An unseen light illuminated her red hair as her green eyes turned upward to gaze at him. A smile played her lips at the sight of him, but as he reached out to touch her she slumped into his arms.
He looked down in horror as blood began to cover his hands and he pulled her weakening figure up against him, supporting her. As he did he looked past her and saw the scale covered dark clawed hand drop the dagger it had used to slice open its unsuspecting victim. Its red eyes caught his and the light bounced off its white fangs in time with its deep-throated laugh. His first instinct was to chase it, kill it for harming the girl bleeding in his arms, but as it disappeared into the inky blackness she became his only concern.
He pulled his T-shirt off trying to use it to stop the flow of blood. Its blackness was soon soaked in red. Blood was everywhere, on his hands, his arms; her life force was slowly seeping into the cold earth.
"Hang on Red," he begged as he wrapped her limp form into his duster, trying to use it in the same way as the shirt.
"It's okay Spike," she began to mummer as she raised a blood soaked hand to his face. With growing horror he realized she was covered in a layer of her own blood and still it oozed out of her. A thought struck him, how could someone so small lose so much blood? Blood was everywhere, it seemed to cover his entire field of vision.
The jacket was soon soaked and her eyes were beginning to glaze. Her head turned from his as if she couldn't stand to have him watch her die.
"No, Willow look at me. Look at me," he begged, "Good now listen to me. You have to hang on. I'm not going to let you die. You're not going to die."
He clutched her to his chest and started to rise when she went entirely limp. His sharp hearing heard her heart beat its last and he sank to his knees.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" the scream ripped through his throat as he rocked her back and forth keening. He cried her name over and over as tears washed his undead face.
Spike's eyes were open, as they had been for the last five nights. The hardness of the tomb under his back slowly came to him as the dream subsided. It took him a full minute to realize he wasn't still trapped in the unending haunting nightmare.
The next thing that struck him was his own weakness, a strange wrung out sensation that covered his body. Pangs of hunger rolled over him and with slight shock he realized he was slowly starving.
Memories of the last five nights came back to him, the dream playing over and over in his head causing him anguish. He also patchily remembered coherent times when he'd tried to get up. Why?
Willow have to get to Red. Where would she be? With Slayer. Where Slayer? Watcher, watcher is... His face contorted as he tired to shift through his waning memories. Finally he was able to recall Giles' face. Yes, Giles will know what is causing this. To save Red, must go Giles.
He wavered as he got to his feet, they felt like lead while his head felt so light.
Willow looked up at him, her red hair illuminated by an...
"Noooo!" he howled trying to shove the nightmare away from himself as he weaved towards the door. Wait is it night or day? Why the bloody hell do I care the sun can end this pain, no have to save Red. Have to warn Willow. Watcher, get to Giles.
He glanced at one of the cracks in his crypt. It was as dark as...
...his blood soaked T-shirt. There was blood everywhere, on his hands, his arms; her life force was slowly seeping into the cold earth.
A weak growl escaped his lips as he ripped the door opened. He stumbled out into the night weaving a path that would take him to Giles' apartment.
"No, Willow look at me. Look at me. Good now listen to me. You have to hang on. I'm not going to let you die..."
He slumped against the lamppost, gripping it for support. He chided away the pain that threatened to sink him back into the oblivion of the nightmare and stumbled onward.
...her heart beat its last and he sank to his knees. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" The scream ripped through his throat as he rocked her.
The woman he'd stumbled into jumped, took one look at his screaming figure, and ran. He began whimpering, keening a familiar name.
He cried her name over and over as tears washed his undead face.
With his last ounce of strength Spike slammed his fists against Giles' door. Weakened by his journey to the former watcher's home, his hunger, and the gnawing fear for the girl in his dream he began to slide to the floor.