Work Text:
Oz could feel the steady thumping of his heart in his throat. In the bedroom behind him Willow still stood, alone. Somehow detached from him, from everything that had happened, that was happening, his feet moved him steadily towards his van.
With each step he left a another piece of himself. Each landmark was followed by a memory to wound him, Willow's tear covered face in his bedroom a burning brand.
As he fought not to think he was overwhelmed by memories. Willow dressed in an Eskimo outfit, Willow dressed for Halloween, the first time they'd spoken. A thousand tiny moments that he could not forget, kisses, touches, glances. Faith holding Willow captive, Willow as a vampire, Willow bandaged and unconscious in the hospital. The look on Willow's face when she'd discovered Veruca with him in the cage, Willow asking him if he loved her.
He tossed his bags in the van and quickly started the ignition, his breathing hitching painfully. Out of habit he looked at his gauges and felt a lance of pain at the quietly smiling picture of Willow staring at him, eyes adoring.
He turned the van off, one finger tracing softly over the curve of her cheek. How could he do this? Leave Willow behind, wounded and broken? He should go back inside, save her, find a way to deal with this. He could spend the rest of his life apologizing, Giles might be able to help..
Images of Veruca assaulted him. Singing at the bronze, talking about music, waking next to him in the woods. The taste of her mouth as he'd kissed her, the feel of her nails embedded in his back. A flurry of blurred images followed in her memory as his wolf howled inside him. Oz took a shaky breath and opened his eyes to the picture of Willow.
No, he couldn't stay. He had to get out of Sunnydale and find something, anything, to give him some semblance of control. He couldn't hurt Willow. Not now, never again.
He wished a silent apology to Willow before restarting the motor and heading for the city limits.