Master Vampires have Feelings Too
1 - Grit
Spike couldn't believe it! “Those, those ... Scoobies!” he yelled at the moon as he tromped through the cemetery. How could they go around claiming to be all “white hat-y” and be so MEAN? Saying such hurtful things. What had he ever done to them? Oh sure he tried to kill them a time or two, who hasn't? And it's not like they haven't tried to stake him.
“Bastards.” Spike fumed pushing his crypt door open. He jerked his duster off throwing it away from him as if it were to blame for his agitation. He ran his hands through his hair gripping it in frustration. A flurry of ashes rained down. “Fucking fledges.” Spike muttered looking down at his grungy clothes.
Shaking his shirt just seemed to rearrange more than dislodge it. Spike could feel the grime settling on to his skin. Great now he wanted a bath. “No bloody plumbing. Stupid crypt.” He trudged across the room the room and flopped on to the bed. Spike tried to relax and ignore the irritation.
Gritty and craving a soak he jumped back up. “Fuck it.” He had a couple of dollars worth of quarters he'd head down to that all-night laundromat.
The things a vamp has to do for a shower.
The double-long shower left him feeling reborn and he couldn’t bring himself to wear his grody jeans and shirt.
So with a purloined towel wrapped firmly around his hips, Spike rummaged through the seemingly-abandoned laundry in the last two dryers nearest the washroom while darting glances at the door and huge windows that lined the front wall. While Spike would not be embarrassed at being seen in only a towel, he didn’t relish the thought of trying to defend himself while covered in only a towel should the owner of said towel return and find him still in it.
A few minutes of scrounging turned up a faded red t-shirt that was ridiculously soft and only a little snug on him. Spike didn’t find any jeans but there was a pair of black track pants; the waist was a bit big and they slid down to hang off his hipbones. Not to bad for all that.
Spike woke from a day’s sleep in a decidedly better mood but still a bit...twitchy. No matter, spot of blood’ll fix that. He grab his newly acquired clothes off the end of the bed and pulled them on.
Spike rummaged around in his footlocker for a duffle. He was going to haul his clothes over the Watcher’s and make use of his washer. If old Rupert objected, Spike would just make a nuisance of himself till he caved.
Spike sauntered up to Giles’ door as he flicked his smoldering cigarette butt to the side. Throwing open the door, the bang announcing his arrival, the smirk firmly fixed on his face, he greeted the assembled do-gooders. “Oh no, don’t get up on my account. Researching the latest nasty are we?”
Rolled eyes and a couple of “Heys” greeted him. Not letting the lack of reaction bother him, Spike hitched his duffle higher and turned toward the back of the house and headed towards the laundry room. Looking around, but not spotting the Watcher, Spike tossed his duffle on to the dryer top and fiddled with the washer settings.
“Let’s see, Council-approved Original Voodoo-Lye formula, guaranteed to get out even the stickiest demon gore. Hmmm, smells like hospital disinfectant and moldy magnolias. And the neon green bottle is ... Gain, tropical something or other. Well it’s not an Apothecary’s Best but - *shrugs* it’ll do.”
Having poured a capful and a bit Just to be sure. into the already-running washer, Spike upended his duffle and shook out his clothes. Satisfied that there weren’t any t-shirts trying to escape a washing hidden in the bottom of the bag, Spike slammed the lid and went in search of his breakfast.
In the kitchen Giles was fussing over his tea. “Spike,” he nodded at the vamp before turning back to his drink.
“Watcher,” Spike greeted, heading for the refrigerator where he began to rummage for the blood packets he knew were in there somewhere. Here blood, here, come to Spike.
“Do make yourself at home, Spike,” Giles commented wryly as looked up from his steeping tea. Having accepted the fact that his refrigerator would never be neat again, he only sighed a little over mess the vampire was undoubtedly making.
Spike heated his meal and left the kitchen to see what the others were up to. He was in the mood for a good fight. Seating himself next to Xander, Spike watched the group over his mug. Giles and the witches were quietly working away, murmuring back and forth. They act like they’re in a library The boy was flipping through a book of his own but didn’t seem to be really reading it. Spike glanced at the text and grimaced. No bloody wonder that’s enough to send anybody into a coma.
He finished his blood and was feeling a bit unsettled. He felt overly hot though the night was relatively cool. Spike stood up and stripped off his duster and slung it over the arm of the couch. Without the heavy leather on, Spike felt mildly better. Still feeling vaguely twitchy, he fidgeted with the waist band of the unfamiliar pants he was wearing.
Feeling like there were eyes on him, Spike turned to find Willow staring at him. She flushed and ducked her head back down. “See something you like, Red?” Spike asked resting his hands on his waist drawing attention to the strip of skin where his shirt didn’t meet his pants.
“No, um...new clothes Spike?” the witch smiled at him a bit looking like she wanted to ask something else.
“I couldn’t very well walk around starkers while I washed the others, now could I? Wouldn’t want the Watcher to get mad at me ‘cause you lot are to busy drooling on his books to research,” Spike replied with a smirk. She shot him a bit of a grin and turned back to her books.
Spike flopped back onto the couch settling into a sprawl limbs just brushing Xander’s. He watched from under his lashes as she peeked at him from the corner of her eye. Trying to be all sneaky. He rolled his shoulders and sunk a bit deeper into the upholstery. Got to keep an eye on that one. Little witchy is up to something.
A/N
I know they don't do this every where but in Alaska most laundromats have showers. You pay $2, $2.50 for a 20-30 min shower. So no, he is not going to hose down in the parking lot or ride around in one of those industrial washers.
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