Title: In The Company Of Wolves
Author: Jonquil
Email: serpyllum@yahoo.com
Distribution: Just ask.
Rating: R (strong language, violence, sexual references)
Spoilers: Fourth season, post-Oz, pre-Tara
Summary: Willow has re-fanged Spike, and must deal with the consequences. Sequel to "Blinded By Science".
Feedback: reinforces the desired behavior.
Disclaimer: All characters belong to large corporations, and were created by the brilliant writers for Buffy and Angel.

Chapter 13


Willow opened her eyes to find Spike's dark eyes regarding her. She sat up hastily, sending a twinge through her back. She could feel yet another blush rising to her forehead. She stole a second glance, under her lashes; he quirked an eyebrow in return. She stood up and stalked off to the bathroom for some aspirin.

A sardonic voice followed her. "What are you running away from?"

"I hear there are vampires in the area." She started running water in the sink, effectively cutting off the conversation.

Unfortunately, when she came out of the bathroom, Spike had not, as she'd hoped, vanished to 'hunt'. Kill people. He kills people. Hunting is what you do to deer. Which is also bad. But not as bad. Spike was sitting on the bed, dressed, watching her with an unfathomable expression.

Spike patted the bed. "Come get your back seen to."

She stayed where she was. "Thanks, but I'll just let nature take its course."

He sighed dramatically, heaving his shoulders. "Afraid you'll succumb to the irresistible sexual tension?"

"No. I just think it's creepy."

Spike stood up abruptly and walked to the door.

I think I hurt his feelings. Good. She addressed his back. "You made those bruises, Spike. What's the point of healing them? "

"As you like." He didn't turn around. "I should be back shortly." He shrugged on his coat, left, and locked the door.

Willow looked at the door. I did hurt his feelings. But he's a bad guy. You're supposed to be mean to bad guys. He's mean to me, after all. Then a tiny honest voice said And trying to help you get better is mean how?

Willow told the tiny honest voice to shut up. Then she fed the fish. It blew a bubble at her.

Willow started looking for clothes, bending as little as possible. Like it or not, the braless look was going to be with her for awhile. She took off her T-shirt, put on the violet shirt, and buttoned it. These jeans are about ready to walk by themselves. We're way overdue for laundry. She started to pick up a discarded sock, then groaned. I am not going to be Miss Clean-Up today. It hurts too much to bend.

She crossed to the table, retrieved a piece of paper, and began to write.

True to his word, Spike returned within ten minutes, ebullient. He strolled up to her chair wearing his best cocky smile. "Miss me, pet?"

Willow looked up. "No, I was busy making up a list."

"Ah. Rubies, raspberries, black lace negligee?"

"Actually, 'Buy calendar. Do laundry. Find decent reading lamp. Argue about computer.'"

Spike's face froze into an alabaster mask. "Save the argument. No computer."

"Look. My laptop has a PCMCIA modem. If you pull the modem, it's a standalone machine. I can't possibly do anything with it that communicates with anything. It might as well be a pencil and a piece of paper."

"No."

Willow sighed. "Okay, then let's do laundry."

That earned half a smile. "Again, no. You're not fit to carry anything, and I'm not lugging dirty clothes through Montreal."

"What, your status would suffer?"

His face went opaque again.

Weird. "Well, you may not sweat, but I do, and I'm going to be pretty disgusting unless we wash these clothes somehow."

Spike shrugged. "That's easily solved. Toss them and buy new."

Willow winced. "Do you know what the environmental consequences--"

"Look at it this way. I'm doing my bit for Zero Population Growth. I'm sure that makes up for tossing the occasional pair of jeans."

"You would have to remind me of that."

Spike grabbed Willow's list, crumpled it, and tossed it on the floor. "Enough with the social responsibility. One of the great joys of being a vampire is having no sense of responsibility whatsoever. Try it, you might like it."

Willow looked up at him. "And your plans were?"

"Not to make plans. Let's get out of here."

Willow tried to stand up, then winced again. "I don't think I'm up to walking. You go on."

"That does it. Off with that damned shirt, on with the arnica. You are not sulking here for another day. Satan only knows what lists you'd come up with. 'Overthrow government. Convert wolves to vegetarianism. Recycle corpses.' "

Willow didn't move. Spike raised his eyebrows. "Are you going to take off that shirt, pet, or do I have to do it for you?"

"Bully." Spike's expression wasn't encouraging. Sighing, Willow turned her back, unbuttoned the shirt, and let it slip down to her elbows.

"Hold still." His hands were surprisingly gentle, if cold. He hit me with those hands. More than once. His fingertips brushed the side of a breast, and she tensed; the intrusion was not repeated. She felt the color rising to the back of her neck.

"All done."

She pulled up her shirt and buttoned it.

"Up and out." She stood and followed him out the door.

"Spike, I am NOT a leather kind of girl."

"How do you know until you've tried?"

"Do you have any idea what the dry cleaning costs are like? No. Probably not. And it attracts entirely the wrong kind of guy. Don't give me that eyebrow again! Couldn't you get a new facial expression? Maybe by mail order?"

He smirked. "Bored already?"

Willow sighed. "No, never that. Onward. Preferably to a store that carries something besides biker-chick clothes. Like a calendar. And did I mention a reading lamp? And some real books?"

Arguing, they strode down the disused corridor. At the end of the corridor their way was blocked by a couple of sawhorses and a plywood wall. Spike frowned. "I thought this connected to the Place Ville-Marie. Oh, well, let's backtrack." They turned.

The way back was blocked by three very pale men, one of whom Willow remembered vividly from two evenings ago. She'd last seen him lying on the floor staring at the vampire who'd stolen his chair.

Spike dropped the shopping bag he was carrying, thrust Willow behind him, and hissed "Stay."

The lead vamp smiled. "Don't worry about her. We'll take good care of her afterward. Find out if she's a natural --"

His speech was broken off by Spike's kicking him in the face.

The fight that followed was nasty, and obviously not following any rules other than "Kill them. Kill them a LOT." Spike held his own, but while he was keeping two of the vamps at bay, the third was slowly circling to his back. Willow watched as long as she dared, then took action.

The vampire behind Spike's back exploded into dust just as Spike broke the neck of the lead vampire. Spike did a spin-kick to the groin of the remaining vampire, and continued the motion to discover empty space behind him. He looked startled, but completed the spin and disposed of the remaining vampire in short order. When both remaining vampires were disabled, he ripped their heads off and they exploded into dust.

Still in vamp face, Spike closed on Willow. "What the HELL did you do?"

She jerked her chin at the hallway behind him. "Is this really the place to discuss it?"

"Damn you." He resumed the human mask. "We are going home now, and then you are going to explain yourself."

Boy, he's sure good at gratitude.

Spike locked the door, then turned, jaw tight and eyes dark. "Spill."

The girl straightened her back. "You always said I needed a credible threat. Well, I have one now. I just decided to skip the actual threatening part."

"And?" He could feel his cheek beginning to twitch.

She lifted her chin. "I'm a witch, remember? You took away my spellbooks, but you didn't take away me. I staked him."

Spike snorted. "How? With what? You were nine feet away."

"With a piece of wood. And I levitated it."

Spike looked at her in disbelief. "How long have you been able to do this?"

"About a year now."

Spike absorbed this in silence. Then he asked the crucial question, keeping his voice level. "And why am I still here?"

She met his eyes and matched his even tone. "The first few nights after you kidnapped me, I didn't have the stake. Then you kept waking up before I did. And now ... I'm not as coldblooded as I wish I were. I'm a rotten person. I should have staked you in your sleep to prevent your killing other people, but when it came to the point, I couldn't do it unless..." Her voice trailed off.

"Unless..." he prompted.

"Unless I was furious. Or unless I had to."

Spike thought back. "Yesterday morning?"

Willow nodded, face grave. "I came really, really close. If I'd been sure you'd taken me there on purpose..."

Spike felt himself slipping into his true face as he grabbed Willow's shoulders. "You're telling me my life is in your hands?"

Willow didn't flinch. "Yes. Just as mine is in yours. Mutually Assured Destruction, it used to be called. If you push me too far, you die. If I push you too far, I die. Fun, isn't it?"

"I could keep you locked in the apartment all day, every day."

She half-smiled. "It's full of wood, Spike."

"Tied to the bed."

"I don't need my hands or feet to levitate."

Spike stared at her for a very long minute.

Then he dropped her shoulders and began to laugh. Morphing back to human, Spike reached down, took Willow's hand, and kissed it. "Mutually Assured Destruction it is, then."




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