At Wesley's pained mutter, Spike was up off of the desk and through the door like a shot. It was one thing to have to sit back and let Wesley move around with some discomfort in the name of giving him his independence, but it was another to hear him do something that obviously hurt him.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" he asked, automatically skirting the puddles of bright sunlight as he went to take the box from Wesley. "You want anything moved, you're supposed to ask me."