Disclaimer: No characters introduced to this point are owned by me, however, if I did own Spike, I would working hard on getting him in a TV Series of his own.
Stumbling into an abandoned warehouse, Spike collapsed against the nearest wall. He was nearly covered from head to toe in blood, most of which wasn't his own, which left a crimson print where he was leaning against the side of the steel building.
Bloody hell, this burns, he thought, reaching down to grasp a two foot long section of wood and iron that jutted out of his abdomen. He had taken the spear while fighting a group of those pig-faced warriors that the Senior Partners had sicced on them after they had brought Wolfram & Hart and the Black Thorn tumbling down.
At first the fighting had been unreal, as hordes and hordes of, well...things, descended upon them. Angel had taken to the rooftops almost immediately after saying something about going for a ride, while he, Gunn, and Illyria played with the mass of nasties that were flooding the streets and alleys around them.
He lost track of the other almost immediately as they were quickly overwhelmed by a sea of foes. About ten minutes into it, he saw Illyria down an alleyway holding an axe in one hand and a severed head in another. That had been over thirty minutes ago and he hadn't seen any of his comrades since. More than likely, they were all dead...or wishing they were. If Spike knew anything about the Senior Partners it was that it was better to be dead than kept alive if they wanted to get a hold you.
Spike didn't plan on dying anytime soon though. He had tried that once and had found it rather...unfulfilling. He planned on going out the way he wanted, not on the end of a pig sticker.
Reaching down and grabbing the broken spear butt, Spike pulled as hard as he could. Instead of sliding out, it felt as if his insides were being ripped out.
It's barbed, he thought, as he looked over his shoulder at the foot long metal tip that jutted out of his back. It was needle sharp at the tip with jagged edges facing downward about a foot down. He knew he had about another foot in him, which meant it was probably barbed all the way through.
Taking a deep breath, Spike set himself, and the broke end of the spear, against the steel support beam that was in front of him.
Nothing to do but push it through, he said to himself matter of factly, though he wasn't totally convinced that was what he wanted to do.
Leaning forward, Spike pushed slowly, This is going to hurt like...
All Spike remembered when he finally come to on the floor was a blinding flash of pain and some distant roar. He had fell face first, onto his belly, which probably meant the spear was out, or at least almost. Forcing himself onto his side, he reached back and pulled it out the rest of the way.
Spike had been hurt bad before, much worse than this. Glory had put it too him harder than any of these bloody piggies had and then there had been that time in Croatia... It wasn't the pain or even the gaping hole in him that bothered him; it was the fact that it would slow him down.
If he was going to take these bloody blokes down or even fight his way out of here and try to regroup with the other, if there were any others, he would have to heal quickly. It wasn't like he had any choice in the matter, yet if a little puppy had walked into that warehouse, Spike was positive there was not much he could have done to stop it from licking him to death.
Pulling himself up against the wall, Spike listened to what was going on outside. He had killed all of his pursuers before he had stumbled in here, however, he could hear the sound of armor and the howls of the demon hordes getting closer again. He wouldn't have long before they would find him.
A sudden noise at the back of the warehouse forced Spike's attention back inside. He could hear someone, or something, poking around. It had to be to be the bad guys; no one in their right mind would be out here with what was going on in the streets.
If he was going to die, he was going to do so on his feet. With a stifled grunt, Spike pushed himself up, using the wall for support more than the feet, pulling the broken spear, the only weapon he had on hand, up with him.
The sounds at the back of the warehouse continued and they were getting closer. They must have been tearing the place apart look for him because they, he assumed more of those pig faced demons, were grunting and squealing and throwing things all over. This went on for about a minute before it stopped as abruptly as it had started.
Spike strained to listen, however, he heard nothing unto a voice spoke out in front of him.
"Hello William." Came the gentle voice of a woman, "I've been looking for you."
Spike had been right, no one in their right mind would be out and about with what was going on in the streets, unfortunately, that was no problem for the woman who stood before him.