•••

Eventually Xander abandoned his free ride and resumed running, by now on the outskirts of the city proper. There was room to run here; he'd come out this way with Oz before, practicing and playing. Once he got past the last subdivision, Xander let loose, allowing his demonic side to take over. He'd never run so fast, so far; wind whipped across his face, pulling at his hair. He reveled in the speed, the pressure of air against his skin. It was nearly enough to wipe away the pain, the hurt and anger he felt.

Xander wasn't sure what was worse, the fact that Oz was all alpha-wolf now and treated him like a convenient fuck or that Oz himself didn't see it. The Raphe was used to being used; all of his previous relationships had revolved around someone else using his dick (or other parts) for their own personal pleasure. He'd long accepted that he was little more than an animated blow-up doll, a stand in for the real thing. And that's when he wasn't being used as food by some creepy demon.

But Oz hadn't been that way; the werewolf had made a point of learning who Xander was, what made him tick. Their relationship hadn't been just sex, as had been Xander's past ones. They shared stories, hopes and fears, comforted each other when they were hurt. All of that had lulled Xander into complacency, into thinking that for once, just once, he was going to get the sweet end of the lollypop.

/Yeah, right,/ Xander told himself harshly. It was becoming quite obvious to the Raphe that he wasn't what Oz needed, or even really wanted. The werewolf needed another of his own kind, someone who understood their place in Oz's world. Someone who would not only stand by and let Oz take charge of their lives, but enjoy it. Xander, on the other hand, always chafed at such orders and never really got used to Oz being in a position of authority over the pack. When nothing was happening, it wasn't a big deal. But in times like this, Xander worried. He fretted that the power Oz had would change the werewolf, make him into someone Xander didn't know.

It certainly seemed to be going that way. Oz had *ordered* their friends to kill someone, and they had. What if Oz *ordered* Fred to abandon Wesley, in favor of someone who wasn't a prey species? What if Oz decided to distance himself from Xander, for just the same reason? The faun and the Raphe could be seen as nothing less than liabilities for the pack, weak links that would eventually be the werewolves' downfall. They couldn't breed, didn't hunt and were in truth targets for other werewolves. They were the soft underbelly of Oz's pack.

Xander slowed down, not out of physical energy but emotionally drained. He curled up under a highway overpass, tucked in the top crevice next to a pillar. Traffic was light, due to the hour, so Xander relaxed and listened to the insects chirp and squall as the earth began to slowly wake up with the sunrise.

•••

Oz stood frozen in the bedroom, staring at where Xander had been standing. He was still trying to process everything that Xander had said, from 'whore' to 'I can't do this anymore.' A moment later he realized that Xander had actually run away. Out the door. Away.

The werewolf was on Xander's trail in the blink of an eye. Oz expanded his senses, at first easily tracking the Raphe's scent. His work became more difficult as he climbed fences and sheds, trying to keep up with the breakneck pace of a Raphe running at the peak of his abilities. Xander had even started leaping from point to point, making Oz's job even harder. The werewolf had to investigate every possible landing point to find a trace of Xander, and then repeat the procedure to find the next spot.

By the time Oz made it close to downtown, he was frantic with worry. Xander hadn't just run a mile or so and come home, winded but ready to talk. His lover had really taken off, exhibiting just how difficult a Raphe was to track. Still, Oz pushed on. He needed to find Xander, to talk to his lover. He had to explain, to try to get Xander to understand. The Raphe didn't hold any second place in Oz's heart or mind; his mate was the most important thing in his life.

And maybe they both needed to talk about the pack. Oz didn't like admitting such things, but Xander had a point about how he'd been handling the group's werewolves--and their mates. It was deceptively easy to ignore Xander and Wesley when making decisions; he just disregarded them completely. Looking back, though, Oz realized that the tactic had been a mistake. Xander and Wesley were just as much a part of the pack as any of the werewolves. For that matter, so were Wil and Angel. He'd been a fool to think otherwise, to try to make a distinction between the two groups, as though most of the time they were one family, but every full moon they split into two.

Oz followed Xander's trail until he reached a lonely street corner. He searched all around, but found nothing. No trace of the Raphe lay anywhere; it was as though Xander had vanished into thin air. Panic flooded the werewolf's senses. Where was Xander? Had something caught him, taken him, killed him? Oz hadn't noticed any other scents following Xander's trail, but then again he hadn't been looking for any.

The werewolf looked around frantically, trying to find any clue that might tell him where Xander was. Syracuse was a large enough city that he couldn't just search the entire place and Xander had never found one exact spot to call his favorite. Their usual running spots were scattered throughout the area, many of them several miles apart.

A lone, plaintive wail filled the night air as Oz took off, hoping against hope to find Xander before something else did. As daybreak came, however, he headed back towards home, thinking that just maybe Xander had gone there, where his friends were.

•••

Xander woke up to the sound of a semi horn blaring in his ear. He looked up in time to see half of a double-wide mobile home roll past him, chase vehicle waving orange flags behind. It was hot and the air stank of asphalt and car exhaust. He'd slept much longer than he'd intended; it was nearly noon. The Raphe's stomach grumbled and Xander stood, only to find himself with weak knees and rubbery legs. Running as far as he had had taken a lot out of him; he wasn't going to be able to just run home this time.

The young man walked slowly and carefully towards town while he pondered his options. The easiest, and best, thing to do would be to call home and have someone drive out to pick him up. It was certainly a better idea than walking all the way home, particularly since he knew he wouldn't make it.

The mile and a half to the nearest convenience store was the longest, slowest walk of Xander's life. He regretted running off like that--not because it wasn't warranted but because it had been foolish. What if something had found him? He was weaponless, nearly penniless and hadn't told anyone where he was going. That was unforgivable, even if the reasoning behind his actions was justified.

Xander pulled out the last two quarters to his name and plunked them in the pay phone. "Hello?" Cordelia said, worry obvious in her voice.

"Cordy," Xander began, shouting over the noise of traffic.

"Xander? Where are you?" She cried, her voice screeching over the line.

Xander winced. "At a convenience store. Uh, I'm a fair piece from home..."

"Tell me where you are," Cordelia ordered. "We'll come get you." Her tone was firm and definitely of the do-not-argue variety.

Xander told her where he was and sat down to wait. It would take them at least an hour to reach him, between the distance he'd come and daytime traffic. He found a comfortable concrete block at the edge of the property and tried not to look too seedy, lest he get ordered away.

He was just getting into another round of berating himself for his stupidity when a familiar blue sedan pulled into the parking lot. At first Xander thought the dark head inside was Wesley's, but he was soon proven wrong as a dark blue-haired Oz stepped out. Xander started shivering uncontrollably, the exertions of the previous night and his emotional distress crashing down onto him all at once.

Oz flinched when he saw Xander's reaction to his presence. It had taken quite a bit of persuasion to convince the others to let him go get the Raphe; Oz had pointedly chosen not to simply order the pack to stand down. Instead, he'd explained that he and Xander needed to work this out, that he wasn't going to hurt Xander or let the man hurt himself or do anything stupid. Now that he'd actually made it to where Xander was, he had to get the Raphe into the car, get some food into his stomach, and resolve this...between them.

"H-hey, Oz," Xander mumbled as the werewolf came to a stop next to his perch. "How's it going?"

Oz smiled sadly and reached for Xander, holding out his hand. He waited while Xander thought about whether or not to take it. Eventually Xander accepted, standing up to join Oz at the car. The werewolf urged Xander to sit, waiting until the Raphe was situated before closing the door.

"Thanks," Xander said softly as Oz got behind the wheel. The werewolf nodded and reached into the back seat, fetching a large thermos. He handed it to Xander, who looked at it askance. "Er, ah..."

"Drink it," Oz said gently. "Fred made it for you."

Xander nodded and uncapped the thermos. It was filled with his favorite kind of smoothie, Fred's signature shut-up-and-drink-it free for all. The beverage was also just what he needed to counteract the exertion-driven fatigue that had him slumped down in his seat. "I'm sorry," Xander said around a mouthful of drink.

Oz shook his head. "Don't be. You were right."

Xander turned to look at Oz, surprise clear on his face. "Huh?"

The werewolf sighed. "You were right, about all of it."

"How so?" Xander inquired, curious and shocked. It wasn't that Oz wouldn't ever admit a mistake, but Xander was sure Oz didn't see his behavior as wrong.

Oz searched for the appropriate words. "You're not convenient, Xander." /That didn't come out right,/ Oz berated himself. "I mean, I don't keep you around because you're convenient." The werewolf paused. "I love you; you're the biggest, most important part of my life."

Xander said nothing.

"I never meant to make you feel like you weren't," Oz continued, voice catching. "Just like I never meant to make you and Wesley think you weren't important, weren't part of the pack."

"I didn't think you did it consciously," Xander reminded Oz. "It's just that you..."

"I never stopped to ask, what anyone wanted or thought," Oz said harshly. "I just acted on instinct, without ever questioning it. That was stupid; after all," He continued, "We're the werewolves who live outside the moon's influence. We don't rely on instinct. Why did I?"

"It's all you know?" Xander guessed. "How many packs have you lead, Oz?"

"That's no excuse," Oz retorted. "I managed to run you off, make you leave. Wes is...we talked today, before you called. He's getting better, but that's going to take a long time too."

Xander got the impression that Oz didn't think the Raphe would ever forgive him. "So will this," Xander admitted. "But if you want it--"

"I want you," Oz said vehemently. "Where you belong." Xander raised one wary eyebrow. "At my side," Oz murmured. "On the hunt and in our bed."

"Pack?" Xander asked in a whisper.

"Pack," Oz confirmed. "With Wesley, Wil and Angel. We're a family, all of us. It doesn't make sense for you not to be pack too."

"Even if we're not wolves?" Xander inquired.

Oz shrugged. "I used to think it mattered, but it doesn't. Pack isn't just the werewolves, not really."

Xander nodded and relaxed into his seat. He was tired and ready for sleep, ready to give his body time to recover. "Home?" He asked hopefully, glancing at the still-pensive Oz.

Oz started up the car. "But Xander?"

"Yeah?" Xander murmured.

"Running off was stupid."

The Raphe laughed weakly. "Believe me, I know. Not doing that again."

"The next time we argue, take a phone with you," Oz suggested. "And don't think you're going to just go to bed when we get back."

Xander groaned. "Who?"

"Cordy is not impressed," Oz replied. "Nor is Fred, Wil, Angel, Gunn or Wesley."

"Gods."

"The cubs are wondering where you are," Oz continued.

"Do we have to go back?" Xander asked.

"Yes, and you have to listen to them," Oz stated.

"Why?"

Oz glanced over at the young demon. "Because I had to hear them out, twice--once for running off without telling them where I was going and once for running you off in the middle of the night."

"Great."

"Could be worse, you know," Oz reminded him.

"How?" Xander asked.

"You're only going to get yelled at once. I got it twice."

"Oh yeah, that's right." Xander smiled sleepily. It was nice to hear that the others actually defended him while he was gone.

"Rest now," Oz ordered gently. "And we'll try to fend them off when we get home."

"It's a deal," Xander murmured, already drifting off to sleep.