Laundry Day

by Cashmere

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of these characters...they are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and 20th Century Fox. Joss has created a rich and marvelous well to drawn from...I'm just using his characters for my own and a few others' amusement. That being said, this fiction is MY creation. I want people to read and enjoy it. If you like it, email me, or post and tell me! If you want to post this particular fic on a site, just ask. Thanks!



Dusk in Sunnydale. Spike rolled off the stone sarcophogus that served as his bed. Naked, he walked across the crypt and rummaged about for a pack of smokes. Lighting a cigarette, he started looking around for his pants. He held up the black pair of jeans, none the worse for wear, but shiny along the seams for want of a wash. He pulled them on. Failing to find a clean t-shirt, he cursed and sat down to finish his smoke. He leaned back in his chair. His skin was very, very pale, his hair bleached a shocking platinum. "Bloody laundry," he said out loud to himself. He leaned forward and regarded his bare feet. They were as pale as the rest of his body, the white skin shot through with blue veins. He stuck his cigarette in the corner of his mouth and reached beside the chair for his boots.

***
The sun had set in amidst a brilliant red and orange haze. Spike, in spite of having spent the over a century as a vampire, didn't miss these spectacular displays. Walking along the darkened streets of Sunnydale carrying a small, dark bundle, he knew exactly where he was headed.
***
Buffy sat cross-legged on a mat. The training room in the back of the magic shop was awash in golden light as the sun set. The Slayer didn't notice the shadows fall across the room as the light slowly faded. She was concentrating, eyes shut, her breathing slow and measured. This exercise was designed to increase her awareness, allowing her to reach beyond the five senses--to see without seeing, to feel without touching… "Buffy?" Giles said, as he tapped the girl on the shoulder. Buffy jumped and let out a surprised yelp. "WHAT?!" Giles sighed as Buffy looked up to glare at him. "I take it you did not sense my presence?" he asked. Her look answered his question. She got to her feet and stretched. "Giles, I've been at this for over two hours and I don't sense anything. Are you sure I'm doing it right?" "Well, if you were doing it correctly," he said, "you would have known I was standing behind you." Buffy arched an eyebrow. "Thank you, Mr. Obvious." Giles paused thoughtfully to clean his glasses. "Perhaps we should try a different tack. T-t-there are some rituals that may help you clear your mind, concentrate more effectively." Buffy looked up from tying her shoes. "Huh?" Giles sighed deeply. "I think we should try them." "Try what?"
***
Giles' condo was dark. The silence was broken by the rattling of the door. A few seconds later, Spike pushed the door open and peered inside. Satisfied the apartment was empty, he picked up the small bundle and closed the door behind him. He could have ignored the light switch by the door-he could see very well in the dark, but for some reason, he flicked the lights on. Confidently he entered, laid the bundle on the table and took off his leather coat. Tossing the coat over the back of the sofa, he retrieved the bundle and walked into the narrow hall. A pair of folding doors hid a stackable washer/dryer unit just to the right of the bathroom. Spike cocked his head and stared at the unit dubiously. He'd seen Giles use it during his short stay with the Watcher. Given the circumstances now, he wished he'd paid more attention when Giles' operated it. His own experience with laundry had left him in a pair of Xander's short pants and a rather hideous Hawaiian print shirt, so he was naturally wary of what he was about to do. He shook out the bundle. There were three black, wrinkled t-shirts and a pair of faded, black jeans. He threw the lot into the washer. Thinking for a moment, he shrugged and peeled off the t-shirt he was wearing, adding it to the load. Next, he unbuttoned his pants. Kicking off his boots first, he stepped out of the jeans and threw them into the washer.
He pushed a couple of buttons on the washer. Recalling Xander telling him hot water and clothes did not mix, he set the temperature to cold. He eyed a box of laundry detergent and shook some of the powder into the washing machine. The sound of water running convinced him that the machine was working and he padded naked and barefoot into Giles' narrow kitchen. Ransacking the cupboards, he discovered a box of Wheetabix, stuck his hand in the box and grabbed a handful of the flakes. Munching as he went along, he walked into the living room to examine Giles' music collection. "Good lord, Giles," the vampire said. "What's with all the vinyl?" He continued flipping through Giles' collection of albums, impressed by the selection he found there. Nothing suited his taste or his mood, so he considered the television. Passions wouldn't be on for hours. He glanced towards the hall. It had been weeks since he had a proper bath.
***
Giles' handed Buffy a slip of paper. "Be sure to get the book and the crystals," he said. "You'll find the crystals in t-t-the wooden box on the mantel and the book…" "On the bookshelf, right?" Buffy cut him off. "Yeah, yeah…I got it." "Maybe I should drive you?" Giles' asked. "Giles, you gave Anya the night off, remember? Who's going to sell these nice people the nice magic supplies they need?" She said, indicating the lone browsing customer in the Magic Box. "Besides, been in your place lots of times…I can find what we need. Get me back on track with the concentration stuff." "Buffy," Giles called to her as she reached the door to the shop. "Don't forget the key!" She smiled and held up a hand as Giles tossed her his keys. She caught them effortlessly and the bells tickled as she closed the door behind her.
***
Steam condensed on the bathroom mirror as Spike sat back in the tub. His hair appeared darker, and it tended to curl when wet. He closed his eyes and relaxed as the heat soaked into his limbs. Like the true Englishman he had once been, Spike enjoyed a bath. Not that the showers at the Y in Sunnydale or at the truck stop at the edge of town weren't perfectly serviceable. He'd used them often enough. But a bath. Now that was a luxury he missed.
A glass of bourbon sat at his elbow and a lit cigarette burned on the side on the tub.
***
Buffy put the key into the lock of Giles' door. The door wasn't locked, the deadbolt wasn't thrown. Instinctively, she tensed and turned the doorknob. The door swung open and she paused at the threshold. Peering inside, she noted that the lights were on. "But nobody's home…" she said aloud. She entered the apartment slowly looking for any sign of an intruder. She spotted Spike's leather coat draped over the back of the sofa and relaxed. Sighing she shook her head and shut the door behind her. She could hear his voice coming from the bathroom. It sounded like he was singing. She stepped into the hallway. Spike's worn, leather boots lay abandoned in front of the untility closet. She could see the bathroom door, slightly ajar. Spike's voice was clear and strong. "If you could only read my mind,
you would know that things between us,
ain't right.
I know your arms are open wide,
But you're a little on the straight side
I can't lie…
Your one vice
Is you're too nice
Come around now
Can't you see
I want you all tattooed
I want you bad
Complete me.
Mistreat me
I want you to be bad, bad, bad, bad, bad…"
***
Spike lathered up his hair and bobbed his head slightly, singing.
"If you could only read my mind
You would know that I've been waiting
So long
For someone almost like you
But with attitude, I'm waiting So come on
Get out of clothes time
Grow out those highlights
Come around now can't you see...*
 he ducked his head under the water for a rinse as Buffy slowly pushed open the bathroom door.
"Spike!"
Spike came up sputtering water. Squinting and wiping at his eyes, burning now from the soap, he splashed his face, clearing his eyes.
"What the bloody hell?" he growled.
He looked at Buffy. She just stared. Several seconds passed. She stood there, unable to move.
"You see anything you like?" he asked.
Buffy blushed furiously, the colour working its way up to her cheeks. She shook herself and responded. "Get out," she said, sharply.
Spike smiled and picked up the still lit cigarette. He inhaled deeply. His smile widened as he exhaled and leaned over, his arms crossed on the side of the tub. "I hate to point this out, Slayer," he said, "but I'm not exactly in a speedo here."
Her colour deepened and she half turned. His grin widened even further as he watched her blush. "GET OUT," she snapped. She pulled a towel off the rack and threw it at him. He caught it before it hit him in the face. His smile vanished. He stuck the cigarette in the corner of his mouth and dropped the towel beside the tub. Slowly he put his hands on the rim of the bathtub. He raised himself out of the water and stood, dripping and naked in front of Buffy. Buffy realized what he was trying to do. She held her ground. She raised her chin and met his gaze. Her eyes flicked lower. His skin was very pale. He was lean, but muscular, his chest and abs well defined. Buffy caught her breath. Spike stared at her wordlessly. She paused for another moment then fled down the hall. "Bugger!" Spike whispered. He tossed the cigarette aside and grabbed the towel off the floor. He wrapped the towel around his waist as he followed Buffy out of the bathroom. She stopped and turned to face in him the narrow hall. "Where are your clothes?" she asked. "Just gimme a minute!" Spike yelled. He held up one hand, the other held the towel closed. She frowned for a minute, then, looking at Spike, dripping water onto the carpet, she suddenly burst out laughing. He raised his head. His grin turned into a full-fledged smile and he chuckled. "Uh...yeah, so...uh...bit wet here, Luv." She shook her head and looked up at the blonde vampire. "You should really get dressed," she said. "And you really should tell me the next time you're planning on breaking in to use Giles' bathtub." "I'd 'ave been been done and gone before he got back, Buffy," Spike said. She raised an eyebrow. "With a ring around the tub and an empty liquor cabinet...nah, he'd never know you were here." She pushed Spike aside and looked in on the laundry. "Planning on finishing that?" she asked him. He shrugged his bare shoulders with a smile. He watched Buffy carefully. The had forged a delicate relationship, if you could call it that. He realized he was mad for the girl but that she might never feel that way about him. He knew her life was upside down with the loss of her mum, not to mention the danger to her younger sister. So he waited. He held back and took whatever crumb of attention she gave him. At first he hated the change in himself, had fought it at every turn. The bloody wanker government lab that captured him turned him into a sodding lab rat, experimenting with an antiviolence computer chip in his brain. A Clockwork bloody Orange. He still missed the good old days, but...he couldn't quite understand it himself so there was no explaining it to anyone else. Buffy made him want to be better somehow. But standing next to her naked, except for a towel wasn't exactly giving him good thoughts. He watched her open the washing machine and pull out his wet clothes. "You need to get these and get out of here before Giles' gets home," she said. She pawed through the soggy, dark coloured clothes and opened the door to the dryer, while Spike stood beside her. She looked up at him. "No underwear?" She said, rolling her eyes. Spike answered her look with another shrug and a sheepish grin. Girl was as stodgy as Giles' sometimes. But he saw the smile playing about the corner of her lips as she shook her head. "Well turn the bloody machine on and let them dry," he said. "I am not leaving here in wet clothes. Or no clothes for that matter." Buffy looked up at him and frowned. They were standing close in the narrow hall. Too close. He retained some of the heat from the bath and he smelled like soap, his skin still glistening. He faced her in the narrow space. Her brow furrowed and she raised her hands as if to push Spike away, but her hands ended up on his bare chest. The smile faded from his lips. His jaw tightened and he leaned into her touch. Her eyes widened as she felt his muscles tense under her light touch. Without warning, Spike leaned in and lightly brushed her lips with his own. Buffy was startled, but didn't pull away as he'd expected. She blinked for a moment, still looking up at Spike. He was surprised. Shocked, even. He hadn't planned on kissing her. So he wasn't prepared for her reaction. He bent down again, slowly, looking intently. He kissed her again. She returned the kiss, gently at first, then more urgently. Her hands, acting of their own accord found the towel, loosening it. It fell in a damp pile on the floor. Spike's excitement was obvious. But he stopped himself. The girl pulled away, breathing hard. She looked shocked. He was sure he looked just as surprised. But at the moment, he didn't care. The vampire stepped closer, cupping her face with both hands. Their kiss deepened. His hands drifted down to her waist, under her shirt where her taut nipples strained toward him through the fabric of her t-shirt. He caressed them and was rewarded with a slight gasp. He pulled her t-shirt up and over her arms. Tracing a line down her chest, he followed the seam of her white sports bra. She shivered and looked down. Her hair fell in a golden curtain over her face. He pushed the hair back and she looked up at him with those green eyes. "Spike."
***
"SPIKE! What are you doing here?" The vampire awoke with a start. He was sitting in an ice-cold bath. His cigarette had burned down to the filter leaving a pale, gray corpse of ash on the side of the bathtub. He shook his head. Sleep slowed his reactions, but Buffy stood in the door to Giles' bathroom holding a pair of black jeans in one hand, a black t-shirt in the other. She wasn't smiling. "Spike, get up. Get dressed. Get out," She said, coldly. As if the bathwater wasn't cold enough to give him a chill, before he could answer, Buffy had turned and walked away, leaving the clothes in a pile on the floor. He sighed and hoisted himself out of the bath, pulled the drain plug and reached for a towel. "Bloody, sodding, buggery hell..." He made a cursory attempt at toweling dry and pulled on the jeans. The were mercifully clean and dry. She must have pulled them out of the dryer when she found his boots. He pulled the t-shirt over his damp curls and peered out of the doorway. The door to the dryer was open. He warily glanced around the corner. The slender girl stood in Giles' living room with the dark bundle of Spike's laundry in her arms. His well-worn boots were at her feet. Without another word, she shoved the clothes at him. He took them as Buffy piled the boots on them, pushing him towards the door. He opened his mouth, but thought better of it. He kept it closed and stopped by the sofa to gather his leather coat into the pile. He walked out of the apartment backwards and stood wordlessly as Buffy shut the door in his face. He sighed, turned and walked out of the courtyard. A block and a half away, he stopped to pull on his boots. He was whistling as he tied the laces and stood up. A smile started as he pulled on his coat and picked up his clothes. A grin spread across his face as he walked down the street softly singing. Come around now can't you see
I want you in a vinyl suit
I want you bad
complicated
x-rated
I want you bad, bad, bad, bad, bad
Don't get me wrong,
I know you're only being good
but that's what's wrong
I guess I just misunderstood
I want you,
all tattooed
I want you bad
complicated
x-rated
I want you bad
I mean it,
I need it
I want you bad...bad...bad...bad...bad...
really, really bad...
***
Back in the condo, Buffy sighed as she swept through the rooms, removing any sign that Spike had been there. A cigarette butt, an all-but-empty bourbon glass, and a damp towel. She found a black t-shirt on the floor by the door. Absently, she held it close. It was warm and clean, but it still smelled faintly of Spike, spicey and strange. Without knowing why, she slipped the t-shirt over her head and quickly reached for the small wooden box and leather-bound book she came for. She hit the light switch and pulled the door closed, locking it behind her.



*"Want You Bad" ©2000 Words and music by The Offspring


Back