Chapter Nine

*She’s amazing.*

She drew his attention away from the papers he’d been sorting through. She was kneeling on the floor of Giles’s living room, volumes of dusty old books scattered around her, a notebook on her lap. Her red hair hung down in a veil around her face, and her soft pink sweater embraced her curves.

The corner of his mouth turned up as he watched her small hand reach out and shift one of the giant books, then move back to jot something into the notebook. He couldn’t *not* look at her. His Willow. So brave, so strong.

As if she’d sensed his eyes on her, she turned her head, pushed her hair back behind her ear and regarded him.

“Oz?”

He just shrugged one shoulder, let his smile stretch momentarily wider, then turned back to the papers.

Legal stuff, mostly, stuff like the lease for the loft, financial records, Giles’s birth certificate, and his will. For now, of course, they would wait on the will thing. Snyder had bought the Alaska excuse with a snort and a muttered, “That is just like him.”

Oz slid the first set of papers back into the file, noted what and where they were in his own notebook, and then opened the next folder.

Watcher Council stuff. Correspondences, addresses, phone numbers, names.

“Hmph,” he said.

“What is it?” Willow called, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw her stand and move over to stand behind him, with one hand resting like a light bird on his shoulder.

“Watcher stuff,” he said, holding the first few pages up to her. She took them and they both looked over it.

“What should we do? Should we... tell them?”

Oz shrugged again, as he read over a letter from the Council that berated (in a very proper and British way, of course) Giles’s handling of the Angel situation. Not the after-losing-the-soul thing. Just the Angel thing in general. Seems the council wanted him dead and gone two years ago.

He turned his head, dropped a kiss on the hand on his shoulder, and then looked up at her, loving everything about her, even the worry in her eyes, and the way her expressive brows drew together.

“I dunno. We need to talk to Buffy about it.”

Willow nodded, then set down the papers she was holding and sighed. He caught a whiff of the tears that had been so close to the surface all day today, and he reached up and touched her cheek.

“It’ll get better,” he said.

She shook her head, bunching her lips together, and the first of this latest onslaught of tears brimmed in her eyes. He pushed the chair back and stood in one fluid movement, and pulled Willow into his arms, gently cradling her head in one hand and guiding her face to his shoulder. She clutched him tight and sniffled against his neck.

He shut his eyes.

And then, someone kicked the door in. Willow jumped back with a startled shriek and Oz spun towards the door, just as Giles lunged forward and was immediately thrown back by an invisible field of energy.

Oz knelt down, slowly, and reached under the desk for the crossbow, all the while taking in the sight of the vampire who was standing at the threshold. He didn’t really look any different.

Willow was walking slowly towards the door. Oz leveled the crossbow at Giles’s chest. He was still wearing the pinstriped shirt and corduroys he’d had on yesterday, except the shirt was spattered with blood and unbuttoned halfway down his chest. And, he wasn’t wearing his glasses.

And then, of course, there was the whole, evil, vampire face, yellow eyes thing he was doing, which he hadn’t been doing a second ago. And the fact that he smelled... dead.

Willow stopped a few feet in front of him, her hands slightly out from her sides, obviously terrified. And angry.

“You can’t come in,” she said, her voice level and calm.

“Bitch,” the Giles-thing hissed, in the same low, intense, cultured tones Oz remembered from countless library rendezvous, “You can’t just cast a man out of his own home.”

“You’re not a man.”

Oz could practically feel her trembling as she swallowed hard, and then drew herself up to her full height.

“You’re a demon. And you killed Giles. And--And I--I won’t have that.”

Yellow demon eyes narrowed and focused on Willow and Oz saw his chance. Calmly, without making any moves that may alert the vampire, he pulled the trigger. Willow flinched as much as Giles did when the vampire staggered back. For a heartbeat, Oz was sure--*sure*--his bolt had found its mark.

And then, with an inhuman roar, Giles slammed his fist against the invisible barrier, backed off, and vanished up the stairs.

Willow fell to her knees, and Oz dropped the crossbow and reached her side in seconds, grasping her tightly. For a moment, he thought she was crying again, but when he lifted his gaze to her face, he found her eyes dry, staring out the door, and her jaw clenched in a very un-Willow-like snarl. Rage. His Willow was shaking with rage.

“Oz?” she said, softly, after a moment.

“Yeah?” he said.

“A little to the right next time.”

He was silent for a beat, then he glanced out into the empty night.

“Yeah.”

***

Jenny watched, amused, as Ripper stormed back up the stairs, yanking a crossbow bolt from his chest and tossing it aside as he came.

“Damn kids,” he growled, and she laughed.

“They lock you out, Ripper?” she asked, curling herself around his arm and following him down the sidewalk.

“It’s my flat. They had no right-”

For a timeless moment, he was the flustered librarian again. She pulled his head down and kissed him deeply, probing his mouth thoroughly with her tongue until she felt a measure of the tension flow out of his body, and he began to return the kiss, turning them and pushing her back a step or two against a lamp post. She waited until he was really getting interested in the proceedings, then she slipped out under his arm and skipped a few steps away.

“I’ve got an idea. We could go into town. Get some... things,” she said, arching a brow and grinning.

He pushed himself away from the lamp and prowled towards her, an almost playful glint in his eyes. Almost.

“We could. Or... we could stay here... and *do* some... things...” he caught her wrists and wrapped both their arms behind her back, lowering his lips to hers again. She allowed the kiss for a little while, then tugged away.

“But I want to go to town,” she pouted.

“Jenny-” he started.

She pulled a little harder against his grip and found he was holding her tighter than she’d thought. His eyes flashed at her escape attempt, and he went to game face, growling deep and low in his chest.

“Ripper-” she began, then changed tactics, “Come on, now, who sired who, here? I think that makes me the boss, all right?” she said, trying to keep her tone light and teasing, relaxing her body to a pose of submission. For a moment, he tightened his grip, pushed her back a step or two, and she felt a flash of real fear.

Then, so abruptly it made her stumble, he released her and started walking down the sidewalk towards the center of town. She stood there in the grass for a moment, looking after him, then she trotted to catch up. When she reached his side, he slung his arm around her and pulled her against his side.

“Lovely night,” he said, human-faced again.

“Yeah,” she said after a little while, trying hard to shift gears again.

They walked in silence, until they began to pass the small shops that heralded Sunnydale’s downtown.

“Anything you want, love,” he said, “It’s yours.”

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