*****

Flipping off the middle row of lights, the Burger Hut night manager sighed and glanced at the remaining pair of customers. They sat in the corner, hunched over the table and talking quietly to each other. The smaller man seemed to be urging the other to eat, pushing his french fries towards him, but Sally couldn't see the other man's reaction. Shrugging, she pulled the money out of the register and headed back to the small office to count it.

She emerged fifteen minutes later to find one of her closers mopping the floor of the dining area, glaring frequently at the pair in the corner. "Excuse me, gentlemen," Sally said in a voice just a bit louder than usual. "I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave. We're closed."

The two glanced at her and she gave them her best sorry-this-is-my-job look. The smaller of the two just smiled at her and said, "Sorry. We didn't realize how late it was."

"That's okay," she answered. file://Yeah, right. I turned off the lights, moron.//

Emptying their tray into the trash can, he placed it on top and then turned back to his friend. "Ready?" he asked.

His friend nodded and then got to his feet, stumbling when he started to walk. The smaller man quickly caught him and supported him as they made their way to the door.

Sally smiled at them as they opened the door. "Thanks for choosing Burger Hut," she said cheerily. file://Fucking drunks. And gay too, from the looks of it. It's a shame. They're awfully cute.//

"Thanks," the taller man mumbled in response, "but we're not drunk."

She stared after them for a minute, not quite believing her own ears. Maybe she had said that last bit out loud, but she was *sure* she had only thought it. And the way Anna was looking at her questioningly seemed to indicate she was right. But the taller guy had answered her... Shaking her head, Sally shrugged. "This city gets stranger every day," she said wisely. "I'm gonna go finish my stuff. I'll be in the office if you need anything."

Anna nodded and went back to mopping. Sally stood there one last moment, wondering at the strangeness of the night, and then returned to the office.

*****

They made their way down the street slowly, not so much walking as leaning against each other and somehow, magically, moving forward. Xander stumbled often, but Oz caught him every time and held him up, one hand on Xander's back and the other clamped around his arm. Xander could feel the heat from Oz's touch on his skin and he concentrated on that, trying to block out the din in his head.

"Too much," he whispered once, beginning to sink down to the ground.

Oz stopped him and held him up once again as they continued walking. "It'll be okay," he said gently, though Xander knew he didn't believe it.

Oz quickly found a less crowded route and soon they were making their way through dark alleys. It was colder here and Xander shivered when Oz stopped and leaned him against a brick wall. Sinking down to sit on the pavement, he rested his throbbing head against the cool brick and closed his eyes. His body was freezing, but his head felt like an inferno was raging through it. At least it was quiet now, the only sound in his mind coming from Oz's incessant worry. And that was all right, because it wasn't loud or frightening; it was just Oz.

Xander sighed as Oz placed his palm against his forehead. "So, doc? What's the verdict? Am I gonna live?" Another violent shudder racked his body and he leaned forward into Oz's warmth.

Then Oz's arms were around him, holding him tight as his lips moved to Xander's forehead. "Yeah, you're gonna live." file://I promise.//

They rested a few minutes and then Oz helped Xander to his feet and once again they started walking. Xander felt as though he'd been walking his entire life, even though the van had just broken down that morning. Oz insisted they were almost there, though, so he resisted the urge to stop and stay in the alley forever.

Finally they emerged onto a street. Xander leaned more heavily on Oz as the thoughts of the milling people rushed at him, screaming in his mind. He whimpered once, but Oz quieted him and led him quickly through the entrance to a park. As they walked down the path further into the park, the thoughts faded and Xander stood a bit more upright.

Reaching a small pond, they sank down next to a tree and Xander closed his eyes again, rubbing his temples. Oz's hand immediately returned to his forehead. It felt good against his flushed skin and when Oz removed it, Xander opened his eyes and tilted his head to look pleadingly at him. The expression on his friend's face scared him. "Bad?" Xander asked, shivering again. He wished his body would just decide whether it wanted to be hot or cold.

"Not too bad," Oz lied.

Xander just looked at him for a moment and then nodded. There was no point in not accepting it. Oz wrapped his arms around him again and Xander leaned back to rest his head against Oz's shoulder. Oz's thoughts were so quiet, so gentle. They didn't scream at him the way everyone else's did. He could sleep in Oz's arms with Oz's mind whispering to him, he thought.

Just before he drifted off, one of Oz's concerns caught Xander's attention and he mumbled sleepily, "Oz, why don't I have a fever? I feel like I have a fever. Are you sure I'm not hot at all?"

"I'm sure," Oz answered quietly. "If you were even warm, we'd be at the hospital right now. I don't think this is physical, though."

"I'm so tired," Xander yawned. "Maybe it'll go away while I'm asleep. If I woke up this way, maybe... Maybe I'll wake up normal."

"Yeah, maybe," Oz agreed. Pressing a kiss to Xander's head, he lay down, pulling Xander with him. When they were situated on their sides, Oz pressed against Xander's back, he whispered, "You'll be okay."

Xander smiled gently when Oz's thoughts echoed the comment. Then he sighed and sank back against Oz, taking warmth from his friend. He fell asleep with Oz's arms around him, Oz's lips against the back of his neck, Oz's thoughts promising him everything would be okay.

*****

He woke to his own name echoing through his mind. Blinking his eyes open gradually, he stared at the pond for a few minutes, trying to remember how he'd wound up there. The events of the day before were a blur tinted red with the pain that still burned in his head, though, and the only thing he knew with any surety was that someone was holding him and whispering his name.

Turning over slowly, he felt a small smile touch his lips. "Oz," he whispered and was happy to realize that he knew that much at least. He had no idea where he was or how he'd gotten there, but he still remembered Oz. When Oz made no response, the smile faded. And when Xander realized the whispering was still there, even though Oz's lips didn't move, he felt panic sink its hooks into him. Reaching out, he shook his friend's shoulder firmly.

Oz awoke with a start, a guilty expression on his face before his eyes were even open. "What's wrong?" he asked as soon as he saw Xander's face.

"It's still here," Xander whispered back, clenching his jaw against the flashes of pain behind his eyes. "I can still hear you. And it hurts. God, Oz, it hurts so much." He was starting to shake again, cold for no good reason, and he was *scared*.

Oz wrapped his arms around him, cradling him, as he pressed his lips to Xander's temple. Xander closed his eyes and clutched at him, fighting against the pain and trying to ignore the low hum starting at the back of his mind. He was terrified of what would happen if that hum got louder. Would it wash out all of his own thoughts? Even at that moment, he couldn't remember anything concrete. Except Oz... He remembered Oz. Would he lose that, too?

"It'll be okay," Oz murmured and Xander *wanted* to believe him.

"I'm scared."

He wasn't sure whether Oz's "me too" was spoken aloud or thought. It didn't really matter though, he supposed. They lay there for a while, holding tight to each other, in the quiet of early morning. Before long, though, people began to trickle into the park, making their way down the paths and getting much too close to the tree Oz had chosen.

The hum grew louder as the park became more crowded and finally Xander pulled away, pressing the heels of his hands against his forehead. "It's getting louder," he mumbled. He knew that he was scaring Oz and that he should care about that, but all he could think about was his own fear gnawing away at him. "Oz..."

"We'll find somewhere quieter," Oz said gently, standing and holding out his hand for Xander. "Everything is going to be fine."

Xander couldn't argue with that firm resolve, even though he knew Oz doubted the truth of his words as much as Xander did. Nodding, he grasped Oz's hand and let his friend pull him to his feet. Oz led him out of the park and back into the alleys.

They walked in the shadows of the tall buildings in silence, stopping every few minutes for Xander to lean against a wall to steady himself. The hum was softer now, but it was still there, thrumming around him. After an hour, Xander sank to the ground and looked up at Oz, shaking from a mixture of cold, fear, and exhaustion. They were approaching a street; stray thoughts flew at him and Xander was sure his mind would be crushed under the assault. "I can't," Xander said quietly, grimacing as a jolt of pain went through his head.

Oz looked at him for a moment and then nodded. "We'll rest," he said, sitting beside Xander and wrapping his arm around his friend's shoulders. "You'll be okay." The words had become habit for Oz; there was no longer any conviction to them.

"I don't think so, Oz," Xander disagreed, his voice shaking. "Everything's getting louder. And my head feels like it's on fire." Leaning his head against Oz's, he shuddered.

"It'll be okay." Oz stroked Xander's arm gently and said, "We'll find another park, a quieter one. I think there's one a couple blocks up the street. It'll be quiet and you'll have more time. Okay?"

Oz's growing fear washed over him and Xander slipped an arm around his friend. "Okay," he answered hollowly. "A park... Just a couple blocks right?" When Oz pulled away and nodded, Xander took a deep breath and stood. "You'll help me?"

Standing, Oz brushed his fingers across Xander's cheek. "Always," he murmured before placing a gentle kiss to Xander's lips. "Come on."

Oz grasped Xander's hand and pulled him gently towards the end of the alley. They emerged onto the sidewalk a minute later as a group of tourists emerged from a nearby store. Xander and Oz moved out of the way quickly, Xander stumbling when a barrage of the tourists' thoughts hit him all at once. Oz caught him and Xander wondered for a moment what they must look like, clutching at each other in the street, wearing the clothes they'd put on two days before. And then he knew, saw it in his mind as the tourists stared at him, felt their disdain pour into him until he felt soiled by it.

He looked away from them quickly, keeping his gaze fixed on the ground as Oz guided him down the street. It didn't stop the barrage, didn't lessen the fever burning through him, but it put a token bit of distance between him and the people around him. Staring at the ground, he could almost ignore the claustrophobic feeling threatening to overwhelm him. Almost, but not quite... And by the time they turned into a large park, his breath was coming in harsh gasps and his knuckles were white from gripping Oz's arm.

Finding a secluded area, they sank to the ground in the shade of a tall tree. Pulling his knees up to his chin, Xander closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, trying to steady himself. Everything seemed so *wrong* when he was looking at it, as though it was just slightly distorted. And he couldn't seem to control his own body, couldn't block out the roaring in his mind, couldn't force his breathing back to normal. Another jolt of pain went through him, sizzling down into his spine and he clenched his jaw, opening his eyes and lifting his head to look at Oz. "Help me," he whispered, the desperation he felt evident in his voice.

Oz immediately pulled him into his arms, rocking him gently as he whispered soothing words. "It'll be all right," he promised. "I'll take care of you." And while his voice reassured Xander, his mind pleaded with some power he had no name for. file://Please, let him live. I love him. He can't die.//

Xander wasn't sure which comforted him more. But, as with so many other things that had happened in the past couple of days, it didn't really matter. All that mattered was that Oz made him feel better, that eventually his heart slowed its furious pounding and his breathing became less labored. Resting his cheek against Oz's chest, he felt safe. His head still burned from the unnatural fever and the thoughts of the people of Los Angeles still hummed loudly in the back of his mind, but Oz would protect him from all of it.

When Oz kissed the top of his head, he sighed and burrowed his cheek into the fabric of Oz's shirt. "So tired," he mumbled into Oz's chest, yawning.

Oz shifted, resting his back more comfortably against the trunk of the tree and wrapping his arm around Xander's shoulders. "Rest," he said gently. "We'll figure out what to do next when you wake up."

Closing his eyes, Xander obeyed. And once again he fell asleep to the gentle sound of Oz's whispered thoughts.

*****

When he woke, panic seized him immediately. He pulled away from the arms that held him and sat up, darting his gaze around him. He couldn't remember... anything. Where he was, how he'd gotten there. The names of objects eluded him. He knew he *should* know what his own name was, but he couldn't find it in the screaming jumble in his head. He pressed his hands against his forehead, trying to drive out the voices and the white-hot pain, trying to bring back his own mind.

After a few moments, he felt his arms being pulled down and he looked into blue eyes that tugged him back down from his panic. Oz... This was Oz. And he was Xander. And everything would be okay. Because Oz would make sure it was.

Leaning forward, Xander pressed his lips against his friend's. He didn't know if they'd ever kissed before, didn't know if he'd ever kissed *anyone* before. But it felt good to feel Oz's warm lips under his own, to see something spark in Oz's eyes as his arms pulled Xander into a tight embrace. Oz's tongue brushed against his and Xander moaned, wrapping his arms around Oz and letting his hands roam over his friend's back.

When they pulled apart, Xander shivered. He was just so *cold*... Oz was warm, though; Xander could feel his friend's heat through the thin fabric of his shirt. Fumbling at the buttons, Xander tugged Oz's shirt away from his chest and pressed the palms of his hands against the revealed skin. He looked at them in wonder, tracing small circles on Oz's chest with his thumbs. So warm... Leaning forward again, he wrapped his arms around Oz and pressed his body against his friend's. "So warm," he repeated aloud.

Somehow they wound up stretched out on the ground, Xander pressing down against Oz as he captured his friend's mouth in another kiss. The clamoring voices were drowned out by his own mind repeating one word in a silent litany. file://Oz, Oz, Oz, Oz...// The world was less frightening with Oz's heartbeat strong under his own, Oz's arms around him, Oz's lips turned up in a ghost of a smile when the kiss ended.

"I love you," he murmured before pressing his mouth to Oz's neck, flicking his tongue out to taste the sweat-salt of his skin.

Oz stiffened under him and Xander pulled back to look at his friend questioningly. Sitting up and scooting back, Oz rested his back against the tree trunk. "Xander," he began quietly, a guilty expression on his face. "I don't think..."

Xander grimaced in pain suddenly, pressing his fists to his forehead as a fresh wave of pain rolled through him. He let out a small gasp and fell forward, resting his head on Oz's chest. Feeling his friend's arms wrap around him, he closed his eyes, biting his lip as hot tears seeped out under his eyelids. "You know," he said, attempting a light tone of voice, "if I'd known L.A. was gonna provide the same old Hellmouthy fun, I would have stayed home. It would have saved us some gas money."

Oz's arms tightened around him and Xander sighed. Weariness seeped into him, edging past the blind pain until all Xander wanted was to sleep for the rest of his life. "Tired again," he mumbled into Oz's chest. "I'm sorry."

If Oz answered, Xander didn't hear him. Slipping his arms around his friend 's back, he drifted off to sleep.

*~*~*

Flying.

Falling.

Fleeing.

Xander ran blindly, shutting his eyes against the whipping wind. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, providing a counterpoint to the beat of his footfalls against the caked earth. The sun blazed in the sky, igniting a fire in Xander's brain but doing nothing to stop the chill in his body. He ran, sweat beading on his forehead and tears flowing down his cheeks.

Something chased him, close enough behind to cast its enormous shadow over him. He heard every exhaled breath, felt the creature lumbering closer, clawing at his back. He stumbled and fell, his knees scraping against the hard ground. Sobbing in fear, he waited for the inevitable, wondering how exactly the rending of his flesh would feel.

But the inevitable did not come.

And once again he was flying.

Falling.

Fleeing.

The sky boiled, inky black clouds spitting out lightning just before each clap of thunder. Xander stumbled and fell to the muddy ground, scrambling away from the hands that clutched at his shirt. He kicked back once and smiled fiercely at the cry of pain from his pursuer. Jumping to his feet, he ran, ignoring the voice calling something unintelligible after him.

He slowed after a while, then came to a stop in front of a gleaming white house. He'd never seen anything so bright; the house seemed to give off its own glow. Pushing open the door, Xander entered slowly, feeling excitement build. He belonged here, he realized as he looked around at the posh furnishings.

There was a spiralling staircase in the middle of the room and he started up it, quickening his pace as he climbed. Reaching the head of the stairs, he moved into a smaller room. A fire blazed at the hearth and a simple rocking chair sat beside it. Xander could not see the person who occupied the chair, but it creaked slowly forward and back.

He knew he should be afraid, knew that the sudden end to his chill was not natural and should cause him some alarm. But he felt nothing but fascination as he stared at the back of the chair. Finally, it stilled, creaking again as its occupant rose.

A woman turned to smile at him and Xander's breath caught in his throat. The woman's long, dark hair fell gently over her shoulders, a stark contrast to her pale skin and the flowing white of her dress. She was beautiful. But there was something about the way she smiled at him, something in her dark eyes that made a small knot of anxiety form in the pit of his stomach.

She walked towards him slowly, her hips swaying. When she was within arm's reach she stopped and reached out a hand to brush against his cheek. "You came," she whispered in a sing-song voice. "The stars promised you would. Miss Edith used to tell me things, but she's gone. She's in little pieces on the ground. Do you know how to put them together again?"

Xander stared at the woman in silence, trying to follow the trail of her thought process. "Miss Edith?" he asked finally, shaking his head in confusion.

"My Spikey would know how to make her better," she continued, turning to stare into the fire. "I can't find him, though." Turning back to him, she said, "Do you know where he is?"

Feeling an icy hand close around his heart, Xander shook his head. "N-no," he stammered, backing away from the woman. Recognition and terror nagged at the back of his mind, urging him to flee.

"I could make the hurting stop," the woman answered softly, her gaze locking with his. "Daddy taught me the spell."

"I don't know anything," Xander whispered, caught in the woman's gaze. "I-I 'm sorry."

The woman's stare held him still for long moments, until finally she growled and pulled back. "You don't know," she said petulantly, pushing Xander away. Turning back to the fire, she returned to her chair.

Xander stared at the back of the chair for a moment, then turned and ran down the stairs and out into the yard. Stopping to look back, he saw that a shadow had fallen over the gleaming white house, washing away the glow until it was a dull gray. As Xander watched, though, the shadow detached itself from the wall and slithered towards him. He stood frozen, trying desperately to force his body to move as the shadow engulfed him in its icy chill.

*~*~*

He woke with a violent shudder, chilled and disoriented. Pulling away from the arms that held him, he scooted away and stared at the slender young man. He couldn't remember, couldn't think, couldn't feel anything but fear and pain washing through him. His companion woke and sat up, looking at him questioningly.

"Xander?" he asked gently. "What's wrong?"

The words echoed in his mind until he wanted to scream that he didn't know and didn't care anymore. When the other man reached out towards him, he flinched away, fear and confusion forming knots in his stomach. He knew he was somehow hurting the other young man, could feel a mirror to his own feelings coming off his companion in waves. And it seemed that he *should* remember him, but when he tried to take his mind back past the moment when he woke, he saw nothing but dark flashes of red.

"Hurts," he murmured, pulling his knees up and curling into a tight, protective ball. Rocking back and forth slightly with his eyes closed helped, not seeing the hurt expression on the other man's face helped. But it didn't stop the sharp needles of pain from digging into his brain. Perhaps nothing could, he thought as a hot tear squeezed past his closed eyelids and trailed down his cheek.

He felt arms wrap around him and accepted them, uncurling enough to return the embrace. He felt panic threatening to overwhelm him and knew that if he gave in, he would lose himself in it. Sanity was slipping away from him like quicksand and he had no idea how to save himself. So he clutched at the one person who seemed to care, his anchor to the rest of the world.

"I know." The words were whispered into his ear; warm breath fluttered the hair above his ear. "Xander, I'm going to call Angel. Maybe he can help you."

Angel... There was pain attached to that word, a dull ache that somehow was just as frightening as the bright flashes in his mind. It felt strangely familiar, which scared him even more because he couldn't remember the reason for the familiarity, couldn't see the chain of events that had led him to this park with this ache in his heart. He wasn't sure he wanted his companion to call this Angel person, but he could think of no reason not to, so he nodded slowly and sighed when the other man pulled away.

"I'll be back soon," the young man said softly. "Everything will be okay," he promised, though they both knew he didn't believe it.

He watched the other man leave and then curled up on his side in the shade of the tree. It was quieter now with only his own confusion to deal with and soon he was dozing, half-listening to the chirping birds around him. He remained for a few minutes on the edge between wakefulness and slumber. And then he was slipping into a deeper sleep, the sounds of the park falling away from him.

*~*~*

Bolts of lightning split the darkened sky.

Faces rose and fell before his eyes, faces he recognized but could not name.

A grinning madwoman screamed and laughed, tearing at her clothes.

A gentle breeze stirred, cooling his skin and whispering promises it could not keep.

Mingled heartbeats, slow and strong, echoed in his ears.

Hands clawed at him, threatening to tear him apart.

And somewhere, a child cried.

*~*~*

When he woke, hands touched him, smoothing hair back from his forehead, stroking his cheek, resting against his shoulder for a moment before repeating the loop. They were small hands with smooth skin, hands he recalled vaguely through the fog in his mind. Turning his head to look at their owner, he encountered the soft leather of a jacket and realized for the first time that he was being carried in strong, familiar arms.

Everything seemed familiar, from the arms holding him to the muttering voices that mingled with their owner's thoughts before falling into the jumble of his mind. He could no longer tell the difference between spoken words and thoughts, no matter how hard he concentrated.

Will he be all right?

Please let him be all right.

He'll be fine.

He has to be.

Soft, whispered words and thoughts. Soft, gentle hands. He felt as though he was floating, held up by the sweet concern of people he vaguely remembered. Smiling, he shifted in the arms carrying him, burrowing his cheek into the cool leather. In moments, he was falling into slumber again, putting his trust in these people to help him.

*~*~*

Suspended in a coccon of warmth.

A heartbeat, strong, steady, and sweetly familiar echoed in Xander's ears.

Oz... Near yet distant, heard vaguely through layers of sleep.

And somehow Xander knew Angel was there as well, arm wrapped around his shoulders.

He floated slowly upwards, becoming aware of the muffled sound of Oz's breathing, the gentle touch of each exhaled breath on the back of his neck. Peace washed through him, blissful silence expanding into every crevice of his mind. He tried to resist waking, dreading the blind pain that would greet him as soon as he opened his eyes. No matter how hard he struggled, though, he continued rising.

And soon he broke the surface, sleep shattering around him.

*~*~*

Xander woke to the same blessed silence, the only sound that of Oz's even breathing at his ear. His head was pillowed on Angel's bare chest, one arm slung across the vampire's stomach. The pain was gone, replaced with a gentle, happy calm that seemed to envelop the three of them. He wondered briefly how long he had slept, pondered waking one or both of them to find out and then decided against it. They could discuss all that needed to be discussed later. For now, he was content to wait.

~ end ~