They reach a room in the west wing of the mansion. Angel opens the door and Spike takes Buffy into the room and lays her on the bed.

"Bandages. I need some bandages. At least let's get this bleeding stopped."

"Downstairs. There should still be a first-aid kit in the kitchen down there."

Spike exits quickly and Angel sits down on the bed next to Buffy.

"My dear, sweet Buffy. What have I done? I'm not your protector anymore, am I? I guess no one will be now. But Spike, he was there for you when I wasn't. Why? Why did I leave you? If I had stayed, this wouldn't have happened. You would still be alive. Now look at you, in my old house, dying on my bed. Why now? Why here?" A single tear rolls down his cheek.

Spike runs down the stairs, still trying to keep from losing control in front of Angel. He reaches the bottom and turns abruptly, slipping on the blood covering the floor.

Blood from both the creatures and Buffy. HIS Buffy. Never. Never again. I can't look at blood again. I'll think of her. I'd rather die first. Waste away to nothing before I touch that stuff again.

He wheels back around and sees the creature that stabbed her lying on the floor in the pieces he cut it into. Suddenly, that's not enough.

He walks back over to it and picks the sword back up and begins stabbing it more. Over and over again. He just keeps cutting and slicing, hoping that it will bring Buffy back. Buffy. I have to get back to her. I can't survive without her. Not now.

He runs to the kitchen, rummages through the cabinet, finally finds the kit, grabs it, and runs back up the stairs, using his newfound strength of anger and pain.

Torture, that's what it is. Worse than actual torture. Even Angelus' torture sessions would be better than this. He runs faster and faster up the stairs. He must make it back before she leaves him for good. There's so much I have to say still. She can't leave without knowing…