"When I finally get you are so dead." Buffy said as she ran after a rather large green, slimy demon through one of the many Sunnydale's graveyards.
Suddenly the demon stopped and turned to face her. Caught by surprise Buffy dropped her guard. In that instance the green and slimy demon picked her up and threw her into a near by tombstone, causing it to shatter. She lay unmoving, unlike the blur that charged at the demon from the side. By the time that Buffy sat up the demon was nothing more than a disgusting pile of goop. And, standing above it, wielding the battle-axe that she had been carrying, stood Spike.
Spike reached a hand out to her. "Slayer, no time for sittin' down on the job." he smirked.
Buffy angrily battered his hand away and stood shakily.
"Spike. This is the absolute last time that I tell you this. Leave Sunnydale now. I can't do my job and worry about some stupid, idiotic completely useless demon at the same time. Don't tell me that you love me '' she said, reading the look in his eyes '' Because you don't you can't love another Spike. You’re a worthless pile of nothing. Now leave before I stake you."
As she looked up at his face, she was shocked to see that he had tears in his eyes. William the Bloody, The Big Bad, was on the verge of tears.
"Fine. Your wish is my command." he said shakily, desperately trying not to cry in front of the slayer, in front of Buffy, the woman who had stolen his unbeating heart.
And with that he stalked off in the direction of his crypt.
It wasn't until she was tucked up safe in her bed that she realized that Spike still had her Battle-Axe.
"Bloody bitch! After all that I did for her, after everything that I did, and she still treats me like I’m nothing! Well, that’s the last time. I’m out of here.” Spike said as he threw the last of his things in to the back of his Desoto.
He took one last look around, then opened the car door and slumped in the seat.
“Goodbye Sunnyhell, and don’t except me to return. Ever.”
And with that Spike pealed out of Sunnydale, shattering the quiet night with the squeal of tires on asphalt.
Spike refused to stop for anything
‘Gotta get to him. Gotta get to him.’ Was all that he thought through the entire 3-hour trip.
Finally, exhausted, he pulled up in front of the Hyperion Hotel.
“Bout bloody time” he muttered as he pulled a small bag out of the trunk, closed it, and walked to the hotel doors and paused for a few seconds before he pushed open the doors and entered and promptly fell face first inside, out cold.
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