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Just For the Halibut
“Xander,” Spike smirked, whispering. “Xander.”
“Shut up,” Xander mumbled, flailing an arm in Spike's general direction. “Can't torture me so let me sleep.”
Spike leaned back and blinked about a half dozen times before an evil grin lit up his face.
“What's that tuna you're humming? Salmon Chanted Evening. Get it? The tuna is Salmon Chanted Evening. I know, that one was cod awful but don't worry, a lot more where that came from. What's wrong luv? You seem to be floundering. Nothing to carp on about. Not like I have a sole or anything, just fish and a chip.”
Xander rolled over and stared, unblinking, at the ceiling. Oh God, he'd been wrong. Spike could torture him.
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