In that split second, when he heard the groan and whimper, he just knew. Sure, he wasn't starving and on the verge of lashing out on an entire city of innocent people, but it was still a Mitchell. Spike took a second to himself - a small moment to close his eyes, let out a small sigh at his bad luck and then gritted his teeth - before he put his other hand on the man's other shoulder, successfully grabbing him and pulling him closer. Just so that he could get a damn look at the other man, now that the light seemed to be fading.
His eyes widened as he found himself staring straight into an empty shell. No lungs, no heart. Fuck. What the fuck was he supposed to do? His nostrils caught the scent of blood, long since evaporated into thin air. How the fuck was he even standing, yet alone, alive? "Just stay with me, mate. I'm right here. Just focus on me." Urgency in his voice, with a hint of something more. Fuck. Why always him? Tentatively, he let go of the man's shoulder and tried to cover a far too big a hole with his hand - which was trembling like a leaf.
Finally, a finger pointed at the young blonde. "Get the doctor. Bruce Banner's the bloke's name. Get him. And that Maryanne. And ..." Spike racked his brain for the right name. He'd known about Annie, but he wasn't even sure if she was there. "George. His roommate. Get them."