Hope shifted her weight, eyes staring blankly out into the storm. She wrapped her arms more tightly around herself, praying for Willow or Dawn to get back. The mansion was cold, dark, and the air felt heavy. Her eyes drifted down to her shirt, her hands. Both were covered in blood. Slowly, she turned, her eyes staring down at the thick puddle of red liquid in the middle of the room.

She felt sick.

She turned away quickly, closing her eyes. She could stomach slime and goo just fine, but blood was a whole different story. The stuff had always made her queasy, and the fact that she was covered in it was starting to make her uncomfortable. She couldn't stay there.

Looking back up and out the door, she prayed that she would see either the headlights from Willow's car or hear Dawn's footsteps. Neither. Her eyes slowly drifted and she stared blankly in the direction Spike had gone in. He had been gone mere minutes, she knew, but it felt like hours. She clenched her hands into fists and looked down at them.

Blood.

No, she couldn't stay there. Glancing quickly in the directions Dawn and Willow had disappeared in, she turned and headed in the direction Spike had gone.

----------

Spike couldn't remember carrying anything so heavy in his entire existence. The unconscious Slayer in his arms felt like she was weighing him down and his feet felt like anvils. No matter how hard he tried, he didn't think he was running fast enough. Thunder roared in the sky above him, but he failed to acknowledge it. He couldn't. All he knew was Buffy was dying and if he didn't hurry…

He ran faster.

The hospital seemed further away than he remembered, but the second it came into view he put on an extra burst of speed. He silently cursed the automatic doors as they slid open slowly, forcing him to slow his stride to avoid crashing through them.

"I need help!"

Everyone in the waiting room looked up. Spike was standing there, soaked from head to toe, holding the limp and bloodied form of the Slayer. It seemed like an eternity before a small group of doctors came out, one pushing a stretcher.

"Sir. Sir!"

Spike shook his head as one of the men tried to pull Buffy from his vice like grip. He blinked. "What?"

"We need to get her in the ER now." The doctor barked, trying once more to take the girl from him.

"Take her…" He closed his eyes. Buffy. They wanted to take her. Away. Take her away. "Uh…"

"Sir! Do you want us to help her or not?"

He opened his eyes. "Wha…? No. No, you have to help 'er. Please…" He suddenly loosened his grip, nearly dropping the Slayer to the floor. The doctors grabbed her quickly though, lying her on the stretcher and making their way hurriedly towards a large pair of white doors.

Spike went after them, not leaving Buffy's side.

"You're going to have to stay out here." The female doctor of the group said, her voice holding a bit more sympathy than her male coworker's had moments before.

"But I…"

"Stay here." The male shot quickly, giving him a stern look.

Spike stopped in his tracks right outside the doors, watching absently as they swung closed. He continued to stare through the tiny window, watching as they wheeled Buffy down the hall and out of his sight. She was gone.

His eyes fell to his hands, covered in her blood. Even though his shirt was soaked through, you could still see the deep colored blotches on the dark fabric. He could smell her, her blood, her sweat. She was all over him.

But he might never see her again.

He felt his eyes prickling, tears forming in the corners. He killed her. He killed the only person he loved. After all these years, planning her demise, playing out how he would kill her in his mind, he finally did it. He killed Buffy Summers.

His knees gave out.

----------

Rain hurt.

That was all that was registering in Hope's mind. No, more like all she would allow her mind to register. The heavy drops of rain pounding against her arms and face stung, but the tiny amount of pain was enough to keep her mind from other things. She didn't want to think about how cold she was. She didn't want to think about how tired and dizzy she was. And she sure as hell didn't want to think about Buffy.

Well, until she had to.

The hospital came into view, and she was instantly shoved back into reality. Buffy was inside that building, maybe dead already, and Spike was in there, most likely blaming himself. But was it really all his fault? If you had asked her an hour earlier she would have said yes in a heartbeat, but now… no. Not after seeing the anguished look on his face. It wasn't his fault. It couldn't be.

"Spike?!"

Before she was completely in the door, Hope had shouted his name, her eyes searching frantically around the waiting room. They scanned quickly over the people in chairs before falling on the hunched over form in front of the ER doors. Spike.

He was crying, an older woman standing over him, her hand on his shoulder, trying to coax him into taking a glass of water. He didn't seem to acknowledge her, his head staying buried in his hands.

"Spike…" The teens voice trailed off as she muttered the vampire's name absently, her head tilting to the side as her eyes welled up.

"Sweet heart, come on, sit down."

Hope blinked. "Wha…." That's when she noticed the woman standing beside her, gripping her arm as she led her to a chair.

"Can we get a nurse out here?" The woman called, looking over at the secretary, then back at Hope as she pushed her down into one of the waiting room chairs. "What on earth happened to you…"

Hope stared at her for a moment, then looked down at herself. Well, would you look at that. Blood. Lots of it, too. Most of it was Buffy's, but now that she thought about it, there wasn't something quite right… Reaching down, she absently pulled up her shirt, revealing a long, deep gash across her stomach. Huh, didn't remember getting that. Come to think of it, she didn't remember much about what had happened at the mansion. It was all a big blur. She remembered seeing Buffy and Spike when she walked in, and then… oh, wait. "Spike."

Hope scowled as the woman muttered something about not moving, attempting to keep her in her seat. Pulling her arm away from her, Hope got up, now clutching an arm to her newly discovered injury. The woman tried once more to grab at her, but she easily pulled from her grasp, roughly shoving her hand from her shoulder.

"Spike…" Hope's voice trailed off as she pulled the woman trying to gain the vampire's attention away, then slid to her knees in front of him. She was afraid, to put it simply. She had never seen him cry before, at least not like this. He was hunched over, his face buried in his hands, his shoulders shaking as he sobbed. She slowly snaked her hand up to his hands, wrapping it around his and pulling it from his face.

The vampire looked up slowly, his eyes red. When they met hers, he sniffled. "Hey kitten…"

"Hey…" She replied, her voice quiet. When he didn't reply, she sighed, tightening her hold on his hand. "I'm not mad at you…"

"Should be…" He muttered disdainfully.

She looked down at the ground, shaking her head slightly. "I can't be mad at you, I love you too much…" When she looked back up, she found the vampire staring back at her, teary eyed. Giving him a small smile, she slid over and wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her head in his shoulder.

TBC…