The moon, full and heavy with her beloved child, shown down palely upon an ascetic's bed of reeds. Brackish water stood mirror still, waiting. The nighthawks had almost given up hope of anyone disturbing this sanctuary and stirring up their prey when finally, in a burst of whispered silence, someone appeared.

Pale as his goddess, slender as the reeds he'd come to serenade, the interloper approached. Solidly fluid water rippled as he fell to his knees, luminescent tendrils of fine hair tangling in their hollow stems.

The desperation that followed drove the moon from her night sky. Pain so sharp and hungry it ate at her very soul made this eternal mother cry for mercy and forgiveness, though she'd done nothing wrong.

A lone pleading wail trailed her as she fled.

"I want him to die."

•••

Spike knelt in the dank swamp water, ignoring the way his boots were filling with mud and detritus. These plants were his father-confessors, stoic witnesses to the darkness that was his soulless self. Here, where the wind did not dare to pass, where the moon merely glanced, he could pour out his vampire's heart without fear of reprisal.

"I want him to die," Spike choked out, tears streaming down his face to pool with the other wastes. "Gods damn me, he has to."

Sharp nails ripped away alabaster flesh, leaving bloody ribbons all around, draped over the marsh like macabre crepe paper.

"Every heartbeat... every breath. They taunt me. He's dying. Falling apart." Blue eyes turned to the night sky, searching for stars and hope. "And I'm not. In a year, tomorrow, before I find him again. He'll rot away."

/And you would trade his blood warmth for a demon?/

"I want him, however I can get him," Spike answered his own mind. His existence depended on this one thing. He loved Xander with an intensity that made him cry. Of late, those tears were joined by ones foretelling the boy's end. Every kiss brought the pulse of life, a rhythm that reminded Spike of how this would all end--quickly, by his standards.

/Then why are you here, bowing before the universe? To beg forgiveness? Ask for absolution? For what purpose, if you are so unrepentant in your desires?/

Defiance flowed away like so much silt. "It's not your forgiveness I need." No, he would never forgive himself. A vampire could live with many things, so his own nod was unneeded.

/What makes you think anyone else can offer his?/

"He would, eventually." When hell became a pleasant vacation spot. >

/Before or after he brushed your remains off his hands?/

Yellow flashed upwards as Spike shifted into a more brutal mask. "He wouldn't."

/Wouldn't he? You think he would./

"But he would still be here. Not dead." Spike cursed his thrice-damned mind for feeling guilt. He was a vampire; such issues were nonissues to him. If he wanted to turn his lover, so be it.

/Such brave words, from such a small man./

"Fuck off!" Spike screamed. Birds scattered, insects stilled, and stars blinked out one by one. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

/Funny you should ask.../

"Spike?" Xander waded out to where his lover was kneeling in the muck. "It's getting early; the sun's about to rise."

"Right." Spike shoved his mental conversation aside, exchanging it for paying attention to his lover. The vampire followed Xander out of the marsh, to where the boy had parked their car. It was time to retreat to somewhere with a less open view.

/Don't be a stranger. I'll be waiting.