He wasn't supposed to hurt like this. His heart no longer beat and, therefore, wasn't supposed to feel. This was no virus; he couldn't puke it out, live it out, or anything else. He couldn't attribute the pain he felt to his chip. As the very girl who caused his tears had told him time and again, he didn't have a soul. Yet he couldn't stop feeling as though his whole world was gone as it lay, broken and unmoving, unbreathing, a few feet away from his own body. Buffy was gone; he wished like Hell he'd gone with her.

The End