As he began to wake from a state which was clearly more on the unconscious side of things rather than sleep, Spike was made aware that his surroundings were very familiar. He was back in his crypt; but it wasn't anything like it was when he had left. It was dusty, practically empty and not to mention cold. He was freezing! That was most likely due to his newly gained human state, but he still couldn't believe that he'd endured this cold during the night when he was a vampire.
Out of curiousity, he pressed a finger to his wrist and felt for his pulse. At first he couldn't find it, probably because he didn't exactly make a habit of taking the pulses. It was there though, evidence that blood was once again pulsing through his veins. His stomach was rumbling loudly, more evidence that he was human. Vampires got hungry, but it was usually more a psychological thing than physical. They were aware that they needed to feed before the effects of not having blood came.
The feeling of hunger made Spike suddenly aware of several things; the first being that when the demon said he was starting a complete fresh, it wasn't an exagerration. He had nothing. No food, no money, no clothes aside from the ones on his back. Even those were practically tattered ruins by now.
"Bollocks!" He moaned, "This is ridiculous."
Upon speaking, he realised that his voice had changed to be a couple of notches higher than it had been, but it wasn't too bad. Only the sort of thing you notice after having the same voice for longer than a hundred years.
The time was unknown, but the ray of sunlight that filtered through the small crypt window was enough to show that it was daytime. Probably not much past sunrise, as it was fairly weak. Woah... Spike thought to himself I can go outside. So, he did just that.
Well, he got as far as sitting up before he had to pause in his plan. "Ow, bloody hell." He hissed as his back complained, sparking pain through his body. That demon hadn't been too gentle when he'd taken him home last night. He recalled being slammed down on his back, but nothing was broken, thank heavens. It'd be sore for a while, probably a while longer than if he was a vampire, but it'd be fine. Obviously he'd also lost some of his pain tolerance when he'd given up being a vampire, as the rise to his to his feet was just about agony.
The sunshine looked strangely appealing. He'd always had to be scared of it, avoiding it at all costs. Spike couldn't remember what it felt like to have the sun on his skin, other than when he'd ended up having to put out the fire on his hands on numerous occasions. It made him smile slightly, knowing that it'd never happen again.
He thought back the day in the camper van when Tara had opened the curtains and sunlight had caught him. That day had left them fighting for their lives, Giles being seriously injured. He made a mental note that if he was ever back in that van, he would drive and make sure that he dodged that spear. This made him think of many other people that he could help, hell, he could try and save some. Joyce Summers, Tara...
But that would be years ahead. He needed to focus on the future. Right now, I have bigger fish to fry. The thought of fish made his stomach complain even further, and he knew he'd have to try and steal some food or something.
He'd probably need to set about finding some sort of job too. He really couldn't live like this for much longer, though he probably would return to the crypt tonight to sleep.
The art gallery!
The thought suddenly sprung on him. Joyce had spoken to him in the past about how they needed some more staff, but nobody was particularly interested in filling the position. So, with that in mind, he would visit the gallery after school and try and find some work.
But first he needed to get to school. Glancing down at his leather jacked, he knew it needed to be lost. There were ragged holes all over the dense material. Shrugging it off, he gladly found that the black shirt he wore beneath it was fairly intact. The jeans were ripped slightly, but he could pretend it was the new fashion. The boots would do too, they were still very wearable.
Without a mirror, Spike couldn't see the extent of the damage to his face. He had gained a few cuts and bruises during his trip to Africa and he could feel that they were still there. His ribs were still aching slightly. The demon who had granted him humanity and time travel clearly hadn't been concerned with healing him first. He'd have to make something up about how he'd gained them; say he got in a fight? Yeah, that would do.
His attention focused back to venturing outside, as he had clearly been sidetracked.
Spike took a few steps forward and had to lean against the sarcophagus (which probably still contained the crypt's occupant) as a wave of dizziness passed over him. He definitely had been unconscious.
Before actually heading outside, he walked over to the window and stood in the rays of slightlight. It did nothing but warm his face slightly, though his eyes were quite sensitive to light. Looking outside, he also noticed another thing. His eyesight had returned to how it had been during his human days. He could barely see past the first gravestone outside, and even that he couldn't read.
"Bollocks." He mumbled for the second time since waking. He definitely had his work cut out.
