His Choice

Author: Devadata

Rating: PG

Spoilers: I guess Grave, but not really.

Summary: This is a short, one-chapter fic. A summary would ruin it, so let's just say it's depressing, full of Spike, and a little bit different.

Disclaimer: Not mine… blah, blah, blah… Mutant Enemy… Joss… Don't sue.

A/N: I wrote this in about an hour and a half time span (that's really short for me). Please excuse typos or mistakes, but I really wanted to get this up. Please let me know what you think.

Spike slowly walked down the pathway to the beach, his eyes locked on the female ahead of him. He couldn't help but smile as she lifted the hem of her skirt and danced around the waves that rolled over her bare feet. Her hair seemed to be a combination of shadows and light in the moonlight instead of its usual rich gold. Her skin seemed almost silver, reflecting both the moon and the ocean. Even bathed in silver, she made him think of a sun goddess, and the thought made him chuckle at the irony of it all.

As Spike continued his walk towards her, he took a moment to look around the small island they had found themselves on. Andros. It was serene and calm, even at the peak of tourist season. Just off mainland Greece, it was one of countless islands they had visited that year. He had promised to show her every bit of land on the planet, and so far he had been making good on that promise.

They had started the present journey on Crete, island hopping as they made their way up to Athens. They tried to stop in every town and village, or at least drive through them. They avoided the tourists and kept to the locals. She hated that. He was always telling her that tourists took away from the personality of a place. She always argued that tourists were now part of the personality of a place. She had decided to let him win the debates of this journey, but he knew she wouldn't let him continue to win once they got to Italy. Fortunately, they had a lot more islands to visit before they even began to plan the next country on their list.

"Baby, there you are!" Spike was taken out of his reverie by the smiling voice of his love. She was now walking towards him, a large smile covering her features. He picked up his pace, and was wrapping his arms around her slender waste in a few short strides. As her hand came up and entangled themselves in his hair, he leaned into her neck and kissed the soft skin he found there.

He unwrapped her arms from around his neck and started to guide her down the beach, one arm possessively around her waste. She intertwined her fingers with that hand and wrapped her other arm around him, leaning into his body. They walked leisurely, relishing in the feel of each other's arms around one another.

"Where were you?" She whispered the words. He had learned by their second island that the waves had a great calming effect on her, and she was always afraid that her actions would break the serenity of the Greek beaches. On their late nightly walks, little would be said, and what was would always be said in a whisper.

"Just grabbing a bite to eat, pet."

"I like the food here."

"Preferred Khios myself, had a bit of a Turkish tang to it."

"The food there was good, but the blood here tastes of history."

A cloud moved over the moon, blanketing the couple in complete darkness. If anyone had been looking out their window at that moment, they would have seen four sudden yellow glows, shining out into the darkness.

Spike wrapped his arms around his love again, and buried his face in her hair. The strong smell of vanilla and that smell that was distinctively her washed over him and he couldn't help but sigh, eliciting a giggle from the girl in his arms. She always found it amusing when he breathed.

It had happened when they had been on vacation for their one-year anniversary. In reality, it was more like their three and a half year anniversary, but they had spent so much time fighting and staying apart between the time they first got together and when they had actually got it together that they had decided to start the clock that day. The day she said 'I love you,' and he was able to say it back without the guilt that ate at him since his trip to Africa and the gift (or was it curse?) that the trip had brought him.

He had surprised her with a trip to England. To London, to show her his hometown. He had arranged for her to get time off work, for one of their friend's to stay at the house, everything was planned for. It had been a complete surprise and she loved it. It was on their second last night there when it happened.

For some reason, they were in Sheppard's Bush. There was a bar there he had been told was fantastic. As they walked in the less than friendly neighbourhood towards their destination, he could feel her hand tighten around his. Pausing, even though they were in the middle of a street, Spike turned to face the nervous woman on his arm.

"What's wrong love?"

 "I don't know. I have a bad feeling."

 "I'm sure we've seen worse on the Hellmouth than anything that could be here."

 "I know, but I still don't feel right."

 "Let's go back to the hotel then."

 "Are you sure?"

 "Of course I'm sure. You're a lot more important to me than a bloody bar."

 "Thanks."

They had turned around and headed back towards the Underground. Just outside the entrance to an alley, she had paused.

 "I love you, you know that right?"

 "I love you too. What's gotten into you?"

Before she could answer, he knew. He hadn't heard the men come up behind them. He didn't react quickly enough when her hand was wrenched from his own. He somehow was unable to see the gun in the other man's hand before he was shot in the stomach. As he fell from the pressure of the bullet ripping through his stomach he saw through hooded eyes as she fell to the ground, hands covering her own stomach. He didn't even see the two men run off with her purse, the smell of her blood overwhelming his senses.

There was so much. It was everywhere. And it was hers. And it was all coming from the knife wound that the first man had ripped through her gentle stomach. Spike crawled over and pulled her unconscious form into his arms. He could hear her heartbeat slowing, and the only thing he was able to do was whisper in her ear and rock.

 "No, no, no. It's going to be all right, baby. It's going to all be fine. You're all right. You have to be. I can't lose you, not now. Not yet."

As he whispered the words, his only option became clear to him and he slowly leaned towards her neck. His human masked melted away, even as tears streamed down his face. They changed from clear water to red blood as his demon came forward. He bit into her neck, covering the familiar spot he bit whenever they re-claimed one another. Her blood didn't taste the same this time. It was full of pain instead of love. After he drank as much as he could bear, he brought his own wrist to his fangs and ripped it open violently. He brought the limb to her mouth and let the dark fluid flow into her mouth. When he had given all he could afford to give, he dragged them to the nearest sewer entrance and hid them away in its protective darkness.

He cried until she rose. Then cried again when he realised she was soulless.

As he felt her wiggle out of his embrace and walk towards the ocean he allowed himself a moment to feel sadness for the events of that night. For the past thirty years, he had been with his love. And he hadn't regretted it since that first night when she awoke with her demon mask on and a raging hunger. It was funny how he chose her over the goodness he had embraced for her.

She beckoned for him to join her. He was immediately at her side, and pulling her into a deep kiss. They wrapped their arms around each other and continued their walk down the beach.

He would always choose her over his soul.