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Spike's Journal

Spike's Journal

Spike's Journal

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Spike Red
He’s thinking again. Thinking so hard it almost makes my skin crawl from across the room. Could do with a bit less of that, in my opinion. Bloke looks so much better with a smile on his face. A real smile, not that “See? I can smile.“ look that he puts on to humor me. The only time I’ve seen Wes give a real smile in the last few weeks is when he’s been reading one of Harris’ e-mails. The kid always did have a quirky turn of phrase.

Guess that means I’ll have to put up with him when we get to London. Xan-derrr, I mean. That’s not going to be easy. He has a way of getting right up my nose. And worse? He knows it. Knows it and keeps pushing until I want to rip the bleedin’ heart from his chest.

Wes says he’s changed though. Grown up a bit. I can only hope so, because it looks like we might wind up spending a bit of time together, what with Wes referring to Xander as “Little Brother” and all.

In the mean time, there’s Wes, needin’ ta be asleep, and instead, he’s staring out the window like the nightlife of bloody Newfoundland is the most facinatin’ thing he’s seen in his whole life.

Have ta do something about that…

Right… shagging him unconscious. Works for me…
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