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Off to See the Wizard

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Summary: After his van is swallowed by a strange vortex of light, Oz wakes up in the Anitaverse. And she's really not happy to have him there. *Slash*

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Anita Blake > Oz-CenteredFeyganFR182343,48013145101,63523 Jul 032 Feb 13No

Chapter Six

Title: Off to See the Wizard
Author: Feygan
Fandom: Buffy/Anita Blake
Pairing: Oz/Jason, Jean-Claude/Asher, Anita/Micah/Nathaniel, Xander/Andrew, Willow/Kennedy
Warning: violence, character-bashing, rape, were-bestiality
Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or the Anita Blake universe or its characters.
LiveJournal: http://feygan.livejournal.com
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Text marked with "*" is in French.
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CHAPTER SIX
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Pain, then fierce light. Waking up to the fact that everything was different. The world had been changed somehow.

The first thing he saw was Oz, those eyes somehow managing to be both solemn and filled with such an overwhelming relief that it was almost painful to behold.

"Wha..." He coughed to clear his throat, spitting up a gobbet of blood. "What happened?" he asked, his voice coming out weaker than he expected.

"That bitch shot you," Oz said.

"Who?" Everything was kind of blurry in Jason's head.

Oz shook his head, then pointed at someone on Jason's other side.

Moving took a phenomenal amount of effort, but Jason managed to kind of flop his head in the other direction.

Seeing Anita's guilty face sent memory bursting through him. His whole body just kind of jerked, the fight or flight reaction curtailed by his overwhelming weakness.

More than anything, he wanted to run away from the woman that had shot him, killed him.

She looked at him out of pleading eyes and reached out with her hand as if to touch him. He couldn't help the flinch, saw no reason to even try. He didn't owe Anita any kind of consideration. She had shot him.

"Get away from him, Anita." Jean-Claude's voice was harsher than he had ever heard it as the vampire stepped in front of Anita. "You have done enough here, n'est pas?"

"But I..." She lowered her head and backed away. "I'm... I'm sorry Jason." With that she turned and rushed out of the room, her heels clicking against the floor.

"How are you, my pomme de sang?" Jean-Claude asked, looking down at him.

Jason groaned. "I feel like I just died. So why am I alive?" He looked at Oz. "Oz?"

The other man just looked at him for a long moment, then shrugged. "I really don't know how I did it."

Jason tried to shift his position and had to stifle a groan. His entire body ached and he felt as though his chest had been blown open then put back together again.

"Whoa, man, don't move around too much," Oz said.

Jason smiled a little. "You're pretty chatty after someone almost dies, huh?"

"It's my thing," Oz said.

"Are you able to sit up?" Jean-Claude asked, not quite butting in.

Jason couldn't even manage an emphatic twitch of his big toe much less a shake of the head. "No."

Jean-Claude sighed, then raised two fingers at someone across the room. "Very well, then. I should like to have a small tete-e-tete with our new friend." Blue vampire eyes looking at Oz.

Jason wanted to insist that Oz had to go with him, but he knew it wouldn't amount to anything. What Jean-Claude said would go because the vampire's words held all the strength of LAW.

As Castor and Pollux lifted him up, Jason kept his eyes on Oz for as long as possible. It felt as though if he looked away the blue haired man would disappear.

His last sight of Oz as he was taken through the double-doors was of the young man still kneeling on the floor. He looked impossibly young, but those still eyes made him somehow ageless. It was kind of strange, but the image of Oz surrounded by a pool of blood and with red streaks of colors across his hands and face was somehow right.

Even though he had shown no outward signs of it, there was something wild about Oz, feral. Inside that narrow chest beat the heart of a predator.

* * *

Oz looked up at Jean-Claude, wondering what the vampire would say, what impossible questions he was about to be asked.

"Who are you, mister Osbourn? Why do I find you here in my city now?"

Oz couldn't help shivering a little at the velvet sound of that voice. Vampires in this world were definitely different from what he was used to.

"Like I told you, I don't really know how I came here. If I could go home, I would, but I can't." Oz had to practically force the words out, exerting the effort necessary to push the words out past his own laconic nature.

Jean-Claude rubbed his chin. "I do not know whether I should believe your testimonies of innocence... but I thank you for saving the life of my pomme de sang."

"I like Jason. He's cool," Oz said simply.

Jean-Claude just looked at him for a long moment, then allowed himself a brief laugh. "You amuse me, petit homme. You display a truly extraordinary amount of power, yet you still act as if you are a normal man." The vampire leaned close. "You interest me."

"I didn't plan to."

Jean-Claude looked amused. "You are in my world now. It is only a matter of time before you must reveal all your secrets."

Oz felt a nervous flutter in his belly. It was weird having those eyes look at him like that. There was no way someone like Jean-Claude should show so much interest in him. It was wrong and very disquieting.
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Oz made it to the room he'd been given and stumbled into the bathroom for a shower. Dried blood was flaking around him and the smell was making him uncomfortable. Hungry.

Having saved Jason's life had gotten him a Get-Out-of-Awkward-Questions card for the night, but he knew it wasn't going to last long. Jean-Claude had seemed too interested in him to just let it go. So Oz knew there would soon come a time when he would have to offer up some kind of answers.

Standing naked under the hot spray, pink-tinged water slipping down the drain, he closed his eyes.

He vaguely remembered a time when his life was normal. Back before werewolf bites, vampire slaying, and the oddly delightful sensation of bloody flesh between his teeth. He remembered the days of Dingoes Ate My Baby, hanging out with almost-friends, and the way he had dreamed of rebelling against the boringly "normal" Sunnydale lifestyle--by coloring his hair unnatural hues and wearing too much jewelry.

All those days were passed and he was here now, a speck of flotsam in the cosmic whirlpool of life.

He didn't know when they started, but tears seeped from his eyes faster and faster until they merged with the shower spray, a never ending stream of formless grief.

He didn't know when he had completely lost control of his life, but he somehow knew he was never going to get it back.

I feel like I'm trapped in an episode of The Venture Brothers with Brock Sampson beating on me, he thought, a faint smile trying to quirk his lips. Then he was kneeling on the shower floor, sobbing uncontrollably.

He just felt so helpless, the shape of his life far out of his view and control.

* * *

Anita threw her jacket at the wall and let out a wordless yell of frustration and rage.

She didn't know who to blame for tonight's complete fiasco, but she had a niggling suspicion that it was herself. She had been the one to try and shoot Oz but got Jason instead. She was the one that had totally lost control of the whole situation. She had been the one.

Grabbing a lamp from the small table, she hurled it at the wall with all her might. There was a loud THUMP-CRASH! and the fall of plaster from the new hole in the wall.

"Dammit!" She clenched her hands so tight that she could smell the scent of fresh blood from the nail marks in her palms.

She really didn't know what was wrong with her. It was as though all the passions of her life were overwhelming her--love, lust, fear, anger, hatred--they were eating her up. And somehow she couldn't even force herself to care, not until she did something truly unforgivable. Which shooting Jason surely counted as.

Without thinking, her body just becoming this machine for destruction, she began tearing her living room apart. Inhuman strength flung couches and recliners like children's toys, and completely ignored the pain of her torn fingernails.

Finally exhausted, she collapsed to the floor in the midst of torn upholstery, shattered wood, and glass shards. Panting for breath, she stared around with blank eyes, seeing nothing.

"A-Anita?"

She twitched at the tentative sound of that voice and forced herself to meet worries Easter egg eyes.

Nathaniel stood in the doorway leading from the hallway. He looked so young standing there, young and terribly vulnerable.

Staring at him, seeing his worry for her, for the first time in over a year Anita felt the rush of tears. Her breath caught in choked hitches and she began to sob helplessly, her hand raising instinctively to cover her face, his her. She didn't want anyone to see her being so weak, human.

It was startling how fast and silently Nathaniel could cross the room to kneel by her side. "Oh Anita..."

She wouldn't have bee n able to say the words, but she was grateful for the warm arms that went around her, pulling her close.

Anita Blake laid her cheek against Nathaniel's shoulder and cried.

* * *

Jason was feeling pretty okay for a guy that had recently been dead.

It was almost funny how used he was to the thought of dying. It probably should have disturbed him, but he didn't even have it in him to really care.

From the moment he had been attacked by a werewolf, his entire life had become a different kind of thing and there was never going to be any going back. He was here and that was that.

Lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, he seriously had to consider the series of events that had led him to this place and time. What combination of things had brought him here as this person.

Normal guy Jason Schulyer had been eaten up by the monster and he doubted there would be any going back. He could barely remember what that other man had been like or even how he could have been that person at all.

It was night's like these that really reminded him of how different he had become. He honestly thought there had been a time when dying or even almost dying would have completely thrown him for a loop, but now anymore.

He had becomes used to a life filled with danger and he really didn't think that was a good thing. Because eventually there would come a time when he wouldn't duck fast enough and that would be the end of everything.

Jason scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed heavily. He didn't know what exactly the future would bring him, but he had a niggling suspicion it wouldn't be anything good.

Rubbing the smooth, unmarked skin of his chest, he had to wonder who Oz really was. Then he banished the questions. He knew who Oz was... his friend. And that was all he should let matter.

* * *

Jean-Claude sat behind his desk, the office light off. He didn't need.

"*What are you thinking, my heart?*"

He turned his head to look at Asher. "*I am simply wondering what I have allowed into my territory.*"

"*He seems nothing more than human,*" Asher said.

Jean-Claude shook his head. "*There is something more in him, something powerful and strange. It disturbs me.*"

Asher pressed his chest against the back of Jean-Claude's chair and wrapped his arms around him. "*Yet you still wish to possess him, do you not?*"

Jean-Claude leaned his head back against Asher's shoulder. "*He is a fascinating creature. And the fact of the matter is, he doesn't make my skin itch as much as Anita does right now.*"

"*Ah,*" Asher sighed, his hands drifting down Jean-Claude's chest, down his belly, and down. "*Something must be done about her. The balance of her humors is severely off.*"

Jean-Claude made a wordless, murmuring sigh in his throat, spreading his legs a little.

"*She has no control,*" Asher said. "*She is not only a danger to herself, but to everyone around her. She is not the woman she was even five months ago. And what she is becoming... who is to know.*"

"*No more talking now,*" Jean-Claude ordered before he lost his voice completely.

Asher laughed a little, his chin digging a little into Jean-Claude's shoulder as he leaned closer over the other vampire, concentrating on the pleasure his hands gave.
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