A Very Ordinary Evil

Part 25 Dr McKeon, I Presume


The following night. Ten pm.


Spike, Willow and Giles moved cautiously through the crowd at Willy’s Place. All had dressed somewhat differently from their norms. Spike was wearing his usual duster and ammunition boots, but was otherwise dressed in plain khaki combat pants, a woodland camouflage shirt and his flak jacket. Willow was in loose dark clothing, and carried a small pouch at her hip. Giles was dressed almost like he used to in his Ripper days. Heavy black leather jacket, jeans tucked into heavy boots and a loose flannel shirt.

The music, such as it was, was almost drowned by the level of ambient noise emanating from the multitude of conversations. Giles eased away from Willow and Spike to position himself near the entrance while leaving them to manoeuvre towards a table near the back wall. Spike paused and asked, “Want a drink luv?”

“Just water, I’m nervous enough as it is.”

“Okay pet.”

Spike led the little redhead deftly towards the bar, and eased up to the counter. Catching Willy’s eye he placed the order. “Glass of water, iced and my usual, but in a stein.”

Accepting and paying for them, Spike continued to deftly lead Willow through the crowded bar. Reaching the table he had mentally tagged, he saw it was occupied by a couple of fledgelings. “Move along boys, grown ups want to sit here.”

The two fledgelings, already in game face, glared up at the Briton who had spoken with such assurance. One looked carefully for a moment before he hissed “Spike!”

“Ooooh! Advanced cognitive facilities.” Willow said spitefully. “Use those facilities and move before he dusts you, or worse, lets me play with you.” The calm certainty in the tinman’man’s voice was unnerving to the pair of fledgelings. That she seemed to be on equal terms with a Master vampire like Spike made them even more nervous. Quickly deciding that discretion was the better part of valour, they moved away.

With Spike ushering Willow to the now vacant chairs, they sat, side by side and watched the doorway discreetly. While they awaited developments, the pair made idle small talk which ranged over their usual wvarivariety of subjects. Compared to many of their discussions, however, it was stilted and shallow at best. Both were nervous on behalf of the other and Willow was also worried on Buffy’s behalf.

They looked anxiously each time the door opened. There were a surprising number of human, or at least human-appearing, customers amongst Willy’s rather mixed clientele. Spike and Willow looked at one another. “At least he’ll know us.” Willow whispered to Spike. She had moved in closer and closer, embracing him more fully as time went on and her nervousness increased.

After what seemed hours, they saw Giles escorting a rather nondescript man towards them. Giles and the other man sat opposite the vampire and his lover. Spike quirked up an eyebrow and asked “Dr McKeon, I presume?”

The psychiatrist smiled back, mirthlessly. “Yes, and you would be Willow and the infamous ‘Spike’ I assume.” Both the blond and the redhead nodded in response.

“What can we do for you?” Willow asked, fighting to keep any hint of emotion from her voice. She was still scared that this meeting was some kind of trap.

“It’s fairly simple, really. I need to know a little about your relationship. Not details but just basic facts. May I ask these questions?”

“If, for each question you ask, we can ask one in exchange.” Willow’s tone, although polite, clearly indicated that if he didn’t agree, then the meeting ended immediately. McKeon nodded his understanding and agreement curtly.

“So, if I may start? What is the relationship between you?”

“We’re lovers.” Willow’s answer was direct and closed. Her distrust of McKeon was evident to see.

Spike fired back the return question, just as Willow dropped a crystal and murmured a word. “And are you currently a member of the organisation known as ‘The Initiative’, or any successor body with a similar agenda?”

“No.” McKeon had decided that he would respond in kind. The hand Willow had wrapped around Spike’s arm tapped once, below table height, letting Spike know that her truth spell had not indicated any falsehood. McKeon followed up with his second question. Looking at Spike, he asked, “Are you a real vampire?”

“Yes.” Spike’s answer was equally curt. “Have you ever worked for an entity such as ‘The Initiative’ in the past?”

“No.” Again the single tap on Spike’s arm. “Why haven’t you killed your ‘lover’. You are a vampire, after all.”

“Because I choose not to. You’re stereotyping.” Spike’s voice was flat and emotionless. “If you’ve never been involved with the Initiative, how did you hear about it?”

“From treating former members as patients.” For a third time, Willow’s hand tapped Spike’s forearm once. “Don’t you worry about Spike feeding from you?” This question was fired directly at Willow, and without any kind of advanced warning.

“You’re making the same mistake that the Initiative did.” Willow’s voice was almost harsh as she spoke. “You’re assuming that vampires are mindless predators. They aren’t. They used to be human and retain all of their reasoning faculties, memories and intelligence.” She paused, thinking for a moment, before asking a question in return. “What’s the core of Buffy’s problem?”

McKeon paused and thought a moment before answering. “She’s suffering from a form of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. It’s sometimes referred to as battle fatigue. The British Army used to refer to it as ‘lack of moral fibre’. Whatever it’s called, it’s really a form of nervous breakdown from excessive stress. Unimportant things become magnified for her, are blown out of all reasonable proportion. As a result of this, Willow, I’m afraid you are going to be put into an unenviable position once Buffy is released. She’ll demand that you choose between her and … Spike.”

Willow looked shocked. “She would really do that?”

“I’m afraid so. I believe she’s jealous of your success in a relationship with a vampire, while she and ... Angel was it? Were unable to make theirs work.”

Spike looked thoughtful and nodded. “I can see that. She is very egotistical, and feels everything should revolve around her. She’s got very little empathy for other people’s difficulties.”

“I must say, that you don’t seem to be at all like the Spike that Buffy described to me.” Spike merely shrugged in response to McKeon’s comment.

“Do you think she’ll try and kill Spike?” Willow asked the question clinically, trying to hold off the grief that was welling up inside her at the thought of losing her closest friend over what she could only call ‘boyfriend issues’.

“I think it highly likely, if you refuse to end your relationship with him.”

“In that case, Dr McKeon, you had better let her know that I think it’s in her best interests to leave Sunnydale, alone, as soon as she is discharged.” Spike was shocked, and Giles aghast at the cold-blooded venom in her words. “Of course, it’s her decision, Doctor, she might want to live out her life as a silverfish, or perhaps a carrot.”

McKeon gaped at her. “Y-y-you mean that was true!”

Willow nodded. “Yes, but it was only for a few seconds, and only because she was trying to kill Spike. Plus,” the little witch hurried on, defensively, “I really didn’t know she had a phobia about cockroaches. I thought it was just the girly thing.” She finished in a rush, looking almost embarrassed.

McKeon was still in shock as he gabbled “B-but how?”

Willow shrugged. “A spell. Transmogrification of living tissue.”

The psychiatrist blinked. “How can you accept that so casually?”

Spike looked hard at McKeon for a moment. “Why is it that you find it so easily to accept the existence of demons, but not witches? I’d guess you’ve had direct experience with them, despite your implied answer earlier.”

Slowly, he nodded. “Yes, that’s why I found treating the ex-Initiative members easier than other mental health professionals. Of course, I had to get fairly creative with the reports.” He grinned as he spoke, obviously reminiscing about what he had done.

The petite but determined redhead spoke again, looked at him levelly. “Trust me, Dr McKeon,” she said flatly, “if I say I can do something, I’m not kidding. And I can transmogrify living tissue, and I can also teleport people. If Buffy decides to go after Spike or I, she will regret it.” Although Willow was shocked at her reaction, she was aware that she would do whatever was necessary without a moment’s thought. She also knew that, if she did anything permanent, she would regret it her whole life.

McKeon nodded again, obviously thinking. After a moment he spoke up. “Now, I probably know more about ‘the slayer’ than anyone not directly involved in all of … this. What I’m going to suggest to Buffy is that she approach the council and request a … transfer, I suppose, to allow her to recover fully. Operating away from this Hellmouth, and with a new watcher to allow her to recuperate properly. I’ll write a report for the Council to that effect.”

Giles, who until then had been silent, spoke. “Could I suggest that you send the report via me. The council will take the news better for coming via a Watcher. And I can probably make some suggestions to them to make the facts somewhat more palatable. For what it’s worth, I’m going to suggest to the council that they let Buffy retire and train new slayers, rather than continue in active service. She has the talent to become a very good teacher, and a her her time as a slayer, may help influence the council towards a more pragmatic position.”

All three looked at Giles. Spike and Willow were well aware of how intelligent he was, and how compassionate. Nevertheless he continued to surprise all around him with his wisdom. Sending Buffy to the council to train other slayers was a clever and subtle solution to the problem, leaving only the question of Dawn to be resolved. McKeon, who had never encountered a watcher previously, was amazed at how quickly Giles had absorbed the information and improved on the original idea. And he was quite correct, McKeon knew, about Buffy finding solace in teaching.

The three Scoobies looked at one another, before Giles asked the obvious question. “Do we approach the council to arrange Faith’s release from prison, or do we work without a slayer?”

Willow and Spike both thought deeply before Spike answered, with a counter question. “Can you trust her? She’s done a lot of damage over the years mate.”

“I really don’t know Spike. Perhaps we could engage Dr McKeon here to make an assessment. I could include that in the recommendations to the Council, I suppose.” Giles took his glasses off for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose as he thought. Then, putting his glasses back on, he looked at McKeon and asked, “Are you based in Sunnydale, Doctor?”

“Yes, I live and work here now. I relocated from San Francisco after I started to treat the ex-Initiative members.”

“Good. In that case, we can contact you if Buffy needs assistance or if the Council gives approval for Faith to be assessed.”

“Ummm … Giles,” Willow paused, unsure of how to proceed. “Faith is in prison, how are we going to fix that?"

“Do you remember what the Council threatened me with, earlier this year?” Willow nodded and Giles continued. “Well, if they can bring that much pressure to bear, they can certainly arrange a simple prison release on parole.”

“I suppose so, but I don’t really like the idea of arranging it unless Faith has really changed.” Willow said, thinking the possibilities through as she spoke.

Giles nodded his agreement before he spoke again. “I’ll also ask the council if there really is a ritual to remove a slayer as was threatened with Buffy. If there is, and if Faith is still a danger, I’ll pressure the Council to perform it on her. However, if worst comes to worst, then we can continue here without a slayer. Between us we have a reasonable set of combat skills now.”

“I suppose so, but I’d still feel happier with a slayer present.” All three looked at Spike, surprised, to say the least. “What? A Hellmouth needs something to counterbalance it. A sane and organised slayer provides that. The only real request I have is that the next one has better dress sense.” Willow sniggered and Giles laughed openly. Even McKeon looked slightly amused. Somehow, the offhand comment helped the four cement an alliance, if not a friendship.

“So, is there anything else that we need to discuss?” Giles asked. “I know we have cell phone numbers for contact.”

“I can’t think of anything.” Willow said quietly. As Spike and McKeon nodded their agreement, they stood and began working back to the door, manoeuvering between the other customers. Spike reached the door first and opened it for the others.

As he did so, a massive flash occurred. They were all diving for the ground before the almost simultaneous thunderclap sounded. All four got up and brushed themselves off, looking sheepishly at one another. “Perhaps there’s a certain level of combat fatigue for all of us.” McKeon commented ruefully.

Giles chuckled wryly and looked around him as the heavens opened. “How about we run to the cars?”

The small group broke into a sprint, running for the cars. They all ran; McKeon in one direction, the Scoobies in another. As the three by now soaking Scoobies reached the car and dove in, Giles said, simply, “My place.”

Cordelia, mistaking their speed for pursuit, shot out of the car park as if all the demons of hell were after her. Skidding and squealing on the wet road surface, she got control of the DeSoto in time to avoid any collisions. “Bloody Hell, Huntress, what’s the rush?” Spike’s squawked question came out almost like a curse.

“I don’t know, bleach boy! You three dive in here like the hounds of hell are after you and tell me ‘Giles place.’ So I’m going there.”

“Cordelia,” Giles gentle and even tone somehow permeated the whole vehicle as he spoke. “We were running to get out of the rain. You don’t have to speed.”

“Oh.” Cordelia’s response was somewhat abashed, and she slowed to the speed limit. “So, what did happen?”

“We’ll explain when we get everyone together.” Willow made it clear that she only wanted to talk about this once. Spike, sensing her pain, simply wrapped his arms around her and held her as Cordelia drove steadily through the pouring rain.