Spike hadn't so much been released as he had taken it upon himself to return to his room as soon as the reavers were gone. He wasn't about to stay in the infirmary more than absolutely necessary... even if he still had occasional moments of dizziness and a general lack of energy. It just wasn't his style to stay tethered down, especially when he already had to deal with feeling like a caged rat.
Though he'd been smart enough to take an elevator, the little shred of common sense was washed away when he exited into the lobby. He laced his fingers together, forcing his injured shoulder to cooperate as he lifted his arms to stretch. The pain was enough to make him feel sick, but he fought off the wave of nausea with a deep breath and stretched as usual, working out the stiffness in his muscles. Spike was not a man to appreciate the fine art of not moving an injured limb more than necessary... nor was he the type to care about the small spots of blood on his shirt (caused by irritating what was already a bad enough wound). He'd survive. Or something near to it, anyway.
Once he'd settled back into a comfortable position and regained his composure, Spike set out to see what he could do. Sure, he'd gone out there and fought reavers when he could - had helped Jayne kill off three of the things; but there were still pieces to pick up and he was honestly quite desperate for something to do besides sit in his room watching boring television shows while feeding his nicotine addiction.
Since the kitchen area seemed to be in decent order and he really couldn't care less about the rec room's state, he went to see if the library needed some care. Not that he was much of a 'books are sacred' person, of course; it just seemed more appealing than dealing with the level of technology present in the rec room.
The first thing Spike noticed when he entered the library was the state of disarray... followed soon by Dora and then the familiar form of Iridia. He offered a small smile, though more at the recognition that Dora was partly responsible for his attack (however futile it was) on the stockboy. That made them allies of sorts, and it was always good to know that allies had fared well through rough times. Not that he planned to admit such a thing aloud.
"I hadn't figured reavers for the reading type," Spike muttered, sounding fairly disinterested in his own attempt at lightening the dark mood which seemed to hang over everything (and everyone) lately. "Guess this blows our theory about preserving the rats..."