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 7


The next evening, Willow woke up and reoriented herself. Late afternoon, I think. Heartbeat. Check. Naked dead-looking undead person. Check. Sorry, Toto, still not in Kansas.

She tried, as usual, to slip out of bed without awakening her companion. As usual, a cold hand reached out and grabbed her wrist. Without opening his eyes, Spike drawled, "That trick never works."

"It's still me, I'm still not going anywhere, let go!" Spike released her wrist, and she stalked off to the bathroom with as much dignity as she could muster. After she'd showered, combed her hair, and changed into jeans and a red T-shirt, she walked out of the bathroom and looked for the parcel of books, but it wasn't on the floor where she'd dropped it the night before.

"Looking for something?" Spike was lounging, cigarette in hand, on the bed, with the books beside him. He'd pulled on a pair of jeans. Small mercies. His chest is distracting enou-- Bad thoughts. Stopping now.

Willow walked toward the bed. "Can I have those, please?"

Spike stubbed the cigarette on the bedpost, dropped it to the floor, then gave her one of his patented non-friendly smiles. "You can earn them."

Willow took a step back. "How?"

"Hand-to-hand backchat. Score a point, win a book. The reverse also applies."

"Oh. Okay. I'll try." She perched on the edge of the bed.

Spike lunged into her face. "So, pretty, what tricks can you do? There must be more to you than meets the eye."

Willow reflexively jerked back, overbalanced, fell flat on her back, and started giggling from nervousness. Spike grabbed the top book and hit her lightly on the head. Unfortunately for Willow, it was The Art of Computing, volume 1. She couldn't stop giggling. Spike lost patience, grabbed her arm, and yanked her upright.

"You're not twelve years old, that isn't adorable, and you will stop it now, if you don't want me to drop these into the nearest dumpster." He dropped Knuth on the floor to emphasize the point. Willow sat up and wiped the smile off her face.

"Try again." This time, she was prepared for the lunge; however, with Spike so far inside her personal space, she couldn't think of any effective answer. "Uh..."

"Time's up." And he dropped Excession on the floor.

"That's stupid. What could I say? He's being a jerk."

"And you're letting him get away with it."

"And my alternative is?"

Spike heaved an Oscar-worthy sigh. "I'll demonstrate. You be Martin."

Willow leaned a millimeter toward Spike, then said "So, pretty, what tricks can you do--"

He leaned forward, forcing her back, and said, "Nothing you're prepared to handle."

"I can't do that!"

Spike sighed. "He's in your face. If you flinch, it's a sign of weakness. If you push back, he flinches, and he looks a wanker instead of you."

"But what if he stands still?"

"Then you're no worse off than you were, and I'll step in. You're not alone. Your job is to defend your honor until the cavalry arrive.

"Again." He leaned in. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

Willow leaned forward, misjudged the distance, and bumped lips with Spike. He smirked, but retreated. She blushed up to the eyelids and began to stammer. Spike dropped Programming Perl to the floor, then lit another cigarette.

"You're not giving me time!"

"This is life, Red, not a videotape. There is no Pause."

"You're making me nervous! I can't think when I'm this nervous!"

Spike gripped her shoulders. "You don't have a bloody choice. If you want to leave this room again, you will grow a spine. Credible threat, remember? If you offer yourself as an easy victim, someone will be more than happy to oblige." He released her, but did not back off.

"I'm surrounded by vampires, and I'm supposed to have a credible threat? What is it, 'Watch out, or I'll bleed on you?'"

"Red, you can play a bad hand better than that. I've seen you. Remember 'There will be no bottle in face'?"

Willow froze.

Spike followed up his advantage. "You're the smart one. Use those brains, and defend yourself."

"If you wanted a fight, you should have kidnapped Buffy! She's the brave one!"

"The Slayer isn't here, pet. You're the brave one, you're the smart one, you're the only one you've got. Last chance. Fluff this, and I leave for the dumpster." He leaned back, drew in some smoke, and looked at her.

Willow took a deep breath, exhaled, and met his eyes. "Okay."

Spike blew out a stream of smoke, then drawled "Not your usual style. Isn't she a bit ... bland?"

I think I can I think I can. "Some people LIKE vanilla!"

"Weak. First, don't put yourself down. Second, you're defending instead of attacking. Don't give ground, take it. Again.

"Aren't you a bit... bland?"

"Only to jaded tastebuds."

"Better. 'What's a pretty thing like you doing with this wanker?'"

"Um..." she caught his eye and rushed on "Playing croquet, mostly."

"Bit random, but it'll do."

After about an hour, Willow had 'won' all her books. Spike stretched and put out his last cigarette. "Not that this hasn't been a little slice of heaven, pet, but I must go. Reach me an ankle."

Willow glumly stretched out her foot. Spike pushed up the jeans leg, then hissed. The ankle was bright red and swollen. "What happened?"

Willow tried to pull her leg back, but Spike wouldn't let go. "Ouch! I think I landed wrong in those stupid heels."

"If we keep chaining you, you're going to lose a foot. Hmm." He released her, stood, pulled on a shirt and his duster, and walked to the door. Then he paced back and looked down at her.

"Witch, I'm going to leave you loose. If you aren't here when I come back, or if you make any attempt of any sort to attack me, I'm going to kill an entire troop of Girl Guides and FedEx their hearts to the Watcher. Do I make myself clear?"

Willow met his eyes; he was smiling, but there was no warmth in the smile. "Yes, perfectly clear. I promise "-- he arched an eyebrow -- "I mean, I won't try to escape. Or attack you."

"Good. Oh, write another set of letters while I'm gone; I'll check them when I get back."

He turned on his heel and left; the deadbolt shot home.




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