“Spike!”
“Got a place to crash?”
He’s standing on Giles’s doormat, huddled under a blanket, emitting wisps of smoke into in a golden November sunrise.
Giles sighs. “Come in.”
Spike smells slightly singed, as he brushes past him.
“How d’you know my address?” Giles moves through the living room to draw the curtains.
Shrug.
“Are you dripping blood on
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Comments 6
Love these two together. *g*
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Hard to believe that Pangs aired nine years ago.
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Won't happen. I have too many WIPs on the backburner and a few original fiction projects....
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