theblueeyedvampire:

:

“I vote we wait ‘til the rain lets up at least,” he replied, giving up on the fire when he discovered that the fireplace flue had been left open, and that the wood currently left there was soaked through and smelled moldy. Spike parked himself in a ratty armchair that was of only slightly lower quality that the one he’d left in his crypt in Sunnydale.

“I wouldn’t go up any stairs if I were you, luv,” he called out in warning. “Place as sorry as this… likely termites have gnawed through ‘em, and wouldn’t want you to have a repeat of what I heard happened a coupla years ago.”

Cordelia, who had been about to go up to the second floor of the building, grimaced at the memory. “Yeah, I’ve been impaled more than enough for one lifetime.” she conceded. Checking upstairs wasn’t worth the risk of reliving that wonderful experience.

Walking back toward Spike, she made a face at the state of what little furniture was strewn about. Honestly, standing seemed like a much better option at the moment. Shifting her weight from foot to high-heeled foot, Cordelia did nothing else but glance awkwardly at the bleached blonde vampire– who, so far, had been surprisingly nice, compared to what she’d heard of him over the years.

(via theblueeyedvampire)