A/N: I'm giving you all fair warning - this is not a Spuffy ending. It's actually more of a Willow/Oz one-shot that I've been thinking about for a while. But it fits in this 'verse, and there are some distinct parallels to Buffy and Spike's relationship, so I'm including it as an epilogue. If that's not your thing, then consider chapter 7 the end of this story, but I thought at least someone should get a happy ending. :)

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Epilogue: Turning a Corner in Istanbul

Willow pressed her cell phone to one ear and jammed her hand against the other to block out the noise. It was hard to hear over the blaring speakers of the Hong Kong club, but Buffy's words came out clearly across the miles: “Spike’s here.”

“I’m sorry,” Willow said immediately. “I know I should’ve asked you before I told him but…”

“No, Will,” Buffy interrupted. “You did the right thing. I don’t know if I would’ve been ready to admit… but he’s here now, and it’s all good.”

“I’m glad.”

“If you hadn’t… we probably never would’ve found each other. Too stubborn, I guess.”

Willow idly traced a pattern through the condensation on her glass, thinking of the location spell of her own that she’d never had the courage to perform. “You had your reasons.”

After a few more minutes of catching up, they said their goodbyes, and Willow snapped her phone shut. She could feel the connection breaking, like a rubber band that had been stretched too tightly.

The band started up almost as soon as she’d wrapped up the call. Willow relaxed in her seat, her back to the stage at her table for one, sipping her martini. She was happy for Buffy, really. Her best friend deserved to be loved, as only Spike could love her. They’d all known, maybe even before Buffy had, that once the Hellmouth had collapsed taking Spike with it, there'd never be anyone else for her.

Willow was the only one of the Scoobies who still traveled, teleporting all over the world now, seeking out new Slayers as soon as the coven located them. The others had all settled down somewhere – Dawn was married now, and Xander might as well be. Even Giles and Olivia, his on-again, off-again girlfriend, had finally decided to be on again, this time for good. Now, with Spike back in Buffy's life, Willow was the only one who was still alone.

The thing with Kennedy had fallen apart pretty quickly after the Hellmouth. That day had changed them both. Willow, having transcended to a whole new level of witchcraft with the Slayer spell, was no longer the meek, gun-shy witch she'd been ever since her apocalyptic breakdown. And Kennedy, now imbued with slayer power, was no longer content to play sidekick to Willow's magic. They hung on longer than they should have, spent about six months cavorting around South America, hoping that the sandy beaches and glittering lights of Rio would solve their problems. But eventually, they moved on, Kennedy returning to the United States to help Faith lead the American contingent of Slayers, while Willow bounced all over the globe, putting her new teleportation skills to good use, happily avoiding customs and security.

She popped in and out of her friends’ lives as easily as she popped in and out of countries, now hardly more than a stranger with a common past. The erratic traveling became more than what she did – it was who she was. Unanchored, aimless, disconnected from her friends and from the world. It was her way of coping – if she never settled in one place, she never had to think about what was missing from her life.

But she longed for someone to reel her in, something to keep her tethered. She’d never wanted children, and she couldn’t fathom the idea of marriage, but she ached for something else, something she’d once had, but could never capture again.

Not that she hadn’t tried. She’d had plenty of relationships in the ten years since Kennedy left – men, women, even a few demons – but she was never satisfied. No one ever touched her soul the way Tara had, or Oz before her. She should feel lucky, she always told herself, having had the chance to love and be loved, truly and deeply, not once, but twice. But reassurances never seemed to fill the void.

When the song began, at first she thought it was her train of thought that made the music seem familiar. It was silly to think that she'd hear a Dingoes song here, of all places. It had to be her imagination. The band wasn't even American - she'd heard the lead singer speaking rapid, native Cantonese at the beginning of the set, even though she hadn't been in the country long enough to understand what was said.

But she recognized that guitar riff, and it pulled at her heart until finally she whipped around in her chair. The stage was lit with swirling multi-colored spotlights, and her eyes widened as she took in the performers. She’d been right – the band wasn't American, a fact that was only emphasized all the more when the lead singer began to sing the lyrics in heavily accented English – all except for the lead guitarist, whose spiky, dyed-black hair couldn’t conceal his Caucasian features.

Feeling I’ve been lost for years
You can never understand me
Unless you’ve seen those tears
But you never get to sleep
When I'm away
I don't mind
The deeper that you lay
Out of time

Pain, I can't sleep
Pain, I can't sleep

It couldn't be… but as he leaned forward going into a run, the spotlight caught his face, his eyes momentarily met hers, and there was no doubt.

She was stunned, frozen, sitting at the table by herself as the music and the noise of the crowd washed over her. Before she even had time to register the shock, Oz gave a nod and the band segued into another song.

This one, she knew by heart.

She flies from a blinding light
And spirals to my heart
I try to find my mind
But don't know where to start

Just like that, Willow was rocketed back to places and memories that no longer existed. Sunnydale, high school, the Bronze. She remembered the first time Oz had played this song for her. Not the first time with the band, because that had been at the homecoming dance, when things were all awkward with the Xander kissage. But the very first time, when they’d been sitting in Oz’s room, and he’d pulled out his guitar and said, “I wrote something for you.” Then, he’d plucked out the melody on the strings, nervously singing the words he’d written just for her.

Won’t ever
Can’t ever find my sanity
Won’t ever
Can’t ever ’til I hear
Her calling for me

How? How was it that in this place, all the way on the other side of the world, he was here? Her eyes brimming with tears, Willow lifted her gaze to his. Their eyes met, and he was singing to her once again, joining in on the background vocals of the chorus.

She knows that
She knows that side of me
Can’t help it
Can’t help that side of me
Just a little more
Just until I know what I’m feeling
Just a little more to find my sanity

I’m lost in a thousand nights
But sunshine’s at my feet
I’d walk through a thousand fires
And next to me she’d be

They played through the whole song, but Willow was already entranced, lost in a sea of emotions she’d wondered if she’d ever feel again. It barely registered when the song ended and the lead singer announced the end of the set. So, when Oz appeared alongside her table, a shadow in the dimness of the club, he startled her out of a reverie.

“Hi.”

She glanced up, hurriedly blinking away the moisture clinging to her lashes. “Hi.” When he didn’t speak in the next millisecond, her babble instinct seized control. “Oh, my God, Oz! What are you doing here? How long have you been here? This is – I can’t believe it! I mean, I’ve been all over the world, and here you are! It’s like a, like a… I don’t know. I just… can’t believe it’s really you.”

“Is it okay if I sit down?”

Her mouth opened, but she must have used all her words in her last burst of speech, because no sound came out. She nodded.

Oz grabbed a chair and spun it around before straddling it, leaning his arms on the back. “What’s up?” he asked, as though it’d only been a few days since they’d seen each other, instead of nearly fifteen years.

How could she possibly answer that question? How could she tell him all there was to say?

“So, you have a band?” she managed, deciding to start with the simple things.

“Yeah.”

“In China?”

Oz nodded.

“And you taught them to play Dingoes songs?”

“Well, we were never very good,” he admitted. “You could teach monkeys to play Dingoes songs.”

“Really?”

“Nah. I tried once, in Africa, but the one kept throwing the drumsticks.”

Willow smiled. He was the same old Oz, just as she remembered him. Quirky and laconic and self-effacing.

“So, what else did you do, all this time?” she asked. “Besides teach monkeys how to play instruments?”

“Went back to Tibet for a while,” he replied. “I was a Buddhist monk for a few years.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. Then, I spent some time in Sweden, went back to school, became a software engineer. Visited lots of places in between, but just kinda fell in love with East Asia, you know? So, I came back here and ended up working for a software company.”

Willow’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding. That’s so… motivated of you.”

“I know.” Oz gave her a wry grin. “I even surprised myself. So, what about you?”

She shrugged. “You know. Same old. Saved the world a few times… Almost ended it once.”

With anyone else, she shied away from that confession, but with Oz, it rolled off her tongue so easily, secure in the knowledge that he wouldn’t judge her for it.

“Guess that didn’t work out,” he commented. “’Cause… hey.”

“Tara died,” Willow explained, knowing he would never ask why she’d done it, and somehow, that made it easier to confide in him. “She was murdered and I… I just…”

“I get it.” And the incredible thing was – he did. He knew what it was like to have a monster inside, and he knew what it was like to lose control when he lost the woman he loved. She’d seen it happen.

“Oh,” she rushed on, so as not to dwell on that particular incident, “and I did this spell so that Buffy’s not the only Slayer anymore. There’s thousands of them now. That’s what I do. I teleport all over and find the Slayers, and send them back to Giles to train them.”

“Sounds cool.”

“It is. I’ve been pretty much everywhere.”

“I was kinda worried,” Oz admitted, “when I heard about Sunnydale.”

“Oh, yeah. We did that. Spike did that,” she corrected herself. “Squashed the First Evil and his uber-vamp army… and, you know, pretty much everything else.”

“Spike… the vampire that kidnapped you?”

“Yeah.” Willow smiled sheepishly. She’d forgotten that Oz’s last memories of Spike were from before the chip. “He’s good now. He has a soul. He and Buffy are…”

Oz nodded. “She’s sure got a type.”

“They just got back together yesterday.” She paused, furrowing her brow. “Or tomorrow. I can never remember the time difference thing. Anyway, it was really sweet. They hadn’t seen each other in ten years and everything just…fell into place like… like they’d never been…”

She stopped, her voice having reached a wavering, earnest pitch. Her eyes welled with tears again. “Oh, Oz…”

He reached across the table and took her hand in his. His fingertips were calloused from the guitar, but his palm was soft as it stroked her skin.

“No offense,” Oz said slowly, “but, uh, last time I saw you, you were kinda…”

“Into girls?”

“Yeah.”

Willow nodded. She’d struggled with that, too, over the years, thinking it was something lacking about whichever gender she was with at the time, until finally, she’d figured it out. “See, here’s the thing. I think, when you find your soul mate, that doesn’t really matter, you know? And – and I was lucky enough to have two. I lost Tara, and… I lost you, too, but – but you’re here now, and I… can’t help thinking that means something.”

She held her breath, feeling as though she’d just jumped off a cliff and she was counting on Oz to catch her.

“When I came back before, it wasn’t our time.”

“You think, maybe… this is our time?” Willow asked, her entire body taut with apprehension.

Oz pursed his lips and looked at her for a long time. “I’m willing to find out.”

“What about the wolf?”

“Gone.” He gave her a determined look. “For good this time.”

Willow’s eyes widened with excitement. “You found a cure?”

“Yeah.” Reaching into his shirt, he pulled out a medallion that he wore around his neck. “I kept searching. After I left Sunnydale again… I couldn’t just let it be like that. I mean, I went away so I could be a better man, to be with you. I couldn’t let you be the only thing that… brought it out. I knew you weren’t ready then. But I thought, maybe someday…”

Willow leapt up from the table and flung her arms around him. He stood in time to catch her in his embrace. He held her for a long time, breathing in the familiar Willow-scent. He remembered what she’d told him, that long ago day in his van, about turning a corner in Istanbul, and he realized she’d been right all along.

Willow melted into his arms, feeling as though she’d recaptured a piece of herself that had seemed lost forever. In a life where nothing seemed real anymore, he was real, he was solid. He was here.

Slowly, he pulled back, his cheek brushing against hers and causing a shiver to run down her spine. He tasted her skin with soft, hesitant lips that increased in intensity as he felt her respond, tilting her head to capture his mouth with hers. The kiss was slow and undemanding, weaving a spell that Willow could never replicate with magic.

“I thought about looking for you,” she murmured in his ear. “So many times, I started to do a location spell, but I just… lost courage.”

“Here I am,” Oz replied. “No magic required.” Then, his eyes darkened. “Will? How long are you here?”

“Just tonight,” she said regretfully. “I’m picking up a new Slayer tomorrow, and sending her back to England. Then, I’m going to…” She pulled a crumpled scrap of paper out of her pocket, on which she’d scribbled the latest list from the coven. “Burundi. But – but I could come back, anytime.”

“Can you teleport two people?”

“Yeah,” she said slowly. “Why?”

“I want to go with you.”

“But what about your job?” Willow replied, pulling away from him as though she didn’t deserve to be in his arms anymore. “You have a life here and everything.”

“I’m quitting my job,” Oz told her, taking a seat at the table again.

Willow followed suit. “Oh. When, uh, when did you decide that?”

“Pretty much now.”

“Oh,” she said again. “But – but I don’t want to… you know, just come in here and disrupt your life….”

“Nah, it’s cool. Was never really what I wanted anyway.” He reached across the table and ran his fingers through the hair framing her face. “I’d rather see the world with you.”

Willow smiled, flooded with the sensation of new beginning and comforting familiarity all at once. “I’d like that.” Before the gazing into each other’s eyes could get too sappy, she leaned forward, gave him a mischievous wink, and said, “Now, tell me more about those monkeys.”

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the end