Spike is soaked.
Head to toe no kidding here soaked. Every inch of him is soaked. His hair is dripping down his face. His duster is drenched and trailing along the floor because he's taken off his beloved boots and is now short enough for it to do so. Said boots are held in his hands and he's just tipped them up to pour out the water. Jeans are flared at the bottom and nearly covering his feet but tight at the top. Tee shirt is plastered to his chest and is so old it's practically see through. Socks are sopping wet and leaving little puddles on my nice tiled floor when he pads through the lobby.
Just what the hell did he do?
He stands there. Right in the middle. Direct centre. My boy always wanted to be the centre of attention. He also makes quite an entrance don't you think? Dripping onto my floor. Little sod. He knows that'll annoy the hell out of me. I was always one for perfection and neatness. And he's just strolled in here like he owns the place and pissed me off immensely. Its times like this I wonder why I turned him.
He spreads his arms and shows off his new look to me. No one else here but me. Guessing he knows that. He usually knows things he should not. He's not smiling or grinning or smirking that insane little smirk he's always had. Nope. He's simply standing there soaking with a pout on his face. Where the hell did he learn that?
Think he's expecting me to do something. Maybe talk to him? Yell at him? Beat him? Stake him? I'm not moving. Why am I not shoving a stake up his ass right now? My feet won't move. Pretty sure they should when I want them to. So why aren't they? God this is weird. We've managed to stand here for a total of twelve minutes and forty three seconds without yelling at each other. Think that's a record. What's even more amazing is that Spike's not moved.
That's weird. He always had to be moving. He's like a child. Always needs something to do. Something to keep him occupied while someone else dealt with the responsibility. It has always been like that. But he hasn't moved. Must really be waiting for me to do something then.
Not moving.
He looks down at himself then back at me. At least he's moving. Hey wait, so have I. Weird. I'm now sitting on the front desk in the lobby instead of standing in front of it. When did I jump up here? I blink and continue to watch him. He pouts some more and lowers his arms putting them behind his back. I watch as he lifts one of his feet and begins to trace wet little patterns with his big toe on my nice clean floor.
"I got wet."
I feel the need to applaud. Yet again Spike has taken the role of Captain Obvious in this little scenario. Okay now I really have to say something. Something smart. Something funny...Okay anything would be good in this situation.
"You came all the way from Sunnydale to tell me this?"
There see. Funny. Smart in the making an insult into a question sort of way. Okay who am I kidding? That sucked. I couldn't have just told him to piss off? No because that would make my life too easy. Now he's looking at the floor and still tracing those little patterns. Pout still plastered on his face. I swear he gets more and more like a kid every day. Wonder if he'll start a temper tantrum soon? Oh stop talking to yourself Angel Spike's making some form of communication. He just shook his head and continued watching his toe. Okay. More talk is needed.
"What do you mean no? Why aren't you in Sunnydale Spike? Why are you here?" Whoops. That sounded growlier than I intended, and I'm pretty sure he just lowered his head more. Maybe Spike isn't in the best of moods for this. Then why is he here?
"Demon was here. Killed it for Giles. Got wet." Good answer. At least I know he hasn't killed any of them. He can't and because he didn't lie. I can tell. It becomes an extra sense when you've known someone for their whole life. So the facts are. Spike is here. Spike killed a demon. Spike is wet. Right. Now why is he wet?
"Why are you wet?" He's still watching his toe. Why? It's not the most interesting part of him surely? Wonder why he's like this? Spike's never subdued. You can tie him to a chair, beat him senseless, burn everything he holds dear and he'll still laugh at you. Trust me, I've tried it.
"Demon had to be drowned. Took me over the bridge with it. Got wet." He's now said that three times. And I'm not annoyed. He seems too weak to be annoyed with. What could possibly have got him feeling so down? I've got to find out or it'll bug me for the rest of my unlife.
"What's wrong Spike?" He's now looking straight at me with those piercing blue eyes. There used to be so much emotion hidden there. Now nothing. God what's happened to you my boy? I've moved over to him now and I'm barely a foot away. He's just leaned backwards out of my space. Something is wrong with him.
"Nothing for you to concern yourself with Peaches." There's my nickname. There's my Spike. There's no venom in that voice at all. Now I'm worried. He shouldn't be talking like this. The real Spike would be smoking by now and flicking the ash deliberately onto my feet. I don't even think Spike has a cigarette on him. At least not one that's dry.
"Spike. I want to know. What's wrong?" He's looking back at the floor again and I suddenly realise that he's shaking. Why's he shaking? Something is seriously wrong with him. Spike would never shake or show any sign of weakness against me. I taught him not to.
"'M cold." He whispered still watching the floor. Not really aware of what I'm doing now, but I think I've got my hand to his forehead and I'm pretty sure my brain just registered that he is cold. Colder than vampire's usually are. I look down at him and watch a drop of water drip from his hair onto his nose. Down it travels to his chin where it pools up with three others before it silently plummets to the ground and makes a small 'plop' sound as it hits the tile. No wonder he's cold.
"Let's go get you some dry clothes." He shakes his head and more droplets plummet downwards.
"Haven't got any." He whispering again and I notice how now he's leaning towards me and not away like before. Before I know what I'm doing I've got my arms round his shoulders and I'm steering him towards the staircase. What am I doing? Someone please tell me.
He's still dripping when we get to my room and the shivering is still going on. I've moved away to get some towels and clean clothes and he's standing awkwardly next to my bed. I've put the clothes on my bed and grabbed a towel. We've somehow come to a silent agreement that no talking is needed as I peel off his beloved duster and throw it outside to drape over the stairway railing.
Starting with his head I'm now drying him off gently. When he was like this as a fledge I used to scrub so hard I'd almost rip off his scalp, but this is different and I don't meant the soul. He's sick and I need to look after him. It's part of the package when you're a Sire. The towel is becoming almost as wet as him, so it's been discarded and I've got another one.
He's got his eyes screwed up as I work on his face like a child again. Always such a child my boy. The drips lessen as I work my way down and quickly check his ears are dry. Soon he's holding onto the tops of my arms to steady himself as I wipe at his cheeks and quickly redo his hair again. Soon his face and hair are dry and I have to move on again.
I've lifted off his tee shirt and it's joined the towel from before as I begin work on his torso. He's still holding onto me but his eyes are open and watching me now. Watching as I rub small circles on his chest and mop up the wetness that I find. Move onto his arms now. Left one first. Start at the top and move down. Rub out the dampness and mop up the drops and smears of wetness left there. Move down the arm and go past the elbow down again to his hands. Work down them to the fingertips and make sure I catch all the water there.
Back to his other arm now and it gets the same treatment as the other one until it's perfectly dry. Spike's still watching me. He isn't smiling or pouting now. He's just looking...dazed. Probably wondering why I'm doing this. Aren't we all?
Back to his torso and under his arms now. He wriggles momentarily and I know it's because he's ticklish, although he'll never admit it to anyone. Soon we're back to watching as I go down to his stomach and catch the last few droplets there. Then he's stock still as I pause. Acting as if it didn't happen I gently turn him around and work on his back. He sighs slightly through the shivering and I know he's relieved that he has time to think of something to say. All too soon I'm down and we're back to the awkward pause.
Acting as if I'd thought this through I reach around him and unbutton his too tight jeans so that he's still facing away from me. I know Spike and I know he doesn't wear underwear, so this is easier for both of us. Soon I'm helping him wriggle out of the jeans and letting him regain his balance that he lost momentarily. I've thrown his jeans into the wet pile and watch them plop on top of his shirt. I vaguely realise that I'm holding his hips to steady him and I let go. Soon I'm working again. Quickly over his buttocks and down to his thighs.
It only takes a few minutes to do each leg. Sliding my hands up and down the smooth columns and catching the drips that are there. He's still shaking and he looks paler than usual. My poor boy. Soon his legs are done and I realise what a sight this must be. Spike standing in only his socks with me kneeling behind him drying him off. Yep, didn't think I'd be doing this today.
I help him lift his leg so I can take off one sock and now I'm kneeling beside him so he can use my shoulders to steady himself. Quickly dry one foot so he can catch his balance then it's onto the next one. Soon that one's dry too and he's completely dry. Still a bit damp, but mostly dry. And still shivering. I sighed slightly and picked up the clothes I'd found for him. They were my smallest clothes yet they'll still be too big for him.
He lifted a leg and I helped him into the sweats I'd found. One foot in, now the other. When he was balanced I pulled them up his legs from behind. Soon he was covered and I was able to move from my position on the floor. Taking the tee shirt I tried not to look at the way that my sweats were balanced on his too small hips like they were going to fall down at any second. Had he always been this small?
I quickly recovered and was helping him get on the too big tee. He lifted his arms like a little kid and when I let go and the tee shirt settled he truly looked like one. He was still shivering and it was unnerving me. I don't like this. Something is seriously wrong with him. When he sat on my bed and I helped him put on the too big socks I felt him tense. I looked up from where I was rolling up the too long sweats and watched as he looked down on the bed.
He was looking scared for some reason. I don't know why. Maybe the prospect of me in bed has too many bad endings? I don't know but he looked afraid. What's happened to you Spike? I sat on my side of the bed and pulled him next to me. He nuzzled into my chest and I felt him relax slightly. Pulling the duvet over us I let him snuggle into it.
Soon the room was filled with purring and I had no idea when it had started. Was I loosing it in my old age or something? Obviously not. Because I soon worked it out.
"You weren't in Sunnydale?"
He shook his head.
"There was no demon?"
Another shake.
"Why are you here?"
"Got wet."
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Yes this is random. I know. I wrote it after partying at my sisters wedding in evil shoes for 8 hours. I'm sorry. I thought of it. I wrote it. Tis what Higgy's do. Luv Higgy. xxx
Head to toe no kidding here soaked. Every inch of him is soaked. His hair is dripping down his face. His duster is drenched and trailing along the floor because he's taken off his beloved boots and is now short enough for it to do so. Said boots are held in his hands and he's just tipped them up to pour out the water. Jeans are flared at the bottom and nearly covering his feet but tight at the top. Tee shirt is plastered to his chest and is so old it's practically see through. Socks are sopping wet and leaving little puddles on my nice tiled floor when he pads through the lobby.
Just what the hell did he do?
He stands there. Right in the middle. Direct centre. My boy always wanted to be the centre of attention. He also makes quite an entrance don't you think? Dripping onto my floor. Little sod. He knows that'll annoy the hell out of me. I was always one for perfection and neatness. And he's just strolled in here like he owns the place and pissed me off immensely. Its times like this I wonder why I turned him.
He spreads his arms and shows off his new look to me. No one else here but me. Guessing he knows that. He usually knows things he should not. He's not smiling or grinning or smirking that insane little smirk he's always had. Nope. He's simply standing there soaking with a pout on his face. Where the hell did he learn that?
Think he's expecting me to do something. Maybe talk to him? Yell at him? Beat him? Stake him? I'm not moving. Why am I not shoving a stake up his ass right now? My feet won't move. Pretty sure they should when I want them to. So why aren't they? God this is weird. We've managed to stand here for a total of twelve minutes and forty three seconds without yelling at each other. Think that's a record. What's even more amazing is that Spike's not moved.
That's weird. He always had to be moving. He's like a child. Always needs something to do. Something to keep him occupied while someone else dealt with the responsibility. It has always been like that. But he hasn't moved. Must really be waiting for me to do something then.
Not moving.
He looks down at himself then back at me. At least he's moving. Hey wait, so have I. Weird. I'm now sitting on the front desk in the lobby instead of standing in front of it. When did I jump up here? I blink and continue to watch him. He pouts some more and lowers his arms putting them behind his back. I watch as he lifts one of his feet and begins to trace wet little patterns with his big toe on my nice clean floor.
"I got wet."
I feel the need to applaud. Yet again Spike has taken the role of Captain Obvious in this little scenario. Okay now I really have to say something. Something smart. Something funny...Okay anything would be good in this situation.
"You came all the way from Sunnydale to tell me this?"
There see. Funny. Smart in the making an insult into a question sort of way. Okay who am I kidding? That sucked. I couldn't have just told him to piss off? No because that would make my life too easy. Now he's looking at the floor and still tracing those little patterns. Pout still plastered on his face. I swear he gets more and more like a kid every day. Wonder if he'll start a temper tantrum soon? Oh stop talking to yourself Angel Spike's making some form of communication. He just shook his head and continued watching his toe. Okay. More talk is needed.
"What do you mean no? Why aren't you in Sunnydale Spike? Why are you here?" Whoops. That sounded growlier than I intended, and I'm pretty sure he just lowered his head more. Maybe Spike isn't in the best of moods for this. Then why is he here?
"Demon was here. Killed it for Giles. Got wet." Good answer. At least I know he hasn't killed any of them. He can't and because he didn't lie. I can tell. It becomes an extra sense when you've known someone for their whole life. So the facts are. Spike is here. Spike killed a demon. Spike is wet. Right. Now why is he wet?
"Why are you wet?" He's still watching his toe. Why? It's not the most interesting part of him surely? Wonder why he's like this? Spike's never subdued. You can tie him to a chair, beat him senseless, burn everything he holds dear and he'll still laugh at you. Trust me, I've tried it.
"Demon had to be drowned. Took me over the bridge with it. Got wet." He's now said that three times. And I'm not annoyed. He seems too weak to be annoyed with. What could possibly have got him feeling so down? I've got to find out or it'll bug me for the rest of my unlife.
"What's wrong Spike?" He's now looking straight at me with those piercing blue eyes. There used to be so much emotion hidden there. Now nothing. God what's happened to you my boy? I've moved over to him now and I'm barely a foot away. He's just leaned backwards out of my space. Something is wrong with him.
"Nothing for you to concern yourself with Peaches." There's my nickname. There's my Spike. There's no venom in that voice at all. Now I'm worried. He shouldn't be talking like this. The real Spike would be smoking by now and flicking the ash deliberately onto my feet. I don't even think Spike has a cigarette on him. At least not one that's dry.
"Spike. I want to know. What's wrong?" He's looking back at the floor again and I suddenly realise that he's shaking. Why's he shaking? Something is seriously wrong with him. Spike would never shake or show any sign of weakness against me. I taught him not to.
"'M cold." He whispered still watching the floor. Not really aware of what I'm doing now, but I think I've got my hand to his forehead and I'm pretty sure my brain just registered that he is cold. Colder than vampire's usually are. I look down at him and watch a drop of water drip from his hair onto his nose. Down it travels to his chin where it pools up with three others before it silently plummets to the ground and makes a small 'plop' sound as it hits the tile. No wonder he's cold.
"Let's go get you some dry clothes." He shakes his head and more droplets plummet downwards.
"Haven't got any." He whispering again and I notice how now he's leaning towards me and not away like before. Before I know what I'm doing I've got my arms round his shoulders and I'm steering him towards the staircase. What am I doing? Someone please tell me.
He's still dripping when we get to my room and the shivering is still going on. I've moved away to get some towels and clean clothes and he's standing awkwardly next to my bed. I've put the clothes on my bed and grabbed a towel. We've somehow come to a silent agreement that no talking is needed as I peel off his beloved duster and throw it outside to drape over the stairway railing.
Starting with his head I'm now drying him off gently. When he was like this as a fledge I used to scrub so hard I'd almost rip off his scalp, but this is different and I don't meant the soul. He's sick and I need to look after him. It's part of the package when you're a Sire. The towel is becoming almost as wet as him, so it's been discarded and I've got another one.
He's got his eyes screwed up as I work on his face like a child again. Always such a child my boy. The drips lessen as I work my way down and quickly check his ears are dry. Soon he's holding onto the tops of my arms to steady himself as I wipe at his cheeks and quickly redo his hair again. Soon his face and hair are dry and I have to move on again.
I've lifted off his tee shirt and it's joined the towel from before as I begin work on his torso. He's still holding onto me but his eyes are open and watching me now. Watching as I rub small circles on his chest and mop up the wetness that I find. Move onto his arms now. Left one first. Start at the top and move down. Rub out the dampness and mop up the drops and smears of wetness left there. Move down the arm and go past the elbow down again to his hands. Work down them to the fingertips and make sure I catch all the water there.
Back to his other arm now and it gets the same treatment as the other one until it's perfectly dry. Spike's still watching me. He isn't smiling or pouting now. He's just looking...dazed. Probably wondering why I'm doing this. Aren't we all?
Back to his torso and under his arms now. He wriggles momentarily and I know it's because he's ticklish, although he'll never admit it to anyone. Soon we're back to watching as I go down to his stomach and catch the last few droplets there. Then he's stock still as I pause. Acting as if it didn't happen I gently turn him around and work on his back. He sighs slightly through the shivering and I know he's relieved that he has time to think of something to say. All too soon I'm down and we're back to the awkward pause.
Acting as if I'd thought this through I reach around him and unbutton his too tight jeans so that he's still facing away from me. I know Spike and I know he doesn't wear underwear, so this is easier for both of us. Soon I'm helping him wriggle out of the jeans and letting him regain his balance that he lost momentarily. I've thrown his jeans into the wet pile and watch them plop on top of his shirt. I vaguely realise that I'm holding his hips to steady him and I let go. Soon I'm working again. Quickly over his buttocks and down to his thighs.
It only takes a few minutes to do each leg. Sliding my hands up and down the smooth columns and catching the drips that are there. He's still shaking and he looks paler than usual. My poor boy. Soon his legs are done and I realise what a sight this must be. Spike standing in only his socks with me kneeling behind him drying him off. Yep, didn't think I'd be doing this today.
I help him lift his leg so I can take off one sock and now I'm kneeling beside him so he can use my shoulders to steady himself. Quickly dry one foot so he can catch his balance then it's onto the next one. Soon that one's dry too and he's completely dry. Still a bit damp, but mostly dry. And still shivering. I sighed slightly and picked up the clothes I'd found for him. They were my smallest clothes yet they'll still be too big for him.
He lifted a leg and I helped him into the sweats I'd found. One foot in, now the other. When he was balanced I pulled them up his legs from behind. Soon he was covered and I was able to move from my position on the floor. Taking the tee shirt I tried not to look at the way that my sweats were balanced on his too small hips like they were going to fall down at any second. Had he always been this small?
I quickly recovered and was helping him get on the too big tee. He lifted his arms like a little kid and when I let go and the tee shirt settled he truly looked like one. He was still shivering and it was unnerving me. I don't like this. Something is seriously wrong with him. When he sat on my bed and I helped him put on the too big socks I felt him tense. I looked up from where I was rolling up the too long sweats and watched as he looked down on the bed.
He was looking scared for some reason. I don't know why. Maybe the prospect of me in bed has too many bad endings? I don't know but he looked afraid. What's happened to you Spike? I sat on my side of the bed and pulled him next to me. He nuzzled into my chest and I felt him relax slightly. Pulling the duvet over us I let him snuggle into it.
Soon the room was filled with purring and I had no idea when it had started. Was I loosing it in my old age or something? Obviously not. Because I soon worked it out.
"You weren't in Sunnydale?"
He shook his head.
"There was no demon?"
Another shake.
"Why are you here?"
"Got wet."
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Yes this is random. I know. I wrote it after partying at my sisters wedding in evil shoes for 8 hours. I'm sorry. I thought of it. I wrote it. Tis what Higgy's do. Luv Higgy. xxx