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Title: Moonlight
Author: Amy
Author's note:  This really sucks.  <g>  But it's written, anyway.
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Spike dropped the flowers carelessly by the headstone.  He looked at it for a
moment and then sat down on the grass, his eyes dark, talking quietly to her.
To himself, really. 

The full moon glowed overhead, luminescent, and the vampire stared up at it
as he rambled on about nothing.  He heard the snap of a twig behind him and
jumped up, prepared to fight whatever was coming. 

He lowered his arms in surprise when he saw who was there.

"Hey," Oz said, sticking his hands in his pockets.  He narrowed his eyes,
looking at Spike.  "What are you doing here?"

Spike glanced down.  "What're *you* doing here?" He paused at his own
stupidity and then coughed.  "I mean, mind your own business."

Oz stepped forward.  "Were you.. Were you talking to Buffy?"

"So what if I was?"  Spike countered defensively.  "Why do you care?"

"I just wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen if for myself," Oz sighed,
sounding tired.  "I mean... Willow wrote me and told me that you...  But I
just couldn't really picture it."

"Well, yeah."  Spike shrugged and sat down again, picking at the grass.   "I
don't really know how to believe it either.  Sorta sick, if you ask me, but
there.  Real.  Hey, aren't you a werewolf?"

"Yeah."  Oz sat down at the foot of the grave next to Buffy's.  "But I
learned to control that a more than a few years ago."

"I was going to say you looked older," Spike smirked.

"Thanks."

"Anytime.  So why'd you come now?  Why not last month?"

Oz shook his head.  "I didn't get to spend any full moons with Willow.  Not
really.  She got to spend them with me, but... I just wanted to see where she
was, I guess.  I didn't think I could handle her funeral," he murmured
honestly, gazing at her headstone. 

"Yeah."  Spike nodded.  "I didn't go to Buffy's."

"Buffy was buried during the day.  I was there for that one."

"So?  I could've gone.  Indirect sunlight, you know.  Trees all around.  I
just... I couldn't really..." Spike trailed off uselessly, his mouth growing
tight.

"No, I understand.  Well not about the you and Buffy part.  But about the
other thing."  Oz took his eyes off Willow's grave marking long enough to
glance at Spike.  "Do you have a soul now?"

"Not really," Spike muttered bitterly.  "Although now I care when the shit
hits the fan, and I don't understand.  Now I care about Buffy.  I loved her. 
Still do.  And the more I contemplate it the more it pisses me off.  So I
just try not to think about the soul part.  But, other things bother me too. 
I felt it when your witch died.  Felt it because she loved Buffy too, felt it
because she was there for me after Buffy was gone.  She was a good woman.  I
liked her."

"I liked her too," Oz said softly.  "She was an easy person to like."

"I suppose.  So I don't know about the soul thing.  Because when I knew my
place, I was amused by your girl, but could've killed her in a heartbeat." 
He smiled when Oz raised his eyebrows dangerously.  "Sorry, but it's true. 
But later... Later I didn't even want to.  So what does that make me?  A
soddin' human?  Someone like Angel?  Not like Angel, not if I live to be a
thousand.  But not like me.  Not anymore."

"So what do you talk to Buffy about?" Oz asked after a moment.

"Nothin'.  Anything."  Spike lifted his shoulders.  "I tell her about Dawn. 
She writes me letters sometimes, about her life at college.  She thinks she's
in love with some twerp she goes to school with.  She told me she's bringing
him home for Christmas.  Like I'd want to meet him even if I did celebrate
Christmas.  I still think she's too young to date."

"She's twenty."

"So?"

Oz smiled.  "Okay."

"What were you going to talk to Willow about?" Spike countered.

Oz became silent.  He looked down at Willow's grave for a long time, his eyes
sad.  At length, he exhaled heavily.  "I wasn't going to talk to her about
anything.  Not that I can think of.  I just...  I just wanted to be near her.
I haven't been near her for so long.  I would send her postcards from the
places I went and she would send me letters... I wanted to tell her things
but there wasn't ever enough room on the postcards for me to get it all out. 
But I thought maybe it was safer that way.  Still, her letters were long and
she always told me she missed me at the end, that she loved me.  But she
loved someone else, too, so I couldn't come back.  And then I came back too
late."

Spike's voice was rough.  "Yeah, well..."

Oz nodded.  "Yeah."  After a while, he cleared his throat.  "You going to be
here long?"

"Probably.  When I come, I usually stay until almost sunrise," Spike said. 
"Why?  Want me to leave?  Because I won't, you know."

"No.  I just wondered if you minded the company.  Because I'm not going
anywhere either."

"I guess not."  Spike looked at Buffy's headstone again.  "Stay if you like."


They both fell silent, two ill-assorted allies, sitting in the darkness of
the cemetery.  And the moonlight shone above them.


The End