By Tracy
Author's Notes: Thanks to Laura, Amy and Serendipity, who inspire me more than they'll ever know. Thanks also to Annie, who volunteered to beta this for me. This fic is dedicated to everyone who sent me feedback for Tunnel Vision. You guys keep reading, and I'll keep writing. Deal?
Part Nine
Giles watched Willow as she fought a losing battle against fatigue. He knew she hadn't slept at all in over 29 hours. He tentatively approached the petite redhead, whose head was drooping repeatedly even as she continued to sponge Oz's face automatically."Willow," Giles said softly, kneeling beside her.
Her green eyes opened quickly, guilt clouding in them immediately. "What?" she asked, an urgent tone in her voice. She was clearly afraid she'd missed something.
"Do you want to go have a nap? I can take over."
"No!" she cried, making Giles cringe with the volume of her reply. She saw his reaction and looked contrite. "It's just that, I want to take care of him. I want to make sure he's okay."
"You're doing all you can, Willow. You're doing much more than is required. But if you don't get some rest soon, you won't be of much help later. And we might need you then."
She thought for a moment, examining the truth in his words. Her head already felt like it was swimming. Her eyes were bleary, and she couldn't stop the yawn that came with the realization of exactly how exhausted she really was.
Giles watched her struggle with the decision, and briefly wished that Willow had Xander's ability to fall asleep on command. It had come in handy after many a night of researching. Giles had discovered that if he ordered Xander to sleep like a drill sergeant, it actually worked. The boy would be sound asleep on the nearest flat surface within two minutes. He opened his mouth to continue his argument when she wordlessly handed him her sponge. "I'm not leaving, though, Giles."
She folded her arms on the bed and rested her head on them. "Wake me up if anything happens," she murmured.
*** Willow awoke to the distant sound of metal pounding metal. She shook her head to clear it a little, remembering in a flash of images where she was and what was happening.
The sound diminished, and she looked around Oz's room. "Sorry about that," Xander apologized, "Giles and Buffy are fixing the cage. I tried to close the door before, uh, well, I guess I just wasn't fast enough."
"S'okay," Willow replied sleepily. "What time is it?"
"Almost three. You've been out for a while." Xander approached the bed and sat on it, beside Willow.
Willow looked at her motionless boyfriend and sighed, leaning over to kiss his forehead. She noted with surprise that his skin no longer felt feverish. "His fever's gone!"
Xander shook his head. "Down some, but not gone yet. He hasn't woken or anything."
Willow's smile faded and she studied Oz again with clinical eyes. "Still, improvement, right?"
Xander reached across the bed and squeezed her arm reassuringly. "Right."
Willow retreated back into her chair, pulling it closer to the bed. She carefully brushed the damp strands of hair from Oz's brow. "I just wish there was more I could do than make sure he's comfortable and wait."
"You are doing more. You're here for him. He knows that."
Xander saw her emotional struggle play out across her face before she spoke, "You think so?"
They both froze as Oz's hand twitched on the bed. Willow stood, and began coaxing him gently, quietly. "Oz. Come on, Oz. Can you open your eyes? Just a little? Just open them a little bit, so I know you're okay. Please, Oz. Please."
Xander noted that Oz's hand continued to move in the direction of her voice. She was calling him back. He held his breath as his eyes flew from Willow to Oz and back again. Willow absently reached down and grasped the hand Oz was moving, and he stilled immediately.
Willow and Xander looked at each other for a moment in the sudden quiet of the room. They waited a few seconds, hoping Oz's eyes would open. But he was still again.
"Well, that was good, right?" Xander said. "I mean, movement, yay!"
Willow nodded, looking slightly deflated. "But he's still not awake."
"He's got to take little steps," Xander reasoned. "He's been through a lot."
Willow sat down at the side of the bed ruefully, still clutching Oz's hand. "Yeah, because I put him through it." She sighed, a resigned, guilty sigh. "In the end, the fact remains that I was the one who shot him with the poisoned dart. Even if I was doing it for the right reasons."
Xander stopped and did the rare thing of thinking before speaking. He paced as he thought, and finally came to a halt in front of Willow. "Did you know, you were made for him?"
Willow's eyes sought out Xander's with surprise. "What?" Her face clearly showed her puzzlement.
Xander gestured to Oz. "You can see it in the way he reaches for your hand even when he's unconscious. It's like... It's like he's not complete without you touching him." He very gently brushed Willow's hair from her face. "I knew it, even before, you know, the thing with us." He shrugged, laughing nervously. "Sometimes, I am jealous. I mean, you've were *my* Willow forever, and then I found out you were his Willow all along. I was just taking care of you until he could. You guys just had to find each other."
Willow's eyes filled with tears. Even after knowing Xander practically her whole life, sometimes the sweet things he said completely surprised her. "Xander, I'm still your Willow. Just not in the same way."
"Yeah, I know that now," he acknowledged. "But look at what you have with him. I've seen it, Wills. I see the way you come into a room, and you're his whole world. Everything else just goes away for him." He paused. "You guys are good for each other. Good with each other."
Willow's eyes spilled over and she offered him a shaky smile.
"Oh no! No crying. No crying! Buffy'll kill me if she thinks I made you cry!" He rushed to the desk and brought her a box of Kleenex.
She laughed a little and pulled a few tissues from the box. "I won't tell." She wiped her eyes and nose, staring down at Oz's face. Xander was right. Once they'd found each other, it had been two pieces of the puzzle finally fitting. She'd do anything for him, give anything to make him wake up, and he'd do the same for her, she knew. But the guilt when she looked at him, so pale and lifeless, was just overwhelming. The rational part of her brain even acknowledged that she really had had no choice. "Just like Buffy," she whispered. "Only I might get the happy ending."
*** Oz felt like he was wrapped in a ball of cotton. It was kind of nice, except he missed knowing what was going on around him. He let his mind drift aimlessly, searching for something in the fuzzy fog around him.
Then he heard it.
Willow.
He could hear her voice, and she had that upset tone she used when she wanted reassurance. He vaguely searched for her in the mist, agitated when he couldn't see her. She needed him. He had to get to her.
He concentrated all his energy on reaching for her. Her voice faded and then was very close.
"Oz. Come on, Oz. Can you open your eyes?" He didn't know his eyes were closed. Maybe that explained the fog and darkness.
'Where are you?' he asked, upset when he realized she couldn't hear him.
"Just a little? Just open them a little bit, so I know you're okay. Please, Oz. Please." She sounded so desperate.
He struggled to open his eyes, continuing to reach for her. She needed him. He could hear it in her voice. He had to find her. He had to open his eyes and help her. Why couldn't he open his eyes? He began to feel fear spread through his body. Something was very wrong. Something with him. And he realized that he was causing her pain. He hated that.
What did she want? For him to open his eyes. He concentrated, trying to move his eyelids, his panic growing as he realized that the task was impossible.
Then she was there. Her hand enveloped his in a warm grip. His heart lightened. He'd found her. The coldness in his bones seemed to lessen just a little bit. Whatever was wrong, she was trying to fix, he knew.
He felt the darkness coming to take him away, and fought it for as long as he could. He wanted to stay with Willow. What if she needed him? What if he couldn't find her again?
But she was still there, warming his fingers as she clutched his hand. 'Don't go, Will,' he thought, 'I need you here. I need you to get me back...' The fog began to close in on him, cutting him off from her. He saved the thought until the last moment, and sent it before she was gone again. 'I love you, Willow.'
on to part ten