talk about this later, cool
down a bit first?” When no one answered Willow turned from the sink.
Cold stone eyes stared back at her.
Odd. Willow decided she must not have spoken clearly the first time.
“Lentesco.” A bit more forcefully that time, and with a wave of her hand.
Nothing.
Desperate, Willow began using every phrase she could think of. “Ilicet
magus! Adflicto scelestus! Uh ... rectus hominis!”
Still nothing.
Xander arrived a little over an hour later. Growing concerned at Willow’s
absence and the fact that no one was answering the phone, he had decided
to stop by and see what was going on. He found her crying at Oz’s statue
feet, his stone mouth frozen open in condemnation.
The End
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