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“You’d think a Watcher would be harder to catch. I mean, come on, working out of a school library?”

As Drusilla was wracked by coughs, Spike flew to her side, holding her hand until she’d stilled. Spike turned toward Giles. “That’s where you come in. Dru is sick, some sort of mystical disease. Cure her.”

Giles knew he shouldn’t say it. “And I would help you, why?”

With a flash, Spike grabbed his hand. “Such agile fingers must be very useful to a scholar.” There was a gentle snap. Through a blur of pain, Giles heard, “Ooops, only nine now.”