Calmed by the cool darkness of the wine cellar, Drusilla let her hand drift before the bottles until she'd found the perfect one. Searching, she found Spike staring into the night. "The wine has gone flat," she offered.

He didn't turn to her. "Can get more."

Her thoughts turned to those heady days, just after he'd been Turned, when William had pledged his undying love. "My passion for you is like a fine, rare wine," he'd told her.

Glass shattered against the floor. The wine splashed against her, pooling at her feet. "Don't bother. This particular bottle can't be replaced."