Spike stirred in his chains as the cell door opened to admit his insane, off-key grandsire…..
“Happy birthday to you!”
…….who, judging by the song, had a better head for dates than Spike had imagined. His brain froze in dread as Angelus plunged a hand into the box he carried, fingers gripping into what appeared to be dark, wavy strands of human hair.
“Happy birthday, dear William.“
Angelus dumped the severed human head in front of his horrified childe. Slack mouthed, pallid, the beautiful brown eyes rolled upwards as if in appeal.