"All right, your ancientness, what next?" He offered his arm to Drusilla. "You want to break it? Make you feel all-powerful and full of fury to cripple me a bit? P'raps you'd like to scoop out an eye?"

Laibach shook Drusilla's head. "No, violence against you appears to be futile."

Spike brought his arm down and leaned back against the girders. "Wore you out, have I? Always the way. Haven't the patience to deal with William the Bloody?" Tenderly he touched his bruised jaw. "Don't feel bad, you're not the first."

Drusilla looked about the hold as if seeing it for the first time. Her gaze fell upon a large wooden crate labelled "machine parts." Spike watched with curiosity as she approached the box. She tore a section from the corner of the crate and turned back to him, brandishing a nasty looking dagger of wood.

This is it, Spike thought. "Gonna put me down for the big sleep? Who'll gather your Dirty Dozen then?"

She stopped before him and smiled. "You misunderstand my actions, vampire. This is not for you."

Spike was silent, cold fingers of dread racing up and down his spine. Laibach tore open the front of Drusilla's dress, exposing her slight breasts. Spike pushed away from the girders, hands up in front of him.

"Here, here, there's no need of that," he said, nervousness creeping into his voice.