A Very Ordinary Evil

Part 10 – Fighting the System


Almost immediately after part 9


Willow and Spike lay sleeping peacefully in one another’s arms, exhausted by their first love making when the phone rang. Spike, being closer, answered it. “Go ‘way!” Then he hung up.

The phone rang again. “I said, GO AWAY!” This time, Spike slammed the phone down.

* * * *

Ten minutes later there was a massive banging on the front door. Both Willow and Spike woke up, and looked confusedly at one another. “I’d better get it,” Willow announced. “I definitely don’t want you frying on me now, Mister.” She shrugged on Spike’s tee shirt and went down to answer the door. Spike flopped back bonelessly into sleep. Willow opened the door to see a distressed Giles and an anxious Xander standing there. “What?” She was not quite as surly as Spike, but a wonderful afterglow had interrupted. {This had better be damn good.} Willow thought. “Come in.” She turned to lead them into the lounge.

“Do you need Spike as well? He’s asleep. I was too,” she said grumpily. “And don’t even think about being a smartass, Xander. I’m really not in the mood.”

Giles and Xander both looked shocked. This wasn’t the Willow they knew. Deciding that discretion was the better part of valour, Giles pressed ahead with their reason for calling. “Yes, we will need Spike as well.”

“I’ll get him. Draw the curtaind tnd then sit down.” She turned and went upstairs. Walking to her room, she began to dress. Then she sat on the bed and gently bit Spike’s ear. “Get up, Giles and Xander need to see us.”

Spike looked blearily at her. “Can I just eat them instead? I wonder if the chip works when I’m asleep?”

Willow laughed. “At the moment, that thought’s disturbingly attractive. But no, please don’t eat my friends. You can ‘eat’ me again later if you want though.”

Spike groaned as he got up. “Christ, I’m too old for this!” He complained. “Hell, pet, I’m older than dirt. If Slutty staked me, I wouldn’t turn to dust, I’d turn to fossil!”

Willow had drawn on her panties and jeans, leaving Spike’s shirt in place. Spike just bothered with his jeans. “Spike,” Willow ventured, “Have you noticed that our jokes aren’t funny to anyone else when we first get up?”

“Yes pet, that’s because a sense of humour requires brain function. We aren’t awake enough for that yet.”

“Oh.” They walked back downstairs, hand in hand.

“What do you wankers want?” was Spike’s first question as he walked into the lounge.

Neither Giles nor Xander were ready to see the results of their interruption. It was obvious that they had intruded on something special and intimate between the couple. The new closeness between Spike and Willow was self-evident.

“Well,” Giles began, “I had a call from the council. They’re sending the psychiatrist I mentioned. They’ve chartered a Concorde, so he should be here some time tonight. It’s obvious that they’re extremely worried about the situation. They’ve also asked for your particular help, Willow. There is apparently a ritual for cases like this.”

“What does the ritual involve, Ripper?” Spike’s anxiety for his lover was obvious.

“I really don’t know, all I’m aware of, presently, is that it’s designed to make an incapacitated slayer appear dead to the spirit world, so that the next can be called.”

“So she doesn’t die?” asked Willow.

“No, but she does lose her powers, I’m afraid. Permanently.” Giles replied.

“That’s terrible. If she could get well, but needed a lot of time, that could make her permanently insane!” Willow was horrified at what the council was intending. “I will not help unless non-Council psychiatrists diagnose Buffy as incurable. And you can tell them that. Oh, while you’re at it, you can also tell them that if they try to do this ritual without me, they’ll regret it. I’ll find every last one of them and use Ethan’s spell on them. Then I’ll let Spike play.”

Giles was taken aback with Willow’s stridency, but very pleased. “Good, that was what I was hoping you’d say, although your … vehemence is somewhat surprising.”

“Giles, she may have wigged over Spike and I, but that’s a symptom of her illness, it’s not who she really is. And we should care for and protect our friends.”

Giles nodded, thinking through the possibilities. “Well, I suppose we’d better see if we can get some more concrete information from her Doctors. And they aren’t going to tell us willingly. I don’t suppose you have a truth spell locked into one of those crystals?” Giles asked, more in hope than expectation.

“No, sorry Giles. I never envisaged needing to rapid fire a truth spell. I coulme wme with you and cast it there though.”

Giles nodded his thanks. Spike looked irritated at the decision, knowing that he would be unable to accompany them.

* * * *

The three of them walked into the Mental Health together. Giles was slightly ahead of Xander and Willow. The witch was already muttering the preliminary incantations under her breath, preparing to intone the final phrase when it was needed. She could feel her hair beginning to stand on end from the power she was holding within herself, and a remote corner of her mind hoped that it would not be noticeable.

Walking confidently to the front desk, Giles politely asked the receptionist, “We’d like to see Buffy Summers, please.”

“Are you family?”

“Not in the traditional sense.”

“Then I’m afraid I can’t allow you to see her.”

“Could we see her treating physician then?” Giles remained polite as he asked.

“I’ll try to contact Dr Barlowe.” The receptionist made it clear from her tone that she was doing them a favour. “Please take a seat.”

“Thank you.” Giles smiled.

They sat and waited. After five minutes, Willow realised that she would have to store the spell or lose it. She dug a spare crystal from her pocket and muttered over the crystal for a moment. Then she simply held it.

She leant over and whispered to Giles. “I had to store the spell. I can activate it with one spoken line, but now it’ll effect everyone within the area, not just the doctor.

Giles nodded and sighed. “We’ll just have to deal with that. I’ll also let Xander know.” He whispered back. So saying, he leant over to murmur the information to Xander.

Willow looked around the spartan waiting area, and saw nothing to distract her from her worries. She sighed and rummaged in her bag, dragging out a somewhat battered notebook. She began to write.

Giles fished a paperback out of one of his jacket pockets.

Xander looked around, then peered at what Giles was reading. “G-man, really! I didn’t think you read things like … that.”

Giles looked up at the younger man, perplexed. “Pardon?”

“Georgette Heyer. Isn’t that just a bit … y’know … girly?”

Giles sighed. “Xander, you really are an unmitigated pillock, aren’t you. Has it ever occurred to you that authors are capable of writing in more than one genre? Ms Heyer wrote some excellent pieces on Regency and Restoration history. Good scholarly monographs.”

“Well, colour me stupid.” Xander responded.

“That suggestion is perhaps the most truly redundant I’ve ever heard. Now, do be a good chap and be quiet.”

The trio waited for almost an hour before anyone came to them. None of them noticed when a man in a white coat drew near.

“You’re here about Buffy Summers?”

“Yes. Doctor Barlowe, I presume?” Giles grinned slightly at the ancient witticism.

The doctor simply nodded, and said, “Come with me, please.”

He led them to an empty conference room and ushered them inside. “How can I help you”” The doctor asked.

“It’s about Buffy, we need to know if a cure can be expected.”

“I’m afraid I can’t talk about any patient’s condition or treatment, other than to their registered next of kin.”

Willow looked at the doctor and snapped, “Consummatis Est!” dropping the crystal containing the prepared spell at his feet. She looked at Giles “I know it’s bad Latin, I didn’t want anyone invoking it by accident”

Willow smiled at the doctor. “Buffy’s my best friend. All I want to know is; will she get better?”

Dr Barlowe looked at Willow, “You know I can’t tell you anything, Ms…?”

“Rosenberg. Please, it’s not as if I’m asking for anything more than the most general prognosis.” As Willow began to babble, she attempted, mentally, to perform another spell; this one to weaken the will of the doctor. “I mean, I’ve known Buffy for over five years, ever since she moved here, and this is just so out of character for her, doctor. I wonder if it’s my fault. I almost feel like it’s a form of mea culpa!” The babbling had been a cover for her to introduce the last cadence of the spell.

“I quite understand, Ms Rosenberg. To be brutally honest, your friend will recover, but I expect it to be some months at least. Her prognosis is mediocre at best. She’ll get the best possible care here, of course, but even with that, the time taken for her to heal will be extensive.”

“Thank you, Dr Barlowe. Is there any particular term for what Buffy’s suffering from? Something I can research and learn about?”

“Technically, it’s called a ‘psychotic break’. She’s delusional and liable to interpret what happens in the real world through her own filters. For example, she seems to think that your boyfriend is a vampire!” He laughed heartily at such a ludicrous idea.

Willow smiled weakly. “That’s understandable. She’s teased him about being a vampire for ages. He has porphyria.” Willow felt relieved to have been able to use the excuse she had planned to use with her parents. It would make life easier.

“Oh! That’s very helpful. Thank you Ms Rosenberg, that means her delusions are nowhere as severe as we initially thought. That’s a good sign”

Willow smiled again. “Any time, doctor. Can we see her?”

“I’m afraid not, she’s in no condition to be seeing anyone, yet.”

Willow nodded. “Thank you for your time, doctor.” She led them out of the hospital

* * * *

Willow opened the door to her house, ushering Giles and Xander inside. Leading them to the living room, they saw Spike, sprawled asleep on the couch. She motioned them to sit as she walked over to the blond vampire and shook his shoulder, hard. “Wake up Spikey-wikey!”

“Huh? What did you call me?”

Willow giggled. “Something dreadful.”

Spike sighed. Then he began muttering in a stage whisper “‘Meet a sane person,’ they said. ‘Discover the joys of rational conversation,’ they said.” Then he looked up at Willow and quite deliberately poked out his tongue “They never said anything about being mature.”

Willow shook her head helplessly, leant over and kissed him.

“Well, pet, what’re the tuppenny headlines saying?”

“Short version.” Willow answered “Buffy’s insane for the foreseeable future, but it is curable. From our point of view, the worst of all possible outcomes.”

Spike nodded. “Yeah, we can do without the balance being out of whack for that long. I suppose we could bust the other slayer out of gaol, but that’d crimp her style just a tad.”

“Watcher, any ideas?”

“No, Spike, I’m afraid not. And the council is going to try and force this project of theirs through.”

“You don’t know anything about the ritual, Giles?”

“No, not a blessed thing.” Giles looked careworn as he said so.

“Shit!” Everyone looked surprised at Willow’s rare use of profanity. “There’s only one option then. I’ll have to pretend to help and then sabotage the ritual. So, all we can do for now is to meet this psychiatrist, and find out what he intends to do.”