Spike bared his fangs to the ancient deity. "You'll leave her alone. This is between the two of us."

Drusilla grinned and raised her hand. Slowly she drew a sharp fingernail down her face, carving a slice in her skin, blood dripping down her cheek.

"Oh, the terrible things I could do to her. Let me count the ways." Laibach began to count on her fingers. "I could scar her. I could walk her into the sun. I could deprive her of sustenance, revelling in the pain as she withers away with starvation. Crushing her already fragile psyche to send her even deeper into the grip of madness could be entertaining. And then I could always... "

Spike held up a hand for Laibach to stop. "Right. Got it. Give you dusty old gits a mouth and you can't shut up," Spike said, resignation in his tone. "I'll do what you ask, as long as you release her unharmed."

Laibach grinned. "Wonderful," he hissed. "I knew you were a reasonable beast. Do as I ask and when the Master is reborn, Drusilla will be released."

The dark god outlined its plan. Spike nodded and shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his coat, seething with rage. How it ate at him not to be in control.

"Got a question for you, Laibach," he said when the demon had finished. He took another cigarette from the crumpled pack in his pocket. "Are you planning on giving me a hand or... "