In The Night
by Amberina

When the sunlight fades
And the day turns to night
When the moon hangs in
The darkened sky
That is the time
That is when I come to you
That is the time
That I hold you
In these moments I know
That this is not right
But does it faze me?
No, not in the night

He comes to me when it's dark and the moon looms overhead reminding me of what I am. Boy. Man. Human. Werewolf. Gay. Straight. I am everything, I am all, yet somehow, when in his arms, I am nothing, and yet I am more. "Me" and "him" disappear, and it's just "us," and it doesn't matter if we're boys or men, humans or werewolves, gay or straight, we just are and it's amazing. We lose ourselves in each other, and we forget, at least for awhile, who we really are.

Oz. Giles. We're one in the same during those magical midnight hours, but during the daylight, things are different.

When the sun beats down brightly on his glasses, and they reflect the light into my eyes, he looks at me with a tinge of guilt coloring his beautiful hazel eyes. Or are they green? Maybe they're green in the daylight hours, but at night they are a rich brown that fades to gold and eventually to a pale, haunting greenish-blue that gives me chills. During the day, though, they're probably just green, with guilt making them darker, more complex. He feels guilty about our relationship in the daylight hours. He thinks he's taking advantage of me. What he doesn't know is that I'm taking advantage of him.

When the sun hangs in the sky like an angry fireball ready to crash down on our lies, I am Oz, Danny to my parents, and I am Willow Rosenberg's boyfriend, recent addition to the Scooby Gang, guitarist for the Dingoes. I am this and I am that, but at night, I am no longer. I disappear into the passion, and I crave that. I use him for it, I use him for the passion.

There's guilt in the daylight, but in the night, there's sex, and there's the melding of two bodies and it doesn't matter anymore.

Nothing matters when I'm in his arms.