A/N: I don't own Sirius , or any other Harry Potter related things. There is no Slash in this story and it is rated PG-13 for suicidal thoughts. This is from Sirius's point of view.

Prologue:

Everyone has secrets. Life would be boring without secrets. Don't you think?

Sirius Black had a secret. About himself the night of the Potters' deaths. A secret he never told anyone, one that he took to his grave.

.......................

I heard the motorbike roar to life. I could smell the exhaust fumes as it began to fly away. I didn't watch it go. I couldn't bear to look at my godson after what I had done to him. He would grow up alone now, never knowing his parents, because of me.

People would be coming soon. The destruction of a house, the death of two people, and the fall of a dark lord would not go unnoticed.

So I transformed and made my way back to my house. It wasn't far away. When I reached it, it was cold, dark. The windows were empty. Empty, that's what I was, just a shell of my past self.

I slowly entered, and turned on the light. It illuminated most of the room, including a picture. In the picture they stood smiling and waving at me. Showing trust and care, which I had betrayed.

Sweat cascaded down my face. I couldn't look at it, but I couldn't move my gaze. A rage swept through me. I kicked the table the picture stood on. It crashed to the ground, and I took the picture and began pounding it into the floor. The glass shattered, and cut my hands, but I continued beating it to the ground. I began to cry. So hard I couldn't breathe. My lungs felt like they would burst as they thirst for air. I took in a breath shakily. I put my hand over my eyes and the blood mixed with the tears as they fell down my face.

I sat there, breathing in, and tried to get what happened straight in my head. In one night my life had shattered into a thousand pieces. It was as if an unseen force had ripped my heart from my very chest. I was a murderer, a killer. I might as well have been the one who killed them. How blind I'd been! Suddenly I knew what I had to do.

The knife glinted in the light. It was beautiful. I couldn't live with myself, knowing what I had done, what I could have prevented. I deserved to die, to fall into darkness for my sins. Then go to hell and feel eternal torment. I held the knife to my chest and apologized.

I apologized to Remus, for suspecting him, to Lily and James for bringing their deaths, and to Harry for taking everything from him and leaving him.

Feeling began to disappear. It was emptiness. I began to make the fatal stab, and my mind strayed to times of freedom. Times when we ruled our world and lives, and times of the closest brotherhood. James, Remus, Peter... Peter! How I had trusted him, befriended him. The emptiness began to fill. With hate. Loathing, disgust began to be my life source. No, I wouldn't die tonight. That would give him satisfaction. He'd get away with murder. Voldemort would return. I knew it deep I in my gut. And when he returned Peter would rejoin him, and they'd kill Harry.

I was supposed to be a guardian I'd have to protect Harry, and kill Peter. I smiled at the thought. I'd never used an Unforgivable curse, but I knew I could do it. You had to wish with all your being to cause death and pain upon a person to use it. You had to enjoy it. I would relish the moment. I would go to Azkaban, but it would be worth it. Peter would pay. James and Lily would be somewhat avenged. I dropped the knife. It clattered to the floor. I picked up my wand and left.