A Very Ordinary Evil

Part 21 Still Dancing in the Ruins


Immediately following the previous part


Two firemen entered the shell of what had been the Magic Box. As a pair of policemen began to rope off the area, trying to make sure all the broken glass was included inside the perimeter. They moved cautiously and carefully through the rubble and debris, looking for people. They eventually heard voices coming from the rear of the shop, hardly discernable over the still ululating fire and burglar alarms. “Is everyone here all right?” One of then called o

“Quick, Xander, Anya carry Spike out the back door. They mustn’t find him here,” Giles hissed at the young couple, urging them outside. “Take him home, keep him safe.” Nodding, the young couple helped Spike out the back door of the shop.

“Only one cutbroken glass.” Cordelia called back. “Come on through.”

Giles marvelled at the abilities that all of his ‘children’ had shown under pressure. He had a brief surge of intense pride, and forced it down as the firemen came closer.

They were still looking around, and seeing a middle-aged man with two young womenone holding a still bloody handasked Giles what had happened. Giles had had enough time to think up an answer that he hoped would work. He turned, and appearing very angry, he said, “I’ll tell you what’s bloody happened. What’s happened is that we’ve been on the receiving end of the twenty-first century version of a bloody drive by. They aren’t content with fucking guns any more, the bastards are using grenades. Bloody stupid country!”

“Someone threw grenades in here?” The fireman was confused.

“No, they threw bloody marshmallows, what do you think!” Giles semblance of righteous anger and fear had become real, and was in full flow now. What he wanted, more than anything, was to tear the two idiots who had done this to pieces. That being impossible he was more than happy to vent at anyone within range.

The two firemen, used to distraughtiliailians, essentially ignored the diatribe and concentrated on looking after the three people who had survived whatever had happened. As they looked around, the level of devastation was impressive, to say the least. One of them moved towards Willow, taking her hand and examining it. “This is the only injury?”

“Yes,” Giles said, a lot more calmly, “we were very lucky.”

As the fireman examined Willow’s wound, another siren could be heard over the sounds of Giles’ alarms. A policeman came into the building, weapon drawn and demanding to know what had happened. Giles turned to explain, and saw the pistol. All of his anger at the assassins rose again. He knew, intellectually that he couldn’t blame society for the behaviour of people like the Order, but emotionally he couldn’t control himself. It was the one aspect of American society that horrified him; the ease of access to firearms. “This is my shop and you’ll do me the courtesy of putting that … thing away, or leave.” Giles snapped as he gestured at the policeman’s weapon.

“What?” the policeman looked confused.

“Holster that … thing. Or leave the building. There are three victims and two firemen here. You don’t need your security blanket.”

The policeman blinked and thought a moment before he realised what Giles was saying. He did as Giles asked, looking strangely at the irate Englishman as he did so.

Willow leant over and whispered to Cordelia, “Principal Snyder was right about one thing. The police of Sunnydale are deeply stupid.” Catching her comment the fireman dressing Willow’s hand burst into laughter, as did Cordelia.

“Now,” the fireman explained, “you’ll need to get this stitched. I guess it was glass but it looks like a knife wound to me.”

Willow realised she had an opportunity to help Giles’ cover story and grabbed it. “It is a knife wound. I was looking at an athame when the thing exploded and I cut myself then.”

The fireman looked at her and nodded, “That would explain it. You want to tell me what you remember?”

Willow gave him a wan little smile. “There’s not very much to tell, I heard the glass breaking and almost immediately after, that horrible explosion. Then the alarms and the water and … I must look a sight!”

"A lady as beautiful as you could never look bad.” The fireman said gallantly. “I’m Dave, by the way.”

“Sorry, possessive boyfriend, very possessive.” Willow answered, a contented and slightly dreamy smile coming over her.

“That’s okay,” he smiled, “I can take a hint.”

“That wasn’t a hint, that was a bludgeon.” Cordelia quipped as she grinned at her friend.

“Well, back to business,” said Dave, perhaps too cheerfully. “You’ll need to go to the hospital and get this stitched. It seems to be healing very quickly, but unless it’s stitched it’ll scar.”

Willow nodded. “I know, I hope the police don’t keep me here too long.”

“Let me speak to them,” Dave offered. “I should be able to convince them to take the names of you two girls and interview you tomorrow.” Willow and Cordelia exchanged glances, both worried about what else could happen. Cordelia having vivid memories of ‘bug-man’ the assassin of many years ago. Dave’s helpfulness and interest seemed out of place to both girls.

Giles discussions with the policeman were beginning to degenerate. Instead of answering the policeman’s questions, Giles had gone on another angry but rambling discourse on the issues surrounding the second amendment. Rather unfortunately, the policeman had taken the comments more seriously than Giles had intended. Dave’s interruption rather fortunately eased the situation as he spoke quietly to the policeman about the need for Cordelia and Willow to get to the hospital. As soon as the policeman had given his consent, he broke of from his argument with Giles and came over to get the names of both other witnesses. He took their names and addresses, then told them they could head to the hospital.

Giles, in the meantime, had realised that the policeman he had been dealing with was not seeing eye to eye with him about things. Aware that he had to calm down the increasingly irate member of Sunnydale’s finest, he began to explain, at length and with all of his natural gift for minutiae and pedantry, precisely what had happened that evening. (The mundane aspects at least.) He thought to himself. (If nothing else works, I’ll bore the bugger to death.)

* * * *

Spike was still not entirely capable of walking when he arrived at Xander and Anya’s apartment. They got Spike to a seat and Anya went for more blood. He was primarily interested in getting back to Willow, but neither the ex-demon or Xander would hear of it. Anya returned with a mug of microwaved blood and handed it to the vampire. Spike drank gratefully, so worn down he didn’t cain ain about it’s being pigs blood. As he continued to recover, he became aware of the condition of his clothing. “Xand, mate, can I borrow some gear, I think this lot’s had it.”

Xander nodded and went to get Spike some jeans and a tee shirt. He reasoned that Spike would wear the duster, even if all that was left was one sleeve and the collar. In fact, the duster had got off surprisingly lightly, one major rent near the bottom was the primary damage done to it. Xander returned with the jeans and a white tee shirt and handed them wordlessly to Spike. The blond vampire took them equally silently and moved to the bathroom to dress. Returning, he looked much less disreputable, and, as he retied his laces, asked “Can you give me a lift back to the shop, I’m worried about my Willow.”

Anya sighed. “Spike, why don’t you wait and recover. Willow’s fine. Giles and Cordy are there and we want to thank you, you literally saved our lives.”

Spike looked slightly uncomfortable before he said, “Yeah, perhaps. I was only worried about my girl though.”

Anya simply looked at him, her statement speaking volumes, while Xander responded to the comment in his usual style. “Well, Junior. Don’t forget we saved your sorry ass as well.”

Spike’s response was to look at Anya, “Is it really sorry luv?”

Anya looked openly at Spike’s behind giving it serious consideration. “Not too bad at all, I could imagine the muscles clenching when …”

“Anya!” Xander’s voice cut the ex-demon off in mid-sentence. “Please, Anya. I so don’t want to hear that.” She looked at Xander and shrugged, and then grinned to herself.

“So, can we get a bloody move on?” Spike’s impatience was rearing up as he began to worry more and more about Willow.

“Don’t have a coronary Junior, oh, that’s right, you can’t.” Xander snapped, still hurting from Spike’s earlier comment. Sighing, he grabbed the car keys as he and Anya escorted Spike out and into the car. The drive was a little tense, with Spike and Xander still bristling over their earlier exchange. Eventually, however, they reached the shop, to see the fire crews and police still mopping up.

Spike was out of the car before it had stopped moving completely and running toward the shop, crossing the crime scene tapes like a hurdler. As he ran inside, he was calling Willow’s name. As he did so, and got no reply, his voice got shriller and louder each time he called her, taking on an edge of panic. One of the policemen came over and said, “I’m sorry Sir, but you can’t come in here.”

Spike shouldered roughly past the policeman, still calling for Willow. Seeing Giles, he came to a halt. “Ripper! Where’s my Willow?”

Giles looked up at the partially rejuvenated Spike. “It’s all right, Spike, she’s just gone to the hospital with Cordelia, she needs some stitches in her hand.”

“Oh shit!” Even though Spike knew the extent of her injuries, thinking of them still hurt him severely. To him, it was a badge of shame, a failure of his promise to protect her. The circumstances were of no importance to him, it was failure.

“Great! Another Goddamn Limey!” Giles’ policeman was obviously unhappy.

Spike looked at Giles. “Do rozzers count as human?”

“Unfortunately,” Giles replied, “yes. Only just, but yes.”

The officious policeman approached Spike. “What reason do you have for being here. Are you aware that you broke a police cordon?”

“I didn’t break it, I jumped over it. And I’m Willow’s Ma-partner.” Spike turned away and muttered, “bloody pillock.”

“So how did you hear about … this?”

“What? Oh go away, I need to get to the hospital.” Spike turned and began to walk away. The policeman’s call to stop received a two-finger gesture that baffled him and Spike was outside.

He briskly walked back to the car, where Anya and Xander were waiting for him. “She’s at the hospital, Sunnydale General I assume, getting her hand stitched.”

“Right, that’s where we go then.” Xander was equally determined to make sure Willow was all right. She was his best friend, he worried if she skinned her knee.