*****

It started with a light, wet touch, and then a slither, gradually sliding higher and higher up his torso. It stopped for a moment to poke around a nipple, lapping lightly, then continued, returning to its previous business. And even though he knew the sensation would get to him sooner or later and he’d forget what it was he was thinking about right now, all he could do for the moment was just stare blankly up at the ceiling with its soft burgundy paint, and wonder just who exactly in the realm of magic he’d pissed off to somehow manage to end up here.

Not that here was a bad place to be. Thinking about it now as the sensation stopped for a moment, regrouped, then slithered back down again to start back at the beginning, he had to admit that, here really wasn’t so bad considering the multitude of ‘theres’ that were out there that just had to be a heck of a lot more unpleasant than this.

He shivered for a moment as he felt himself being pushed back down into rough, cotton sheets. In truth, here was actually kind of nice. Even if you didn’t take into account the ‘theres’ and how they could all be much worse. And even if you didn’t take into account the utter weirdness of the whole thing.

I mean, when you go to sleep in your tiny, ratty apartment and it’s locked up tight for the night, and you know it’s locked tight because damn it, you checked it yourself before you collapsed on the bed and drifted into dreamland, still wearing the sweaty clothes you had on your back during the day, you kind of expect to wake up there, in that same position, with maybe a bit of drool sliding out of your mouth onto the pillow and maybe the scent of vanilla incense still hanging in the air that you burnt the night before as you sat in the dark and thought of....

But instead, you woke up here, in some bedroom you’ve never seen before that you’re not even sure you want to see, and you’re naked and you’re on a bed, which is the same as when you fell asleep, yeah, but it isn’t *your* bed, and there’s somebody you never in your life expected to see crouching over you and you’re forced to submit, let them do whatever the hell they want to you, with you, because really....when it comes to magic or whatever it was that brought you here in the first place, what choice have you got?

He groaned softly then as his body began to react, and the slithering stopped and was replaced by a bite. Not a hard bite really; just a quick latching of teeth onto flesh, and then a shake, as though he were a puppy its mother was trying to discipline. In a way, that kind of made sense. He stopped thinking about it though, because then the slithering began again, and it was moving down, down, down....oh....

He moaned then, bucking up off the bed, and his eyes squeezed shut tight, and blood flushed his face and raced down through his veins to flood somewhere far more important than his face, and green bolts of lightning flashed repeatedly on the backs of his eyelids and his breath was hitching now as the numbness he’d felt at the beginning of this weird exchange was suddenly overtaken and ripped away by so much feeling, and it all felt so good....

“Annngggeeellll....”

The cool suction stopped then and he whimpered, and a dark head raised to watch him with bottomless brown eyes as he fought the ocean trying to flood his mind at the sensations the other man had caused with that mouth that....oh God that mouth that he had watched so many times as the man had talked and never really taken notice of....

His face slackened for a moment as he watched the vampire slowly descend again. He couldn’t get the muscles of his face to work, couldn’t get anything to work as he watched those perfect, cool lips wrap around him, watched those sharp cheekbones hollow then balloon out again as he sucked, watched his own legs start to twitch in response to what this huge....fucking *huge* vampire that he’d never even thought about in a sexual way, never really even thought about in a non-sexual way was doing to him, but he’d needed this....oh God he’d really really needed this....

His muscles finally slipped back into working order again and promptly tensed up as his toes curled and his hips bucked, his back arching and tense and straining and his mouth hanging open and....was that a wail? Yeah he thought dazedly as he came back to himself again. I think it was.

And he looked down and Angel was licking his lips slowly, still trying to swallow the taste of him, and his gaze finally traveled lower and he saw the evidence that, yeah, just because he’d gotten what he needed, what he’d probably needed for a few months now, that didn’t necessarily mean that everything was great here, because looky there. Angel was hard and Angel was ready and Angel was straining with muscles tight and hard to stop himself from grabbing him and thrusting into him so hard and fast, and it was only right to give something back. Only right to return this beautiful thing that he’d been given.

And it wouldn’t be out of sympathy, no, because it wasn’t with sympathy that Angel had given him the best fucking blowjob he thinks he’s ever had. Not with sympathy at all. More like need and lust and want and....desperation. Strange.

Those were all the things he’d been feeling last night as he’d sat in the dark and tried so hard to stop himself from picking up the phone, from pushing buttons he knew by heart and finally, *finally* listening to a voice he dreamed about at night time and dreamed about during the day, until everything that was reality merged into the copper of her hair and the sweetness of her voice and her scent....damn it her scent that had saturated him and gone so deep beneath the surface of his skin that he knew somehow it would just never come out.

So he crawled towards Angel and pushed him down onto his back with small, callused fingers, and the sensations started all over again, just like way back at the beginning, with a light, wet touch, only this time he was the giver and Angel was the receiver, and both things felt just as good, just as right. Just as needed and healing.

His lips finally wrapped around the column of flesh aching for him, and a throaty rasp of pure need was torn from the animal throat so like his own, but not.

“Oooozzzz.”

And when hips bucked a final time, Oz swallowed and raised his head, working out the kinks in his neck as he licked his lips and savored the final taste of the vampire beneath him that he’d never even dreamt about before, let alone dreamt about doing something like this with.

They stared at each other for a long moment before Angel finally sat up, his large hand almost swallowing the whole of Oz’s face as he cupped his cheek. Leaning forward, their lips met in a soft kiss, tentative warm lips touching tentative cool ones. A thank you, Oz realised. This was a thank you. From both of them, he realised a moment later. We both needed this.

When they’d both pulled back and Angel’s hand had left his face, he asked, “What did you need this for?”

The vampire blinked for a moment, wondering how the werewolf had known. Then he looked down and plucked at the comforter as he quietly said, “Doyle died.”

“Sorry, man,” was all Oz could think of to say, and they continued to sit in silence, seemingly not noticing that they were both naked and sitting on Angel’s bed. He was knocked out of his quiet reverie though when Angel spoke up.

“How about you? What did you need this for?” And dark eyes were looking at him and he suddenly felt as though he couldn’t look away. He was caught like an insect in a spider’s velvety, sticky web, and all he could do was stare at the vampire as he whispered, “There was a werewolf, a female, and things got out of control real fast. But then she went after Willow and I....”

His voice trailed off then, not knowing what to say. His usual laconic self had done the unthinkable and somehow devolved into complete silence. Not the time for jokes, he thought, not right now, not with him still looking at you like that with eyes that understand more than you could ever believe or hope.

He hadn’t really been able to admit it to himself yet. He’d killed. He didn’t think he’d ever killed before, even when he sometimes got loose, and to say the least which was what he usually did, it wasn’t a nice feeling. And he’d pushed it to the back of his mind for so long and tried his hardest not to deal with it. Ever since he woke from tranquilizer and found out what he’d done, what he’d almost done to....and he’d been pushing it to the back of his mind ever since then, stamping on it and jumping on it until it finally just listened to him, and folded itself into a neat little square compartment and tucked itself away, never to be seen again.

But now it was being seen again, and Angel was still looking at him, still waiting for him to continue even though he knew exactly what Oz would say. But having a lot of experience at this type of thing, he also knew that before you could deal and heal, you had to admit it. And so far, Oz hadn’t done that. He’d just kept driving, crossing state line after state line and never looking back because if he did, an image of red would suddenly rise in his mind and he’d find himself driving back, driving back to her, and he was too dangerous to be around her. Too dangerous for her to love. And damn, knowing that really, *really* hurt.

“I killed her.”

There, he’d said it. The pain was still there, but the burden was lighter. And with the burden lighter, the rest of the story poured out. “It was as the sun set. The third day of the cycle. We changed in the middle of fighting and I guess I was stronger. But when I was done with her, I started to go after....”

He still couldn’t say her name.

“Buffy shot me with the tranq gun before I could do anything but....I couldn’t be around her anymore. It was too dangerous, for my sanity and for her physical self. So I left. It was for the best. I’m no good for her.”

And the laugh that suddenly came out of Angel’s throat was so bitter, so laden with self loathing and pain that Oz was surprised to hear understanding in there as well. And the laugh finally died down and Angel was looking at his hands again, all traces of expression gone from his face. “I know what you mean.”

And then Oz realised why he’d said that and he wasn’t surprised anymore. He and Angel were more alike than anyone they’d known had ever realised. Probably more alike than even they had realised.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while before Oz finally picked his head up. “Hey. Do you know what I’m doing here?”

It was Angel’s turn to lift his head, and his brow furrowed in concentration as he thought of the reasons why he’d suddenly found himself naked next to an equally naked Oz on his bed, when he knew damn well that he’d been alone and fully dressed sitting in his office thinking about Doyle, right before he found himself here.

He finally shrugged. “Have you pissed anyone off lately?”

Oz shook his head. “I’ve been kinda keeping to myself.”

Angel sighed. “Then I have no idea.”

Oz pulled his knees up to his chest then, wrapping his arms around them as a thought popped into his head. “Even if I did piss someone off, why did they send me here? With you?”

He realised what he said after a second and turned to the dark vampire sitting next to him, his legs casually crossed. “Hey, no offense. This is just weird is what I’m saying.”

Angel chuckled as he steepled his fingers together, resting his elbows on his knees. “I know what you mean.”

They were quiet for a bit longer before the vampire finally said, “Maybe this wasn’t you pissing someone off at all. Maybe this was someone trying to do something nice for you.”

“What do you mean?”

Angel scratched his head. “Well, do you feel better now? I mean, better than you did last night?”

Oz thought about it, turned it over in his mind. “Yeah. I guess I do.” He paused for a second then chuckled. “Call me crazy, but I really needed this. And now, yeah. I guess I do feel a bit better.”

Angel smiled then, a twitch of a lip in an otherwise stoic face. “Then maybe someone was doing you a favour.”

“Maybe.”

They were quiet for a bit longer before Oz asked, “But with you?”

Angel laughed again, the deep yet soft timbre of his voice making Oz feel flushed and warm with something he hadn’t felt in a while. A long while. Not since he’d first seen Veruca and things with Willow -- huh, he could say it now -- and the gang had gradually started to disintegrate, before gradually turned into rapidly and everything fell apart as quickly and as suddenly as his humanness fell away when the wolf took hold.

It was Acceptance and it was Companionship and it was Warmth and Comfort and Friendship and Need all wrapped up into one set of husky vocal cords. Then twinkling brown completely bottomless -- and yeah he was sure of that, even if he spent forever looking into them trying to find he was wrong -- eyes were staring at him as he said, “Maybe they were doing me a favour too.”

Then sound lapsed into silence as they slowly moved closer on the bed, not feeling bad about whatever had happened, whatever was going to happen right now, because they both needed this, this, *this* more than they could ever admit. And if somebody went to all the trouble to bring Oz from Nebraska back to LA to Angel’s bed so they could help each other heal, then who were they to argue?

Lips found lips and clashed together with needy intent, strong teeth clicking against stronger teeth as hands roved over bodies, one small, one large, and as they lay back on the bed, all thoughts left their minds except the rightness of the feelings, the goodness of them, and how utterly they needed to carry this through. Then even that left, and sensation was the only thing still there to carry them through and cleanse them.

*****

Willow waited with her head bent down for a long time before she finally found the courage to raise it. Nothing. The bathroom was empty except for her and her candles, lined up in a mocking little circle around her. She knew that was the way it would work, her spells never did what she wanted them to do, but she’d still hoped.

She couldn’t help laughing as she realised just exactly what she’d done. In the past twenty four hours she’d cast two spells, and they’d both been huge failures. She shuddered as she thought of her ‘my will be done’ spell. She didn’t know how she’d face any of them tomorrow. Bad enough she’d had to face them tonight. But she couldn’t go to sleep without having one more try at getting Oz back before she put her spell books away, and this time, she made sure it was a spell that wouldn’t hurt anybody.

She’d asked the goddesses to take Oz to the one person who needed him the most. And she’d placed a picture of Oz in the bowl and sprinkled herbs on it and lit it and chanted and did everything right....but he still wasn’t here. She needed him. Where was he? Had he gone somewhere else, or had her spell just not worked at all.

She closed the circle and blew the candles out, finally deciding that it mustn’t have worked.

After all, her spells never worked anyway.

End.

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