Transitory Evils

Part 3 Official Evil


Four Weeks after the end of part 2.


Willow curled up in bed, luxuriating in the warmth of the covers. The cold weather had arrived earlier than normal, and she detested it. She stretched and realised that she should get up, noticing how late it was. She had been overjoyed to discover she could take all evening classes in this, her junior year in college. It allowed her and Spike much more time together. She reluctantly threw the covers off, wondering how long Spike had been up. The room was cold enough to make her immediately grab her flannel robe and slip it on, before walking out into the living room.

As she emerged into the glaring lights of the living room, she saw Spike slouched in a recliner armchair, reading an old book. She could see he was utterly engrossed, and, her impish sense of humour getting the better of her, she decided to surprise him. She walked cautiously up behind him and covered his eyes, saying, "Guess wh ... aaaaaaaaah!"

Willow sailed across the room as Spike reacted, throwing her over his shoulder. "Oh shit, pet! Sorry!" he cried as he saw what had happened.

Almost as soon as Willow landed, crashing into the bookshelves on the far side of the room, Spike was by her side and beginning to lift her up. "I'm so sorry luv, you startled me."

The little redhead looked back at him and said, "Remind me never to throw you a surprise party." As her legs gave out.

* * * *

Willow regained consciousness in the hospital, surrounded by nurses and two doctors. "What happened? Goddess, that had to sound trite. I have a headache and where's Spike?"

A middle-aged woman in a business suit appeared next to Willow's bed. "Sign these, and you'll never have to worry about Mr Blood again, dear."

Willow looked up, confused. "Why would I want to do that?"

"So he can't beat you again dear."

"But he didn't."

"He told us what happened. How he threw you into the wall."

"It was an accident. I surprised him, and he reacted."

"Yes, dear, of course it was. Just sign these papers."

"No."

"All right dear, we can't make you. But don't worry about that brute. He'll never hurt you again."

* * * *

Spike sighed and sat back in the chair. After his immediate detention by the security guards at the hospital, he had called Giles, who had arrived just in time to sit in as, supposedly, Spike's lawyer. Unusually, the interview was occurring in a small room at the hospital. The fact that Willow had not been spoken to, and Spike's vehement insistence on not leaving the hospital until he knew about Willow's condition had seen to that.

The police interview had not been going well. The officers patently disbelieved Spike's story; and were already beginning to threaten various kinds of legal charge being brought against him. In addition, one of the pair was obviously anglophobic, which further aggravated the situation.

Spike looked over at Giles. "Can we find out if Willow's okay?"

"If she is, it won't be any thanks to you," the anglophobic policeman stated bluntly.

Spike glared at him. "I bleedin' well know that you daft git. I know what I did. I also know it was an accident. Now, why don't one of you at least find out if Willow's regained her bloody senses?"

"Officer," Giles interrupted, "do you think, honestly, that if Spike had meant Willow any harm that he would have brought her to the hospital. We've viewed the footage from the security cameras. You know how distressed he was."

"No, we know he said he was."

Giles sighed. "And what about the martial arts training? I explained how the situation could occur."

"And who made you a doctor?"

Giles looked levelly at the police officer. "Very well then, can we suspend this interview while I make a phone call?"

"Sure, it won't change anything."

Giles returned some ten minutes later. "I've called a psychiatrist who I know. A Dr McKeon. He's a consultant here specialising in combat fatigue. He's the perfect person to speak to about this."

* * * *

Willow looked up at the social worker. "For the last time, I will not sign any kind of restraining order. It was an accident. I got concussed, that's what the doctors told me. Now, go away, or I'll make you go away."

The woman looked at her. "I'm really sorry you feel this way. But we will help you." Smiling, the social worker walked out of the room.

Willow sighed, and sat up. She was alone for the first time since she had come to. "Damn it, I've got to find Spike," she said aloud.

She looked around, "Where on earth did they put my ... oh shit, I only had that robe on! Spike must have brought me in. I bet he didn't even bring my purse!"

The little redhead got out of bed, feeling the breeze of the air conditioning blowing around the tied back of the hospital gown she wore. "Goddess! I have to get some clothes."

Willow took a deep breath and began an incantation "Spirits aid, I call on thee. Thine assistance I require. Help me dress and leave this place, in the clothing I desire."

There was a muted flash as Willow's spell worked. She looked down at the clothes in a neat pile at her feet and gasped. "Goddess! That wasn't what I meant by desire!" Then a wave of nausea swept over her and she had to sit on the bed. "I guess that means no more magic for awhile," she concluded ruefully as she held her aching head.

She looked at the clothes again, sighed and began to dress. She drew up the leather skirt, a lovely calf length design, with unfortunately, splits to just below both hips. Then she pulled on the patent leather ankle boots, balanced a little precariously on the four and a half inch stilettos and threaded the leather tongue through the buckles. Finally, she opened the corset, slid it over her shoulders and began to tie the ornate frontal lacing as tightly as she could.

As Willow left the emergency cubicle, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in a glass partition. "Goddess! I look like the demon harlot from hell!"

* * * *

"Ah, Dr McKeon, it's so good to see you again." Giles said when the psychiatrist was shown into the interview room.

"Giles, it's been entirely too long. How's everyone?"

"Buffy decided to go to England, as we talked about. Willow and Spike had a little accident. That's the reason I called you. Peter."

"Well, why don't you tell me what happened, Spike?" McKeon asked, looking over at the thoroughly miserable vampire.

Spike's recounting of the incident was terse, but conveyed everything that happened. McKeon looked over at the two policemen. "Have either of you interviewed Ms Rosenberg yet?"

The policemen looked back. "No, we were called in by the social worker," one answered.

"Ms Rosenberg was still unconscious when the interview began," the other added.

"Don't you think that checking with her would be a good idea?" McKeon asked in a deceptively quiet voice.

"What? Surely you don't believe that story of his?"

"Officer," McKeon sighed, "there are over thirty similar cases on record where the person who surprised the ex-soldier was not only hurt, but killed. So, yes, his story is believable. And from what I know of Mr Blood and Ms Rosenberg, I am strongly inclined to believe them."

"Well, obviously we were going to talk to Ms Rosenberg ..."

"But you decided to try and coerce a confession first." McKeon concluded.

"What're you saying?"

"Just that you should really speak to Ms Rosenberg first. I suggest you do so. Now."

The policemen realised they would get nowhere with McKeon until they did. With a muttered "Wait here," they went off to see Willow.

* * * *

Willow walked cautiously out towards the hospital's emergency desk. When she reached it, she noticed that the woman at the contact counter appeared somewhat ... forbidding. "Excuse me," she began tentatively, "but I need to see my boyfriend. His name's William Blood."

The receptionist looked up at Willow. "You can't. He's being interviewed by the police."

"What? Why?" Willow was utterly confused.

"That is not my concern. Please return to your room."

Willow drew herself in and put her resolve face in place. "I wish to discharge myself. Immediately. And how do you know that I'm a patient anyway?"

"You're on the admittance side of the doors. No-one gets through on my watch."

"Oh. I think you may have been working the last time I came in. I cut my hand accidentally."

The woman looked at her. "Oh, yes. Your boyfriend's a rude, obnoxious and very aggressive Englishman?"

Willow blushed and nodded, realising as she did so that, for the first time ever, someone had, at least temporarily, defeated her resolve face. {No way. If I lose this round, it'll never work again,} she thought angrily.

Willow resumed her resolve face and said coldly, "I remember. You weren't going to let him in until he threatened a lawsuit. Now, that's beginning to sound like a really good idea. Let me out immediately or I'll go call our lawyers."

"What's going on here?" Like the tolling of a death bell, the falsely cheerful voice of the social worker came to Willow's ears.

"I'm discharging myself. Then I'm finding my boyfriend and we're going home. That's what's happening."

"Actually, dear, you can't. I've decided to have you declared non-compos mentis. To make sure that dreadful man can't hurt you again. Now, until two consultant psychiatrists co-sign the document, we cannot do anything ... except keep you within the hospital. But that's really only pro-forma. They always accept my recommendations."

Willow gaped at the social worker. "How dare you! SPIKE!!!!!!!!!" Willow yelled, more in hope than expectation.

* * * *

"SPIKE!!!!!!!!!"

All three men looked up as Willow's scream echoed throughout the emergency room. As one, they headed towards the sound of her cry. Spike led the way, with Giles only a pace behind, while Peter McKeon brought up the rear.

They all saw the confrontation. Willow's hair was beginning to rise as she unconsciously drew power from her surroundings, while she continued to glare at the social worker.

"What is it pet? What's wrong?" Spike called out as he ran towards his lover.

"Willow, we're coming!" Giles shouted as he followed in Spike's wake.

Willow looked over, saw Spike and Giles and then gestured. The door into the admittance area slid open and try as the receptionist might, she couldn't make it close again. As Spike reached her, he slowed and took her in his arms.

"It's all right love. I'm here now. What on earth are you wearing?"

"Don't worry about that. This ... woman wants to have me declared crazy! And she wants you prosecuted for wife beating!"

It was at this moment that the two police officers also arrived on the scene. They had been unable to find Willow and had come running at the screams.

"What is going on here?" The senior of the two asked.

"Well Willow called ..."

"I heard a scream ..."

"This woman needs to be held ..."

"Everyone's turning my reception area into a zoo!"

McKeon put his hand into his pocket, pulled out a pea-whistle and blew it. Very hard. The piercing shriek of the whistle echoed in the room as everyone stopped talking and looked over at the psychiatrist.

"That's enough from everyone. I'm the senior consultant here and I'll take charge. For now, would you two," he said, indicating the policemen, "please obtain Ms Rosenberg's version of events." He turned to the social worker. "I will not sign any document suggesting committal or any declaration making anyone else Willow's guardian for now. No discussion, no argument. And ... you're Marla Horrocks, aren't you?"

"Why, yes I am. Have we met?"

McKeon nodded. "You also work out at the Glendale hospital don't you? I used to consult there. We met some three years ago. I must say, you look remarkably good Marla. Especially considering you're dead." McKeon ignored the amazed looks he received and pressed on, knowing that he would lose the chance to reveal whatever was inhabiting Marla's body if he did so.

The social worker looked up. "What on earth are you talking about Dr ... McKeon wasn't it?"

"Marla, I worked with you for some time. And I remember the discovery of your body. You were eviscerated, all your internal organs had been removed, and the forensic evidence suggested that they'd eaten at the crime scene. Ergo, you aren't Marla."

As McKeon expounded, the creature that had been posing as the social worker began to shimmer. It slowly expanded, changing shape as it did so. It grew to about nine feet in height, and its arms lengthened, taking on a gnarled and warty look. Vicious claws extended from its fingers while it's legs thickened appreciably. The head took on a visage of terror made manifest, with glowing eyes, fangs sprouting from both its jaws and horns emerging jutting upwards from the forehead.

"So ... discovered," it growled in melodramatic fashion. "I will kill you all; beginning with the 'Union of Abominations'," it continued; looking directly at Willow and Spike.

As it reached out to take Willow, one of the policemen opened fire. The bullets ricocheted off the creature's armoured skin, sending sparks in all directions. "So, you think you can fight back?" It snarled. Its left arm whipped around, disembowelling the policeman with one easy motion. The delay had, however, given both Spike and Willow time to begin to fight back.

Spike began by dropping almost to his knees and making a scythe kick, designed to unbalance the huge demon they were facing. The kick did make the creature wobble and rock, but no more. Spike rapidly rolled away as a foot was brought down towards him.

Willow realised her limitations. She knew that raw magical energy would be more efficient and cost her less than attempting to conjure anything. She began by throwing a flash of light at the creature's eyes. Dazzled, it stepped back a pace and blinked, trying to re-focus. Spike got to his feet and delivered a series of savage kicks into its Achilles tendon, trying to at least damage it. The kicks did make the demon growl in pain, and Spike dodged away as it turned to again try and stomp on him.

The remaining policeman took careful aim, firing for the gigantic creature's eyes. A rapid volley of shots rang out, but somehow, all the rounds just missed the demon's eyes.

Devoutly wishing she had thought to also conjure her crystals--and now had the time to do so--Willow brought a second spell into action. There was a flash of light as the tiny redhead let a blast of pure energy surge toward the demon. The blast hit it full in the chest, and the creature began to smoke and smoulder where the beam hit it. It reeled backwards, growling and trying to avoid the energy that the little witch kept directed at it. The screeches of the beast became shriller as the damage done began to mount. Willow murmured, "Oh, shit!" And passed out, sprawled on the floor helplessly.

Spike realised that Willow's effort had damaged the creature, and, as Giles stepped forward to drag Willow to safety, Spike slammed his fist into the glass partition. Selecting a large shard about two feet long, he ran directly at the demon, and, game face now in place jumped prodigiously, and thrust the shard deep into the creature's chest, twisting back and forth, trying to damage as many vital organs as he could.

The blond vampire dropped back to the floor and sprinted for another shard, as the demon shrieked in agony. Spike this time went to the side and kicked at the Achilles tendons again. The creature dropped to its knees, still howling in pain and Spike thrust the second shard upwards into one of the eye sockets.

The beast howled one last time and collapsed, killed by the combined efforts of a human witch and demonic vampire.

"And who's going to clear all this up? And pay for a new partition?" The survivors heard the inevitable voice of the receptionist.

* * * *

Willow came to again, moaning. "Oh Goddess, my head is killing me."

"It's all right pet, I'm here."

She heard Spike's voice from behind her. Realising he was cradling her head in his lap, she reached back to stroke his arms. "Love you," she murmured softly. "We won?"

"Yes kitten, we won. And Giles drove us home. You didn't stir when I carried you in."

"Mmmmmmmm. Cuddles are nice."

Spike chuckled, and so, to Willow's chagrin, did Giles, until now silent.

"Willow, are you capable of talking coherently?" Giles asked in a soft voice.

"I think so. Can you help me sit up Spike?"

"Sure luv." Spike gently pushed Willow upright, and then slid her around so that she was sitting, rather than lying in the four-seat couch that was the centrepiece of the living room.

"Willow, may I ask you a question?" Giles continued.

"Sure."

"Why are you wearing all this ... leather?"

Willow blushed and lowered her head. Then, a moment later lifted it to look at Giles in the half-light. "Are you sure you want the answer to that?"

"Er ... perhaps not. Well, if you're all right, I should be going. No, I'll see myself out. You recover. That was an astonishing display of power earlier." As Giles finished speaking he turned and walked to the door.

As the door shut, Spike looked over at his lover, still clad entirely in leather. "Tell me one thing pet. How come when I get concussed all I do is write sappy poetry, but when you do, you conjure up kinky clothing? Hang on a mo' luv, I recognise the corset and the boots, but where did the skirt come from?"

Willow blushed a rich crimson. "When I summoned the clothes, I used the word desire. I've been eyeing this skirt for weeks and ... I'll return it tomorrow. I promise."

Spike's laughter filled the late night silence.