Title: With Every Decision

Genre: Drama/Angst/Horror

Disclaimer: We own nothing of the jossverse, we just play with it.

Spoilers: Read the Prologue.

Reviews: Readers Rock but reviewers rule!

Spike crawled through the now non-barriered doorway. The energy field had dispersed as if it hadn't existed. He pulled Buffy's limp body into his lap and cradled her gently as if the mere act of holding her would miraculously bring her back. Tears streamed down his face as he caressed her bruised and battered face. Trembling fingers touched on the torn throat, ineffectually pushing the ragged edges together knowing that it was useless. She was gone. A howl of rage and pain erupted from the grief-stricken vampire. He didn't understand. Was he insane? Had he finally snapped? He knew what he'd seen. He'd seen himself killing Buffy. It wasn't possible. But it had happened. Sobs racked his slender body as he bent over his beloved slayer. He ran his shaking hand through her long golden hair.

"Buffy, I'm sorry. I didn't do it. I swear. It has to be a spell. This isn't real. It can't be real! Oh God, please." He buried his face against her lifeless shoulder and gave in to his grief. He wasn't sure how long he sat there. Time had no meaning. Finally the chill in her body sank into his heart. He was sure he'd never feel anything again.

Rational thinking finally seeped into his grief. The slayer's body was in his crypt. If the Scoobies found her there, they would assume he'd done it. But he hadn't. He'd seen himself do it but he knew… He broke of that round of thinking. That way led to madness. A bitter chuckle broke from his raw throat. He was mad already.

He had nothing left. His reason for continuing to exist was lying cold and dead in his arms. He could feel the dawn creeping in. The new day was beginning. The first day he would have to survive with out Buffy. No! He couldn't, wouldn't do it. There was no living without his slayer. Ever so gently he placed her on the floor. He took extra care to keep her head from bouncing on the hard surface. He straightened her clothes and made sure she was as presentable as possible. He pressed a soft kiss on her forehead. Fresh tears spilled as he remembered her last words. "I…love you."

"Oh, God, Buffy. I love you too. I'll always love you." He whispered. He left the crypt and got on the roof. He knew the sun was only a half an hour away from rising. He sat on the tiled roof and waited. Unfortunately it gave him time to think. He went back over the horrific events. He saw himself again draining his beautiful slayer. He saw the realization of what he'd done dawn over those almost familiar features just before he'd winked out of existence. It had to be a spell of some sort. Who hated him enough to do such a thing? He realized that there were too many questions unanswered. He dropped off the roof of his crypt just as the first rays of the sun touched its edges. He moved purposefully into the crypt to pack, avoiding even a glance at the still body on the floor. He dropped to the lower level and threw everything he wanted to keep into his duffle. He'd always traveled light, keeping his mementos to a minimum so it didn't take long to pack. He tore a page from his journal just before he stuffed it into his bag. Finding a pen, he leaned over his dresser to scribble a note.

'I've gone to find out what happened and why. I don't know who it was but I'm going to find out. I have to finish it for her. Don't expect me back until I have the answers.

Spike'

He took the torn paper up to the top level. He saw her body once again and his hand tightened convulsively on the note. Distracted, he dropped the incoherent missive on the sarcophagus and turned away before he could succumb to tears again. He felt dried out and old from the grief. Feeling deader inside than he'd ever had in all his long unlife, he dropped back down to retrieve his belongings. He never noticed the wadded paper rolling slowly off the sarcophagus and dropping down out of sight behind it.

TBC …