by Nightbird

They would have swum had not someone so convincingly explained that the reflections of the moon on the water were streaks of industrial mercury. So moonbathing, firebathing. Night is the time for translucent white flesh. - Snowdome, Bernard Cohen.

The full, white moon illuminated the darkness, reflecting off the gently moving waters of the lake in streaks that promised a silver coating on the skin of anyone who dared to enter it. A light flared in a darkened corner and the moonlight fled from just that corner, chased by an un-natural darkness.

Spike nudged the richly dressed dead body lying by his foot and lifted the cigarette to his mouth, before releasing a plume of smoky air. He stepped out on to the soft grass and surveyed the landscape in front of him. The moon could not help but to be attracted to his hair and face, rather like a magpie to a piece of a mirror, it came running back, caressing them with it's silvery gold light, promising it would never leave him again.

A muffled thump followed by a giggle came from around the corner. Spike smirked and walked further out into the moonlight,

"Dru? Drusilla? Pet, come to Spike."

Drusilla wandered round the corner, her lips reddened with blood, blood that had been part of a living, breathing human just a short while ago. The moonlight picked up the highlights of silver in the silken dress that rustled across the soft, damp grass and danced off the pale child woman features that adorned her face.

She stopped a few steps in front of him and stared at the moon streaked lake for a few minutes. Spike stepped towards her and slid his arms around her waist, her petite body moulding with his own through long familiarity,

"Did you enjoy your dinner, pet?"

Drusilla tip her head back against his shoulder and smiled, a dainty pink tongue slipping out past her lips in order to get at the last traces of blood that covered her mouth,

"Mmmm, she was so sweet, she was quiet too, didn't make my ears hurt. The moon was in her eyes when she said goodbye to me."

Spike chuckled and nuzzled at her pale neck,

"As long as you are happy princess. Now, do you want to go home?"

Drusilla stared up at the moon and then slipped out of Spike's embrace. Spike relaxed and watched as she danced on the grass in front of him, skirts flashing as she twirled, dainty feet encased in small shoes barely ever on the ground. One last twirl and she was back in front of him, a hand on each side of his face,

"No. I want to moonbathe."

Spike stare at her,

"You want to what?"

Drusilla laughed, a delicate, silvery laugh,

"Moonbathe, See where the grass is silver? That's moon water. Come on."

Spike watched as his princess stripped off her clothes and moved to the grassy spot that she had indicated. He paused only to admire the way moon caressed her dancing body, turning the pale skin a translucent silver before his clothes hurriedly joined hers.


They lay together on the grass, having danced in the light from the moon shining down on them. Spike propped himself up on one arm and smiled down at his princess. Her dark hair was spread around her head like an unholy halo and the moon was in her eyes as she stared into his face.

Dipping his head, Spike pressed his lips to hers. Tongues met and duelled, the tang of unfamiliar blood was tasted, skin melded with skin, unnecessary breaths were taken in and let out in long, shuddering sighs as stars danced and the moon covered their entwined bodies with it's light.

In-between kisses, husky voices whimpered, screamed and told each other about their love, well known valleys and plains were rediscovered and explored, peaks were reached and fallen over accompanied by tensed muscles and fireworks. And still over head the moon stayed, giving light to its dark children.


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