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That Little Voice Said...

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This story is No. 2 in the series "Elemental Journey". You may wish to read the series introduction and the preceeding stories first.

Summary: **Nominated for 2008 Crossing Over Awards**He never knew why he stopped to offer a ride. Set before Oz goes to England inSirenes and after BDS movie.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Movies > Boondock Saints, The(Past Donor)CharlotteFR13511,1622199,22422 Mar 0716 May 07Yes

That Little Voice Said...

Crossover with BtVS and Boondock Saints.
Pre-Sirenes ‘verse. After Colorado for Oz, but before England.
Post Movies for the McManus Twins

I do not own anything regarding BtVS or Boondock Saints. Shoot, if I did, do you think I’d waste time writing fic?

Completely unbeat'd 'cause I'm impatient.

That Little Voice Said…

He never knew why he stopped to offer a ride. At the time, it was as big a mystery as why he had felt it necessary to travel to New York to make his overseas journey. As laid back as Oz was, his formative years on the Hellmouth certainly discouraged picking up hitch hikers, especially at night. Dru was far behind him in Colorado and the ever present pull East had landed him in New York. Every night, Oz had dreamed of the ocean and England and ever since his time with Dru, he had learned to listen to his dreams and instincts much more closely than before.

That’s the only explanation as to why he stopped for the two men hoofing it down the lonely country road. One doesn’t usually think of lonely countryside and New York in the same context, but there he was, with his inner ‘whatever’ screaming at him to stop when the fairer of the two turned and put out his thumb. Barely a word was spoken as they climbed in. Oz’s wolf recognized fellow predators and was oddly comforted instead of threatened. Their duffle bags clunked heavily on the floorboards and Oz shot them a wry look. Three sets of blue eyes inspected and weighed and within moments an air of satisfaction filled the van and Oz shifted into drive.

Glancing at the man seated at his right, Oz noticed him gazing at his green hair with puzzled curiosity.

“Question?” Oz’s soft voice seemed to snap the man back into the present and he smiled.

“A bit early for Saint Pattie’s innit?” His soft brogue filled the van.

“Na dude. Was in a band. Been too busy to change it.”

He heard the other one rustling around in the back looked into the rearview mirror and said, “Name’s Oz.” The hairs on his neck rose when the two men seemed to communicate by a mere glance. A hand was thrust practically under his nose and he noted the Latin word Veritas tattooed on the skin.

“ ‘M Connor.”

In short order, another hand, this one decorated with the word Aequitas replaced Connor’s. “Murphy. So’s Oz your Christian name then?”

“Actually, it’s Daniel. Daniel Osbourne.”

“That’s a right English name you got there Daniel.”

“Only my mom calls me Daniel. Grams wanted Patrick. Dad won with Daniel. I prefer Oz.”

The brothers shared another look and Connor says, “Deus Legens mei Judico.”

Wincing, Oz asked in a strained voice, “Dude! Can you NOT speak Latin in the van?”

Oz heard more rustling and was about to say something when his enhanced hearing picked up a quiet gasp.

The distinctive click of a gun made ready froze the Were’s blood. Keeping an outward façade of calm despite the cool metal brushing his neck, Oz met Murphy’s glare in the mirror.

“If you don’t mind my askin’… what’s with the pointy sticks and the crossbow..” He looked down again and more rustling is heard. “and a… Holy jaysus?”

Murphy looks back up, his eyes flying between the two in front.

“Connor, he’s got a medieval arsenal in this here bag!”

The sound of a hand connecting with skin…


“Lord’s name!!!”

“Stop fuckin’ hitting.”

During their short squabble, Oz pulled over, not wanting to wreck the van if someone decided to put a bullet in him. ‘Hope they don’t have silver shot in those things.’

Oz sat quietly, hands gripping the steering wheel when the two men turned as one and looked at him expectantly. Wondering if his instincts had finally let him down, Oz returned their gazes and answered calmly. “Man’s got to protect himself.”

Connor snorts incredulously. “From what man? The dark ages?”

Oz shook his head. “From what’s out in the dark.” He continued to observe the two men and then recognition ‘clicked’ into place. Unfortunately his gasp wasn’t stifled quickly enough. A second gun cocked and Oz stifled a smile.

“Huh, that’s why.”

Connor’s gaze only intensified and he asked, “What’s why, what?”

“See, I don’t ever pick up hitch hikers… EVER. Back home, it would be a fatal mistake. But as I came up on you guys, everything in me was screaming at me to stop and offer you a ride. I usually listen to that little voice, saved my ass too many times to count.” Oz turned and faced the brothers, his expression serious. “I’ve got somewhere I have to be soon, but if I can help, even a little, just tell me what you need. Not everyday a guy can help out a couple of Saints.”


So, tell me what you think?
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