DISCLAIMER: Not even this 'verse belongs to me.
SUMMARY: Sometimes 'choice' was only a word in the dictionary.
WORDCOUNT: 730
Depressed Winner at The Dark Awards
A LITTLE TOO LATE
by Leni
A Little Too Late
Oz entered the library, whistling softly as he scouted around the room. Noticing that it was deserted he stopped at mid-note. Weird.
There was nobody behind the computer, offering help when he supposedly couldn’t find a book. The chairs were empty, no soft voice explaining algebra to her –apparently and hopefully – best friend. Nobody was sitting on the floor, never quite reaching a table because the text was too interesting to wait.
Oz frowned.
"Can I help you?"
He turned around, wondering who else would willingly be here. The librarian. Of course. Oz shifted uncomfortably, he had never crossed more than three words with the older man. "I was looking for…" He stopped abruptly, realising that he didn’t know her name. "There’s always this girl here," he explained, "a cute one. Redhead."
The man’s face darkened. "I’m sorry, son." He put his hand on Oz’s shoulder, an old sign of support and understanding. "Willow is-"
Oz didn’t hear the rest of the sentence. He closed his eyes and remembered sweet smiles and shy words that would never happen again.
From The Ashes
Five minutes after Oz noticed someone trailing him, he remembered where he recognised his new shadow from. Without a name, he just called "Hey you!" and waited until the other guy reached him.
"You were asking for Willow," the boy began.
Oz nodded slowly.
"You liked her."
Silence.
"She liked you too." An amused smile. "I was just convincing her to ask you out when…" He stopped and took a deep breath. "Would have made matters a lot easier if you had asked first, you know?"
"I’m sorry," was the only thing Oz could think to say.
"Well, you should be. Willow was the best." After a lengthy pause he added, "After Jesse died we were all each other had." This time the smile was directed at Oz. "It’s good to know that someone else remembers her."
Oz tried a comforting pat on the shoulder but the other guy shifted away.
"Well Daniel." It was a clear goodbye. "Nice meeting you."
Oz made a quick decision. "It’s Oz," he corrected.
A smile. "I’m Xander."
Misery Loves Company.
"You were in love with her," Oz asserted as soon as Xander was within hearing distance.
"In love?" Xander looked thoughtful. "Maybe, " he conceded, "but I know that I loved Willow more than anybody else." He paused, as if weighting the pros and cons of a great revelation. Finally he decided and said "But Oz, knowing you as I do now… you would have loved her better."
Oz kept silent, he didn’t like thinking of what if’s if he could avoid them.
The next day they talked about sports and music, three days later Xander confessed about the extracurricular activities in the library. Soon Oz abandoned his guitar and had Xander teach him how to hit the heart in the midst of a fight.
By the end of the next month, Alexander Harris was already dead.
The Beginning of An End.
"She came last night."
Oz stopped his reading and couldn’t stop a worried tone from creeping into his voice. "Are you okay?"
"Yes…" Xander hid his face behind his large book. "She said-" Oz heard a disturbing sound, something between a sob and a laugh. "She said that she came for me, that she’d protect my family if I went to her." A chuckle. "Willingly."
Oz frowned. "Did you believe it?"
This time the laugh was distinct and very bitter. Xander raised his head and stared directly into Oz’s eyes. "We were everything for each other, man. Everything," he said, as if that explained everything.
To Oz it did. He nodded, understanding that sometimes ‘choice’ was only a pretty word in the dictionary.
Especially when the world was turned upside down.
All Things Left...
The next day Daniel Osbourne found a picture in his locker.
A cute redhead with her grinning companion. She wore a ‘Birthday Girl’ t-shirt and looked downright blissful with her arms around Xander’s waist while his went over her shoulders.
Oz stared at the lifelong friends for what seemed an eternity, finally turning it around when it became difficult to look at their happy expressions.
"Please remember us," read in Xander’s messy handwriting.
Please remember us. The purple ink came from Willow’s favourite pen, the one Xander had borrowed and never given back.
Please remember us
For the first time since this nightmare had begun, Oz let himself cry.
The End
29/11/03
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