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vocab_drabblesTitle: Under Her Spell
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Author: Apache Firecat
Rating: PG/K+
Word Count: 703
Characters/Pairings: Past Oz/Willow, current Oz/Bayarmaa
Warnings: Future Ficlet
Summary: After all these years, he's still trapped under her spell.
It has been years; yet, he still cannot forget her. Her face comes to him so often, and though he knows she's far gone from him now, he still feels a little guilty. After all, his wife loves him yet his heart remains firmly rooted in the past. He knows she would want him to progress. She would want him to be true to the family he's building, the family for whose mere survival he fights on an almost nightly basis.
There are times when he comes frighteningly close to forgetting. There are times when he almost calls his wife by her name. What would happen, he wonders sometimes, if he did? The pack would shun him, and if they did, if they sent him away, what then would become of their chances of survival? His mate is a good woman. She deserves better than him, better than any clod trapped in the past, but she has chosen him.
Yet, still, in the faces of battles that seem impossible to win, he gets flashes of her sanguine smile and remembers her bravery; she had always managed to keep her chin up and her beautiful eyes shining so brightly. She'd always managed to keep her faith in Buffy, and in him, even when they'd had none in themselves. He had been asked once, by his band mates, why he'd had no interest in Cordelia and the other cheerleaders, but he'd had his own private cheerleader. One encouraging smile from that little Witch had meant more to him than all the rest of the women remaining in the world.
But she hadn't loved him. She had perhaps for a season, but then she had moved on, moved on as he should do. She had a cast a spell on him, however, one that could not have been more potent if she had done it on purpose. When he seemed without hope, he saw her face and felt renewed again. Sometimes, even in the throes of passion both in the bedroom and on the field, he saw her smile, a flash of her air, even caught a whiff of her perfume...
His mate deserved better. Yet he seemed powerless to stop himself. He seemed powerless to give her what, and who, she needed and deserved, a man entirely and solely devoted to her. And if he were to leave... He truly feared they would not make it through the week. Ah, Willow, he thought, looking up at the full moon and knowing, in some part of his mind, that she was underneath the same moon, what have you done to me?
Yet try as he might, he could not regret his time with her. If not for her, he would have never made it here. He would have never found the courage to become more than the wolf, or likely even known that he was turning into a wolf before some Slayer or hunter had had to gun him down. She'd done more than love and weave a witless spell over him: She had made him the man he was, the man who was able to protect this pack.
He lowered his head, a lone tear trailing down his furred cheek. It just wasn't enough. He should be able to do more, be more. He should be able to give his mate all that still belonged to that little, charming, redheaded Witch. The beautiful, dynamic woman who now lay beside him should have his present as she protects his future within her, as she is his future, but he cannot rip his being away from Willow, even after all this time.
Thus, it is as his wife curls around him and murmurs, "Sh, darling, it's only dreams. We're safe tonight," he feels like howling but doesn't. He traps Willow's name within his throat, silences the howl, and murmurs faint assurances to her, letting her sleep through the night while he remains watching, fearful not of what the shadows around them may bring but of what his own faithless heart may yet lead them to. A choked whimper escapes him even as he strokes the only one who's ever truly been loyal to him.
The End
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Author: Apache Firecat
Rating: PG/K+
Word Count: 703
Characters/Pairings: Past Oz/Willow, current Oz/Bayarmaa
Warnings: Future Ficlet
Summary: After all these years, he's still trapped under her spell.
It has been years; yet, he still cannot forget her. Her face comes to him so often, and though he knows she's far gone from him now, he still feels a little guilty. After all, his wife loves him yet his heart remains firmly rooted in the past. He knows she would want him to progress. She would want him to be true to the family he's building, the family for whose mere survival he fights on an almost nightly basis.
There are times when he comes frighteningly close to forgetting. There are times when he almost calls his wife by her name. What would happen, he wonders sometimes, if he did? The pack would shun him, and if they did, if they sent him away, what then would become of their chances of survival? His mate is a good woman. She deserves better than him, better than any clod trapped in the past, but she has chosen him.
Yet, still, in the faces of battles that seem impossible to win, he gets flashes of her sanguine smile and remembers her bravery; she had always managed to keep her chin up and her beautiful eyes shining so brightly. She'd always managed to keep her faith in Buffy, and in him, even when they'd had none in themselves. He had been asked once, by his band mates, why he'd had no interest in Cordelia and the other cheerleaders, but he'd had his own private cheerleader. One encouraging smile from that little Witch had meant more to him than all the rest of the women remaining in the world.
But she hadn't loved him. She had perhaps for a season, but then she had moved on, moved on as he should do. She had a cast a spell on him, however, one that could not have been more potent if she had done it on purpose. When he seemed without hope, he saw her face and felt renewed again. Sometimes, even in the throes of passion both in the bedroom and on the field, he saw her smile, a flash of her air, even caught a whiff of her perfume...
His mate deserved better. Yet he seemed powerless to stop himself. He seemed powerless to give her what, and who, she needed and deserved, a man entirely and solely devoted to her. And if he were to leave... He truly feared they would not make it through the week. Ah, Willow, he thought, looking up at the full moon and knowing, in some part of his mind, that she was underneath the same moon, what have you done to me?
Yet try as he might, he could not regret his time with her. If not for her, he would have never made it here. He would have never found the courage to become more than the wolf, or likely even known that he was turning into a wolf before some Slayer or hunter had had to gun him down. She'd done more than love and weave a witless spell over him: She had made him the man he was, the man who was able to protect this pack.
He lowered his head, a lone tear trailing down his furred cheek. It just wasn't enough. He should be able to do more, be more. He should be able to give his mate all that still belonged to that little, charming, redheaded Witch. The beautiful, dynamic woman who now lay beside him should have his present as she protects his future within her, as she is his future, but he cannot rip his being away from Willow, even after all this time.
Thus, it is as his wife curls around him and murmurs, "Sh, darling, it's only dreams. We're safe tonight," he feels like howling but doesn't. He traps Willow's name within his throat, silences the howl, and murmurs faint assurances to her, letting her sleep through the night while he remains watching, fearful not of what the shadows around them may bring but of what his own faithless heart may yet lead them to. A choked whimper escapes him even as he strokes the only one who's ever truly been loyal to him.
The End
