The Myriad Eyes
The wolf knows many things, of which Oz knows only a few. Glimmers. Deep in his sinuses, when he drives through Sunnydale or walks through the halls of the high school, he has a tickle and knows the wolf is scenting prey. Or, when he watches dogs running along the alleyway outside the Bronze, he has a sudden, odd urge to run with them and hunt.
Or when he sees the big dark guy, a ghost in shabby corduroy pants, easing around the edges of the Saturday night movie crowd, his eyes counting heads: red, blonde, brown, black----and Oz, whichever color he's into that week. Oz turns and catches Angel's glance, and Angel almost-smiles at Oz's quickness. The skin between Oz's shoulder blades quivers, but Angel is gone before Oz can think of a way to disengage himself from the group of friends and speak to him.
In his chest, the wolf lies back down.
He escapes one night, on Buffy's watch. She has fallen asleep, and is moving in her sleep, chasing prey, like a cub. Each time the transformation occurs, the more of the wolf and the less of the man is foremost in the creature. His shoulders are narrowing, his nose is lengthening, and he can squeeze out of the window.
Outside, the dark one is watching, and, somehow the wolf is drawn to him, to his strong feral scent, man/demon, and the dark one speaks to him. The wolf whines, and puts his paws on the dark one's shoulders. The man gives him hard, petting slaps to his ribcage and back as the wolf sniffs his neck.
This one can take him down, and the wolf drops to all four feet, lowering his head and laying his ears back. The man turns, voicing in short low almost-barks, and the wolf follows him at a trot. They are at a pond at the end of the field, and the wolf sees fat black-legged geese. He glances up at the man, to see if there is a move towards the prey, and seeing none, the wolf bounds into the midst of them and takes down three in seconds.
Hearing a short bark, the wolf glances, but the man is not moving. The wolf eats the geese, sneezing at the feathers.
The wolf follows the man to what must be his den; strong bloodsmell, strong smell of demon, and some smell of female, but old and stale. There is a fire and the wolf sits on his haunches before it, panting. The outside and the dark is very close in this place, and the wolf is reassured of his ability to escape.
The man eats blood, but it smells off to the wolf. He gets up and walks restlessly back and forth until the blood is eaten. He would let the man how hunt and have good hot blood, but the man will not follow him out. The wolf and the man walk back out and look at the moon.
The wolf smells the salt of the ocean on the cold breeze, and salt on the man. The moon pulls on them both. The wolf yawns widely, jaws snapping.
The man takes him back to the little place, and growling, the wolf leaps, reluctantly, back through the window.
The next morning, Oz wonders why he smells of Angel from head to foot.
Before the cosmic net is spread, how can its thousands of pearls be
seen?
When it is suddenly raised by its universal rope, the myriad eyes
spontaneously open.
-Ts'ao-t'ang