We All Live In A Yellow Submarine
Angel sunk his fangs into Lawson’s throat, sucked briefly, slashed at himself and placed his bleeding wrist to Lawson’s mouth; just a few seconds too late. The sailor’s heart had stopped.
“Well, that’s it, then,” Spike said in disgust, when Angel returned and announced that they now had no way of restarting the engines. “We’re well and truly buggered.”
Weeks later, long after the oxygen had run out, the last of the submariners had died and been eaten, and the two vampires had read every book and magazine on board at least six times, Spike discovered how right he’d been.