aimeelicious: (Morrison vs MacLeod)
[personal profile] aimeelicious
Title: Kilts & Killing Time (2/5)
Pairing: Oz/Xander
Rating: Adult
Summary: Past lives, warring clans in Scotland, forbidden kilt love, etc etc.
Warnings: Well, there might be char death of a sort. But not the kind you need to avoid the story for. Trust me here.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. Any of them.

prologue here
part 1 here

Kilts & Killing Time - part 2

Four pairs of eyes were staring at him when Oz opened his own.

"Oz?" Willow asked tentatively, pulling her hand back from his shoulder from where it had obviously been shaking him.

"Yeah?" he responded, sitting up and running fingers through his hair. As usual, he felt more tired, not less. And disoriented too. For a second there everything had been completely unfamiliar, despite the countless hours he'd spent in this exact spot with these exact people.

"Oh good, it's you," said Buffy from across the table. She seemed relieved, and Oz just looked at her blankly. Who had she been expecting?

"You said something before you woke up, it was weird," she added.

"What Buffy means to say is that you seemed to be speaking to someone named Emma, and..."

Xander piped up, "You sounded like Mel Gibson in Braveheart."

Giles ignored the interruption and leaned in intently. "What do you remember of your dream?"

He thought a moment. It didn't feel like a dream. Felt like he'd been there, with Alex and then in the chilly castle...was kind of confusing, to be awake and in Sunnydale again. He'd left something behind, and had a sense of urgency to get back. To whatever it was.

"Not much," Oz blatantly lied.

"Hmmm," said Giles, with a suspicious frown. "Should you recall any pertinent details, I insist you share them, as we cannot assist you in this without full knowledge of what we are dealing with."

Oz tilted his head slightly in acknowledgement, and unspoken appreciation for the lack of prying.

"I shall continue to review my resources, but in the meantime, I feel it's important you not sleep without some supervision. We were unable to wake you without much effort today, despite the fact that you were obviously in some distress." Giles looked expectantly at the group.

"Xander has room," offered Oz, not really as a question. Being close to Xander was somehow key to the whole situation. Had to be.

"Um, kinda but not really. My room is super small, wouldn't you be happier with Willow?" Xander asked.

"No," replied Oz, and left it at that. As he expected, neither Buffy nor Willow spoke up, they both just kind of sat there and fiddled with their hair. Girls.

"It's not close to the full moon or anything, is it?" Xander looked to Giles, who shook his head. "Well okay then," he finally said, sounding resigned. "You can come home with me for the night."

"Now that we have that decided, don't you children have a class or two left this afternoon?" Giles asked in obvious dismissal, rising and collecting the papers. Oz checked the clock and realized he'd missed half of the school day. He stood and picked up his books.

"Later," he said to Xander.


It was getting dark by the time they left for Xander's house. A few more hours of research had uncovered nothing new, and he wished he'd never gone to Giles, even though regrets were against his personal policy.

"So, Giles said I should set my alarm once an hour. Wake up and check on you or something," said Xander, unlocking the back door and motioning him inside. "You'll have to sleep on the floor, my room's tiny and I've only got a twin bed. My dad says I can move to the basement next year, if I pay rent. Can't wait, at least there's more space down there, even if it is a dump," Xander rambled as they walked up the narrow steps single file.

Oz wrinkled his nose. Whole place smelled like alcohol.

"Parents around?" he asked, already knowing Xander wouldn't be talking so much if they were.

"My dad bowls on Monday nights, and mom goes to her friend Lisa's house," explained Xander, leading them into his bedroom. Oz took it all in. Piles of comic books. A few action figures on top of a listing bookshelf. Couple of curling posters on dingy walls. He'd never been in here before. Easy to see why Xander didn't invite people over much. After dropping his bag on the floor under the window, which was covered with faded curtains, he turned to find Xander standing there, looking at him.

"What?" Oz said.

Xander was oddly somber. "There's a lot you're not saying, isn't there. About these dreams." He used air quotes around that last word, and Oz almost smiled.


"So what, I have to drag it out of you? I'm in them right? You should tell me everything!" said Xander, kicking off his sneakers.

Oz sat down and leaned back against his bag. He wasn't sure Xander was ready to hear it all, so he settled for something non-committal.

"They're complicated."

Xander snorted. "Isn't everything anymore?" he said, in what Oz took to be a rhetorical question, since they both knew the answer. "Seriously, Oz, I kind of want to know. I mean, it's weirdness that you're dreaming about me, right? You can't blame me for being curious."

"Not really you. It looks like you, but it's another person. In another time," clarified Oz, still not sure he should say more.

"So it's me, but it's not me?"

"Something like that." Oz gave up. "Duncan and Alex are older, and they're lovers, Xan. In this...other place. Have been for years. And our families, clans, hate each other, so it's even harder because not a soul can know." He left out the rest for now. It was almost too much for him to handle, and he was living it.

Xander looked distinctly uncomfortable and toyed with the bedcovers. "So what, we're like, having sex in these dreams? Guy sex?"

"Essentially," said Oz, trying to gauge the reaction. Seemed more like perturbed curiosity than outright disgust. "I'm not going to jump you," he added, and Xander narrowed his eyes.

"So as Alex I'm jump-worthy, but Xander here doesn't qualify? What kind of dream is that?" Oz thought Xander looked good indignant.

"Didn't say I wouldn't jump you if you asked," he pointed out.

"Oh." Another awkward silence. "Feel tired yet?"

"Always," replied Oz, hearing the weariness in his own voice. "Not ready to sleep though."

"That is why God invented the videotape, my friend," said Xander, getting up and rummaging through a pile of stuff on his shelves. "Star Wars, Episode One. Guaranteed to provide one-hundred and twenty-one minutes of pure escapism, often followed by a nap." He turned and showed Oz the box with a grin, and Oz nodded in silent agreement.

Xander conspicuously left the overhead light on, but otherwise showed no signs of trauma after their brief talk, and Oz was grateful. He'd never really thought about Xander sexually until these dreams started, and thinking might be all he ever got to do, but it would have been hard to take if he'd been kicked out or shunned over it. Especially because here, he felt almost relaxed for the first time in weeks. He'd been right about being close to Xander. Whatever the reason, it was good.

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