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 18


Spike picked up the envelope. It was addressed in a perfect Spencerian hand to

Spike
Mlle. Willow

He stared at it. "Fuck."

He ripped open the envelope and yanked out the enclosure.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."

Soft footsteps came up the stairs. "Four Weddings and a Funeral?"

Spike ignored her. "Fuck."

Willow closed the door behind her and turned on the light. "What is it?"

He still ignored her. "Fuck. "

Willow walked up and stood tip-toe to peek over Spike's shoulder. He was holding an invitation.

The Master of Montreal
commands your presence
Solstice
at ten o' clock
Tenebrae
Dancing

"What's wrong?"

"Shut up, witch." He thrust the invitation into his pocket.

Willow walked to the bed and picked up a book. She knew better than to argue with Spike in this mood. He left, locking the door.

When Spike returned, he sat down beside the girl on the bed. She closed the book she'd been reading -- or pretending to; he noticed that she didn't bother keeping her place -- and looked at him, puzzled.

"What's the problem? Don't tell me you can't say 'No', because I've heard it. Often."

"It's not an invitation, pet. Not one I can decline, at any rate. More of a command."

She shrugged. "So? How much trouble can we get into at a dance?"

Spike scowled. "That question demonstrates why you shouldn't be allowed within a hundred miles of this. It's a solstice dance. For vampires."

She raised an eyebrow, intrigued in spite of herself. "You celebrate the shortest night of the year?"

"You lot celebrate the nights getting shorter. We like the nights getting longer."

The witch returned to the main point. "So what's the problem? You've taken me to vampfests before."

Spike pursed his lips. If he told her the full truth, she'd be too terrified to play her part. If he told her part of the truth, she might give offense unknowingly... or knowingly, following his lessons. He steered between the shoals and the whirlpool.

"Montreal is an old city, luv. Some of the trad vampires are even older. This do is for the trads. They don't allow much slack for younger vampires, and none at all for mortals. Offend the wrong trad, and the consequences are ... nasty." That's putting it mildly. In fact, you're dead before you know what you did wrong. If he's feeling merciful.

She shrugged again. "Okay. So I put on my best vampire manners. No problem."

Spike winced. "Forget everything I've told you about my lot. Behave as if you're being called before the throne of God." Because it just might happen, if you aren't careful.

Willow looked at him, puzzled. "Fine. We show up, we dance, we leave."

He growled, "First, we shop. Bloody hell."

She gasped. "Tonight? It must be nearly dawn, and I'm ready to drop."

"First thing tomorrow, then." He walked to the table and began making a list.

Willow changed into her sleep shirt, brushed her teeth, and lay down to sleep.

Spike did not. After he thought she had fallen asleep, he began to pace the floor.

To Willow's surprise, Spike fussed over her clothes like a nervous mother. Actually, he's paying more attention than Mom ever did. They strode from boutique to boutique, never finding something that met his requirements. One frock was too sexy, another too demure, a third made her look too mortal.

After the latest saleswoman left with an armful of rejected gowns, Willow turned to Spike in disgust.

"We have a problem, Spike. I AM a mortal. I can't fake being a vampire." Well, I can, but not for long, and I don't particularly want to.

He gave her a cool stare. "If you want to stay mortal, you won't be too obvious about it."

Just when Willow was getting so frustrated she was considering pulling out her stake, the saleswoman returned with one last dress that had been laid aside but never picked up. It was a strapless black silk taffeta ballgown, tight to the waist, then billowing to full skirts.

Spike approved. "The less color, the better."

Although Spike didn't solicit her opinion, Willow liked the dress, too. The bodice did expose the top of her nearly-faded bruises, but neither the saleswoman nor Spike commented. She probably thinks I'm his mistress. Ick.

Spike turned back to the saleswoman. "She'll need high-heeled dancing slippers. Do you have anything suitable?"

The saleswoman nodded and scurried off to fetch them.

Willow turned to Spike. "Do I HAVE to? Remember the Stilettos of Doom?"

He looked grim. "Yes. You need every inch of height you can steal." Willow sighed and turned back to the three-way mirror. She twirled experimentally. Wow. Full skirts are fun!

She heard Spike's voice behind her. "Witch?"

"Yes?" I will never get used to this no-reflection thing. She stopped and watched the skirt wrap around her legs.

"Can you dance?"

She shrugged, "Well, I'm no Buffy, but I do okay."

"No, I mean can you waltz? Schottische? Minuet?" Spike's voice sounded slightly irritated.

Willow turned to face the vampire and looked him up and down. "Since when has Mr. 'Sid Vicious lives!' called that dancing?"

His jaw was tight. "I don't. Others do. There won't be any slamdancing, thanks very much. Bloody hell. Right, we'll pick up some tapes and I'll have to teach you."

He's turning into Miss Manners. What has gotten into the man?

The saleswoman returned with several pairs of shoes. One black satin pair met both Spike's requirements (height) and Willow's (walkability). The saleswoman pinned the hem to match the new shoes and promised to have the dress ready to be picked up the next day. The saleswoman suggested an assortment of underpinnings for the dress; Willow blushed crimson, but acquiesced. They paid for their purchases, then left, Willow, as usual, holding the bag.

Spike barreled on to a music store, where he picked out a small boom box and an assortment of Strauss, Lehar, and English country dance music.

Willow frowned and put a hand to his forehead. "Are you sure you're feeling well?"

He slapped her hand away. "That isn't funny. As from now, no more jokes. They could prove fatal."

Willow's frown deepened. "What has come over you?"

He glared at her but did not reply. Willow, wondering, followed him as he paid and left the store.

When they were outside, he grabbed her wrist and spun her to face him. "This isn't a game. If you crack smart to the wrong person, you could die for it."

Willow's free hand flew to her throat. "But the necklace..."

He rolled his eyes. "It's not a bloody 'Get Out of Jail Free' card, witch. It means that anybody who harms you answers to me. Some blokes don't give a toss about that." He handed her the bag of CDs and began walking; she followed.

Willow looked sideways at Spike, who had assumed his favorite expressionless expression. He didn't give away weakness if he had any alternative. He must really be worried. Anything that worried Spike was not good at all. And was well past worrisome for her. She shivered.

He smirked. "Cold?"

She curled her lip. "Goose walked over my grave."

He raised his eyebrows. "I trust it's not a Canada goose."

She shook her head, red hair flying. "Nope, absolutely not. It's a - a French goose. I haven't even been to Paris yet." She was struck by an idea. "Did you have a grave in England? Did you visit it? After you weren't dead any more, I mean? Well, I guess you were dead, but --"

Spike cut her off, face bleak again. "Keep that sort of thought to yourself from here on. Don't ask personal questions. Don't ask questions, period."

He sped up before she had a chance to reply. Oh, great, more contradictory rules. I am so not letting him get away with this. But.... let's try giving him what he says he wants. She caught up with the vampire, then matched his stride, saying nothing.

Sure enough, after a very few minutes, he turned to her in disgust and snarled "Stop sulking!" She smiled sweetly and said "I'm not sulking." And that was all.

They reached a cafe and Willow followed Spike inside. After the waitress took their orders, Willow smiled at Spike, but kept her peace.

As she'd expected, it wasn't hard to outwait him. After a very few minutes of silence, Spike turned and spat, "What the HELL is it with you?"

Willow looked at him innocently. "Why, nothing. I'm not asking questions. I'm not making jokes. In fact, I'm speaking when I'm spoken to. That's what you wanted, right?"

He glared at her, then buried his face in his hands. "What did I do to deserve this?"

Willow grinned. "Kidnapped a helpless female."

He lifted his head and gave her a genuine smile. "You are about as helpless as a barracuda. A fluffy pink barracuda."

Willow looked down at her vampire-imposed wardrobe. "Nope. No fluffy. No pink. And no pointy teeth, either. Oops. Not that I want any, because I certainly don't."

He grinned, then turned serious. "So, would you care to explain why I'm getting the silent treatment?"

She looked at him. "You spent all the time since we left Sunnydale teaching me to stand up for myself and be pushy. Now all of a sudden you want pushover-Willow back. I'm not sure I do. It seemed simpler just to shut up."

Spike sighed, or made the equivalent noise for a vampire. "What I want, and what will get you through the Solstice dance unharmed, are completely different issues. If you're rude to a trad there, you'll die -- and that's the best-case scenario. If you mouth off to me, I'll have to punish you, and it would make what happened at Rafe's look like a Maypole dance. Best break bad habits now, before they cost you something you don't want to lose."

Willow frowned. "I really don't understand why you're going, then. You don't like these people. They don't like you. Why not phone in sick, or whatever the vampire equivalent is?"

His hand crashed on to the table. "Stop asking so bloody many questions."

"I'm sorry. I've been curious all my life, and it's hard to stop." I think Spike's afraid. Weird. Scary. Very, very scary.

He snorted. "You may find yourself stopping permanently."

"Spike, I know I should be afraid. Trust me, I am. But, based on everything you've said, walking in there vibrating from fear isn't a brilliant idea either. Want to try working with me instead of trying to play me like a puppet?"

Half under his breath, he muttered, "Damned twentieth-century women. Should have stuck to proper ladies who did what they were told."

She smiled. "I'm sure the dance will be full of them. Pick one."

He reached out and stroked her cheek. "I'm suited."

Willow froze. Oh, my God.

The waitress arrived with Willow's meal and Spike's drink; Willow busied herself with eating. She had a forkful of food halfway to her mouth when a soft voice behind her said "Hello, Spike." She forced herself not to turn around and looked at Spike's face instead. It was impassive. Uh-oh. She hastily dropped her eyes to her lap.

"Hello, François." Spike's voice, like his face, was carefully expressionless.

"Don't bother getting up." Willow felt a hand on her shoulder and forced herself not to look. "I see you still have your ill-mannered little playmate."

Spike ground out, "I take it I have you to thank for the invitation?"

The soft voice replied, "Not at all. The Master always takes an interest in his distinguished visitors. How wise of you to choose Chez Liane, incidentally; I'm sure she will look charming in black."

Spike's eyes blazed, but he replied only "Thank you."

The hand on her shoulder squeezed. "What's the matter, little one? Cat got your tongue?"

Willow whispered, "I only speak when spoken to," eyes still downcast.

"Very good. Perhaps she's salvageable after all, Spike. We'll look forward to seeing you. Don't disappoint us." The hand released her shoulder.

Willow let out a long slow breath. She looked at Spike's face. He was obviously struggling with his temper. It was a good time to say nothing, so Willow did just that.




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