When Remus Met Oz
::grin:: Lovely title, ain't it?
First of all, I'd like to thank everyone that actually took the time to review my Author's Note…
Lord knows WHY, you pathetic people (hehehe…just kidding), but thank you anyway!!!
But to those who did: You guys certainly stroked my muse's ego, and he's actually agreeing to cooperate with me by giving me ideas for this chappie!! (::pets Spike-muse:: Gooooood muse, you deserve a cookie!!)
SO, before I get cracking, I want to clear up something:
This will be ENTIRELY from Oz's POV…AND, it'll be one MAJOR flashback…AND don't YOU just LOVE how I LOVE to use the CAPS LOCK KEY??!!!!
Ok, now that that's done…
I COMMENCETH THE FIC-ETH!
London, England. Midnight. A full moon was hovering in the night sky…
'Like a great big cheeseball…But without the orangey-yellow stuff that sticks to your fingers and leaves a weird processed aftertaste in your mouth…'
Daniel Osbourne—Oz to the few that knew him well—grinned to himself as he shook his head. Maybe his brain was trying to tell him that he was hungry and needed to eat something. Why else would it see fit to compare the moon to a cheeseball? What a horrible analogy!
'Besides, everyone knows the moon has more of a spongelike consistency.'
Oz sighed as he continued to walk down the darkened sidewalk. 'Of course, London wouldn't have any streetlights to protect its poor pedestrians. It would ruin the whole Jack-the-Ripper atmosphere.'
Unfortunately, these silly ramblings failed to make him feel any better about one major fact: He was lost.
In one of the largest cities in the world.
And no weapons except the tendency to turn furry around this time of the month. Which, if you couldn't tell, he wasn't. At least for the moment.
For he had learned to exert full control over the beast. After the incident with Tara, he had fled Sunnydale to Asia, where sympathetic monks helped him regain his hold over the wolf. For more than 5 years, his meditative techniques had been successful, proving that a werewolf did not have to go through the excruciating torture of feeling his flesh rip apart…Of hearing bones shifting to accommodate the skeleton of something inhuman…Of feeling his mind—his human intelligence, his morals—being cast aside to be replaced by baser animal instinct…
Oz shuddered at the vivid memories. He was proud of himself for finally controlling the wolf…
But it was not enough.
That was why he was here. He had heard rumors that there were other werewolves like him. Ones who could control the beast, but in different ways. There were those that retained a human conscience while in wolf form. There were others that turned into half-man, half-beast, maintaining their human side.
There was even one who managed to cure himself of the vile curse.
This was who he was searching for.
But the one man that was purged of his lycanthropy hadn't been seen in years. Many assumed he had gone into hiding to get away from those who wanted the cure as well—there were many that wanted it to cure themselves...
And others that wanted to kill him for discovering it.
Those were the ones to fear: for a human that is comfortable in an animal's skin is one dangerous creature. Oz had heard of such werewolves, who felt that their kind was the superior race, with humans being only cattle. If the man's cure were to ever be revealed, they would be forced to take it.
And they would do anything to stop that.
So, Oz understood the man's need to hide. After all, to be an ex-werewolf was an amazing feat. However, he was surprised that this man managed to stay hidden for so long. Werewolves were renowned for heightened tracking instincts, as well as a certain scent they carried. To sense a fellow werewolf—even an ex-werewolf, since their scent was always with them—should have been easy.
'While I'm happy that he's safe, it's still a pain in the ass that I can't track him,' Oz thought.
'But, honestly, for God's sake, just how many Remus Lupin's are there in London??!!!'
Oz wished he could scream aloud into the night. It was midnight in the middle of London…Who would hear him, anyway?
But Oz was famous for staying calm. And calm he stayed. 'Though, the gritted teeth doesn't do much for the 'placid demeanor' look, does it?'
Oz smirked as he continued to walk down the sidewalk. 'I will be calm…I will not scream…I will be mature and focused on finding that frigging Lupin guy…I may be lost, but I am cool…I will find a way out of this…Aw, hell…'
And so he screamed. Long…and loud.
And damnit, but it certainly made him feel better.
Unfortunately, this scream happened to get noticed.
Oz whipped his head around when he felt a tapping on his shoulder. He saw, standing behind him, a man. Late 30's at the most. Tall, handsome, but tired-looking. And the stranger was looking down at his 5 ft. 4 frame in concern.
"Are you alright, sir?" the man inquired.
Oz grinned sheepishly, inwardly noting that the man had a very formal English accent. "I believe I'm fine now that I got that out of my system, sir. Thank…you…" he trailed off when he sensed something peculiar about this man.
Mainly, his scent.
It screamed of something hidden. Something primal and animalistic.
The scent of a werewolf.
He was looking at a werewolf. That was human. No furriness in sight.
"But…You…Full moon…" Oz stammered. He barely discerned the man's eyes narrowing as he felt something else that was peculiar.
Inside him, something was stirring. Something he hadn't felt in a good 5 years.
'It can't be…' Oz thought worriedly, 'I thought I was above this by now…'
But it was true.
The wolf was coming back.
Oz gasped as he doubled over in pain. The man slowly backed away from him, realizing a transformation when he saw one. And this one promised to be a doozy.
Oh, gods, the pain was excruciating. Like a virgin bride on her wedding night, it felt like the first time. Long-buried memories came rushing back as he gritted his teeth, his body so hunched over that his forehead was almost touching the cobblestone sidewalk. He collapsed as the pain grew to agonizing proportions. His body—once small, lean, and smooth—was now slowly morphing itself. Skin became covered in fur. Bones were popping and shifting around to accommodate a new skeleton. Nails were forming into claws. Eyes, usually a bright emerald-green, were flashing amber and sharpening their vision into a predator's gaze. As the half-man, half-wolf began to twitch, he looked up one last time at the stranger that had originally wanted to help him. The man had been slowly backing away from Oz, a look of terror dawning in his eyes.
The last semblance of human sanity still in his eyes, Oz gasped out to the man, "Run."
Then he howled.
Ok, I'm going to post another chappie quick, I promise…I think.
I just wanted to get this one out of the way, and proudly yell to myself, "I FINALLY FINISHED THE DAMNED-A-BAJILLION-TIMES-OVER-CHAPTER-SIX!!! WOOHOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
But now, I just have to write Remus's POV…
::evil grin:: This'll be fun.
::happy smile:: As always, I'd LOVE to hear your thoughts!! So click on the button-thingy and REVIEW!!!!