His van flew over the bumps in the road as his foot pressed down harder on the accelerator. Oz knew he was nearing a dangerous speed, but something in the back of his mind refused to compute that knowledge, leaving him uncaring. He raced down the deserted highway, wanting some way to be rid of the pain that filled him in every waking moment.
It was a pain that was so unbearable at times, it left him shivering on the floor in the back of his van. He would pull his knees up against his chest and wrap his arms around them, hoping that in an attempt to make himself smaller, it would make his heart smaller. The smaller his heart was, the less pain he'd be able to feel.
When he had left Willow the first time, it had never hurt this badly. Then he had left by his own free will, he knew what he was doing was better for her. By leaving, he could bring her happiness because he could find a way to fix what was wrong inside of him.
The second time, he hadn't wanted to leave. Oz had wanted, with all his heart, to wrap his arms around her and tell her how much he loved her. He wanted her to say that she'd stay with him forever, that Tara didn't mean anything to her. He hadn't wanted to leave her again.
But he'd felt that he had to.
He couldn't invade her life like he had. So he just shows up one day, out of the blue, and expects everything to be normal again? Of course she'd moved on. She was a beautiful young woman and it was stupid of him to think she'd just be waiting for him. Oz loved her, but she couldn't love him back. Not that he blamed her for that.
The only thing her blamed her for, was the feeling that she'd taken away his life. He'd given up everything to be with her. *Everything*. He'd crossed the oceans in an attempt to stop the wolf from coming out. In doing that, he'd lost everything. The Dingoes, his family, his entire life. And maybe even his sanity.
Other than Willow, the band had been everything to Oz. He knew they could never tell, but he'd always wanted to stay *that* age and play *those* songs with *those* friends. If he could stay that way forever, then he'd never have anything to worry about.
But when he'd left Sunnydale, the Dingoes had gone on without him. Devon had found another guitarist and within weeks, Oz was no longer part of the band. He couldn't blame them either. They had no idea when he'd be back and they had to keep going. He couldn't hold them back from their dreams.
Oz just missed it.
God, how he missed it.
The feeling he had when he was standing up on a stage, playing the songs on his guitar. Devon had always had a great voice, but Oz wished that just once, the singer would have let him take a shot. Oz knew he could have done it. He knew that he could have made the audience scream for more. He knew they'd want to hear him sing again and again and again.
He also knew that he'd never get another chance.
He'd wasted his only time to be "the guy with the great voice" by letting Devon walk all over him. Sure, Devon was his best friend, but he was also a jerk a lot of the time. Every time Oz brought up the idea of singing, Devon would toss it aside like it meant nothing. They'd talk later, he always used to say.
Gently letting up on the accelerator of his van, Oz sighed, then leaned over and switched on the radio. The words and music of some pop princess bombarded him, so he reached over again and moved around the switch until he found a station he could stomach. One song ended and another began as he tried to remember what it felt like to be the one people listened to.
He paused, recognizing the song that was now playing and a small smile made its way to his lips. Devon had asked him once to learn the chords of the song so they could play it at the Bronze, so Oz had worked on it. The guy who wrote the song was pretty incredible in Oz's eyes. It turned out he wrote the words, music and produced everything by himself. That was more than impressive to a fellow musician.
He remembered the night they'd played it for the first time. The audience had loved it, but Oz was sure he could sing it better. Devon's voice was good, but it didn't fit the song. Oz knew his would.
Pictures flashed in front of his eyes as he listened.

//So she says, "life sucks, it's the truth, I mean,
Didn't you think it would be better than this?"
So where's the prize that I was promised?
Where's my great reward? Where's my happiness?//

Willow was there, standing at the end of the stage, smiling at him. Oz knew the chords perfectly, he had practiced it so many times. Instead of looking at his fingers, like he often had to do, he smiled at Willow. He watched her as the song played through, imagining how she'd react if he was the one singing.

//'Cause I want something more
I need something more//
As he watched her in his mind, the words shook Oz awake. That was what Willow had probably been thinking when he returned. She wanted, no she needed something more than what he could give her. He would never be enough for her, she would have always craved more.

//We're all style over substance
We're pride reluctance to the bitter end
So, give me passion over reason
Give me something to believe in and I'll be content//

Nothing Willow did anymore made sense to him. Wasn't it the right thing to do by going back? If so, why had she made him feel like he'd done such a bad thing?
As Oz thought about the lyrics, he shook his head. How many times had he recited them to her? How many times had he told her to follow them her whole life? How many times had he explained their meaning? He knew what the song was about, she knew what the song was about.
And finally, it did make sense to him. Why she was with Tara. "Give me passion over reason. Give me something to believe in and I'll be content."
Oz couldn't give her anything. And while it might not make sense to some people, all Willow needed was the passion she had with Tara. She didn't need other people to understand. She had just needed a love she could believe in.
And Oz couldn't give her that.

//'Cause I want something more
I need something more//

Everything he had thought was wrong, everything he had tried to rationalize for hours, was simple. How could he have not seen it? He wasn't enough for her. Even after being with her for so long, loving her the way he had, being her first everything he hadn't been enough.
He'd never be enough. Oz choked back the tears that flooded his eyes as he pretended he could see her once more. He was standing on the stage again, holding his guitar and playing the song. Only he was alone on the stage. Devon wasn't standing in front of the microphone, instead it was him. As he played the song, he sang the words to Willow, telling her everything he had ever believed it. All the things he had wanted her to understand about him.
She had finally understood the words, but she understood them about someone else. For everything he'd tried to explain about the song, she had related back to Tara, not him.
Oz closed his eyes, his hands barely touching the steering wheel and he watched her in his mind. As the words played over the radio, his lips moved slightly, mouthing them.
In his mind, as he sang, Willow danced. She loved the song, finally understood what it meant. And she danced. Oz sang, alone in the Bronze and in front of him, the only woman he'd ever loved, danced with her arms around the beautiful blonde witch. They spun together, listening to the words of the song and understanding them. Together.
He was still imagining that scene when his van drove off the bridge.

//Give me passion, give me feeling
Give me something to believe in
Give me passion, give me feeling
Give me reasons to be breathing//

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End
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