AWAKENING

Smooth silk sheets, smoother body behind him, and Oz drifted out of slumber by degrees, aware of the weight on his chest, holding him. Devon, move over dude...before his eyes opened to slits, and he saw the glory of the mural above him.

Still more asleep than awake, Oz's mind refused to completely let go of the thought, but that it occurred was no surprise. It always did. While he'd shared a bed with several people, several men, since he'd left the hallowed streets of Sunnydale, it was still Devon's name that his mind associated with on these mornings, when long limbs tangled with his, taut chest at his back and the scratch of hair at his butt from where he was tucked tightly, wedged almost. He could feel the rise and fall of breath, hear the slow, hypnotic beating of a heart matching his own, and it was Devon that was imprinted in his brain, would always be branded there in these moments right before consciousness. His golden skinned, pretty best friend, he of the loyal e-mails, whose presence would forever be the first one his mind grabbed hold of, even if he had spent the night in the bed of a multi millionaire that looked like a Calvin Klein model. Even if said millionaire touched him like a lover but didn't commit move one upon his person.

Devon would probably laugh his ass off if he knew.

Because, really, Oz wasn't a touch-y kind of guy. He'd only ever been openly affectionate with two people in his life. One of them wasn't even Willow, which should have told him something right there. They had been on the same page with that, though, his ex-girlfriend not being the suck-face- in- public- type. She wouldn't even say, "fuck." But Devon had always been about the contact, for as long as they'd known each other, which began way back in church day camp, of all places. They shared a red crayon to color Jesus' robe in vacation bible school, and their bond had been sealed. Devon always hugged him, leaned into him, invading his space like he allowed no one else to do. One day he invaded right into a kiss while they lay on the floor of his van sharing a joint, and they'd been on-again off-again lovers ever since. Devon knew about his little secret, and had shrugged it off with customary aplomb. "No big Ozzy. We just won't book those three days." He had loved him for that.

And the other person-well, the other person was another matter entirely.

He'd been in some pretty strange places since driving away from, he suspected, the only woman he would ever love. He'd prayed with monks and experienced visions in a Navaho sweat hut. He'd lived on a commune with forty other people almost as blas� about nudity as Nicholas was. He never thought he'd wake up in a New York Penthouse with a man who transcended all his walls as effortlessly as blowing out candles. Sighing, Oz shifted his hips even deeper in to the curve of lap, half expecting to feel a twitch of the velvet smooth cock he could feel nestled between his thighs, but no, nothing, even if his own was showing some definite interest. Before he knew it, he'd drifted off to sleep again beneath Nicholas's arm. When he woke up again he was alone and could hear the shower going.

By the time the shower stopped Oz had sat up in bed after pulling on his boxers. He needed to shower too, and almost left the room to find another one; no shortage of free bathrooms here, but didn't. He didn't want Nicholas to think he'd gotten weird over the sleeping -naked- together thing. And he hadn't, even though part of him felt weird about not feeling weirder.

The door opened in a waft of humid steam and Nicholas walked out wearing a champagne colored towel and nothing else.

Oz felt his throat go dry, knew all the x-rated thoughts ambling through his head probably showed on his face, and hoped his customary expressionless features hid enough of them to matter.

Hair hung to Nicholas' shoulders in strands darkened to honey blond, chest, the one he'd felt against his back this morning, bare, smooth and hairless. So much smooth skin stretched over ropy muscle, full six-pack of abs outlined and droplets of water dotting his shoulder, making Oz want to taste them with his tongue. He really did look like that statue of David he remembered from a class trip to the museum.

"Good morning. I trust you slept well?"

"Yeah. Trust away. I passed out on you last night."

"Yes." Nicholas smiled faintly, giving Oz more cottonmouth as he removed the towel from around his waist and proceeded to brush the moisture off his shoulders, then gave his hair a brisk scrub. "I believe we both did. The last discussion I remember was whether computer graphics was a valid art form."

"I remember winning that one."

"Hardly." Nicholas replied, but the smile grew, and Oz made himself get off the bed so he wouldn't spend all morning ogling the beautiful, naked werewolf. "Showering."

"Dressing." Nicholas called over his shoulder, and he stopped at the bathroom doorway, looking over in time to catch a glimpse of perfect ass before the pair of Hugo Boss briefs were pulled on.

"Um." He began and Nicholas faced him.

"Yes?"

"How did I get naked?"

"I undressed you."

"Oh. Good to know." He turned away but Nicholas walked over to him and did one of his sweeping touches, long fingered hand running through his hair, behind his neck, under to cup his jaw. His scalp tingled beneath the contact. A nudge brought Oz's eyes up to meet amused cerulean blue.

"Shy? I thought you unflappable."

"I sometimes flap."

"Do you?" Nicholas ran the pad of his thumb across his chin and studied his face before moving away to get dressed leaving Oz to step into the bathroom.

Oz had been in smaller houses than this bathroom, and it never failed to amaze him. The first time he stepped in here to shower he spent fifteen minutes just walking around, feet sinking in the deep plush carpet, watching himself in the mirror that ran the length of the wall.

Two separate sinks resided on the counter set at each end, the kind that worked on a sensor when your hands moved under the faucet. In between stretched an acre of sand colored marble with a tissue box, gold filigree, a professional hair dryer in it's own cut out slot, and a vented brush. The commode hid behind a glass brick wall and the shower was in a corner, a many nuzzled open cubicle that took him an absurdly long time to figure out. The absence of a shower curtain made him kind of nervous and threw him back to high school where no one tried to look at anyone while showering after gym class. However, the piece de resistance was the deep Jacuzzi you had to step down into; one could practically swim laps in that thing. He'd already tried it, luxuriating in the hot jets of water that seemed to hit his body everywhere. He'd nearly fallen asleep lounging and his hand had floated over between his legs almost absently, the sensual gurgle of water pressure arousing him so gradually he hadn't noticed. One touch and he came, shuddering in the waves and foam.

He'd been thinking of Him when he let go.

Unwilling to step out of the bathroom drenched in pheromones he opted for a cool shower this time and was tying the laces on his boots, hair sticking up in damp peaks when Nicholas walked in.

"Ah, good. You're nearly dressed. Millicent has breakfast ready, and as we speak Garret is locating your van."

Oz stood and watched Nicholas watch him, cerulean eyes touching on his clothes with a rueful smile. "And then there is the matter of your attire."

"I never thought it mattered too much."

"It doesn't, I suppose." The taller man murmured, flipping over the lapel on his denim jacket and grabbing his eyes with that way he had of looking into you. Wolf x-ray vision. Superman had nothing on this. "I just thought you could use some fresh clothes."

"I have stuff in my van."

"I'm sure." Nicholas fingered the fraying collar of his Dingoes t-shirt. "I've cleared my schedule today, so there isn't a hurry, but I'm sure you're anxious to locate your things."

"No ruthless takeovers today?" Nicholas laughed, his hand slipping around Oz's shoulder as they walked to the dining room. His hands seemed to always be touching, carding his hair, cupping his face. Instead of unnerving him, like almost anyone but Devon would have, the contact soothed. He wasn't sure why.

"I've had my takover for the moment. One of the advantages of being president of the company is the ability to clear your schedule on a moment's notice. Very useful power, that."

The dome covered silver dishes already sat on the table and Nicholas removed the covers with ease, turning the condensation away so the steam never touched his sleeves. He wore thin gray cashmere looking turtleneck and more black pants, and his hair was caught back in a low ponytail, which set off the planes of his face and those killer eyes. In comparison Oz did feel kind of grunged out.

"Is something the matter?"

"No." Oz dropped his stare to the mountain of food Nicholas had placed in front of him, manipulating the serving tongs with grace. "I'm just having a Julia Roberts moment."

"The actor? Lovely girl. Delightful sense of humor."

Before Oz could answer Garret walked in and took the seat across from him, talking only to Nick. The man wore a long sleeved polo, also in black, but his hair was loose like last night, reaching half way down his back. For a moment Oz just looked at the two of them, light and dark, slim and muscled, and wondered if they'd ever been lovers. The path that thought took him down so distracted him that he zoned back in just in time to hear what Garret said.

"His van was towed. The lot is about a half hour from here, and there's a charge."

"Take care of it."

"No." Oz said. Both men turned to him and he placed his fork down, weighing what to say. Nick looked honestly puzzled, but Garret had a knowing slant to his eyes he didn't care for.

"You're not doing that." He protested.

"Of course I am."

"Nick..."

"Nick?" Garret's winged brows rose halfway to his hairline but Nicholas ignored him.

"It's nothing, Oz."

"Not to me."

Their gaze held across the table in silence and Garret gave a silent eye roll. Neither of them addressed it.

"Let me know what the verdict is. The bill is $250.00. I have the address." With that he rose and left.

For a minute they looked at each other, and so much of their communication seemed to be made up of this silent, deep contemplation. For not the first time Oz thought he might fall in the mesmerizing cerulean blue and drown.

"You make too much of this."

"I'm not comfortable with this."

"For heaven's sake why not?"

"I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours." The sensuous lips lifted in a smile he'd come to recognize: part amusement, part exasperation, mostly intrigue, which was of the good. He liked intriguing this elegant man quite a lot. He had from the first. Nicholas sat back and draped a cashmere-clad arm over the back of the chair.

"Continue."

"See, it's kind of a game." Oz began, after spooning up more forkfuls of egg and bacon. "Neither one of us understands the other, not really. We haven't exactly opened up because we're both afraid of something. But we want to. Open up, that is."

"I'm not afraid of you." Nicholas said, and it was one of the first times any words from the older wolf hadn't rung true. It was also one of the first times the electric blue eyes had dropped their gaze. Oz nodded, as if thinking. Spooned up some more food. "Do I frighten you?"

"More than I can say." Something shifted in the incisive blue eyes. Oz felt it. The air between them became heavy and thick and the urge to touch the other man was so strong his fingers actually twitched.

"So." Nicholas lowered his lashes once more. "This game. What are the rules?"

"It's not that formal. I ask you a question. You answer. You do the same. The first one to take the fifth wins."

"Ah. A gambler." Pushing his empty plate aside, Nicholas placed his elbows on the damask tablecloth and surveyed him. "So if I win you must accept my help."

"And if I win I don't."

"Begin."

"Why are you helping me?"

"Because it pleases me to do so." Nicholas replied without the slightest pause. "And because I can. I have the means and the inclination, and I like you."

"Fair enough." Oz nodded, also pushing away the empty plate and smiling at Millicent as she bustled in giving him a conspiratorial wink.

"How old are you?"

"Twenty three." Oz answered, cocked his head at the flicker of surprise on Nicholas' face. "You were thinking younger?"

"I was thinking older. You have old eyes."

"Thanks." If he were the blushing sort, now would be the time. The words themselves came out innocuous enough, but the steady, frank admiration was unnerving.

"Same question."

"Thirty-eight." Oz felt his mouth fall open and didn't reel it in quick enough. The man next to him just laughed. "Surely this is no surprise. When my parents were killed they were over one hundred and fifty years old. You know our kind live well over a hundred years. You did know that."

He could just shake his head numbly at the last phrase. So long. Would he really live that long? The implications threatened to overwhelm him and he had to physically pull himself back to where Nicholas had taken his hand and squeezed firmly, the warmth there seeping into his suddenly cold fingers.

"Oz, what's the matter? I didn't mean to startle you..."

"Your turn."

Nicholas looked at him for a moment then nodded, as if acquiescing to something against his better judgment. "Very well. Why are you living like this? Have you no family, no roots? What of your parents?"

"You're going to have to pick one. Game rules." A flash of annoyance sparked on the fine planes of his face and Oz had to control the urge to grin. His host was obviously not used to being bested.

"The last."

"My parents live in Sunnydale, California. They're fine. We talk sometimes."

"So you are estranged."

"My turn."

"So it is."

"Were you and Garret lovers?"

The utter vexation on the man's face counter pointed a loud crash from the kitchen and Millicent's beet red face as it peeked out of the door.

"My apologies, Sir. Me hands were wet, and the silver platter..."

"It's fine Milli."

"Sir." She bowed before cutting a glance Oz's way and disappearing behind the door.

For long moments after Milli's departure Nicholas stared at him before he finally spoke. "You are the most bewildering creature."

"That's not an answer." Oz looked down at where the long, pianist's fingers still closed around his smaller ones.

"Yes. 'Lovers' is a rather weighty term for what we were, but the answer is yes, when we were both very young. We grew up together. I've always known him. He is my very best friend and I trust him with my life."

That explained a lot. He wondered if Nick really was blind to the Olympic sized torch his "close advisor" brandished practically like the stature of liberty, or if he just chose to ignore it.

"What is your name? Really?"

"You know my name."

"Any aversion will be considered a refusal to answer and you will forfeit. Game rules." Nicholas smiled back, triumphant, and the pure wattage of that smile made his eyes hurt. He's having fun, Oz realized, which also made him realize, from the sheer delight on Nick's face, how long it must have been since fun had been had by his esteemed host.

"Daniel Osbourne."

"Ah." Nicholas said softly. "I could call you Daniel."

"If I can call you Nicky."

"Point."

"Thanks."

"Why were your parents killed?"

A shroud seemed to fall over the mischief in those eyes he'd seen just a second ago, and he almost retracted the question. Almost.

"Because of arrogance and ignorance." He thinks it's his fault, Oz thought. "Mine and others."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't...."

"Don't be ridiculous. There's no reason." His gaze wandered down to where their hands rested on the table, and he began to circle Oz's knuckles with the tip of one finger, like someone would twirl a lock of hair. "My mother and father were dreamers and visionaries. They had a hope for the werewolf nation others did not agree with and they were murdered for it. I have avenged them. It did not make me feel better." The calm desolation in those words seemed to settle in the younger man's chest and he laced his fingers through the hand caressing his, and held tightly. The next words were spoken gently they were almost whispered.

"What are you running from? Or whom?"

Oz glanced up, collided with an inexorable gaze. The group of words effortlessly peeled back so many layers of feeling and memory he could barely take all of it in, let alone choose one answer. Because that's what he had been doing, of course. Running. He'd called it a pilgrimage, a quest for a cure, but he had found that years ago. Now he only changed when he chose, though he hadn't been back to Sunnydale, to Willow, and Willow's new life, so he had no way of knowing if the cure would hold up. No, he'd kept going because he'd wanted to. The reasons weren't ones he thought of even in his own head.

"Oz?" Nicholas' voice was low, inquisitive and Oz blinked once before nodding.

"Uncle."

"Pardon?"

"A saying. For when you give up."

"Oh." Nicholas said. "I win."

"Yeah."

After another moment of sitting with hands twined Nicholas squeezed then moved to stand. "The car should be ready. Shall we go?"

Oz nodded, and followed the taller wolf to the elevator. When the door closed the taller man reached out and drew him into an embrace, resting his chin on his head among his hair. He seemed to like that. Oz stole both arms around the wool coat and they stood that way until the doors opened to find Garret leaning against the town car. The look on his face when he saw them couldn't have been any balder, though he covered it in a second. To a casual observer it might never have been, but Oz saw it. He knew Nicholas must have.

*****
Part 6:

The three of them stepped into the crowded portable trailer that served as the Speedy's EZ Tow office. The girl at the desk looked up from filing her nails and her mouth fell open. Oz didn't exactly blame her. He figured they made a pretty strange trio.

The two taller werewolves flanked him on either side, both wearing long wool overcoats and black gloves, and both with their hair caught back in a low ponytail that left the planes of their faces bare. There might have been three inches between the top of their heads and the ceiling and at least a foot separated their height from his. He stood there in his denim jacket, Dingoes t-shirt and loose cargo pants, and even the inch and a half on the Doc's didn't add much.

"Yeah?" she asked, in Jersey so thick you could cut it, and Oz spoke up before Nicholas had a chance.

"My van was towed a few days ago. I'm here to pick it up."

Still eyeing them with suspicion she fished a yellow card out of a drawer and offered it to him with a pen, beginning a speech that must have been given a thousand times before. "Fill out the information and hand it to the driver. There's a fifty-dollar charge if you need the jumper cables and we take cash or credit, but no checks. Any questions?"

"No. Thanks." He began to write and Nicholas stepped up to the desk, removing his wallet from an inside pocket.

"And I need picture I.D." The girl added, taking the gold card from Nicholas' hand.

Oz paused and looked up. "My wallet was stolen."

"If you don't got your license we accept another form of picture ID and anything havin' your mailing address."

"I'm on the road right now."

"I don't make the rules, baby, I just follow 'em." She gave him a shrug, her attention already drifting back to Regis and his pretty blond host.

"Oz." Nicholas held out his hand. "Give me the card. I'm sure we can settle this to this young woman's satisfaction."

"Look, I can get I.D. It'll just take me awhile...."

Nicholas stopped his words by placing a hand on his shoulder and squeezing gently, catching his worried gaze. "Don't worry. It will be fine." He gave up the card and Nicholas turned to the girl who had craned her neck to watch the interaction. Nicholas held out the card but when she took it, her hand didn't move away.

"This is not the hardest problem, is it my dear?" His voice had gone low, lower than usual and Oz waited for a sarcastic smirk of derision, because the receptionist practically had NO BULLSHIT stamped on her forehead. That didn't happen.

"I can personally assure you it is the boy's vehicle. He looks very trustworthy, does he not?"

"Yeah." She said faintly, black-rimmed eyes staring widely up at the werewolf, then Oz felt it: a faint pull at his abdomen, and lower, and a scent in the air of pure adrenaline and sex. His breath began to come in slight pants.

"We'd be most grateful if you could aid us in this matter. You can do that, yes?"

"I've gotta...stamp the card." Her tongue came out and dabbed at the corner of her mouth, eyes still staring with white all around the brown, and Oz wanted to step in for a minute, and break the spell. Not enough, though.

"Of course." Nicholas let go the card, but not his hold on her as she fumbled for a stamp pad and pressed the red seal down half on the desk Nicholas held out the card without turning around. "Garret, will you take Oz outside to retrieve the van? I'll finish up here."

"Fine."

Oz didn't move, still watching, the atmosphere in the air so pungent he felt if he tried to walk he would have to push through like some invisible field. Garret slipped a firm hand around his arm to guide him outside. He also took the card from Oz's sweating hands and gave it to the ungainly lot attendant.

The cold air began to clear his head, and he rubbed his face with both palms, the sensation akin to stepping out of the van into fresh air after he and Devon had been sharing a joint. Garret stood next to him, wrinkling his nose. The tow lot was only a block down from a large abandoned lot people had been using as a garbage dump.

"What did he do to her?"

Garret gave him a brief, curious glance before looking away dismissively. "Get your car back for you."

"You know what I mean." Something in Oz's voice must have sounded serious because the tall man looked back down at him in that look of frank puzzlement that they all seemed to give him at one point or another. "Is it some kind of hypnosis?"

"Hypnosis?" Garret laughed, and there was nothing in the sound but genuine surprise. "Good heavens, no! You know we have an undercurrent effect on all humans; a sort of visceral pull. Nicholas simply harnessed that a bit and directed it. Don't pretend you haven't done it yourself."

"I can't do that."

Garret looked at him for a minute. "What do you mean? Of course you can; we all can."

"No."

"Have you attempted it?"

"I'm saying I don't have that ability." He clarified, thinking the wolf misunderstood him. Garret shook his head.

"And I'm telling you that you most certainly do. At the very least you've had it done to you, if you've spent time with any other wolves."

"I don't..." Then a flash of memory, so sharp it caused him to throw his head back. The deep, coiled feeling in the pit of his stomach, of being pulled and drawn to Veruca. He'd felt it in The Bronze, across a sea of people, and before that, when all they'd done was pass each other on the sidewalk, or sit across from each other at a table. It invaded his thoughts and senses and beckoned him to her like a magnet.

"I see you have." Garret was staring at him with an almost total absence of hostility, which hadn't happened at all since they'd met. "You really have no idea what it is you are, do you?"

The distinctive sound of the van's exhaust system saved him from addressing that comment. A smile tugged at his lips at the sight of the familiar zebra stripes and left headlight held on by wire. Garret's dark eyes widened as they ran over the van's exterior in disbelief.

"That is the most preposterous vehicle I've ever seen."

Oz nodded. "Thanks."

"Here she is." The driver puffed his way around to their side. It had taken him a few minutes to work his way out from behind the wheel. Oz kept it set to match his height. "Looks like the caps were lifted, but no one broke in. You got lucky."

"Thanks, man." Oz took the receipt and shoved it in his pocket.

"She a '69?"

"'70."

"My brother had one a these. Got so much nooky in the back a that thing, you wouldn't believe."

"I'd believe." Oz assured him with a smile and a prudent drop of his eyes. The man cackled laughter and slapped his hand in camaraderie.

"I betcha do, too! Hey, you need to replace the caps, give me a call. I got a friend specializes in VW's."

"You got it." The man gave him a wink and took off, wiping his face on a handkerchief.

As he moved to open the back, Oz saw Garret giving him the puzzled stare again. He was going to patent that and charge them every time they used it. For some reason it didn't bother him as much on Nicholas.

"What?"

"You touch them quite naturally. Humans."

"You don't."

He hadn't meant to sound judgmental, particularly since he didn't usually sound like much of anything, but he still felt kind of thrown about the whole conversation before; like he'd flunked Werewolf 101.

Garret's bow lips pursed in that way that looked like he'd been sucking lemons.

"I didn't grow up with them. It's a perfectly natural reaction."

Oz didn't answer and threw open the back doors and the scent of a hundred Sunnydale afternoons suffused him so completely his chest twisted. For just a second all he wanted to do was go home. Faint strawberry incense, Devon's favorite, stronger acrid sweet odor of pot, and just a hint of the plastic encased air freshener that never had a chance amidst all the stronger perfumes. His large plastic cassette holder still sat next to his guitar case, his clean clothes still fell out of a plastic bag in one corner and the Mexican blankets and pillow that he used to sleep still crouched in another. Old Dingoes posters were taped to the walls, and he moved some things around, not so much checking as reacquainting himself with his home. He could have gone on without the van because, first and foremost, he was a survivor. But now that he didn't have to brace himself for the loss, he felt damn happy to have it back. Just having it made him feel grounded and centered.

A hand touched his lower back and he stiffened, moving casually away. Nicholas didn't seem to notice as the blond haired man took in the van's contents with a wry smile.

"Very...interesting automobile. Your handiwork?"

"Nah. Came that way."

"I see my efforts to retrieve this fine vehicle were well spent."

Oz fingered the thinning shag carpet, and a long fingered hand came up to his jaw, insinuated itself between his collar and his neck in the space that made him want to close his eyes and cleave to the touch like a big cat. He looked up into those blue eyes so brilliant no human could own that color, knowing even as he did they would be his undoing.

"Thanks for this."

"You'll simply have to pick a different wager next time. Will you follow us back?"

The question hung in the air gaining weight and profundity, and he knew, somehow, that if he wanted to turn away, now would be the time. The perfect opening to thank his gracious host for the down time and the food and shelter and cut ties before they got any deeper. Because standing in the open doors of his van the pull to nuzzle the palm on his neck stole over him, the urge to swim in the cerulean ocean of those eyes called to him, and it wasn't whatever whammy Nicholas had laid on the receptionist. It had begun before he'd even been conscious.

"Oz?" His name was a whispered breath, uncertainty flickering over the beautiful features. They would have been pretty save for the age in those eyes.

Nicholas' other hand ran through his hair. He could feel the strands separate between the tapering fingers before the palm came around, cupped his chin, and a thumb ran gently over his lower lip, brushing. Something clenched, immediate and powerful, at a point below his waist and Oz gripped Nicholas' wrists tightly, meaning to pull them away, and found he was just unable to.

"Yeah."

"Good." The relief in the one word was almost hidden, but not quite, and Nicholas gave him a smile that didn't dispel the worry on his brows. The taller man moved away, taking the magic hands with him, and Oz swore, all he wanted to do was dive back into that touch.

"I'm right behind you."

Giving a nod, Nicholas moved towards the car and Oz shut the doors.

NICHOLAS

He knew the touch had been calculated, and he had done it anyhow. The scruff of a wolf's neck was very sensitive, part of the reason it was his favorite part. One of his earliest memories was of his mother's strong jaws carefully closing around his neck while he'd been a cub, moving him out of harm's way, guiding him, reprimanding him whenever he got in trouble. He found himself deeply taken with Oz's neck, the frailty of it below the shorn hair, so unusual for wolves, because to keep it so short would entail weekly visits to the salon. The pale expanse of bone and muscle led to the compact, shoulders and the valley of his spine. He'd had daydreams of running a finger down that valley to the smooth buttocks, molding the bones of the boy's hips with his hands.

His friend's voice brought him out of his thoughts.

"Something isn't right with him, Nicholas."

"Yes, he does have questionable taste in automobiles, doesn't he?"

"Don't be obtuse." Garret almost snapped, reaching in the space between the seats for a bottled Evian. "He had no idea what you were doing in the office; he'd never seen it before, or hadn't realized he had. You and I recognized that ability as cubs."

Nicholas sighed. "Garret this is getting tiresome."

"I am not enjoying myself, either, contrary to what you might think. If you intend to go much farther with this I must do a back ground check on him."

"He is just a stray." Nicholas glanced out of the window at the passing city scenery. "I don't think he's been around many of his own kind. Perhaps his family passed as human. At any rate, do you truly think he's a danger to me?"

"I don't know. Even his family should have seen to certain basic knowledge, shouldn't they?"

"He doesn't seem to have any contact with them."

"I'm doing a check." It was the closest to a command Garret would ever get. " I have his picture from the garage security tape. I can begin with that..."

"His name is Daniel Osbourne. His parents are in Sunnydale, California." Nicholas interrupted with a sigh.

They looked at each other in silence for a moment.

"Why him?" The question was asked almost inaudibly, and bordered on the improper. Nicholas would have reminded anyone else of his status as pack leader and his right to do as he pleased with whomever he pleased, but Garret had never been just anyone.

"I'm not sure." Nicholas answered softly, and would have extrapolated if he'd known how.

They spoke no more the rest of the way.

Upon arriving Oz parked the van in the garage and selected some clothes from it's recesses. The vehicle was truly one of the most outlandish things he'd ever seen and Nicholas enjoyed the looks of bafflement on the staff as they regarded the van and the short wolf who hefted a garbage bag over his shoulder as they headed for the elevator. Garret excused himself as soon as they arrived, no doubt to go begin his research on the boy.

Yet in the elevator he sensed the change in Oz, not in small part because the young wolf stood across from him in the small space, eyes on the floor. Nicholas could feel the invisible wall between them that hadn't been there before and had to severely control the urge to breech it with his touch. The problem obviously couldn't be obliterated in such a facile manner this time.

He lasted until they got to the penthouse and turned down Milli's offer of afternoon tea before approaching the boy as he removed a few articles of clothing from the plastic garbage bag, folding them onto a neat pile on the bed. More t-shirts and jeans. Standing close behind him he leaned over and said into a shell of ear: "I think luggage is also in order."

"I don't need luggage." Oz moved away, but Nicholas stopped him, gripping his shoulders. The boy stayed, but his eyes cast downward.

"Please look at me."

The reddish blond lashes lifted, pensive shamrock green, and for the first time Nicholas began to suspect he might be utterly and completely lost.

"What happened at the office, with the girl. It's upset you."

Oz stayed silent for a few seconds then spoke. "She didn't have a choice."

"It's not as sinister as all that, surely?" Nicholas said softly. "It was harmless, I promise you. She's fine."

"I wouldn't like that done to me. It kind of freaked me out."

"Yes, Garret mentioned you'd been perturbed. It wouldn't be done to you, Oz, not in that manner, because you are werewolf."

The crisp green eyes lowered once more, shoulders relaxed a little in his hold. "I think it was."

"Oh? Without your consent?"

"Yeah."

"When it is done within weres, it is usually consensual, during sexual overtures or mating. Did you have a mate?" Even as he asked, he knew the answer. The boy couldn't have. If he'd been mated, he'd be with her still. If she'd died, Oz would be gone as well.

"No. Not...not her." The tone was reluctant with discomfort and Nicholas began a subtle kneading through the denim of the jacket. The lashes on those serious eyes slipped closed, and the body in his hands became more pliant.

"That's not fair."

"What isn't?" Nicholas murmured.

"I can't think when you do that." Low mumble and Nicholas smiled, but didn't stop.

"Can't you?"

Oz didn't reply, but leaned into the touch.

"If I consent to desist I demand a more enjoyable direction to our day. I have flagrantly and without conscience shirked my ever so important work duties. It's not something I often do."

"No kidding?" Oz opened his eyes and curved his lips into his slow smile.

"And here I had you pegged as a slacker."

"A...what? It sounds vaguely insulting."

"Vaguely." They traveled in each other's eyes a while, questions asked and answered, assurances given, until Nicholas felt welcome enough to draw him into a brief hug.

A knock on the door sounded and they both turned to see Milli poke her head in the room. "Excuse me Sir." She saw Oz and smiled brightly. "Hello Oz! Didn't see you there, lad. Sir," she addressed Nicholas. "Trudeau hasn't lunched yet and was wondering if he had a moment before you'd be needing the car again today?"

"That's fine, Milli, thank you." Nicholas released Oz, who had prudently dropped his arms and stepped back a bit. "On second thought, tell Trudeau he may lunch at his leisure. I'll be driving us wherever we need to go."

"You will, Sir?" Milli's voice sounded doubtful and he turned calm eyes to her. "Of course, Mr. Devoncroix, as you wish. Will you be telling Mr. Gault?"

"No, I thought we'd let him become good and frantic for a while to test his mettle."

"Very good, Mr.Devoncroix." She bobbed her head and disappeared with a cheerful smile.

They looked at each other after the door closed and both broke into light laughter. "That girl has always had the most uncanny sense of timing. I believe it's getting more acute."

"I like Milli."

"She's fond of you as well." In actuality, Nicholas had rarely met a better judge of character than the young servant girl. It was as if she had inner radar against duplicity. Her immediate affection for Oz was one of the reasons Nicholas was certain the young wolf meant him no harm whatsoever. Unfortunately, this wasn't something he could easily tell Garret, who had a very precise idea of class and status.

"Come my friend. Our day awaits us."

"So. What would you like to do?" Nicholas asked as they drove down the street in the Jaguar he kept for personal use. He watched Oz run his hands over the leather interior as the boy had been doing for the last ten minutes.

"Nice car."

"Thank you." Nicholas smiled. "Would you like to drive it?"

"No." Oz glanced at him. "Thanks." Small, rough calloused hands outlined the detail on the dashboard. "Maybe later."

They drove in silence for a bit then Oz leaned back and gave a shrug. "It's your town."

"One of them." He agreed. "So it is my decision, then?"

"It's your day off. Knock yourself out."

With a nod, he headed towards 34th street.

It was one of the rare times Nicholas began without some sort of plan. While his detractors would say different, he actually believed greatly in the value of a well thought out agenda. Today would be the exception.

The helipad sat on top of the forty story building and Oz shielded his eyes against the wind as they stepped out onto the roof. Nicholas walked up behind him and noted how woefully inadequate the thin jacket was against the elements. He'd originally planned to make a shopping excursion the first order of the day, after the van retrieval, but thought better of it. Oz would probably spend more time protesting the purchases than selecting them, and that would rob the entire exercise of any enjoyment.

"Are you ready?" He shouted over the clap of the propeller blades and Oz nodded, the shamrock eyes alight with anticipation. Ducking under the blades they headed for the waiting helicopter and he made sure Oz was securely inside before opening the driver's door lifting himself in.

To the quizzical raised eyebrows he said. "I'm licensed to fly."

"Cool." But he noted with amusement the clenched fists as he began the necessary flight procedure, and laughed out loud.

"You trust me so little?"

"I trust you."

"Good." They lifted off in a smooth arc and soon the fists relaxed and Oz hovered at the edge of his seat as Nicholas pointed out The Empire State Building, Ellis Island, and the Harlem Bridge. Visible in the distance, and more ominous than any tourist attraction, however, was the enormous crater left after the September 11th attacks.

"I don't want to go over that, if it's OK." Oz said quietly.

"The air space above the sight is still restricted." Nicholas turned them towards the Hudson River, and soon Oz was enjoying the view once more. He didn't blame the boy. He hadn't flown very much since the attacks for that very reason.

After an hour he turned them back towards the landing pad and set them down gently, clasping hands with Oz as they ran beneath the blades, passing the next tour of people.

"Good flight Mr. Devoncroix?" A young worker inquired as Nicholas signed them out.

"Wonderful, Charles. Thank you."

"Anytime. Hope you and your friend have a good day."

Nicholas looked down after handing the clipboard back and Oz gave him a smile so wide it made him think he hadn't really seen one out of the boy yet.

"That was really cool."

"We've only just begun, my friend."

Nicholas ended up taking Oz to several tourist destinations, simply because the boy had never been to any of them.

They toured the observation deck at the Empire State Building and rode the Staten Island Ferry. He talked Oz into taking a carriage ride in Central Park, though the young wolf seemed to prefer petting and talking to the horses more than the ride itself. After the Harlem Museum they sat in Battery Park and ate hamburgers from a street vendor, with Oz laughing as Nicholas questioned the nutritional value of their meal. Afterwards he refrained from telling his passenger where they were headed despite Oz's curious questions. The suspense was less than he'd hoped, though, due to the boy's amazing impulse control. Only the drumming fingers on his knees showed the excitement.

The look on Oz's face when they entered Mandola's Guitar Shop was well worth it, though. Tucked far off the beaten path the guitar shop nonetheless commandeered three floors of a glass fronted building and housed some of the most famous acoustic and electric guitars in history. All manner of guitars were also sold, as well as mandolins and ukeleles, and they had a practice room to try out insturments and an extensive selection of sheet music. Nicholas had discovered it when searching for his brother's birthday present one year; Etienne had been going through a rock and roll phase.

"Nick. This is...incredible." Oz stared around himself at the array of instruments surrounding them. Every available space seemed to be occupied by guitars and guitar paraphenelia. Guitars hung from the walls and lay in display cases next to black and white autographed pictures of their famous former owners. "How did you know?"

"I saw the case in your van."

"I think I'm moving in."

Nicholas laughed, delighting in Oz's amazement and obvious love and reverence for his chosen instrument. "I'm not sure they accept tenants, but I do have some connections."

"Thanks. I'll let you know." Oz gave him a patented slow curve of lips and began to walk among the aisles, touching this instrument and that, flipping through sheet music. Nicholas watched him as he moved, noting again the placid grace with which the boy held himself. It made him want to simultaneously disturb it and cloak himself in its depths.

Oz spent the better part of two hours in Mandola's, trying out the practice room and viewing the guitar museum on the upper floor. His knowledge of different brands was impressive. However, Nicholas noted how Oz returned to a certain bass guitar time and again, soothing it's finish and plucking lightly at the strings. "Classic Fender VI Bass, six string, circa 1962" read the placard propped next to instrument displayed on a mahogany stand. A long, elegant neck made of blond wood lead to the classic Fender shape, the color brilliant sunburst edged in black. It reminded Nicholas of Oz's hair.

"Handsome workmanship." He noted the fifth time the boy circled back to it like a smitten suitor.

"Yeah."

"You play the bass, I take it? I only saw one guitar case in your van."

"I play. I traded my bass to get the van serviced and garaged in Mexico."

"Ah. It must have been difficult."

"Not so much." Oz left the guitar's alluring surface and stuck both hands in his pockets. "I didn't play a lot on the road. Did cut back on the freelance gigs I could take, though."

"You must play for me."

"Anytime." Oz nodded.

As they exited Mandola's he noted with some surprise the setting of the sun. The day seemed to have sped by, and the chill in the air showed it. Oz dug his hands imperceptibly deeper in his pockets. Most people wouldn't have noticed the move, so casual it was, but Nicholas had begun to recognize the nuances. Slipping an arm around the smaller boy's shoulders he sought to shield the short body with his against the wind. Despite the chill he could feel the warmth in the flesh beneath the thin jacket.

"Dinner? That fine cuisine we had in the park was quite a while ago."

"Can't we eat the house? I'm kind of not dressed for a four star restaurant."

"That sounds fine. I believe I've tired you out enough for one day."

"Hey." Oz caught his hand as they walked and he paused. His hand was still held in the boy's smaller one, and the green eyes held his. "I had a really amazing time today."

"As did I."

'I don't want you to leave' He had to consciously keep the words from forming as he studied the enigmatic face turned up to his. He'd been pondering a way to put forth the idea to Oz all day. A manner in which the boy wouldn't feel kept or obligated, and he hadn't had much success.

"Come on." Oz tugged him towards the car, and he followed, mind still searching and seeking a solution to keep the person at his side there indefinitely.

As the Jaguar rolled smoothly into the private garage Nicholas caught sight of Garret's pinched white face in the headlights.

"I think he wants to talk to you." Oz deadpanned and Nicholas gave him a resigned smirk.

"You would be correct."

"Have you gone mad?" Garret fairly spat the minute they exited the car. He saw Oz back off and start to head towards the elevator, but some contrary imp made him reach out and hook the boy's hand, keeping him close.

"Yes?" he said in the face of Garret's blazing dark eyes. He didn't fault Oz for retreating in the least; it was simply defensive instinct. Garret angry cut a formidable figure.

"You cannot go gallivanting all over New York without so much as a bye your leave to the security team! I almost sent them out to track you down!"

"I left you a note saying we'd be sightseeing."

"There was no agenda."

"We had none."

"Nicholas....!"

"Would you like to take this discussion inside? I'd prefer it, not that we haven't been highly amusing to all our employees." Nicholas offered a casual smile to the group of men in dark clothes that had been taking pains pretending they didn't notice the arguing wolves.

Garret's handsome face flushed and he turned on his heel towards the open elevator door. The tension hung oppressively in the air after the elevator door shut and he thought Oz stood minutely closer to him, the wary green eyes never leaving Garret's barely contained anger. He could feel the coiled apprehension in the young wolf's muscles as they leaned slightly into his and he began a subtle rubbing of the space just below Oz's shoulder blades, the slide of his fingers on the fabric drowned out in the hum of the cables. Unfortunately it didn't work this time, probably because they were not alone.

" 'Ello everyone! Good outing Mr. Devoncroix? Lovely day for it!" Milli's bouncing voice greeted them as they walked off the elevator, but Garret rushed past her in broad, controlled strides and didn't answer.

"I'd say it went marvelous. You'll have to ask Oz his opinion." Nicholas handed her his coat. "Milli, please get Oz a drink. I'll only be a minute before dinner."

He left Oz looking after him with opaque green eyes and shut the library doors.

*****