Fiction Howl

Title: Howl

Author: Restive Nature (aka Bavite)

Rating:

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Dark Angel. They belong respectively to Whedon and to Cameron/ Eglee.

Genre: Crossover of Buffy The Vampire Slayer and Dark Angel.

Type: Stand Alone

Timeline/ Spoilers: Season one of Dark Angel and pot series for Buffy. This takes place in DA timeline.

Summary: Grief shared is grief halved.

A/N: This is for the TtH Fic-for All. Pairing # 781 Oz/ Syl

“Just try it,” the stranger crooned in her ear. Syl shook all over at the seductive quality of the short man’s voice.

He’d appeared out of nowhere, intruding upon the solitude that Syl had found. Not that it was an idyllic place. Far from it. But it was where Syl had finally made it to before collapsing. A forest clearing, much like the one she and her brother Krit had gathered in days before. She’d fallen to her knees here and in moments was lying supine upon the ground.

She didn’t know how long she’d lain there, staring at the full moon. And then she was aware of being pulled upright into a seated position. Comforting arms were placed around her and instead of instantly being on the defensive, for she hadn’t any inkling that the stranger had approached her, she felt relieved. There was a deceptive strength in the man’s wiry arms as he held her. And then finally he had spoken.

“Can’t cry?”

Syl had nodded her head in agreement. She waited for the onslaught of questions, wondering exactly how she’d explain without revealing too much information. About herself. About her past at Manticore. How only days ago, she’d lost her baby sister Max and her big brother Zack. How she’d been unable to respond to Krit’s grief and their decision to part once more. But to her surprise, there was nothing. The guy just squeezed her shoulder where his hand curled comfortably about it.

A little more time passed and finally the guy offered a suggestion. It seemed ludicrous to Syl at first, but somehow appropriate. The human part of her wasn’t ready yet to process her loss to its fullest extent. But being part animal, the thing in her wanted closure, now.

She drew in a deep breath slowly and steadily, but even that failed to center her. The breaths grew stronger and deeper until her shoulders and chest were heaving. And finally she let loose.

Syl threw her head back and howled. She fed everything into it. Her rage, her pain, her fear fueled her lungs. She startled the birds from the trees. Small animals scurried away from the predator that she had revealed herself to be. She felt a primal satisfaction in focusing and then releasing.

But it was nothing compared to the howl of her companion. Even as their howls mingled together, Syl understood instinctively that the tonal quality was far greater than hers. It resonated more deeply than her voice could ever hope to achieve. And it was not to do with the difference in their gender or age, although it did seem to her that this man had howled many times in his life.

As the last breath of oxygen flew from her lungs, Syl turned to stare at this stranger who had come to her rescue. With his head thrown back, his dark red hair fluttering in the soft breeze and a look of exultation upon his face, Syl realized why she had shivers running up and down her spine. As he finished his own howl, Syl realized the otherworldly nature he possessed. And in that moment, realized that this man understood the beast within him, better than she understood hers.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

“Just call me Oz,” he replied with a genial grin.

He was gone the next morning and though she watched for him occasionally, Syl never encountered him again. But she never forgot his advice. Once every year for the rest of her life, she found her solitude and howled.