A Very Ordinary Evil

Part 33 And the World Turned Upside Down


Immediately following Part 32


“What!”

“I find that …”

“Deadboy? Why doesn’t that …”

“The bloody …”

“Oh God! He couldn’t …”

“She’s not lying!”

Anya realised that unless someone took control, the discussion would degenerate into a shouting match. She opened her shoulder bag and took out a small whistle. She blew hard and pierpiercing shriek of her rape whistle cut through the cellar. “So, people. We’ll do this in an orderly manner, for a change. One person speaks at a time.” Anya found retaining the control she had wrested so blatantly was surprisingly easy. “Giles, you first.” Anya had already decided on a speaking order.

“Er, yes … well, I have to wonder if we’re dealing with Angel, or Angelus. I can easily imagine Angelus hiring the Order for something like this. Unlike Angel, he’s a bully; a fundamentally cowardly creature ...” Giles removed his glasses and began to think.

Spike interrupted Anya’s planned list of speakers. “Holly! Do you know if it’s true? Has … Angel lost his bloody soul. Again?”

The girl looked up, jolted for a moment from the depression that her betrayal of the Order, and the will-weakening spell, had plunged her. “I’ve got no idea. And I don’t care either. He wants you dead, so the Order’ll kill you. Eventually.”

“Cordy? Do you think he could? Really?” Willow asked, scared and disturbed by what Holly had said. She was still unsure whether she believed the former Prom Queen, but thought if anyone could shed some light on things, it would be Cordelia. After all, Willow reasoned, she had known Angel far more recently than any of the others.

“I don’t know Wills. Twelve months ago, I’d have said no. But … you know he sacked Wes and Gunn and I, right? Then re-hired us all. No explanations, no nothing. Well, what you don’t is is why he sacked us.” Cordelia drew a deep breath and calmed herself before she could continue. “He let Darla and Drusilla slaughter over a dozen evil lawyers.”

She looked around at the laughter. “What? Oh puh-lease. I mean really evil lawyers. Ones who represent demons and stuff like that. But they’re human, and Angel just left them all to die. Then,” she continued, warming to her task, “when Wesley and Gunn and I all complained, he sacked us. So we went into business for ourselves.” She looked around, “God I need something to drink.”

Willow nodded, murmured something under her breath and a large bottle of Coke appeared. “What?” She asked in response to the somewhat disapproving looks she received. “It’s just the teleport spell, but backwards.”

“Thanks,” Cordelia said to Willow, hoping to forestall any incipient unpleasantness. “To get back to what I was saying,” she broke off to swig directly from the bottle, then continued. “About two months later he came into our new offices, and told us we could return to our jobs if we wanted. He never said anything else about the lawyers, and there was something about him that seemed to say ‘Don’t ask’. So, thinking it all through, the Angel I saw then, and since, could very easily hire the Order.”

“Bloody Hell!” Spike cursed. “What’s got into the poof? I know he didn’t get a, as you youngsters so quaintly put it, ‘A Happy’ because I would’ve seen the differences immediately.” He looked around. “What?”

“ ‘As you youngsters so quaintly put it?’ Okay, who are you and what did you do with Will’s Deadboy?” Xander asked.

Spike lapsed into game face and snarled. He moved lightening fast towards Xander and lifted him by the shirtfront, elevating him as far as he could reach. “Listen, Moron. It’s either joke about it or cry. My fuckin’ Grandsire’s trying to kill me and, as an added bonus, is too bloody gutless to do it ‘imself. The prick’s also putting Willow in danger, as well as the rest of you. Remind me to use your useless friggin’ carcass next time a grenade needs to be bloody smothered, you … you … Christ I don’t know why I bother.” He discarded the by now terrified Xander like an old toy, letting the young man crash to the ground like a disjointed doll. As Spike did so, he staggered and sank to his knees in pain as he finally felt the impulses from the chip penetrate the adrenaline-induced rage.

Xander bounced up, ready to assert himself. “Xander, stay!” Anya’s voice was commanding. “You deserved that, now don’t complain!” Xander looked at his fiancée; his face a confusing mixture of betrayal and the love he held for her.

“Bloody Hell! Why does he want to … Oh shit! Do you remember what he said when he was leaving luv? You know, when you chucked him out.”

“Oh Goddess! He said ‘This isn’t over.’ I knew he was angry, but trying to kill you, because he doesn’t approve of us?” Willow went pale from the shock of it. One of the fundamental pillars of her world had crumbled to dust under her and she wasn’t certain of anything anymore. She staggered towards the blond vampire and held him close. “First Buffy, now Angel? What did we do to deserve this?”

“Nothing pet. Nothing.” He chuckled mirthlessly and continued, “Y’know luv, this sort of reminds me of a more lethal version of that old Sidney Poitier film. What was it called?”

“You’re getting two mixed up in your head, dear heart. Mississippi Burning and Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner.”

“Oh,” Spike sounded slightly put out. “So, it seems that he’s capable of doing it. What the hell do we do now?”

“I’ll call Wes and Gunn,” said Cordelia. “We can at least try and find out if they know anything about it.”

Willow looked up. “Good. If he is behind this, I’ll kill him. You all know that, don’t you.” Her delivery was flat and emotionless. “At least Buffy had excuses for what she did. He doesn’t. He’s not having a breakdown, he’s not blinded by his slayer abilities either because he’s not one. It’s either hate or jealousy, nothing more. And,” she said, drawing breath, “he’s trying to determine my life for me, as if I’m a child. It’s patronising and insulting.”

The rest of the group looked at her in stunned silence. Spike was dumbstruck. {She’d kill for me?}

“Well, someone say something. Please.” Willow asked in a much more normal voice.

“I don’t have a problem with it pet, as long as you remain safe while you’re doing it.” Spike was the first to voice his support for the redhead’s avowed intention of killing Angel.

“While I don’t really have a difficulty in killing Angel per se,” said Giles. “You should be aware that you would be, in a sense, making the Council’s job easier. If there’s no vampire withoul,oul, the issue of Good versus Evil won’t arise. And the new Council will exploit that point, Willow.”

Willow looked up, obviously thinking. Before she could speak, however, Xander chimed in. “You realise, don’t you, that if Buffy ever finds out you’ve killed Angel she’ll try and kill both Spike and you.” The concern and worry for his friend was self-evident.

Willow nodded. “Buffy isn’t well. Goddess, Xander, she’s just got out of a hospital. It’s obvious she’s still sick. If there’s evidence of Angel also being … unwell, then I won’t do anything rash. But if he’s in his right mind, he’s dust. That simple.”

“How do we know that she’s telling the truth anyway?” Cordelia asked. “I know you’ve got that spell going Wills, but what if she was just told it was Angel?”

Anya looked up. “There is a way,” she said quietly, “but it’s pretty difficult, even if Giles has access to the relevant spell in one of his books.”

Willow looked at Anya while Giles also looked up, intrigued. “What way Anya?” He asked.

“There’s a spell which allows a skilled Magician, or Witch, to … psychically enter the mind of another and examine their memories. It can be a bit dangerous though.”

“Dangerous in what way Anya?” Willow asked, already intrigued.

“Well, I don’t remember a lot about it, but I seem to recall that someone could get … stuck, I suppose in the mind of the other person. I really don’t remember the why’s and wherefore’s of it all, but I know the spell works. Sometimes.”

“Pet, it’s too dangerous. Your own spell told you it was Peaches. What more do you need?”

“I need to be certain. Really certain.” Willow said, looking directly at Spike, resolve face firmly in place. “I know Angel well enough that if I could see her memories, I could tell I if it was him, someone wearing a Glamour, or simply someone telling her that he was Angel. And, to be fair, you’re always read bel believe the worst of Angel. Of course, the time you spent with Angelus would help there. He was an arse-hole.” Willow stretched the first syllable out, lengthening the A in the English manner.

“Willow!” Giles gasped, shocked. He’d never heard her use a pungent English curse before and he was shocked.

Spike looked levelly at Willow. “I didn’t find him any different, pet. With soul or without.” He paused, drew breath and asked her, resignedly, “I’m not going to be able to convince you not to do this, am I?”

“No.” Willow smiled as she answered, trying to take the sting out of her decision, fully aware that Spike’s protective instincts were screaming at him, she wrapped her arms around his waist and looked up at him. “I have to, y’know. It just wouldn’t be … right otherwise. I’d hate myself.”

Spike nodded. He knew when he was beaten, and a tactical withdrawal was, he felt, in order. “All right luv. Go on. I won’t whine about it.”

The redhead smiled in response, then turned to Giles. “Do you know anything about this spell Anya’s talking about?”

“No, but I can get all the logical reference sources here in a few minutes.”

“Good, do that please Giles.” Willow was in full organisational mode now.

Nodding, Giles left the cellar, climbing the stairs gingerly. Willow continued to issue instructions allowing enough room to be cleared to allow her to cast an impromptu circle to work from. In the process, Anya caught one of the drapes with a chair and noticed the bottom corner of the Saint Andrew’s Cross. She giggled to herself, and thought of the fun she would have teasing Willow later.

* * * *

When Giles returned, he called for help, and ended up passing the books down to Xander before he could descend the steps himself. When all the books had been lowered, Giles followed, constantly reminding Xander not to damage them.

“Well,” Giles said as he surveyed the altered room he had re-entered, “You certainly haven’t let the grass grow under your feet, have you?”

Spike chuckled. “Hardly possible in here Ripper. We’re on bedrock.”

Willow looked at Giles and Xander, both overloaded with books. “Why don’t you bring those books over here and we’ll have a look at them, shall we?” She turned to Anya, and asked, “is there anything that you can remember about this spell that may help us locate it more quickly?”

Anya pondered the question, while Willow and the others each opened books. Suddenly the blonde girl looked up. “It was called ‘The Mindwalker’!”

Giles looked over at Anya, eyes suddenly ablaze. “Are you sure that’s what it’s called?”

“Yes, why?”

“Because I know it. I hadn’t even thought of it in these circumstances.” He looked at Willow apologetically. “I’m sorry Willow, it just hadn’t occurred to me to use the spell … constructively. Perhaps I should explain. When I was younger, the Mindwalker was used during the use of certain … recreational pharmaceuticals.”

“During recre-whats, G-man?” Xander blurted out.

“During drug use Xander,” Giles replied, sighing. “Specifically Mescaline trips.”

Xander gawped helply asy as the conversation continued around him.

“Giles, do you know which book the Mindwalker spell is in?” Willow asked anxiously.

“It’s in one of these,” he said gesturing vaguely at the lopsided mound of books he and Xander had returned with. “I feel I really must caution you, however. It’s a very … intense spell. The casting is reasonably easy, but the experiences are anything but. Would you listen while I explain?”

The nervous little witch nodded and Giles immediately continued to talk, seemingly oblivious to the rapt faces of the other Scoobies. “What happens during the spell is very dramatic. Essentially, the spell puts both you and the intended … victim into an enforced trance. The caster is then able to experience the thoughts, emotions, feeling, desire, fantasies of the other party. Even when both the caster and target were effected by drugs the experience is highly addictive. Almost God-like.” As he finished, Giles face took on a look of indescribable awe, mixed with a sense of the most dreadful loss.

Willow nodded. “Okay,” she said, thinking. “Giles, do I have to read the incantation? Or can someone perform it for me?”

“I’m unsure Willow. I’d need to refresh my memory somewhat. It was nearly thirty years ago, after all. Let me look, though. I know the book’s here somewhere.” After rummaging for a few minutes amongst the books untidily stacked on the one small table available, Giles found the volume he had been seeking. He began quickly flicking the pages, and even as he did so, his fundamental reverence for books remained obvious. “Ah, it’s here. It appears anyone can cast the actual spell, as long as the Mindwalker and the target are clearly delineated.”

The redhead nodded. “Good. In that case Giles, can you cast it. Also, don’t tell me which book it’s in. After my mistake with Buffy, the last thing I need is a spell that could become addictive. Oh Goddess! Does that mean using magic could become addictive too?”

“Willow,” Giles said sternly, “focus. Now, let me know when you’re ready.”

Willow nodded briefly.