A Very Ordinary Evil

Part 22 General Hospital


12 minutes after Spike, Anya and Xander depart the ruins of the Magic Shop


As Xander pulled into the parking lot at Sunnydale General, Spike was out of the car and running towards the entrance. His worry and self-recrimination were peaking. The logical part of his brain told him that Willow was fine. He’d seen the wound, it was deeper than it should have been, but not severely so. This was simple anxiety arising from his feelings of failure. It in fact only briefly crossed his mindand he had already dismissed the ideathat he could get some human blood here.

He burst through the automatic opening doors to the Emergency Room. As he looked, he saw no-one waiting for treatment, and wondered what to do next. He thought a moment and then puzzled out that he needed to ask for her by name. Walking to the admissions counter, he remembered back to his days as a living man and used his best public school accent. “Excuse me,” Spike began, “but I’m wondering f you could help me. I’m looking for a Ms Willow Rosenberg. She was self admitted, and not very long ago.”

“What’s your relationship with this person Sir?”

Spike decided to play it as the dumb Briton abroad. “Isn’t that a rather … personal question?”

“I mean, Sir, why would you have any reason to know if we have a Willow Rosen … stein?”

Spike put on a look he hoped was reminiscent of Giles at his most confused. “Errr … because you’re at the reception and information desk?” He asked brightly. “And it’s Rosenberg.”

The receptionist fixed him with a glare. “I meant, sir, if we have such a patient, what relationship do you have with her?”

Spike glared back, becoming irritated. “I’m her lover, sweetie, her life partner, the light of her bleedin’ life. And should you be asking such personal questions anyway?” {It’s times like this,} the thought went through his brain, {that I really hate this damn chip.} “Tell you what, luv, why don’t you see who she’s listed as her next of kin or contact.”

She looked distinctly unimpressed at Spike’s request, but sighed and complied. “Very well, sir.” She turned to the computer terminal and began typing with what Spike saw as maddening slowness. “What is your name, sir.”

“Blood.”

The receptionist looked up strangely at him. “Pardon.” The interrogatory came out is a very irritating nasal whine.

“My name is Blood, William Blood.”

She looked at the computer screen and raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry sir, yes; you are listed as her next of kin, but you appear to have no legal status as that. I can’t permit you into the ER.”

Spike was beginning to seethe. {Yelling or terrorising won’t do any good.} He said to himself. {I have to be cleverer than that. I can do this. I’m just out of practice.} He fixed the gimlet-eyed receptionist with an equally steely stare. “Marriage offends my religious beliefs. Now, can I see my partner, or do I have to return with a writ from a legal company … say … Wolfram and Hart? The writ would, of course, charge you with religious discrimination and the compensation sought for such terrible behaviour appropriately astronomical. Then of course, there’s all the publicity; especially the publicity over your discrimination against a person with a disability. Me”

The receptionist looked at Spike, worry beginning to cloud her face. She decided to go on the offensive. “You don’t look disabled to me!”

Spike continued his line of attack. “I have a rare genetic condition called porphyria. Now pet, you just look that up while I see my Willow, okay?”

“I’ll need to refer this to my superiors sir. Please take a seat.” For her, it was an admission of defeat, and she decided she didn’t like the blond Englishman at all. {He may have won this round,} she thought, {but she would fix him in the end.} She made a telephone call, and Spike could heareven without his improved hearing occasional bursts of static shouting. Eventually, she hung up and looked daggers at Spike. “You can go through.” She ungraciously told him.

Spike nodded coldly as he walked through the now open electronic door. He looked left and right in the corridor he had entered, and saw the ‘Emergency’ sign. He walked rapidly in that direction, flicking glances left and right as he passed rooms with open doors.

As he reached the main nurses station, he could see lots of cubicles, separated by curtaining. He walked to the main desk. “Is Willow Rosenberg still here?”

The nurse-receptionist, this time a man in his mid thirties, looked up at Spike. He gave the blond vampire a very appraising look up and down, then sighed. “Yes sir, she’s in 4B.”

“Thanks mate,” Spike said gratefully as he headed onward in his quest.

Behind him, his hearing allowed him to just catch the whispered “All the cute ones are straight.” Spike smirked and strutted towards Willow.

He paused just outside the curtain and called out “Everyone decent in there?”

Willow, hearing his voice, laughingly called out “Yes, all decent and proper.”

“Damn!” was Spike’s response as he walked in, to see both Willow and Cordelia sitting, Willow on the bed and the brunette on one of the visitor chairs. He saw immediately that Willow’s hand had been stitched and rebandaged.

Willow looked up at Spike and marvelled at both his recuperative powers and the fact that he had got into see her so quickly. She immediately saw that he was in Xander’s clothes, and at least he looked less silly than the last time he was forced to wear Xander’s clothing.

“Hi there handsome. You’re looking as good as you can for an exploded corpse.” Willow chirped her greeting to him, almost giggling as she did so.

Cordelia grinned as she interjected “As good as you can for an exploded corpse having to suffer Xanderwear. Tragedy much?” All three looked at one another and burst into laughter.

Spike’s attempt at appearing offended was both feeble and short-lived. His relief at seeing Willowconfirming to himself that she was all rightwas palpable. It suddenly dawned on him that Willow had already had her hand stitched and that she and Cordy were sitting around chatting. “Shouldn’t we be going or something?” He asked.

“Sorry lover, I still have to get my tetanus booster first. It’s why we’re waiting.” Willow’s answer was flip, almost pert, and Spike wondered if she was all right.

“Ummm … pet, you seem rather … chipper considering the wound you caused yourself.” Willow blushed at the edge in Spike’s voice. She knew that ‘Sir’ was speaking and she was in trouble. “Now, pet,” Spike used the term in it’s usual affectionate sense, but she again sensed the straemphemphasis in his voice. “Why don’t you tell me everything that’s happened here.”

Willow began to look down before remembering his instruction of a few days ago. She looked him in the eyes as she began. “Well … they said that I-I had been cut deeply, almost to the tendons, and I needed painkillers for the stitches. Th-they also told me that I’d bled quite a bit b-because I nicked a vein, s-so they gave me a unit of blood.” She was alternately blushing and going pale under Spike’s steady stare.

Spike sighed as he embraced the little redhead. He could see the fear on her face, and read it like a book. She continued looking at him, even as she began to tremble, the anxiety of potential desertion welling up powerfully inside her. Looking at her, he kissed her forehead and then tightened the embrace significantly. He looked at her again, and recognised the look in her face, and he spoke gently. “Yes, pet, you know what you need when we get home, don’t you.”

Willow looked up, desire, embarrassment, fear and raw arousal all warring over her face. She nodded and blushed. “Yes, I do,” Willow murmured.

“Good.” Spike answered, smiling.

Cordelia had watched the interchange, getting rather confused as she did so. “I seem to be missing something here. What’s going on?”

Willow’s head shot around to look at Cordy, flushing a full beet-red as she did so. “W-what do you mean, C-cordy?”

Cordelia looked from Spike to Willow and back. “I know I’m not following half of what you’re saying. And for some reason, I’m not sure if I want to. What is going on?”

Spike looked startled, having genuinely forgotten Cordelia’s presence. “Well … ummmm … Willow and I have an agreement, and we’ll need to … talk about part of it.”

“Okay.” Cordelia’s mind immediately danced onto the next topic. It wasn’t that she was flighty or stupid, but rather that her brain continuously sped and she could never easily settle onto a topic unless it was of profound importance. “So, Willow, when are we shopping?”

Willow looked up, momentarily confused. “Shopping? For what?”

Cordelia sighed. “Remember when we were coming here, we agreed to take you clothes shopping in a day or two?”

“We did?”

“Willow, I know you’re smart, everyone knows you’re smart. How could you possibly forget something as important as this?”

Spike looked at Willow and shook his head, tegly.gly. He then looked over at Cordelia and grinned evilly. “Better take her to Victoria’s Secret then, the day she goes out with you, I’m throwing out all her non-thong panties.”

“Spike!” Willow squawked in shock, as Cordelia broke into peals of full-throated laughter.

Looking at the blond vampire, the brunette grinned. “I like your style, Mr Blood!”

Spike winked at Cordelia and then also at Willow. As she looked up at her lover, Willow knew she’d have to answer for her cutting of herself. She was terrified. Spike had promised to punish her if she harmed herself again. The circumstances would not matter to him. She surprised herself as she realised that they should not matter. The simple fact was that she had disobeyed an order.

At that moment, a doctor returned with a vial of tetanus innoculant, plus the necessary syringe and needle. He looked at Willow. “I’m sorry but this will hurt, I’m afraid.”

Willow merely extended her arm and continued speaking. “Spike! Do you really have to?”

“Yes pet, I really do. nt ynt you wearing things that accentuate your beauty, not hide it.” Spike did not miss the momentary flash of arousal in Willow’s eyes as the needle penetrated her upper arm.

As soon as the doctor withdrew the needle and band-aided her arm, she let her sleeve drop and slid off the couch. “Can I go now?”

“Well, I see no reason why not, Ms Rosenberg,” the doctor mumbled, continuing to annotate the scanty additions to Willow’s medical notes.

“Good, let’s get started then. I’m tired and cranky as it is Doctor. Shall we?” She immediately slid off the patient couch and began to prepare to leave. She bent to pick her bagthe only thing she had carried in with herfrom under the couch and stood, flipping her hair back. “Is there anything I need to sign, Doctor?”

“Only these release forms, and then you can leave. We have all your insurance details, I assume?”

“Yes, all of them. I’m so glad I didn’t cut my writing hand.”

The doctor chuckled wryly. “Good,” he said, “because before you can leave, you will need to sign this release form. Oh, is your next of kin here?”

Willow nodded and smiled dreamily at Spike. “Oh yes.”

The doctor followed her gaze. “I may not be Sherlock Holmes, but I can deduce that you must be the next of kin, Mr … Blood. I suppose it’s too much to hope you’re a phlebotomist?”

Spike smiled wryly. “Well, I have been known to take blood, but no, I’m not a professional phlebotomist.”

A pity, never mind. These are for you, Mr blood, they describe the necessary aftercare of Ms Rosenberg’s wound.”

Spike took them, signing the acknowledgement form. “Okay, not a problem. Thanks, doc. I’ve had some experience dealing with wound cleaning ‘n’such.”

Willow looked at Cordelia and then Spike. “How did you get here lover? Xander?” Willow asked.

Spike nodded as he replied. “Yeah, him and yo-yo knickers drove me here pet. Why?”

“Well, who would you rather ride home with? Xander and Anya, or Cordy?”

Spike chuckled. “No contest, avoiding Chubs is one of my primary religious tenets.” Cordelia laughed, while Willow shot him a mock long-suffering look.

“Okay,” Willow sighed. “Let’s go out and tell Xander and Anya--and by the way Spike, I never want to hear that disgusting nickname for her again--that we’ll be riding with Cordy.” So saying, the three left the hospital, under the vicious glare of the admittance receptionist.

* * * *

As they saw Cordelia off from the driveway, Spike turned and looked at the little redhead. “Well, pet. You know what has to happen, don’t you.” His voice had slipped almost an octave and took on a tone that made Willow quiver.

She looked up and said, simply, “Yes Sir, you have to punish me. I’m ready.”