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| a.connor a.doyle a.lindsey a.oz a.spike a.wesley a.xander a.other three.somes het.fic character.study |
| Title: Gratitude for a Nightmare Author: SA Pairing: Angel/Oz Rating: PG-13 Setting: Wishverse Oz did the sensible thing, and ran. It was something Giles had told them a thousand times: if you think you're going to die, run like hell and don't look back. Only a few of them had ever done it; Oz had been scared before but not like this. There was a machine, and a room full of hungry, pissed-off vampires, and he regretted the day Henry Ford invented assembly lines because everything in that room was just a world of wrong. So he was halfway out the door, running past bars and cages and all kinds of weird shit when he heard a croaking voice mutter, "Let me out." He stopped, which was stupid, because the defining characteristic of running for your life was to keep fucking moving until you had lost your chaser or you were dead, but something kept him from going past the half-lit cell without seeing who--or what--was in there. It was a guy. A beat-up guy, burns covering his chest and his shirt ripped and tattered. His hand was raised pathetically as if trying to catch someone passing by. "Need help?" Oz said warily, hovering a good foot beyond the edge of the cage." The guy laughed, strangled and coughing, and whispered, "Yeah." The keys were a few feet away, and Oz's eyes darted from them to the cage. The guy was wounded, no way he could get out on his own. But he was already slowed down by the time he was taking to help this guy out, so he might as well go all the way. He had just unlocked the door and was hefting the guy up when he heard a commotion from down the hall. He looked wild-eyed in the direction of the noise, and started dragging the guy out. It was harder and awkward, the guy a good foot taller than him and heavy to boot, even thin and unfed as he seemed to be. Oz cursed his stupid good intentions and tried to move faster, but they didn't get very far before a vampire was on them. She was a redhead, strong and angry, muttering something about taking her puppy away, and Oz was really fucking scared. He didn't know what to do, with the vampire advancing on them--and even now he couldn't just drop the guy and run. Fuck, he was going to die. But then the guy seemed to get his strength back, or his *something* back, because he flew at the girl, punching and throwing her around, somehow finding a makeshift stake in the middle of all this and dusting her, falling to the ground in the midst of her remains. Oz ran over to help him up, but dropped his hands in shock when the guy's face turned towards him, yellow-eyed and ridged, fangs poking lewdly from his mouth. So Oz ran. It was a few days later that found him in a motel room, paid for with the money from hocking his guitar. He thought he'd regret that for the rest of his life. There was a knock at the door, and he didn't answer it; another, and he let the door crack a little. It was the guy--vampire, and Oz slammed the door shut, splaying his body against it, his heart beating wildly. This was not good. "I can come in without being invited," the thing said. "But I'd rather you invited me." Oz slid down the door, cradling his head in his hands. So his death had waited a few days. Great. After a moment he stood. He opened the door, arms crossed tightly over his chest, and sat on the bed, staring at the floor. "I'm not going to hurt you, or kill you." Oz blinked, and didn't believe him. "I wanted to thank you," the vampire said, taking a small box out of the pocket of his coat and holding it out to Oz. He took it; what else was he supposed to do? He opened it, and there was a heavy silver cross, brilliant against the white lining of the box. He pulled it out, the chain spilling into his hand, and took a moment to put it on. It was a little protection, at least, and he'd left all his in Sunnydale in his haste to leave. "It was for a gi--someone else. Someone who never came," the guy said. "But I thought you could use it more." It took a lot for Oz to stand up and walk over to the guy, looking him over warily before resting against the desk near the door. "I'm Oz," he said. "Angel," said the guy. -End Feedback |