Title: Wolf Moon
Author: Karen
Email: Coe42@aol.com
Distribution: Anyone nice enough to ask.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A Willow/Spike Romance
Feedback: Always!!!!
Disclaimer: I do not own anything but the plot. Joss owns the rest. Selfish Joss.

The ocean stretched out, endless. Blue skies arced perfectly over cool water and the sun beat down on a lone figure. The dark of his great leather trench and his coal black pants contrasted sharply with the purity of the light and colors. His white blonde hair never moved in the breezes that whipped across the water. The man's black boots remained untouched by the swirling water as he stood on it like some ancient sea creature. The perfection of this man in this place should have brought him the serenity others spend lifetimes seeking. It should have made his heart swell and his eyes shine with peace and love, but all it did was annoy him.

"Well come on. Let's get this over with." Spike hollered to the only oddity in the perfect scenery.

The moon hung full and glowing. The sun sat opposite, golden yellow reaching out to cool white. This, and the fact that he hadn't been burned to death in the toxic rays of sunlight, led Spike to believe something was afoot.

A feeling made Spike turn. Oz stood there. His body was young, thin, like a memory from the Sunny Hell years. The eyes were not a memory. Age and knowledge burned torches behind the green. His hands were balled at the sides of a faded yellow concert shirt.

"Do you think I miss the daylight?" Spike's words ran with contempt.

Oz blinked, tilting his head. "Oh," he waved his hand around, distracted. "I didn't choose the setting. It isn't important."

"What is?"

Oz glared at the three hundred year old vampire. "It's all messed up. Get her out of here. She can't be here now, not now. This is a Slayer's town."

Warmth from the sun touched Spike for the first time, the vampire equivalent of the heebie-jeebies. Spike felt his blue eyes frost over. The her, of course, was Willow. "What do you care? If you hadn't noticed Oz, it's no longer your problem."

"Why? Cause she's a vampire?"

"No. You're dead."

Oz hung his head. "You want to know why I am really here, Spike?"

Spike leaned in to hear him. Oz's fist slammed into Spike's face. The power behind it knocked Spike off his feet. He collapsed into the water. Through the mist and the glaring sunlight, Oz stood above him a grim smile plastered to his face.

"To make contact."

Oz faded away. Spike sank into the water. The darkness was welcoming.

Willow coughed herself awake. Her throat was dry, with an oddly familiar metallic tang. Last night burned its way to the surface. She lay in a small balled up heap, desperate to be home with Oz, or dead. Leaning over the side of the bed, Willow threw up last night's victim.

Spike found her, a half an hour later, fully clothed, in the shower. Water had soaked her red hair to a deep burgundy. Her eyes were wide and confused. Willow reached out for him. Spike took her hand and let her drag him in to the shower. His great arms encircled her as the water poured down.

Disturbed, Spike lifted the slight woman out of the bath tub. < Was she going mad? > This had never happened to any of the others he had made. A memory of his dream last night slid past his eyes as a flash of green and red sparked in the mirror.

Settling Willow into another room in the decrepit mansion, Spike stood on the balcony. The moon was a sliver in the sky. Somehow he had expected it to be full. The night was quiet. Stars reigned high in the heavens and a beautiful woman lay quietly going mad in his bedroom.

He shivered. The night was warm, a perfect example of a California night. Who would think, after three quarters of a century, Spike would return to Sunnydale. The place held nothing but nightmares and bad memories. Defeated again and again by a smart mouthed blond and her pep squad. Spike's lips curled into a dark smile as he remembered exactly who his new love was, captain of the pep squad.

Time to hunt. Spike leapt over the rail and fell catlike to the grass. Stuffing his hands into the trench's great pockets, Spike moved off on to the streets. He'd bring something back for Willow.

Willow climbed out of the thick red blankets. She stood shakily. Her stomach was empty, hungry. She clamped down on that need with a fierce disgust. This was not how she imagined being a vampire would be like. < Why don't I just go out and kill my family like Angel did? >

"Angel . ." The voice was so much younger than Willow remembered. The name had slid easily off her tongue. Angel, the vampire with a soul. He had hated everything he had done. "Am I like Angel?" Willow spotted a cloth covered shape in the far corner. She approached it cautiously. The cloth fell to the floor and Willow gasped.

It was a full length mirror bound in dark wood. Scrollwork ran in wonderful detail down the sides and ended abruptly at clawed wooden animal feet. The wood was glossy and dark, the surface of the mirror whole. The shock was within the mirror. -A vampire casts no reflection.- Giles' voice echoed from the past. -Angel? How do you shave?- Her own voice was filled with curiosity. There was an image in this mirror.

Willow's hand reached out to touch the cool surface. It met its twin. A very young, very frightened Willow stared back at her from within the glass. As she had done in her home with her renewed youth facing her, Willow touched her face. "A vampire casts no reflection."

A young girl dropped to the filthy pavement. The alley wouldn't mind one more piece of trash. Spike wiped the blood off his chin before it could spill onto his clothing. He moved to leave the alley and stopped short of the street opening. Surprise ran through him. It was a redhead, that wasn't the surprise. The pile of dust at her feet and the stake in her hand caught Spike's attention.

"This is a Slayer's town."

Spike moved deeper into the alley.

The image was faint, transparent. Willow continued to study herself. She was paler, and a darkness had crept into her wide green eyes, even her smile had a hint of cruelty. The tears that wound their way down her face were the only traces of humanity left to her eyes, tears and a flickering image of who she used to be.

-Cast no reflection. Cast no reflection. Cast no reflection.- The words ran rampant through her brain. She was a vampire. Vampires did not cast reflections. Add it all up and it equals a reflectionless Willow. Too bad her reflection didn't seem to be up on its logic. Willow recovered the mirror.

Angel had been a vampire. Angel had a gypsy curse. Okay, Angel had been a vampire with a soul. Angel had no reflection. Willow was a vampire. She had no gypsy curse. She had no soul. The demon should have taken over by now. Had it? Was this what it felt like to be possessed? Because if it was, she still felt pretty Willowy.

The bedroom door was thrown open. Spike entered. He smiled for her, but there was a wildness to his eyes. Willow moved closer to him. Spike grabbed her and sat her down on the bed. He looked her deep in the eyes.

"What does your family have to do with Slayers?"

Willow blinked. < What a strange question! > "N-not much. I helped Buffy. She didn't want our kids involved." Her daughter hadn't even known Buffy was the slayer until she died.

Spike frowned. Then a smile washed the look away. He stuck his hand in the trench and pulled out a blood packet. Willow stared at the thick, dark red fluid with a mixture of hunger and disgust. Spike shook the bag invitingly.

"What is it?" Willow asked, knowing it was blood. < Then why ask? >

"O-Negative."

"What?" Willow tilted her head. "Why?"

"It's the universal donor, baby."

Willow laughed. She felt her fangs slide down and into place. This she could drink. No one died for this meal. She tore into the plastic and sucked it dry almost like a juice box. It was cold. It chilled her stomach and made her feel light headed. She felt odd for a second, then viciously tore into the second packet. When it was gone, she was still hungry. It wasn't enough. Willow wanted something warm, something alive.

Spike suddenly found himself with an armload of redheaded hacker. Her arms were clamped tightly around him. It was good he had no need to breathe. His hand stroked her hair. Willow seemed to be changing over to demon slowly. She would be hunting soon enough. Spike wouldn't really relax until she did.

A redheaded slayer was on the streets. She would find out about Spike soon and then Willow. Willow had to be ready to kill long before that. He wasn't losing another girl to those damned slayers. The red hair still bothered Spike. The girl had looked so similar to Willow. Spike hoped to whatever listened to vampires, that the slayer wasn't a blood relation.

The mirror in the corner caught his attention. Standing slowly, he disentangled himself from Willow. She curled up on the bed. Her eyes followed him. Spike glanced at her. The mirror seemed to disturb her. Tossing the sheet aside, Spike stared into the empty glass.

Long ago he had used a burnished piece of metal to shave. He had long since tossed the metal. Vampires had no use for mirrors. Usually he took great pleasure in smashing all the mirrors in a house. Why had he not smashed this one? Spike didn't remember.

The room stared back at him in perfect reverse. Willow sat up and moved to his side. She was staring wide eyed at something in the mirror. Spike blinked. A shadowy image of Willow lay within the glass. Spike's jaw dropped. Willow squeezed his hand. But within the mirror her hand encircled another man's hand. Within the mirror Oz stood. His eyes glowed green and his red hair matched hers perfectly.

Spike's fist slammed into the mirror. Glass rained down. The wooden frame behind the mirror splintered. The image of Oz and Willow was destroyed. Spike grabbed Willow to him as hundreds of pairs of green eyes glowed in the broken shards glittering in the candlelight.

The sun rose. Spike stared down at his sleeping Willow. A small smile lay gently on her face. She looked so innocent, so young. Spike twitched a stray red lock into place. Spike glanced down at the countless glass shards littering the carpet. Someone would have to clean that up.

The shards glittered. Spike blew out the candles. The shards continued to sparkle. Spike stood, shocked, as light burst out of each shard. One by one the little lights swirled around, meeting, dancing. Firefly light swirling in the dark combined. A form coalesced.

"Leave me alone, can't you?" Spike growled as two fireflies cooled to green light.

Oz stood brilliantly before him, a being of mirror light. He moved towards the bed. Spike growled.

"Stay away from her, mate."

Oz glanced at him. "I'm no threat. I can't even touch her." Pain clouded his voice.

Spike almost felt sorry for him. He didn't. His icy blue eyes bore into the dead dog's light filled green.

"Stop it Spike. I'm not here to steal her away. I've messed things up. I shouldn't have done it."

Spike watched Oz turn to the smashed mirror frame. Green eyes bore into the smashed wooden frame. It was almost as if Oz saw something in the splintered wood. Oz turned to regard Spike. "Amy." He breathed. His body exploded into particles of light. The lights crashed to the ground in a violent hail then faded away like dying embers.

Spike awoke with a start. Damned thing had been another dream. He lay next to Willow. Spike felt the sun sinking. His spirits sank with it. There were things that needed to be done and said. Words must be spoken. Willow rolled over. Green eyes opened slowly. A slight smile crossed her lips. Spike sat up on the bed. He felt angry. He felt confused. And frankly this second coming of Oz was getting on his nerves. Spike touched Willow's red hair. The words could wait.

The night air was cool. Spike cursed himself a coward for leaving her. She had been undead for such a short amount of time and Spike had spent most of it avoiding her. This was not working out the way he had planned. The only thing to do was kill the slayer. It felt right. It was what a vampire of his caliber did. Killing always cleared his head.

He found her in the park. She sat on a swing. Spike watched her move slowly back and forth, before approaching. Her eyes latched onto him. They were green, intense. Spike leaned against a pole. A stake appeared in her hand.

"Spike."

Spike half bowed. She knew his name. He knew her identity. "So," He began casually. "You're the new slayer. I bet you 've heard a lot about me. It's all true, especially the part about how many slayers I've bagged."

Fear crept into her eyes. Spike watched her viciously clamp down on it. Composure returned. The girl recovered quickly. Spike wanted to be impressed. He really wanted to, but he wasn't He was too old and cynical for impression. Also her resemblance to Willow was disturbing him.

"Are you here to kill me?" Defiance flashed causing gold flecks to appear in her eyes.

"What's your name girl?" He demanded.

"Why should I tell you?"

"So I can contact your next of kin." If it turns out to be Willow I am royally f - Wait! What the hell had that wraith said last night? Spike leaned closer to the girl. A smile touched his lips as she shivered. "It doesn't matter." Spike moved away.

The girl got to her feet. A stake appeared in her left hand. "I'm not afraid of you."

Spike snorted, amused. Then he spoke, spacing the words for effect. "Oh. You're. Not. Afraid."

Her green eyes flashed. She didn't like his tone. That was good. Anger made slayers slip up. Made killing them so much easier. Spike's arm snaked out latching on to her throat. Surprised, the stake dropped from her hand. He lifted the slight girl into the air. Her eyes widened. She knew she was caught.

Spike laughed. "This is what the Watcher's send to challenge me? You're not even out of diapers yet!"

"I may be young, but I have something the other girls' didn't." Venom coated every word.

"And what, prey tell, is that?" This girl was starting to bore him. Best to kill her and get back to Willow. She would be worried. And if the holy water she drank before the change had maddened her, well he'd had crazy girlfriends before. Hell, he preferred them.

Spike's grip slipped on the girl's throat. Her voice rang out unobstructed. "I have a touch of the devil in me." Her eyes flared. Then she threw back her head and screamed. The sound was mutilated, half a howl. Spike released her in shock. She dropped like a stone. Her body stretched, clothing burst and fur erupted everywhere.

Spike backed away. "Bloody hell! You're not supposed to be a werewolf!!! That's cheating!!! I mean it's not even the full moon! How is that fair?"

Not one to stand on ceremony, Spike whipped out a switchblade. Silver glinted on the edge of it. There was no doubt who's kin this was now. Spike slipped off into the woods. If he was lucky the slayerdog would get bored and end up hunting rabbits.

Willow was reminiscing. She seemed to be doing that a lot lately. Maybe being young again automatically dredged up the feelings and memories of when you had actually been young. It was some kind of natural defense against her being so unnaturally young, forever. "I'm going to be a teen forever. Oh yuck."

She forced her mind to move out of the distant past. Willow thought of the family she and Oz had made. A laugh escaped her as memories of Oz changing diapers and her filling bottles. Pure will power dragged her mind even further towards the present. Conversations with her children then with her grandchildren, all whirled around in her head. In her mind's eye she was aging, in the small chunk of broken mirror in her hand she remained young and transparent. A sparkle touched the corner of the mirror.

Willow brought the mirror closer. Light flashed. < A candle lit reflection? > The light streaked across the glass surface. A hint of green touched it, as it settled firmly in the center of the fragment. Curiously, Willow stared. A smile brightened her face as an overwhelming urge to hit the internet and research strange light phenomena surfaced. Her smile intensified the light. It began to spread outward to the edges of the mirror.

Spike crashed down. The scent of crushed grass jumped up, clouding his senses. A ball of very angry fur crashed down on top of him. Mud splattered all over him as they began to slide down a hill farther into the woods. Surprised the slayer wolf girl jumped free. Spike continued to tumble until a tree stopped him the hard way.

No doubts, this girl was of Willow/Oz descent. Werewolf and slayer all rolled into one red haired easily underestimated girl. She was probably damned good with a computer as well. Also, she was moving in for the kill. Spike rolled left as a heavy paw tore half of the tree trunk. Splinters of wood escaped like a murder of crows. Spike skittered in the mud, half sliding half running. < This is doing wonders for my tough guy reputation. >

Light exploded into the room. Willow covered her eyes. She could feel the light swirling around in the room. It was almost physically oppressive. The scent of wild green things swirled into the room. Willow sneezed. A soft laugh brought her up short. Her hands fell to her sides and her eyes blinked in the light.

The room was bright as day. Willow felt the warmth tingling all through her. It smelled as if hundreds of flowers were piled everywhere. Pain seared behind her eyes. < The light's burning me! > A confused noise escaped her as she dropped to the floor and covered her eyes.

A breeze drifted past her ears. It sounded almost like whispered words. Frightened, Willow began to pull her hands away from her eyes. The breeze blew more strongly and this time she almost understood the words. She knelt quietly in the center of the room. Silence filled the room. Then the breeze stirred again.

This time the words were clear and frantic. "Don't open your eyes."

Shock coursed through her. "Oz?"

Willow felt as thought the breeze was laughing at her. "You'd recognize me anywhere."

"But you're dead."

"Everyone keeps saying that. Listen Wil, I don't have much time left. Spike needs you. Go to the woods. Willow . ." The wind was dying. His words were fading away.

"Oz! Don't go! Please. . ." < Why would my husband want to help Spike? >

"Because he loves you." The wind breathed. "I don't ever want you to be alone. Willow, I love you. I'm sorry. Go." The breeze brushed past her lips. Warmth burned leaving traces of its, his kiss.

The room cooled. The night forced its way back into the room. The air filled with dust and the smell of wood. Willow slowly uncovered her eyes. The room was dark and so cold. Standing, she shivered. An image of the woods burned into her thoughts.

"Spike?" < Spike needs you. > Willow ran out of the mansion.

Spike faced the great shaggy slayerdog. Her eyes burned with intelligence. Spike glared into the feral orbs. The great head tilted, regarding him coldly.

"Oh, you want to kill me, don't you?" Spike held onto his silver coated switchblade.

The beast exhaled. Her breath wreaked of raw meat and old blood. Her eyes narrowed. The great head dipped slightly, a nod if Spike ever saw one. A growl escaped the fanged lips. Spike resisted the urge to run. He was a killer. She was a child in a killer's body. He had the slight advantage of advanced age and he liked to kill. This whelp probably cried every time she had to eat a hamburger.

"Nothing personal? Business as usual? Or something else? What do you know dog?"

Amy snarled again. This vampire was definitely going down. Amy had read all about him. She knew about his crazy dead Drucilla and his sire Angel. Amy had scoured every watcher diary for little bits of information. Nothing was too arcane. She knew he had once been William the Bloody and she knew how he had earned the name Spike. She knew that Buffy, her grandmom's friend had been a slayer and she had helped Buffy fight evil. Amy also knew that Spike had been in her grandmom's room the night her body disappeared.

< How could he feed off her? She was just an old woman. Willow hadn't been a threat to anyone! She was only the most wonderful grandmom! > Amy had been so proud when Michael, her watcher, had shown her the pictures of her grandmom and Buffy. It had been a shock to find out that Granddad was a werewolf. A shock and a relief. It was all in the diaries of Buffy's watcher. The file on her grandmom alone filled a whole diary. Rupert Giles had praised her and Great Uncle Xander and Great Aunt Cordelia's efforts against evil. And this monster before her had killed that wonderful cheery woman. The only person she could have told about her being a werewolf and the slayer.

< Now I'll never have anyone to talk to about this. I am alone, because of you. > Amy raked a paw across Spike's face. He tumbled backwards. Amy made a satisfied growl and lunged for his throat. In this state she would have to decapitate him. < The bloodier the better. You son of a Bit- > Amy screamed. The blade of his knife was wedged into her shoulder blade. It was like ice in her veins. She cried out again as he tore it out. Maddened, Amy launched herself at the platinum haired bastard.

Spike could feel his flesh hanging off his face. The whole right side was torn. Thick blood dripped onto his shirt. Blood from the slayer made his knife slick. He was hard pressed to keep a hold of it. The rancid ball of fur crashed down on top of him. She tore chunks out of his chest. Spike felt the flesh tear loose. The blade stabbed in retaliation. It tore her arms and Spike tried to get it in position. The heart was the only stab that would count. < Ironic, a vampire making for a heart shot. >

"Can't we talk about this?" Spike hissed. "We're booth creatures of the night? Yeah I know that sounds lame, but you are tearing me limb from limb here!!" The knife touched her chest. Spike plunged it in as deeply as his torn flesh would allow. But it was no good. The heart was about six inches to the right. This was not going to end well.

Willow slid down the hill. Her senses were alive with the smell of fresh meat and blood. It tore at her insides. She wanted to chase whatever it was down and suck it dry. The moon was bright over head, it wasn't even first quarter yet. A pang in her heart reminded her of the moon chart they kept above the bed. Shaking the memory away, Willow rushed towards the smell.

"Spike Needs you."

"I know. I'm coming. I'm coming." Willow moved to quickly and slid down a muddy embankment. At the bottom she screamed.

Amy's head whipped around. Her eyes latched on a solitary figure in the moonlight. A muddy white shift covered the slight form and red hair tumbled wildly about. It was the eyes that stopped her cold. They were wide, frightened and yet brave at the same time. But the most important of all, they were green like grass, like Amy's own eyes.

Spike lay spent in the mud. The scream that rended the air, stopped the relentless tearing the shewolf was inflicting. Cuts sealed themselves, flesh reknitted, and bones mended whole. But he was weak. The wolf would see that and finish him off. Then she would kill whoever had had the misfortune of stumbling upon his slaughter. No witnesses. It was just as well. This was a humiliating way to go. Flat on your back, killed by a baby slayer.

Glancing up, Spike was shocked. The wolf was gone. A slight girl was straddling him, completely naked. Blood streaked her milk-white skin and blended in the moonlight with her red hair. She was staring off into the distance. Never one to miss an opportunity, Spike knocked one of the girl's legs out from under her. She toppled easily into the grass and mud.

Her eyes were wide with shock. Spike felt his human visage fade. Fangs slid into place. This girl was lunch. The girl never moved. Her body was extremely pale and still. As Spike moved closer, her lips moved.

"What's this? Last words?"

The girl wasn't seeing him. Her mouth moved again, the word crisp and clear. "Willow."