holidays in the sun
Spike's days had taken on a fairly hum-drum rhythm: there was minding his business, minding the shop, and minding the Little Bit, and the real difference between the three was the presence of alcohol, demon ass to kick, and Dawn.
But not the literal sun.
He began to fry within seconds, ducking for cover under one of the awnings in the marketplace and beating back the smoke, but not before exclaiming, "Bloody hell!" in the large, open gathering space.
But not the literal sun.
He began to fry within seconds, ducking for cover under one of the awnings in the marketplace and beating back the smoke, but not before exclaiming, "Bloody hell!" in the large, open gathering space.