Oz woke up and yawned. It was misty and damp outside, and water dripped from the pine trees outside his window. He got out of bed and pulled on a pair of jeans that were lying crumpled on the floor, and padded through to the next room, which, apart from the bathroom, was the only other room in the house.

As he switched on the hob, and put on the kettle, Oz noticed some mail lying on the doormat, and he moved to pick it up. There was a bill, a postcard from one of his neighbours (Picturesque Montreal!), and a letter. He didn't recognise the writing on it and looked at the postmark. It was Sunnydale.

Sunnydale. He hadn't been there in five -- no, six, years. Sunnydale...

Not since the 'road trip' with Xander, and its brief aftermath, in the summer before he was due to start college had he been there. God, the road trip... the whistle of the kettle interrupted Oz's thoughts. Putting the letters down he took the kettle from the heat and made camomile tea, instead of the coffee he'd intended to make - but he needed something calming. He sat down on the battered sofa in the area of the room that passed for his lounge, and stared at the letter, but just couldn't open it. Oz closed his eyes and thought back.


"But Oz..." Willow pouted, her brows knitting.

"It'll only for a few weeks. I want to go," Oz said, stroking the side of her face.

She softened a little at his touch, and less forcefully pleaded, "We might not have the time again on our own for a while. And... and we'll need your help in the Slayerettes, what with Angel and Cordelia and Xander off as well."

"Look, baby, Buffy doesn't have anything serious to handle, just your run-of-the-mill vampires, Giles is still about, as well as you -- look, just 4 weeks, OK?"

"Do you think you can survive four weeks with Xander? And your time-of-the-month -- what about that? Oz, please..."

He and Willow had argued for two full days. Xander wanted to go on a trip around America, and had bought a car for the purpose. He had no college to rush back to and had left the date of his return open. He'd joking suggested to Oz that he should come along, something Oz had at first dismissed. But then, the more the older man thought about it the more he wanted to go. Maybe not for the whole trip, but just for a little while.

Willow, on the other hand, wanted to spend all her time with Oz before they went to college, slaying notwithstanding. So when Oz said he wanted to go along, they'd argued. Xander, for his part, was happy enough for Oz to tag along ("Just remember to bring your chains"), especially as it meant there was another driver, and Oz wanted to do what Xander was doing -- explore the country, and before he had the responsibility of college to hold him back.

Willow relented, of course. She wouldn't stop Oz if it was what he really wanted. Buffy, Oz felt, was a little miffed too, as her numbers seemed to be dwindling. Giles just sighed and muttered something about "beatniks" but made no further comment. So, Oz promised to return in three or four weeks to assist in slayerage and to spoil Willow, and he and Xander left on the somewhat elderly automobile Xander has purchased, heading east.


The motel was straight out of the old horror movies: its neon sign read M...el and even then the l was flickering. But after three nights of sleeping in the old Ford it didn't matter. The girl behind the counter was tired, and seemed to be a little lacking in her customer service training.

"Single rooms, $20... double rooms $30," she barked at them, not actually waiting to find out exactly what it was that they wanted. As that was what they were enquiring about, Xander looked at Oz.

"We have $40, but that won't leave us much for food tomorrow."

"Hey man, I don't mind sharing. And I don't think I snore," Oz said, aware that a Hershey-less Xander was a much worse fate than having to share a mattress. Xander didn't say anything at first, the silence interrupted only by the receptionist's enthusiastic chewing of her gum.

"Well... OK. But I get the right side." he said, sounding a little reluctant.

Oz just smiled.

They'd been on the road for a while, and both men were tired. After a quick wash in the sink both settled down in the bed. Oz had shed all of his clothing except for his boxer shorts, Xander being more modest by retaining his T-shirt too.

It was a less comfortable experience than Oz had hoped for. Xander thrashed about in his sleep, and snuffled and grunted and generally made a commotion. Resisting the urge to kick Xander, Oz rolled on to his side facing away from his restless companion, and shut his eyes.

It took a while, but the smaller man did eventually drift off to sleep. He dreamt of clouds, and the sky, and of drifting away.


He was woken by an arm hitting his side.

Oz jerked up, confused, and tried to get his bearings. After some initial panic, he realised that it wasn't a vampire trying to kill him, and that Xander had just hit him in another bout of thrashing. Judging by the low level of light in the bedroom, it was just after dawn -- the curtains stopping the worst of the sunlight from lighting up the room.

He looked at his friend. Xander was now on his back, and still for the moment. His half of the covers was scrunched into the space between the two men, and Xander's only insulation was his thin T-shirt. And his boxer shorts - through which, Oz suddenly noticed, poked Xander's erect cock.

Oz knew that men got erections in their sleep, and that Xander had one now was nothing unusual. But normally your friends don't get to see it. Not that Xander had anything to be ashamed of. Oz wasn't an expert or anything, but Xander's penis was probably above average length, though not too thick. Oz found himself just staring at it, watching it bob slightly as Xander breathed in and out. He stared for a while: just seeing someone else's cock like that was strangely mesmerising.

Without really making a conscious decision to do so, Oz reached out and ran his fingers along the underside of Xander's cock. Its owner made no discernible reaction, and Oz leant forward so that his face was closer. He stroked it again, and it seemed to surge to his to touch.

Oz licked his lips. He wanted to taste it, wanted to feel it on his tongue, but that would wake Xander, and he didn't want an ugly scene to ensue. But... looking at it there, so inviting...

Oz's face was now just a few inches away from Xander's cock. He wanted to pull away, he knew he shouldn't be that close. But he did want to be that close, he did...

The tip of the tongue licked a thin line up the cock to the head, where the lips closed over it, washing the head in saliva, then pulling off. Oz savoured the sensations, the taste, the smell, the texture.

His teeth then nibbled a line back down the shaft to where it disappeared into the boxer shorts, then his lips kissed back up. Xander's hips lifted to meet with Oz's mouth, causing the smaller man to stop. He looked up at Xander's face, and met two brown eyes staring back at him.

"Don't stop..." Xander croaked.

Oz didn't.


The claws of Maggie sinking into his arm shook Oz from his reverie. He looked down at the small feline, evidently bored by her master's daydreaming.

"You'll want fed, then," he chuckled. Maggie mewed in response.

Oz moved off his sofa, dropping the letter, and fetched Maggie some breakfast. He then checked his watch and swore softly. Grabbing as clean a shirt as he could find, and pulling on some shoes he hurried out of his home, and hoped his boss was in a good mood.

The music shop was empty of customers when Oz arrived, a not uncommon situation at 9.15 on a Tuesday morning. Mr. Green raised an eyebrow as Oz walked in sheepishly. "Well, better late than never. I've got the books to be doing, so you look after the shop. Do the usual chores, there's a good lad."

Oz's boss then wandered into the back of the shop to try to write his accounts. Mr. Green was English, like Giles, although not, Oz was sure, a Watcher. He was in fact the owner of Green's, a shop that purveyed music -- instruments and sheet music in the main, but also, thanks to Oz's influence, CDs and the like as well -- to the inhabitants of Macauley, the Canadian town in which Oz had settled. Oz was one of the two employees: Kevin kept shop on Saturdays, leaving Oz to do so through the week.

The shop was rarely busy, but Oz was quite content. He dusted the pianos, and sorted the CDs and served the customers. It wasn't exactly the most adventurous career, Oz knew. However, for the moment he was happy enough, and that was what mattered. He liked the quiet life, away from vampires and all that. Not that he'd been unhappy in Sunnydale... Oz suddenly remembered the letter again. Damn! He'd left it at home. He'd have to wait until lunch to see what it was all about.


Xander's hips bucked hard, and Oz felt a warm liquid in his mouth. It was a strange sensation, a bit gooey, with a mildly salty taste. He swallowed it, and disengaged from Xander, moving back up the bed until his face was level with the other man's. Xander's eyes were closed. Then they snapped open, and Xander stared at Oz again.

Then, Xander jumped out of bed, and pushed his damp cock back into his boxers. "I need a shower," he muttered, before walking out of the room to try to find one. Oz lay back on the pillow, and wondered what the hell had just happened.

Xander returned, wrapped in a faded, blue hotel towel, about ten minutes later. He glanced at Oz, still in the bed, but then turned away and went over to his bag, to search for fresh clothes. The silence was definitely awkward. Almost inevitably, Xander spoke first, his back still to Oz.

"So, uh, when are you going back to Sunnydale?"

"Xander, we only left four days ago."

A pause.

"Well, sure, but Buffy's gonna need help. Will and the G-man alone..."

Oz interrupted him, "Xander, do you want me to go home?"

Another pause. Xander turned to face Oz, and looked at him for a moment. Then, "I don't know. Willow..." he trailed off, and just looked at Oz, pained.

"What happened just there, Xander it had nothing to do with Willow."

Anger flashed in Xander's eyes. "What do you mean nothing? You're her boyfriend; I'm her best friend. What happened had everything to do with her, and you know it."

That stung Oz a little. "What I meant was that it had to do with you and me."

"You taking advantage of me!"

"But you were happy to let me. Weren't you?" Oz got out of the bed and walked over to Xander, so that they were almost touching. "Weren't you?"

Xander just looked into Oz's eyes, and said nothing. Oz reached up and stroked the other man's face with the curve of his index finger. It was mildly stubbly, and still damp. Xander pulled away, "Oz... I...." Suddenly he moved in and gently brushed Oz's lips with his own, pulling back to gauge his friend's face. Oz just smiled, and the two fell into a passionate kiss, their hands roaming each other's back.

Xander's towel slipped to the floor, and Oz felt his hard cock pressing into his belly.

Breaking off the kiss he whispered, "Oh, no. It's my turn this time," and smiled as he felt his boxers slide off his hips.


"Excuse me. Excuse me. Hello?"

Oz started at the voice. It belonged to a middle-aged woman in a purple coat who evidently wanted his assistance. He stopped leaning on the counter and straightened up.

"Oh, sorry. I was daydreaming. How can I help?" he smiled at her, and she smiled back.

"It's OK, I was just looking for a CD for my nephew for his birthday. Could you recommend one?"

"Of course."

The woman had just left the shop when Mr. Green came back through from his accounts. "Oz, you can take your lunch now, I'll hold the fort."

"Cool. See you in an hour," Oz replied, and walked out of the door. In a town as small as Macauley nothing was too far away from anything else, and Oz lived only a few minutes from the shop. All of the shops, in fact. His house was therefore reached quickly. He scratched Maggie's back as he met him at the door, and walked over to the sofa. The letter was still on the floor, where it had landed that morning. Oz stooped to pick it up, but still paused before opening it. After a moment he thought, I'm just being silly, and ripped it open.

It was an invite. In ornate script was written:
Mr & Mrs Ira Rosenberg cordially invite
Daniel Osgoode
to the marriage of their daughter,
Mr. Alexander Harris
on the 19th of August 2005
in Sunnydale Synagogue at 3pm

Oz slumped onto the sofa. Willow getting married to Xander? Xander!?