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A Better World Than This	By : Wolfiekins Category: BtVS AU/AR > Slash - Male/Male Views: 1617 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-A Better World Than This
- 1
DISCLAIMER: All Buffy characters belong to Joss Whedon, 20th Century Fox, and to whatever other monolithic corporations that may have any sort of license for the show. I don't own anything about it. No profit made nor is any offense intended. Really. I just think Xander is hot (especially as a vamp in leather) and Oz drives me crazy. And it's a cool show, too. Thanks, Jeffro!

A/N: This fic is based on the Season Three episode "THE WISH" and the alternate timeline created by Cordelia's new friend and demon, Anya. Takes place after Xander and Willow drain Cordelia. An imagined little interlude between three of my fave characters, plus an alternate alternate ending.

WARNINGS: Oz/Xander. Implied Oz/Larry. Non-Con, Character Death (of sorts); Dark Fic.

The tune "Sleep" is by the DANDY WARHOLS and can be found on the 2001 soundtrack for the film "Crazy/Beautiful".

Beta work by Evil Auntie Snape.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A Better World Than This

Well I could sleep forever
but it's of you I dream
if I could sleep forever
I could forget about everything
if I could sleep forever
if I could sleep forever
if I could sleep forever......

December 8, 1998, Alternate Timeline

Oz jabbed at the 'Tune' button of his Pioneer stereo. It was held in place in the ragged hole of the van's dash with some wood shims and generous amounts of duct tape. Static and fuzz blared scratchily from the eight speakers lashed throughout the old Ford's interior as he continued stabbing at the tiny buttons in quick succession.

"Shit! There's never anything to listen to anymore with all the Sunnydale stations gone. At least since KJAM went off the air, anyway. Fucking vampires! They've even scared off all the good music!"

The short red-head cursed a bit longer, fussing with the radio and nearly broadsiding a battered Toyota pick-up as he ran a red light. Jerking the leather-clad steering wheel at the last minute, Oz barely avoided the Toyota's rear quarter panel by taking the old, navy blue Econoline over the curb and into an already dented mailbox. Laughing, he quickly maneuvered the Ford back onto solid asphalt.

The giant, tarnished bronze crucifix swung wildly from the rearview.

One final hit to the radio, and Oz smiled as KXKA from L.A. agreed to come in, albeit rather faintly.

He adjusted the volume up as Everclear's "Santa Monica" erupted from the Sony speakers.

"Jesus Christ, Oz!" Larry snorted angrily. "I've pretty much resigned myself to the fact that I'll most likely be drained dry by a dirty blood-sucker at some point. But I'd really rather not buy it just because you were searching for some better tunage on the radio! Geez!"

Oz snickered as he swung the Ford off of the main drag and onto the narrow side street. All the streetlights were out in this part of town, so the only illumination came from the old van's weak and crooked headlights. He spared a glance at his agitated friend.

He and Larry had barely exchanged four words during their entire first three years at Sunnydale High. It wasn't anything personal. Oz was a small, quiet computer geek in a rock band and Larry was a muscular, hulking stud and quarterback of the Razorbacks' football team. There wasn't a whole lot of common ground.

But then He rose up, The Master, the head cheese of vampires, and everything spiraled out of control.

And even all the ensuing blood-sucking and slaying hadn't really brought them together. Giles did the best he could, but it never seemed to be enough. Nothing they ever did seemed to be enough. The only nights they made any headway at all were the three nights of the Moon. For once, Oz was thankful to be a lycan. It took some time, but his wolf finally acquired a taste for vamp flesh. Once a month, at least, they kicked vampire ass.

Oz still winced whenever he thought back to the night Harris bought it. It was really his fault. If only he'd tried a little harder. He should have seen the signs. One second the tall, dark-haired goof was walking right next to him on a routine patrol. The next, Harris was gone, dragged off into the shadows and turned. Definite suckage, all the way around. Too bad it hadn't been a full moon that night.

Maybe things would be different now.

Maybe she'd still be around too. Willow seemed to give up after Harris was turned. He remembered all too clearly how she just stood there, motionless, her eyes closed, as her former friend and lover sank his fangs into her pale neck not two feet in front of him. She just let it happen, giving herself over to the Dark. Harris turned Willow right then and there, grinning with satisfaction as Oz's girlfriend turned towards him, hissing.

If it hadn't been for Larry jumping in front of him, brandishing a crucifix, he'd probably be one of them right now.

And Oz wasn't so sure if that would have been such a bad thing.

So in the end, the jock saved the geek. There was some sort of irony in there, but Oz failed to see it. And now with Nancy gone, it was just he and Larry and Giles.

Now he knew what the band on the Titanic felt like. Time to re-arrange those deck chairs again.

"Sorry, Larry," Oz offered sarcastically, "There's something about stuffing the corpses of friends into an incinerator that just makes me want to rock out."

Larry shook his head, his meaty hand still holding on to the grab bar above the passenger door.

"Hey, man, sorry I snapped at you. I'm still not believing that Nancy's really gone. What the hell are we going to do without her? And what was up with Cordelia? She was never playing with a full deck, but tonight she seemed totally whacked."

"Everyone finally reaches a breaking point, Larry," Oz answered tiredly. "Giles seems to think there was something to what Cordy was raving about. There probably was, since they killed her over it. We'll just have to wait and see. Otherwise, we just keep on keepin' on, I guess. There's nothing else we can do. Unless you're talking about bailing on the whole messy scene."

The stocky football player turned his gaze to stare out of the windshield. Oz jerked the van around an abandoned Impala burning in the middle of the street. Larry was silent for many moments before answering.

"Well, maybe I am talking about bailing. We're losing, Oz. We both know it. It's only a matter of time," he offered softly. "Shit, man, I've lost my whole fucking family. So have you. What the hell are we still doing here, huh?"

Oz swerved the Ford to take out a small vampire running across the street. It looked like she was about seven. When she was turned, anyway.

Everclear faded into The Dandy Warhols' "Sleep".

"Oh, yeah, sure Larry. We'll just pack up and head off into the sunset. We'll do a computer search or something to find a place with not quite so many vamps and demons, right? We'll sign up for some twelve step for recovering quasi-slayers, and live happily ever after. Cue sappy music and end titles. Touching."

"I fucking hate it when you get like this, man," Larry spat back. "I don't want to die here. We fought the good fight. We did the best we could. There's no fucking shame in that at all. Don't throw your life away, Oz. Willow's gone, and nothing will ever bring her back. It sucks, but that's the way it is, dude."

Oz clenched his teeth as he angled the Ford into the driveway of Larry's dead parents' house. He stood on the brakes, sending the muscular jock into the dashboard. Slamming the gear shift into 'park', he killed the engine, leaving the key in 'acc' so the radio would still play. The short guitarist turned on Larry, who was pulling himself up off the floorboard and rubbing his forehead. The muscley jock groaned softly.

"Shit! Thanks, man. Now I'll have two black eyes."

Oz shook his head slowly.

"Wow, football and psychiatry. Quite the new age jock, aren't ya? Who knew. Let me know when you're ready to put up your shingle, Larry. Until then, lay off, dude!"

Larry sighed heavily, shifting in his seat to face the shorter red-head. He leaned forward, his big hands clasped together.

"I can't lay off, man. It just kills me seeing you like this."

"Larry," Oz threatened, his voice a low growl.

"Let me finish, Ok? I'll just get this off of my chest once and for all, and then I'll go."

Oz waved his hand, leaning back into his seat, sighing. "Yeah, whatever."

"Look, man, I don't even want to try to tell you that I know exactly how you feel. But I've lost people too. And I understand a little bit about Willow. Seeing someone you loved like that, die, and then some awful, fucking creature walking around, talking and acting like the real thing. It's total bullshit. I understand all about that, Oz."

The guitarist swallowed hard, turning to look out of the driver's window, his right hand covering his mouth. Larry moved closer, gently placing his hand on Oz's thigh.

"But you've got to let her go, man. We've got to let all of this shit go. This game's over. We've got to get out of here while we still can. Go get help. I've talked to Giles about it, and he's almost convinced. If you tell him the same thing, then it's a done deal. We need a real Slayer, Oz. It's time we started looking ahead. To the future. Our future."

Larry leaned still closer, running both hands up and down Oz's short, muscular, jean-clad thigh. The tall jock nuzzled the red-head's right ear, moaning faintly. The breath hitched in Oz's chest.

"Oh, man, I can't leave, don't you get it?" he hissed. "Not while that thing still walks around in her body. I'm not going anywhere until I send that creature straight back to Hell. Leave if you want, but until that thing's dead for good, I'm staying."

Larry brought one of his hands up and softly massaged the back of Oz's neck. The slim red-head leaned into the larger jock as Larry moved down Oz's cheek to leave a trail of wet kisses along the werewolf's jaw.

"Fuck, Oz," he sighed, "You know I couldn't just leave you here. I know you don't like it when I say shit like this, but I really don't want to think about going on without you."

"Hey, Larry, ...."

The former quarterback cupped Oz's chin and turned the red-head to face him, quickly pressing their lips together. Oz closed his eyes, breaking the kiss and touching his forehead against Larry's.

The hunky jock stroked his friend's bruised cheek.

"To hell with it. I might be dead meat by morning, so here goes. I love you, Oz. I'm not sure when it happened, but it did. I know you're not into guys, but that doesn't stop me from feeling the way I do. And you need to know that those couple of times that we were together mean everything to me. I wouldn't trade them for anything. So for whatever it's worth, as long as you're staying, I'm staying. Just promise me that you won't get yourself killed. Or worse. I've lost so much already I don't think I could stand to lose you too, dude."

Oz was silent for a few moments before he placed one of his hands on Larry's massive thigh. He sniffed loudly, roughly wiping his nose with the back of his left hand.

"Wow, man, I don't know what to say. That's one of the most awesome things anyone has ever told me. I, uh, I can't say I feel exactly the way you do about us, but I know I need you around, Larry. You were there for me after what happened to Willow, and you fuckin' saved me, literally. I owe you big time for that. And about those two nights; I just couldn't be alone, and you were there for me again. I never thought I would have liked being with another guy. But you really opened my eyes. Thanks, man, sincerely."

Larry nodded, giving his friend a chaste kiss to the fresh cut on his temple before moving back over and sitting up in the passenger seat.

Concrete Blonde's "Bloodletting" was softly scratching out of the speakers.

They both listened to the song for a few moments.

Larry chuckled.

"Sounds like they have as many vampires in New Orleans as we do in Sunnydale."

"Yeah," Oz mused. "But I bet they're cooler."

"Probably," Larry replied, his voice suddenly hoarse. "Hey, do you want to come in? It's kinda late, and you'd be welcome to stay here tonight. Anytime, really, Dan."

The red-head nodded, smiling warmly.

"Hey, I'd like to, I really would, but not tonight, Ok? I'd like to sort things out a bit on my own right now. I just need a little time."

The jock cracked a crooked smile.

"Yeah, sure, man. I understand."

"Besides," Oz added tiredly, "I need to feed Spot."

Larry snorted. "Feed her to what? A demon?"

Oz punched his friend in the shoulder.

"Just because you're not a cat person, Blaisedell."

"Thank god," he replied, grabbing the handle and wrenching the door open with a loud scraping sound.

Turning around, the jock leaned on the open door jamb, poking his head inside the van.

"Hey, I meant everything I said, Danny. Just be careful. See you in the morning. And get this door fixed, Ok?!"

"Right, I'll have it done tomorrow at the detailer's," Oz responded flatly.

Larry grinned and slammed the door. Oz leaned over and locked it. With a practiced turn of the key and a few measured pumps of the gas pedal, the old Ford spluttered to life. Oz waited for his friend to get inside the house before backing into the street. With a loud chirp from the bald back tires, he arrowed the van down the deserted, dark street. Two blocks down, and he turned right. One block, and then a left. Second driveway on the right.

Home sweet home.

It had to be home. His parents were buried in the backyard.

Oz killed the engine for the evening. He had to push on the driver's door a few times to get it open. The old van had been through a lot in the last few years. Some days, he felt as battered as the navy blue Ford. It was pretty cloudy, the stars and moon obscured by a dark shield of gray-black.

Oz looked up at the blank sky.

"Beam me up anytime, guys," he whispered softly.

With a disgusted snort, he crossed around the front of the van. He glanced at his house. The low, sixties-era ranch was completely dark. Either the power was off again, the automatic timer was on the fritz, or another light bulb burned out. There were only a few more left in the cupboard. The Sunnyvale K-mart had closed months ago. The nearest open store was over twenty-five miles away. It wasn't wise to walk into a dark house these days. Luckily, it was about time for another provisioning excursion.

Oz yanked on the pitted chrome handle of the van's large sliding door. With substantial effort he heaved on the heavy metal, the door squeaking and groaning loudly in its track.

"Another item for the detailer's," he chuckled softly.

He leaned into the van, his fingers just making contact with the rough fabric of his large duffle bag. That's when he sensed it.

The coldness.

The stench of Death.

Another advantage of being a werewolf. You could smell the vampires a mile away.

Except in this case, Oz was a little late.

Before he could move or make the slightest sound, a cold, incredibly strong hand grabbed the short teen's head firmly, pushing it into the hard metal doorjamb. After two smart blows, the hand spun the red-head around and tossed him across the scraggly lawn. Oz saw stars this time, landing on his back, his head buzzing with pain.

Struggling to sit up on his elbows, Oz's vision cleared somewhat. The dark, shadowy figure loomed over him. It was snickering quietly.

"Danger Will Robinson, Danger!" the vampire squealed in a falsetto voice. "Sorry, Osborne, but your friends on the Jupiter 2 won't be beaming you up tonight. Or ever, for that matter."

The waning moon broke through the clouds, washing the yard in pale, blue light. Xander grinned widely, displaying his array of sharp, white teeth. He took a step closer, placing one large, black cycle boot between Oz's legs.

The dark creature wore his now trademark outfit of skin-tight leather pants and white tank top. The nicely fitting cotton clung to his broad, well-muscled chest and accentuated his slim, narrow waist. The shirt was flecked with tiny dark spots, no doubt blood. Tonight Xander was wearing a new looking, medium length, black leather jacket. The tanned animal hide gleamed softly in the moonlight. The vampire knelt down, still grinning with satisfaction. The diamonds in his very thin, silver choker twinkled softly.

His cold, brown eyes were devoid of any spark.

Xander was about to speak when Oz interrupted him.

"So, it was vamp make-over day on Springer, huh? Too bad the Saturday Night Fever look went out a couple of decades ago. And that was a Star Trek reference, by the way, not Lost In Space. Shit, Harris, even as a vampire, you're a dork."

The vampire chuckled softly, running a hand through his wavy, black hair.

"Sooo, sorry. Didn't mean to offended your delicate nerd sensibilities," Xander offered sarcastically.

He snapped his fingers, cocking his head to one side."Oh, wait! Yes, I did!"

Xander's hand shot out, grabbing the front of the prone red-head's sweatshirt. In an instant, the vampire was standing there, holding Oz up with one arm. The short teen's boots dangled a foot in the air. Xander brought Oz closer until their noses were barely an inch away.

"And If I may say, Oz, your own fashion sense leaves much to be desired," the vampire purred. "Kurt Cobain is soooo 1992."

With a flick of his hand, Xander flung the short guitarist across the yard to crash into the side of the van. Oz slid down against the open door, crumpling to the cold concrete driveway with a loud gasp of pain. A second later, the vampire grasped the red-head by the shoulders, jerking him into an upright position. Easily holding him against the side of the van with one hand, Xander trailed a finger lazily down the side of Oz's face, slowly moving down and gently tracing the line of his jaw. He finally reached the smooth, silky skin of the red-head's neck, carefully locating and pressing the finger against Oz's faintly pumping jugular vein.

Oz tried to jerk his head away, but Xander was too strong.

"You know, I'm not one for a lot of foreplay," Oz rasped out, "So how about we just get on with the life-draining, soul-sucking thing and get it overwith."

Xander laughed out loud.

"Oh, that's not what Will tells me about you, Danny," the vampire murmured, his tongue darting out to lap at the pulsing, blood filled vein.

"Quite the sensitive little boy underneath the grunge. She was very detailed in her descriptions of your, how shall we say, encounters?"

Fear was finally beginning to creep into Oz's brain. No matter how many times he had mentally prepared for being sucked dry, it all faded away when faced with the reality of it. And he had always assumed that it would happen quickly. So fast that he wouldn't even know what hit him. But this. This could get ugly. He swallowed hard as the vampire pressed closely against him. He could feel Xander's arousal through the thin, slick leather.

"Listen, Harris, I don't know what you've got in mind here, but I'll make a deal with you," he rasped out nervously. "Let me go, and I'll promise to leave Sunnydale and never come back. You've pretty much beaten us. So, how about showing me how magnanimous a winner you are, huh?"

Xander growled deeply, now using his entire body to hold the smaller man against the van. One of his hands had found its way under Oz's sweatshirt and was absently teasing one of the red-head's nipples. The vamp's other hand was running through Oz's spiky hair.

"Well, that's just the thing about wars, Danny boy," Xander murmured softly, his cold breath raising the hairs on the back of the red-head's neck.

"The winners get to have their way with the losers. And you are so much the loser in this little scenario, believe me."

The tall vampire mashed his lips against Oz's. He bit down hard on the red-head's lower lip, smothering the shorter man's yelp with his cold mouth. Oz struggled in vain, frantically trying to free himself from the monster's grip. Xander thrust his tongue over and past Oz's lips, snaking it into and around the struggling red-head's mouth. The vampire began pressing his hips into the shorter teen, grinding away with pleasure. Xander continued his savage kiss, pressing his lips even more firmly against the red-head's, the sweet, electrifying taste of Oz's blood filling him with power.

Suddenly, Xander stopped cold, slowly breaking his kiss and pulling away slightly. The barest hint of confusion passed over his handsome face.

"Well, well, what's this now? Our little Oz is actually liking this! Oh, this is just too sweet. Tough guitar guy one of the lavender elite? Who knew?"

Oz closed his eyes and turned away as Xander ran a hand across the front of the red-head's baggy black work pants. The vampire's fingers languidly traced the form of Oz's rock-hard erection.

"Now this does change things a bit," the vampire growled, his features instantly changing, fangs extended.

With a lightning swift motion, Xander sank his fangs into the pale smooth skin of Oz's neck. The slim red-head gasped loudly as his entire body tensed. Arching his back, Oz moaned shrilly, digging his finger nails into the vampire's dead flesh. A second later, Xander withdrew, throwing his head back, fangs stained with blood.

Oz was panting, his eyes unfocused. Blinking furiously, he swayed slightly, backing against the van. When his vision cleared, Xander was once again human looking, smiling down at him.

Oz smiled back.

"Wow," was all he could manage to say.

"Yeah," Xander replied hungrily.

Roughly yanking at the waist of Oz's pants, Xander pulled them open, tearing the zipper apart and shoving them down to pool about the red-head's work boots. The vampire gently caressed the obvious bulge in the shorter teen's boxers. Oz swallowed again, finally turning to look at the taller creature, locking his bright green eyes onto the vampire's dead brown ones.

Xander smiled as Oz buried his head against his broad chest. The werewolf slowly brought his arms up and snaked them about Xander's slim waist. Oz carefully untucked Xander's tank top, pushing his hands up and underneath the light cotton. The feel of the vampire's smooth skin was strangely soothing.

Intoxicating, almost.

Everything seemed to be fading away. All the hurt and pain and hassle.

It was over, Oz knew it.

No matter what happened after tonight, he'd be dead one way or another. Was there ever such a thing as a vamp werewolf? Regardless, it didn't seem to make sense to spend his last few minutes as a human struggling and fighting when the outcome was obvious. There were worse ways to go, he supposed. Even though he'd never given it much thought before, Harris was sort of good looking, in a dorky kind of way.

And he felt absolutely fucking fantastic. Must be that enthrallment thing Giles always talked about.

Pretty cool.

With a deep breath, he looked up again.

"Ok, you've won, Harris. No point in fighting you. Do whatever you want with me," he whispered.

Xander gently wiped some blood from Oz's lower lip, sticking the finger in his mouth and suckling it with relish.

"Wow, you really are full of surprises, Danny boy. Makes my job so much easier, not to mention enjoyable."

The vampire softly caressed the red-head's cheek.

"And please. Call me Xander," he growled seductively.

Nodding meekly, Oz pulled away from Xander, moving to unbutton the tight leathers with shaky hands. The vampire shrugged out of his jacket, draping it across the threshold of the van. Oz finished with all the buttons of Xander's fly.

Carefully, Xander lifted off Oz's unbuttoned flannel shirt, tossing it inside the van. Then, he fumbled with the bottom of the red-head's grubby gray sweatshirt. Oz nodded, pulling it up and over his head.

Xander ran his hand down the center of Oz's slim, but nicely defined chest. He raked his fingernails across the red-head's hard, mounded nipples, eliciting a ragged moan from the short werewolf. Grinning broadly, Xander moved his hand down and stroked the smooth skin of Oz's stomach.

Kneeling, the vampire untied the red-head's boots. Oz steadied himself by placing his hands on Xander's shoulders. The werewolf shivered at the feeling of the vampire's now warm flesh. Xander finished removing the work boots, sending them to join the pile of discarded clothing in the van.

It was strange, but Oz didn't feel cold, standing in the chill night air wearing only his boxers.

Xander stood up. Oz reached over and slowly began pushing the silky leather trousers down past the vampire's hips. Xander's engorged prick broke free, bobbing invitingly in the moonlight. Oz made to lean down, but the vampire caught him by the shoulders and pushed him upright. Oz looked up at Xander, who was grinning widely. The tall vampire pushed his leathers all the way down to his ankles. He sat down on the threshold of the open sliding door of the van. The vampire leaned back on his elbows, motioning the red-head to him.

Oz grinned, never once taking his eyes from Xander's smiling face. Shoving his boxers down and kicking them off, the former guitarist climbed on top of the vampire, their hard cocks sliding in a succulent rhythm. The two pressed their lips together once more, their hot, hungry mouths devouring each other recklessly.

Xander rocked his hips up and down, firmly kneading Oz's wonderfully supple, tight little bum with both hands. While the werewolf writhed and bucked wildly, tiny moans escaped from Xander's lips.

Oz began to sweat.

Sensing that the short red-head was nearing release, Xander quickly sat up, pushing Oz away. The werewolf whimpered as he re-positioned himself, the vampire gently guiding Oz and slowly sitting him down in his lap. The shorter teen grunted in pleasure as the vampire's throbbing cock teased his ass. Oz grinned, hefting himself up slightly. Reaching around, he curled his fingers around Xander's thick shaft, carefully positioning the slick head at his entrance. With a deep breath, Oz thrust himself down, driving Xander's erection deep inside. The red-head screamed then, with the vampire keening loudly. Oz rode the dark creature's throbbing dick, heaving up and down faster and faster.

Xander's hands were all over Oz's slim torso, his nails leaving a trail of marks in the soft, pale flesh.

The red-head was panting heavily now, throttling his own cock and stroking it with abandon.

Xander threw his head back and smiled.

"Dear Willow was holding out on me about you, Danny boy," he hissed breathlessly. "She just wasn't right for you. No, not at all. It would be a crying shame to kill you now, don't ya think?"

Xander raised his eyebrows, running his hands up and down the smooth, slim sides of Oz's upper body. The red-head stopped his grinding, settling down on the vampire's throbbing cock.

Xander took a deep breath.

"Just say the word, Oz," the vampire drawled, licking his lips.

Oz swallowed, his body on fire, his mind reeling. He ground himself down onto the vampire, causing Xander to groan again.

Oz closed his eyes for a moment.

It all made sense now. All his problems and anxieties were gone. Why was he ever so worried about anything? His past life seemed like someone else's now, like a scratchy old black and white movie.

Quaint. Silly. Done.

When he opened his eyes again, Oz locked them on Xander's

"Word," the werewolf responded firmly.

Xander grinned. "Yeah."

The slim werewolf began pumping up and down again, this time with a savage intensity. Bending in, Oz began kissing the vampire's forehead. Xander was moaning loudly now, gasping for breath. A moment later, the vampire came, a deep growl slowly evolving into a blood curdling howl. Oz howled as well, stopping his thrusts as Xander's unbelievably hot seed filled him.

The red-head pulled away in time to see Xander's features change once more. The vampire's yellow eyes went wide as he sank his fangs into the flesh of Oz's right pectoral muscle. The short guitarist screamed in pain, which quickly morphed into ecstasy. Xander sucked and pulled on Oz, and the red-head came, shooting his last, hot load all over the vampire's chest.

The final vision Oz had was of the large, bronze crucifix hanging from the rearview mirror.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Larry shrugged into his t-shirt, jamming his feet into his untied Converse. He picked up his crossbow, struggling to get the bolt to seat properly with shaking hands. Grabbing his large, wooden crucifix from the nightstand, he slowly left his bedroom and padded down the hallway towards the living room. At the end of the hallway, he flipped the switch for the overhead light. There was a brief, blinding flash as the last bulb in the ceiling fixture blew.

"Fuck," he swore under his breath.

The frenzied pounding at the front door resumed, making the stocky football star jump.

Nothing good knocked on your door after dark in Sunnydale.

Moving across the darkened space, Larry bumped his toe on the leg of the coffee table. Gasping in pain, he fumbled for the lamp that sat on the endtable next to the sofa. A quick yank of the small chain, and the tiny bulb ignited, throwing off a meager yellowy light through the nicotine stained shade.

The pounding continued as Larry crossed the living room, which was awash in shadows.

"Who the fuck is it? I've got a cross, holy water, and a cross bow. Speak up or get the fuck out of here. First and only warning!"

Larry released the safety on the crossbow. A drop of sweat rolled down his temple and into the corner of his eye. He was ready to fling the door open when a muffled voice wafted through it from outside.

"Hey, it's me."

Larry blinked, his hands refusing to steady themselves. The voice was familiar.

"Danny? Is that you?"

"No, it's the fucking tooth fairy! Who do you think it is? C'mon, man, let me in. It's cold out here."

Larry lowered his weapon and crossed over to the front window. Setting his cross down on the desk, he peered through the curtains. He didn't have a good angle, but he could make out the short, dark figure standing outside of his door. The shape of the shadow's spiky hair was unmistakable. Letting out a deep breath, the muscley jock anxiously threw back all the deadbolts and locks. He swung the door open, a weak sliver of light falling across a pair of work boots and black workpants.

"Holy shit, you gave me a scare, Oz. I thought you were a vampire or something," Larry huffed, smiling widely.

Oz took a step closer to the doorway, his arms folded across his chest.

"Really, Larry. How many times have you known a vampire to knock? Besides, you know they have to be invited in first. So are you going to make me stand out here or what?"

Larry rolled his eyes, shaking his head back and forth.

"Sorry, man, yeah, yeah, get in here, already."

"Thanks, dude," Oz replied softly, his face splitting into a toothy smile as he stepped inside and closed the door.

Larry dumped the crossbow onto the armchair next to the door.

"Hell, man, no wonder you were freezing out there. Might want to wear something other than a skimpy tank top next time. Not that I'm complaining. Looks good on you," he finished sheepishly.

The short red-head stood there, silent, smiling.

"Is there anything wrong?" Larry asked, his expression now one of concern.

"No, no, nothing wrong at all," Oz stated casually. "In fact, never better. I thought about what you said. About us. Suddenly, it all made sense to me. I finally realized that I wanted to be with you. Forever. So here I am."

The stocky football star blinked, a huge smile spreading across his lips.

"Wha....what? Holy shit, Danny, for real?"

Larry moved towards the motionless red-head, placing both of his hands on Oz's shoulders.

"You want to be with me? From now on? Really?"

"Oh yeah," Oz purred seductively, "For real. For all time, dude."

Larry squeezed his friend's shoulders tightly before releasing Oz and jumping up and down and whooping like a five year old at Christmas. After several sizable hops, the tall jock leaned down and kissed the red-head on the cheek.

"This is so fucking sweet, Danny! I can't wait to tell Giles! I don't think I'll be able to sleep at all tonight!"

Oz laughed out loud, a slow, knowing laugh.

"No, I bet you won't."

Larry's eyes flew wide.

"Man, this calls for a celebration!"

Clapping his hands together, he whirled around to head into the kitchen. He took two steps before he stopped dead in his tracks, slapping a meaty palm to his forehead.

"Damn! I just remembered. There's absolutely nothing to drink in this house!"

Larry turned around to find Oz leering up at him.

His dead, yellow eyes glared out from under his heavy, vampiric brow ridges.

Oz grinned sweetly, his huge, white fangs flashing in the dim lamplight.

"Oh, I'm sure I can find something to sip on," he growled.
~fin~
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A Better World Than This