Clem dropped the snacks and looked around the empty crypt worriedly; it wasn't like Spike to welsh on a Cher videothon. Then he heard someone moaning behind the couch. "God, Spike, you OK?"
Spike looked dehydrated, shriveled, like all life had been drained from him. "Bloody... Summers... women..." He coughed. "Ain't slept in three weeks. And I'm chafing in places best not mentioned. They're killing me."
"Don't they see that?"
"Like they'd care. I'm just a soulless monster..."
"Then I say we do something about that." Clem helped his friend up. "Come on, buddy. We're going to see a demon."
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