Drusilla struck him, the force of the blow hurling him backward to the street. He recovered quickly and sprang to his feet, staring at her in bewilderment. They liked it rough, the both of them. But the way she'd hit him... this wasn't a game.

"That wasn't nice now, was it?" he growled.

Then he noticed the look in her eyes and the way she held her body, so stiff and unyielding. Spike frowned. There was an intelligence glittering in her gaze that had none of her lunacy. Whoever looked back at him with those eyes, it was not Drusilla.

"You've got about three seconds to give her back to me," he snarled.

The symbol in the centre of his lover's forehead seemed to glow as a murderous grin, not her own, broke across her face. She began to speak in a jagged-worded, guttural language that he recognized as one of the ancient tongues, but he had no understanding of it.

"Why not try that again in the King's English," he said, stalking closer. Drusilla's face twisted in disgust before she spoke again. This time, the alien voice responded in a language he understood.

"Is this what you prefer, vampire?" it asked. "The language of animals?" Spike glared. "It's not opera, but it beats that gargling with razor blades you call a voice. What do you want?"

"So full of fire and bluster," said the monstrous voice with genuine amusement, even fondness. "You shall serve Laibach well."