I strolled away from the bed flicking my sixth fag out of the window, pacing back and forth along the wooden floorboards rather than sitting back down. The latter worked as well as the previous, I still couldn't calm down. 6 cigarettes, 1 flask of vodka, 2 packets of blood that tasted like scum, and 1 long conversation trying to show Dawn that I was fine. She didn't believe me. I was still trying to figure out if it was the chain smoking or the shaking that was misleading her.
“Spike?” a voice whispered from the doorway. Red.
“What do you want.” My words sounded slightly slurred and they shouldn't have. Wasn't even near 1 bottle's worth of liquor in that stupid thing.
“Is this what you came up here to do? Get plastered?”
"Keep your voice down pet. People are trying to sleep.” I turned from her, looking for where I had placed the carton of cigarettes.
"What did you see Spike?" I didn't turn around. I couldn't tell her about it. No one was supposed to have seen Buffy like that, so lost. "Spike, what did you see in the vision?"
I felt a force; it twisted me around until I was staring into her eyes, but the eyes weren't eyes. There were only onyx orbs glaring at me. "You have to tell me what you saw. I can not stand being so close to getting her back to lose her again. If you make me go through that I will kill you myself, regardless of how much Dawn would miss you. So tell me Spike, what picture did you get?"
"Alright, alright. Make your eyes stop going all odd like that." She blinked and the black was again replaced with normal gray. "She was in a fire."
"Goddess no, she's in hell. How did this happen? She's not supposed to be in hell." She was sputtering. She hadn't sputtered since years ago. The lost years as I refer to them now.
"It was blue though, not fire fire. Kinda like propane, but more natural looking. She was in the middle of it. Black dress on, long, bell shaped sleeves." The low cut didn't need to be mentioned. "A cross too, she was wearing this cross. Green arms red center. Looked like a gem. Oh, and on a sleeve, there was an upside down J in red."
"Good, this is all good, I think anyway. Can simplify what needs to be researched. Anything else? Could you see her face, or did you just know it was her." Her face marred by rivulets of blood. Slowly dripping. Downwards. I didn't want to tell her, it was too horrible. But she was right; she would kill me for Buffy. I would kill her for Buffy. We would kill ourselves for Buffy.
"She was crying blood. First she was laughing, and then all of these bloody drops were falling out of her eyes. They were all over her cheeks Red. I don't know what it means."
She was hugging me, why was she doing this. It wasn't until she started rubbing her fingers over my cheekbones that I realized I was sobbing. "We'll figure it out Spike, we have to."
"Yea, we definitely do."
