Changes - Oz/Tara - PG-13 - 1/1
Title: Changes
Author: claudia6913
Pairing: Oz/Tara
Rating: PG-13
Summary: There was something in those eyes...a knowledge, a hidden secret, something that screamed at her to understand.
Disclaimer: Joss owns all and I but play in the garden of his imagination.
Distribution: Vampyre Haven, My livejournal - If you want it, just ask.
A/N: This is actually a prequel to Igneous Union.
Tara had seen him, the ghost of a past that had so wrecked havoc on Willow. Tara watched as he searched for Willow, this Oz, before turning those impossibly brown eyes to her. There was something in those eyes...a knowledge, a hidden secret, something that screamed at her to understand. Not just to understand, but to understand that no one else would. But then, he had changed. He had morphed before her into the form of a wolf-man, half one thing, half another.
The reaction had been instintanous, her baser insticts having taken over. She ran. And honestly, who could blame her? It wasn't everyday a man changed infront of you. But, that wasn't what had her walking now, searching through the sea of faces for just that one, the one with the eyes that screamed to her.
Night came, and the moon shone full and bright down on her and she lifted her face to it. The night was clear, the soft wind played in her hair. Tara closed her eyes, letting it all wash over her. Suddenly, someone bumped into her. She looked to see who it was and was met by a wry grin from Oz.
"Y-You're Oz," Tara said, finding her voice. It was silly of her to say, and she looked down, a blush stealing across her face.
"Yeah, I am," Oz said, smiling. "Last I checked anyways."
Oz took a moment to look her over, from the straw colored hair, to the blue-green eyes that darted away, shy and glistening, to the pink, flushed skin and cheeks. She was pretty, beautiful even. The same as Willow, yet different in subtle and unique ways. The shyness was there in the way she looked away, stammered and tripped over her words. But the smile was different, the way she peeked through the curtin of hair. He didn't know why she intrigued him, but she did.
"Coffee?" Tara asked. She didn't know why she had sought him out, or what she would say next. Coffee seemed logical.
Oz patted his pockets and said, "Not on me."
"No, I-I mean, do you want s-some?" Tara asked, laughing softly. He was quick, sharp, something you didn't find in the male gender in general. It was...refreshing.
"No," Oz said. He watched as Tara's face practically crumbled before him. A veil went across her face, shutting off emotions. "I mean, there's this whole thing where I get really wacky, then I can't sleep, and I'll be up all night. It isn't pretty. Trust me. But, Tea?"
The smile was back, the veil lifted, and such a difference could be seen on her face. She seemed broken and too young to Oz, much too young to be that guarded. However, he knew she was his age or there abouts, and he had seen his fair share of horrors and things gone horribly wrong.
They walked slowly through the campus of UC Sunnydale, taking their time. Neither one of them speaking on the way. Speech seemed blasphemous in the silence of the night, so instead they listened to the sounds of life around them, stealing glances and shy smiles along the way.
The Expresso Pump sat bright in the darkness of the streets, like a beacon. The imagry wasn't lost on Oz and he feared it wouldn't be lost on the other creastures that inhabited Sunnydale. Oz was careful to look around, but he saw nothing but normal people going about normal buisness. All he could smell was the bitter coffee and fried foods. Safe as a Hellmouth.
"So, Oz, I-"
"Stop," Oz said, placing a hand on her shoulder. He'd recognize that scent anywhere, but to be there, of all places. Yeah, safe as a Hellmouth.
Growling came from a darkened corner, just around the Expresso Pump. Tara looked between Oz and the shadow-y figure.
"Oz, we...we should leave," Tara said, backing up slowly. Oz had scared her, true, but this...thing...frightened her. It made her blood run cold and her hands sweat.
"When I say run, you run," Oz said, crouching down. If they both ran, they'd both be dead. He couldn't have that. Death...he'd had that on his hands, or paws, and didn't want Tara's to add to the blood he couldn't wash off.
"But," Tara said, but stopped short when Oz turned a fierce look at her. She had to do something, she could just run, let Oz face this...this thing all by himself. There had to be something she could do, but it was to late. He was yelling at her to run while he charged the thing charging them.
All that could be seen was a mass of fur and Oz, twisting and turning, growling and screaming. No, those weren't Oz's screams Tara heard, they were other peoples, the ones in the coffee shop. They ran screaming, not bothering to help Oz. And she, she had nothing with her. No herbs, no candles, nothing to cast a helpful spell with. Clasping the crystal she wore 'round her neck she prayed to the goddess for help, for whatever good it would do.
Oz cried out again as the werewolf sliced his arm. He was losing. He could still see Tara out of the corner of his eye. Why hadn't she run when he'd told her to? Didn't she know? She had to know. What, then, was keeping here there, so close. He could smell fear thick on the air. There were still too many people around, gawking and watching, afraid, but rooted to the spot in their fear. He couldn't let the werewolf get by him.
A scream echoed in the night, but he couldn't tell if it was his or someone else's. He'd been knocked to the ground by the werewolf. When he was able to focus, he saw a flash of fur and golden hair.
"Tara," he tried to say, his voice scratchy and rough. He pushed himself up, watching still as she tried to outrun the werewolf even though it was gaining on her. He had to act fast.
Bones shifted, ripping another scream from his already abused throat and he changed into the form he'd come to loathe. The smell of fear was stronger and he fought with the urdges that were inherent in the beasts form. Flesh and blood called out to him, the thing...no, not thing, Tara...he was losing his battle with himself and the wolf.
Another scream and he was off, racing full speed to the werewolf that had attacked him. His entire form cried out for vengence, blood for blood, tear for tear. He felt furn beneath his paws, smelled the musk of leaves and earth and tore into the thing. Oz knew nothing but that moment, felt nothing but flesh and fur between his jaws. He was the wolf as much as it was him.
The thing lay dead beneath him, torn and bloody. Turning his muzzle to the sky, Oz let out a shrill howl of delight in the kill.
A gasp caught his notice to the side and he turned quickly, rushing at it. Whimpering and crying, soft words spoken quickly, reached his addled brain. It was Tara he was over, fangs bared, ready to take a bite.
Forcing himself to change back, Oz collapsed to the left side of Tara, breathing heavily.
"Oz?" she asked, reaching a shaking hand to wipe away the sweat and blood from his face. He looked hurt and tired. Oz had frightened her when he'd come at her. But now, looking at him like that, she was no longer afraid for herself, but afraid for him.
"Don't," Oz choked out.
"But-"
"Don't," he said again, cutting her off. Slowly he got up and ran, limping and naked, leaving Tara in a pool of the werewolf's blood.
She couldn't let him go, not like that, not hurt as he was. Getting up, Tara followed after him. It was easy and he didn't put up much fight when she caught up to him.
"Why...why'd you run?" she asked, taking off her coat. Tara placed the coat over his shoulders, relieved when he didn't argue. He was naked, a fact that hadn't escaped her notice, cold, tired, hurt, and bleeding. Her coat was the last thing she was worried about.
Oz stayed silent, pulling her coat around him. He wished she'd leave, let him go and lick his wounds in peace. She'd seen him at his worst, out of control and in wolf form, and yet, there she was, giving him her coat, being nice to him. He didn't deserve it.
"You saw," Oz said simply. She had to understand. He didn't have the strength to say more, to explain.
Tara nodded, leading him towards the dorms. He needed his wounds tended to. Silently, they made their way to Tara's dorm room. He stayed standing, her coat wrapped around him, just inside the doorway. He could smell Willow in the room, both of them.
"She's been here too," Oz said matter-of-factly. He wouldn't make a big deal of it, wouldn't dwell on it.
Tara nods, not saying anything for what was there to say? Yes, Willow had been in her room. They'd done spells, had late night chats, done homework together. Why then, did she feel guilty for having him in her room? Why did her skin prickle when she knew he was watching her? Sighing, she pulled out a pair of sweat pants and walked over to Oz, handing them to him.
"Here. I know...it's not much, but your should, umm...," she said, her voice trailing off. She could feel her face flush with embarassment. She turned away from him, going to the bed.
Taking the sweats, Oz put them on, placing the jacket she'd given him on the back of a nearby chair. He could feel every cut, every bruise as he moved. The encounter could have gone much worse had he not changed, but he could not look at Tara in the eye. She'd seen him, in his wolf form, watched as he'd ripped apart the werewolf, watched as he'd hovered over her, teeth bared, ready to take a bite out of her. And that hadn't been the first time that day she'd seen him lose control like that.
"I should probably," Oz said, motioning to the door. He turned, walking to the door. Her voice stopped him.
"Don't," Tara said. She didn't know why she didn't want him to go, just that him leaving seemed wrong somehow.
"I have to," Oz said, his side to her. He didn't look over at her, but he could see her. He watched as she played with the hem of her skirt, a nervous gesture.
"Y-you should hold it," Tara said. "The bracelet. It works better if you hold it in your hand and rub the beads."
Looking down, Oz hadn't even realized he was twisting the beads on his wrist.
"How do you know?"
"I-I read about it."
Oz nodded. The monks had told him something similar, about the power of the beads. He'd used them many a time to relax him, but right now, they weren't working.
"I have to go," he said. Oz hadn't heard her get up until her hand was on his shoulder, turning him around.
"Too much control can hurt more then help," Tara said, guiding Oz back into the room. She knew as soon as she'd said that that it was something painful to him. She didn't want to pain him, but he had to know. Tara could almsot feel the inner turmoil that wracked his body and mind.
"How?" Oz asked.
"Just lay down," Tara said, setting him on the bed. He did as she asked, unsure of what was going on. "Let me take care of those wounds."
Pulling a wooden bowl from her nightstand, Tara went to the small sink in her room. She filled the bowl with luke warm water and dropped a bit of lavender into the water and a quartz crystal. Speaking softly she asked the goddess to bless the water with healing properties. The water rippled and she thanked the goddess, then removed the lavender and crystal. Grabbing a small washcloth, she moved back to the bed, sitting on the edge with the bowl at her feet. Wetting the towel, Tara began to clean the blood from around the wounds.
"H-How long have you had...control?" Tara asked, wincing as she heard Oz inhale quickly. She gave him apologetic look.
"You don't, nevermind. I shouldn't have asked."
"Just a few months," Oz said, closing his eyes. The cloth felt good against his skin, soft like her hands. It was wrong of him to enjoy her touch the way he was, but he couldn't help it. She'd seen the worst of him and yet there she was, cleaning his wounds.
"How many times have you changed since then?"
"Twice now."
"Control isn't gained overnight," Tara said, leaning down to clean the cloth. She watched the clear water turn pink from his blood. Sitting back up she was met by Oz's face, close to hers.
"I need the control," Oz said, taking the towel from her hand. He wiped along her cheek where blood was smeared. He could hear her breath go shallow, feel the racing of her heart through the cloth and into his hand where it rest against her neck. It wasn't fear, though, that had her shaking.
Slowly, Oz closed his eyes and leaned in to kiss her. Their lips met, soft and gentle against each other. He pulled his lips away, but his hand was tangled in her hair, the washcloth dropped and long forgotten. He watched as her eyes fluttered open and she stuck her pink tongue out to lick her lips.
"Oz, I-"
"Help me?" Oz asked, cutting her off. There was something in her eyes, some knowledge, some spark that told him she could help, that she would help. And, if he were to be honest with himself, he needed that, needed to have control.
Slowly, Tara nodded. How could she not help him? He was sweet and kind, and, well ok, so there was the werewolf thing, and the thing about her being a lesbian. Seemingly silly stuff really, when she looked into his eyes.
Oz smiled, pulling her to him again for another kiss, this one lingering and long, full of meaning. He had a sense of everything being alright as they lay down on her bed in each others arms.
Author: claudia6913
Pairing: Oz/Tara
Rating: PG-13
Summary: There was something in those eyes...a knowledge, a hidden secret, something that screamed at her to understand.
Disclaimer: Joss owns all and I but play in the garden of his imagination.
Distribution: Vampyre Haven, My livejournal - If you want it, just ask.
A/N: This is actually a prequel to Igneous Union.
Tara had seen him, the ghost of a past that had so wrecked havoc on Willow. Tara watched as he searched for Willow, this Oz, before turning those impossibly brown eyes to her. There was something in those eyes...a knowledge, a hidden secret, something that screamed at her to understand. Not just to understand, but to understand that no one else would. But then, he had changed. He had morphed before her into the form of a wolf-man, half one thing, half another.
The reaction had been instintanous, her baser insticts having taken over. She ran. And honestly, who could blame her? It wasn't everyday a man changed infront of you. But, that wasn't what had her walking now, searching through the sea of faces for just that one, the one with the eyes that screamed to her.
Night came, and the moon shone full and bright down on her and she lifted her face to it. The night was clear, the soft wind played in her hair. Tara closed her eyes, letting it all wash over her. Suddenly, someone bumped into her. She looked to see who it was and was met by a wry grin from Oz.
"Y-You're Oz," Tara said, finding her voice. It was silly of her to say, and she looked down, a blush stealing across her face.
"Yeah, I am," Oz said, smiling. "Last I checked anyways."
Oz took a moment to look her over, from the straw colored hair, to the blue-green eyes that darted away, shy and glistening, to the pink, flushed skin and cheeks. She was pretty, beautiful even. The same as Willow, yet different in subtle and unique ways. The shyness was there in the way she looked away, stammered and tripped over her words. But the smile was different, the way she peeked through the curtin of hair. He didn't know why she intrigued him, but she did.
"Coffee?" Tara asked. She didn't know why she had sought him out, or what she would say next. Coffee seemed logical.
Oz patted his pockets and said, "Not on me."
"No, I-I mean, do you want s-some?" Tara asked, laughing softly. He was quick, sharp, something you didn't find in the male gender in general. It was...refreshing.
"No," Oz said. He watched as Tara's face practically crumbled before him. A veil went across her face, shutting off emotions. "I mean, there's this whole thing where I get really wacky, then I can't sleep, and I'll be up all night. It isn't pretty. Trust me. But, Tea?"
The smile was back, the veil lifted, and such a difference could be seen on her face. She seemed broken and too young to Oz, much too young to be that guarded. However, he knew she was his age or there abouts, and he had seen his fair share of horrors and things gone horribly wrong.
They walked slowly through the campus of UC Sunnydale, taking their time. Neither one of them speaking on the way. Speech seemed blasphemous in the silence of the night, so instead they listened to the sounds of life around them, stealing glances and shy smiles along the way.
The Expresso Pump sat bright in the darkness of the streets, like a beacon. The imagry wasn't lost on Oz and he feared it wouldn't be lost on the other creastures that inhabited Sunnydale. Oz was careful to look around, but he saw nothing but normal people going about normal buisness. All he could smell was the bitter coffee and fried foods. Safe as a Hellmouth.
"So, Oz, I-"
"Stop," Oz said, placing a hand on her shoulder. He'd recognize that scent anywhere, but to be there, of all places. Yeah, safe as a Hellmouth.
Growling came from a darkened corner, just around the Expresso Pump. Tara looked between Oz and the shadow-y figure.
"Oz, we...we should leave," Tara said, backing up slowly. Oz had scared her, true, but this...thing...frightened her. It made her blood run cold and her hands sweat.
"When I say run, you run," Oz said, crouching down. If they both ran, they'd both be dead. He couldn't have that. Death...he'd had that on his hands, or paws, and didn't want Tara's to add to the blood he couldn't wash off.
"But," Tara said, but stopped short when Oz turned a fierce look at her. She had to do something, she could just run, let Oz face this...this thing all by himself. There had to be something she could do, but it was to late. He was yelling at her to run while he charged the thing charging them.
All that could be seen was a mass of fur and Oz, twisting and turning, growling and screaming. No, those weren't Oz's screams Tara heard, they were other peoples, the ones in the coffee shop. They ran screaming, not bothering to help Oz. And she, she had nothing with her. No herbs, no candles, nothing to cast a helpful spell with. Clasping the crystal she wore 'round her neck she prayed to the goddess for help, for whatever good it would do.
Oz cried out again as the werewolf sliced his arm. He was losing. He could still see Tara out of the corner of his eye. Why hadn't she run when he'd told her to? Didn't she know? She had to know. What, then, was keeping here there, so close. He could smell fear thick on the air. There were still too many people around, gawking and watching, afraid, but rooted to the spot in their fear. He couldn't let the werewolf get by him.
A scream echoed in the night, but he couldn't tell if it was his or someone else's. He'd been knocked to the ground by the werewolf. When he was able to focus, he saw a flash of fur and golden hair.
"Tara," he tried to say, his voice scratchy and rough. He pushed himself up, watching still as she tried to outrun the werewolf even though it was gaining on her. He had to act fast.
Bones shifted, ripping another scream from his already abused throat and he changed into the form he'd come to loathe. The smell of fear was stronger and he fought with the urdges that were inherent in the beasts form. Flesh and blood called out to him, the thing...no, not thing, Tara...he was losing his battle with himself and the wolf.
Another scream and he was off, racing full speed to the werewolf that had attacked him. His entire form cried out for vengence, blood for blood, tear for tear. He felt furn beneath his paws, smelled the musk of leaves and earth and tore into the thing. Oz knew nothing but that moment, felt nothing but flesh and fur between his jaws. He was the wolf as much as it was him.
The thing lay dead beneath him, torn and bloody. Turning his muzzle to the sky, Oz let out a shrill howl of delight in the kill.
A gasp caught his notice to the side and he turned quickly, rushing at it. Whimpering and crying, soft words spoken quickly, reached his addled brain. It was Tara he was over, fangs bared, ready to take a bite.
Forcing himself to change back, Oz collapsed to the left side of Tara, breathing heavily.
"Oz?" she asked, reaching a shaking hand to wipe away the sweat and blood from his face. He looked hurt and tired. Oz had frightened her when he'd come at her. But now, looking at him like that, she was no longer afraid for herself, but afraid for him.
"Don't," Oz choked out.
"But-"
"Don't," he said again, cutting her off. Slowly he got up and ran, limping and naked, leaving Tara in a pool of the werewolf's blood.
She couldn't let him go, not like that, not hurt as he was. Getting up, Tara followed after him. It was easy and he didn't put up much fight when she caught up to him.
"Why...why'd you run?" she asked, taking off her coat. Tara placed the coat over his shoulders, relieved when he didn't argue. He was naked, a fact that hadn't escaped her notice, cold, tired, hurt, and bleeding. Her coat was the last thing she was worried about.
Oz stayed silent, pulling her coat around him. He wished she'd leave, let him go and lick his wounds in peace. She'd seen him at his worst, out of control and in wolf form, and yet, there she was, giving him her coat, being nice to him. He didn't deserve it.
"You saw," Oz said simply. She had to understand. He didn't have the strength to say more, to explain.
Tara nodded, leading him towards the dorms. He needed his wounds tended to. Silently, they made their way to Tara's dorm room. He stayed standing, her coat wrapped around him, just inside the doorway. He could smell Willow in the room, both of them.
"She's been here too," Oz said matter-of-factly. He wouldn't make a big deal of it, wouldn't dwell on it.
Tara nods, not saying anything for what was there to say? Yes, Willow had been in her room. They'd done spells, had late night chats, done homework together. Why then, did she feel guilty for having him in her room? Why did her skin prickle when she knew he was watching her? Sighing, she pulled out a pair of sweat pants and walked over to Oz, handing them to him.
"Here. I know...it's not much, but your should, umm...," she said, her voice trailing off. She could feel her face flush with embarassment. She turned away from him, going to the bed.
Taking the sweats, Oz put them on, placing the jacket she'd given him on the back of a nearby chair. He could feel every cut, every bruise as he moved. The encounter could have gone much worse had he not changed, but he could not look at Tara in the eye. She'd seen him, in his wolf form, watched as he'd ripped apart the werewolf, watched as he'd hovered over her, teeth bared, ready to take a bite out of her. And that hadn't been the first time that day she'd seen him lose control like that.
"I should probably," Oz said, motioning to the door. He turned, walking to the door. Her voice stopped him.
"Don't," Tara said. She didn't know why she didn't want him to go, just that him leaving seemed wrong somehow.
"I have to," Oz said, his side to her. He didn't look over at her, but he could see her. He watched as she played with the hem of her skirt, a nervous gesture.
"Y-you should hold it," Tara said. "The bracelet. It works better if you hold it in your hand and rub the beads."
Looking down, Oz hadn't even realized he was twisting the beads on his wrist.
"How do you know?"
"I-I read about it."
Oz nodded. The monks had told him something similar, about the power of the beads. He'd used them many a time to relax him, but right now, they weren't working.
"I have to go," he said. Oz hadn't heard her get up until her hand was on his shoulder, turning him around.
"Too much control can hurt more then help," Tara said, guiding Oz back into the room. She knew as soon as she'd said that that it was something painful to him. She didn't want to pain him, but he had to know. Tara could almsot feel the inner turmoil that wracked his body and mind.
"How?" Oz asked.
"Just lay down," Tara said, setting him on the bed. He did as she asked, unsure of what was going on. "Let me take care of those wounds."
Pulling a wooden bowl from her nightstand, Tara went to the small sink in her room. She filled the bowl with luke warm water and dropped a bit of lavender into the water and a quartz crystal. Speaking softly she asked the goddess to bless the water with healing properties. The water rippled and she thanked the goddess, then removed the lavender and crystal. Grabbing a small washcloth, she moved back to the bed, sitting on the edge with the bowl at her feet. Wetting the towel, Tara began to clean the blood from around the wounds.
"H-How long have you had...control?" Tara asked, wincing as she heard Oz inhale quickly. She gave him apologetic look.
"You don't, nevermind. I shouldn't have asked."
"Just a few months," Oz said, closing his eyes. The cloth felt good against his skin, soft like her hands. It was wrong of him to enjoy her touch the way he was, but he couldn't help it. She'd seen the worst of him and yet there she was, cleaning his wounds.
"How many times have you changed since then?"
"Twice now."
"Control isn't gained overnight," Tara said, leaning down to clean the cloth. She watched the clear water turn pink from his blood. Sitting back up she was met by Oz's face, close to hers.
"I need the control," Oz said, taking the towel from her hand. He wiped along her cheek where blood was smeared. He could hear her breath go shallow, feel the racing of her heart through the cloth and into his hand where it rest against her neck. It wasn't fear, though, that had her shaking.
Slowly, Oz closed his eyes and leaned in to kiss her. Their lips met, soft and gentle against each other. He pulled his lips away, but his hand was tangled in her hair, the washcloth dropped and long forgotten. He watched as her eyes fluttered open and she stuck her pink tongue out to lick her lips.
"Oz, I-"
"Help me?" Oz asked, cutting her off. There was something in her eyes, some knowledge, some spark that told him she could help, that she would help. And, if he were to be honest with himself, he needed that, needed to have control.
Slowly, Tara nodded. How could she not help him? He was sweet and kind, and, well ok, so there was the werewolf thing, and the thing about her being a lesbian. Seemingly silly stuff really, when she looked into his eyes.
Oz smiled, pulling her to him again for another kiss, this one lingering and long, full of meaning. He had a sense of everything being alright as they lay down on her bed in each others arms.