A/N: Thanks for the reviews. Only a short chapter here but I thought I'd better update, more next time I solemnly swear.
His scream was loud and piteous, some part of him knew that but the other, more insane part of him (that seemed to be taking over at that moment) really did not care.
Looking around panicked, all he could see was white for a few moments and it did nothing to calm his mood. He looked down at himself and saw he was in a bed; his arms were flailing about still in a state of shock.
It had all been a dream. Yet it had seemed so real. He had felt Buffy's face sink beneath his fists, felt the gristle and cartilage in her nose crunch.
His breathing was laboured and sweat poured down his forehead, heartbeat pounding in his ears. Where the hell am I?
Looking down at his hands Spike was surprised and frightened to see a long needle stuck deeply into a vein in his hands. He wore a hospital gown and the whiteness suddenly made sense. He was in hospital. Vampires didn't need hospitals.
His eyes widened. It all hit him at once. His heart was pounding against his ribs. His breathing was shaky and panicked. He was sweating.
He hadn't experienced any of these things in over a hundred years.
Spike turned to the side and screamed in terror as he saw the summer sun beaming through the window directly onto him. He thrashed about wildly, kicking the side of the bed and bruising his foot painfully. His bucking frame sent the bend tipping over and Spike tumbled to the floor, hitting his knees and side jarringly hard, before curling up into a little ball still screaming.
He was still in the path of the sun he realised. Not gonna burn, not gonna burn. Spike dragged himself over into the corner of the room where it was dark and safe, wailing like banshee.
"Spike! Spike!" A voice called "Spike, are you okay?"
He pressed his hands to his chest, feeling it rising and falling. This is not happening. It's another dream, it's another dream. I know it. I KNOW it. A trickle of sweat ran down his face and he swiped it away furiously before hiding his face in his hands.
He kept pulling in deep un-needed breaths. You're a vampire, idiot. You don't need to breathe. Yet every time he tried to stop his lungs would burn and he's be forced into gulping in the air.
"Spike?" A hand on his shoulder "You're okay. You're fine. Somebody get a nurse! Dawn! Go get a nurse now! Go!"
Nurse? He didn't need a goddamn nurse! He was a creature of the night; no medical profession could cure that.
The hand on his shoulder slipped up to his forehead, gently pushing his curls aside. The touch was soothing, a calming gesture. Spike looked up into Buffy's green eyes then at her hand. It should have felt hot to the touch. Her touch usually set his cold skin on fire.
Spike raised a hand to his own forehead. He was burning up! It was impossible. He clawed at the hospital gown, desperately. Buffy tried to stop him but he slapped her hands away. He pulled the gown down over his shoulders and torso.
His hands went immediately to his chest. Over his dead heart. Except it wasn't dead. Not anymore. It was pounding like the beat of a drum.
"No!" He roared hoarsely.
He started clawing at his chest, just like he had done years before after getting his soul. It couldn't be true; he had to cut it out.
"Spike, stop it!" Buffy yelled grabbing his hands.
He tried to shake her off but she held his wrists in a vice-like grip that he couldn't weaken in the slightest because he was weak. He was weak now, just like everyone else. Spike bowed his head and sobbed, he felt blood sluicing down his chest and the pain seared through him like acid.
She leaned over him, hands still gripping his, and pressed her forehead against the crown of his head. Buffy pressed her lips against his forehead, then his temple.
She whispered in his ears as he shook "Shh, its okay. I'm here. You're okay. Calm down, okay? We...you'll be fine"
Spike knew that wasn't true. He wouldn't be okay. He would never be okay again.
"You're alive, Spike" Buffy murmured "You're alive"
And that was why.