Scratching sounds drew Xander's attention and he could see Spike writing something in the journal. "What're you doing?"
"Memorializing you being a git."
Xander rolled his eyes. He propped up on his elbows, after depositing the damp rag on the ground beside him. "You could show some sympathy."
"Right. Forgot who I was talking
to." Xander peered outside
the lean-to and around the campsite.
"I should probably call
"Probably," Spike agreed. "M'not letting you go anywhere for another half-hour."
Xander arched a brow. "You're not letting me go anywhere?"
"Not after your screaming meemies." Spike continued writing. "Doctor's orders."
"You're not a doctor."
"Yes, I am."
Xander made a derisive sound. "Riiight. And I'm an astronaut."
"S'the truth," Spike
said with a shrug. "I was a doctor
before I was turned. Even had two tykes
named after me, after I birthed them. Lavelle
Xander choked on the jibe he'd been about to make. He couldn't have heard that right. "Lavelle
"Yep." Spike closed the notebook and rubberbanded it. "What of it?"
"Spike...," Xander said slowly. "You do know my name is Alexander Lavelle Harris, right?"