A Very Ordinary Evil

Part 8 – Confessions and Lamentations


24 hours later, the magic shop


Willow entered Giles’ shop, hand in hand with Spike. It had felt wonderful to simply be with him, walking along a street at dusk. {The looks of jealousy and envy I got were pretty cool too.} she thought to herself.

As they entered, they heard the sounds of quiet conversation coming from the back of the shop, and noticed they were otherwise alone. They moved to their normal ‘conference’ table and sat. Of course, they didn’t sit apart very long. Within a minute, Willow had scooted onto Spike’s lap and started to nibble on his lips.

The sound of a very British throat clearing behind them brought them back to reality.

“Hi Giles.” Willow waved at her mentor.

“Ripper.” Spike greeted him.

“I do have some news about Buffy, always assuming you aren’t too self absorbed to listen.”

“Giles. That’s not fair.” Willow was upset at the tone in Giles’ voice. “We stopped our ‘self-absorption’ when you let us know you were here. Which, you have to admit, puts us one up on Xander and Anya.”

“I’m sorry Willow, Spike. That was uncalled for. I’ve just had some rather bad news about Buffy.” Giles distress and anxiety were clear to see.

“Bad news is always a relative term, Ripper. And no, I’m not mocking you, I’m making a point. Do you understand me when I say I hope she’s dead rather than insane, or paralysed or whatever?”

“Paralysed, that I understand Spike.” Giles said grudgingly.

Willow looked at both of them aghast.

Spike saw her statement. “Listen pet, I know we’re sounding cold blooded, even brutal. I want you to think a moment about a slayer in a wheelchair. What would happen then?”

Willow looked blankly at them. Giles picked up the thread of the conversation. Willow, how do we get slayers?

“Giles! You know that! One dies and the next one’s…”

Giles nodded. “Exactly. That’s the problem Willow, if a slayer becomes incapacitated, rather than killed, then the next slayer can’t be called. And that’s what’s happened now. Buffy’s had a complete mental collapse. She’s been hospitalised indefinitely.”

“And it’s my fault, isn’t it Giles. I did it with that spell.” The anguish was evident in Willow’s voice.

“No Willow, it wasn’t you. The Doctors said that she’s been on the brink for a long time. Remember, she’s been the slayer for five years and more. I’ve also called the Watcher’s Council. They’re sending a psychiatrist to assess Buffy as well.”

“Pet, listen. You saw how she reacted to our … surprise. That’s the point at which she lost it. I’m guessing here, Rupert…” Giles was astonished at Spike’s use of his first name. “…that she couldn’t cope with someone else succeeding where she’d failed.”

“So it was me. I did it by loving Spike.” Willow’s grief and distress were palpable.

“No pet, it’s not your fault, or mine, or Giles.s nos not even hers. Regardless of my opinions of slayers, I also feel sorry for them. They’re called without any option, and they’re usually dead within eighteen months of their being called. Giles,” Spike continued, “is there any record of the longest lived slayer?”

“Before Buffy, the record was a little under four years.”

Spike nodded. “How did she die, mate?”

“Err, I don’t recall. I’d need to check the diaries.”

“You do that Ripper. Now.” The tone in Spike’s voice left no room for argument.

Willow began to sob quietly, burying her face into the blond vampire’s chest. Spike began to murmur to her, stroking her hair, soothing her as best he could. His only immediate hope was that either Giles understood what he was asking, or that the previous record holder had indeed committed suicide.” He thought he remembered a story told, perhaps by Darla, about an undefeatable slayer who had taken her own life.

Giles came back, looking distressed. “Show me.” Spike told him.

Spike quickly scanned the page and then read it aloud to Willow. “‘After four years, Kamayama Noriko became confused and lost. She had no understanding of her self or her goals. In this state of mind, she took her own life.’ It’s understandable pet. If a slayer doesn’t die they become emotionally exhausted. I spoke to Buffy about it close to a year ago. She wanted to know how I killed the two slayers. I told her then that I didn’t defeat them, they defeated themselves.” He handed the book back to Giles.

Willow began to think, and looked up at Spike and Giles. “Is this all true?”

Giles nodded. “Yes, Spike read verbatim from the diary. And he told the truth about Buffy speaking to him last year.”

“So it wasn’t all my fault?”

“No pet, it wasn’t your fault at all. Anything could have triggered her off. You can’t be held responsible for who you love. After all, didn’t you say that to Buffy when Angelus returned?”

“That’s different. She’s the slayer. It’s important that we help her. Instead, I hurt her. Real bad.”

“Listen Red, you didn’t do anything. She was the one who went off the deep end. In fact, you may have saved her life with that spell. If you hadn’t done something drastic, she would have attacked me, and with this bloody chip, I would have had to kill her with a single blow. After that, I would have been helpless on the floor. Honest, luv, you did the right thing.”

“Did I really?” The need to believe that the two men could hear in the tiny witch’s voice was heartrending.

Giles crouched down, looked at Willow and said, “Yes, you made the right decisions at every step. Some were perhaps a little overstated, but you are, after all, not British. I’m more proud of you than I can possibly say.”

Willow looked up at Wat Watcher, tears still streaking her face. “Really?”

“Yes Willow, really.”

They heard the bell ring as Anya and Xander walked in. “How’s Buffy?” Xander wasted no time in inquiring.

“Not well, I’m afraid Xander.” Was Giles’ reply, “She’s had a complete breakdown.”

“Oh God! Poor Buffy! How did it happen?” Xander was obviously distressed, and Anya looked somewhat unhappy about that.

“We aren’t certain Xander.” Giles replied. “It’s likely that she’s burned out as the slayer. She’s the longest-lived slayer in all of the Council’s recorded history. It’s bound to have some negative side effects.”

“Hey G-man, we’re talking about a person here. Buffy, in fact. ‘Negative side effects’ just doesn’t cut it.”

“I know Xander, but how else can we phrase it? We know so little about the metabolism and mental stability of slayers.”

“Damn it Giles, you’re making her sound like a science experiment!”

“Giles,” Spike interrupted, “what happens if she’s permanently … disabled?”

“I don’t know Spike, I really don’t. The issue has just never arisen before.”

What we will have to do though,” Giles continued, “is to take over Buffy’s patrolling duties. I propose that Spike and Willow work together, as will Xander, Anya and myself. That gives us two teams of roughly equal competence.”

“Works for me Watcher. What about you pet?” Spike’s solicitousness touched all those watching.

Anya looked at the blond quizzically. “Now I know what was meant when I was told you ‘stink of humanity.’ The description was most apt. I think it’s rather sweet myself.”

Spike’s head shot straight up. “What? How did you hear that?”

Anya smiled. “I was just solving a problem for one of your minions. She was very angry with Dalton. So I put his soul back, and hid it so no-one would know, not even him. Then the Judge and Dru made the girl’s wish come true.”

“Bloody Hell Anya! I liked Dalton. He was the only one I could have a halfway intelligent conversation with.”

“Sorry.” Anya said, her face making it obvious she was anything but.

“I think we can handle it. After all, I still feel guilty about Buffy.” Willow responded to Giles and Spike.

Spike held Wilclosclose. “Pet, how can we convince you?”

“There’s nothing to say Spike. I precipitated this, however you look at it.”

Spike sighed, drew the emotionally shattered redhead even closer into his arms, looked at the Watcher and said, “I think we should start this routine tomorrow, mate. I don’t think anyone other than me is in any condition to try anything now.”

Giles nodded. “Yes Spike, you’re quite right. I don’t think Sunnydale’ll suffer too much from one night without patrolling.”

* * * *

Spike walked Willow back to what he had already began to think of as their home. He could tell that Willow was thinking, and he had a solid suspicion that guilt was the major issue. He knew that she could not get past the idea that it was her fault, and hers alone, that Buffy was ill.

As she opened the door, she looked at the blond vampire who had become such a fixture in her life so quickly and so completely. As they walked in, she whispered, “I need to be punished,” to herself.

“What pet?” Spike asked. He had heard her murmur quite clearly, but wanted to try and understand her motivations.

“N-Nothing. I was just thinking.” Willow answered, blushing furiously.

“Uh huh.” The tone in his voice spoke volumes. “Now, pet, why don’t you tell me. You know I’ll only work it out in the long run. So, why put yourself through it.”

“Umm-umm-Oh God!” Willow blushed bright crimson and fled for her bedroom, so distressed she forgot her conversion to paganism.

Spike ran after her. He reached her just as she entered the room, and moved through the door before she could slam it shut. Willow spun on her heel, surprised that he’d got there so quickly. He grinned at her and said, “Red, talk to me. Something’s eating at you. I don’t mean what happened to the slayer, but I’ll bet it’s connected.”

The now profoundly embarrassed redhead sat on the bed and looked down, trembling but remaining silent.

“Pet, what is it?” Spike sat next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “Luv, you have to talk to me about this, I can tell it’s really messing with your mind.”

Willow looked at him again, seeing only concern and worry in his face. {He’s worried for me?} Wiping the tears away, she sniffed and reached for a tissue. “W-Will you promise to j-j-just listen while I tell y-you something?”

“Okay pet, I’ll just listen. No commentary, no interruptions. I promise.”

Willow smiled very softly, and began to talk. “This will probably take a while. You know that my parents are away a lot of the time. Well, it’s been going on since I was thirteen. I’d guess that since then they’ve been here for about ten to twelve weeks each year on average. So, most of the time I’m alone. I can’t even say they neglect me, they aren’t here often enough for that.”

Spike watched the girl as she began to open her heart, her eyes were almost glazed, and she was obviously not seeing her surroundings, but something truly horrifying. He realised that, on one level, she did not realise he was there.

“Even when they were here,” continued Willow, “they tried to be ‘modern’ parents.” The word modern was spat out like the vilest insult of which she could think. “They reasoned, counselled, discussed and assessed. They never took notice of me! It was like I was a child-rearing pct. ct. They never showed me love or affection. Never allowed me to show any emotions toward them. I did the only thing I could think of. When I was bad, I punished myself.”

Spike was sitting, listening to her, tears trailing unnoticed down both cheeks. He couldn’t believe the emotional purgatory the woman next to him had suffered. {People may call me a monster, but I know of two real monsters now. These people are just unbelievable.} Spike thought.

Willow was continuing to talk. “I used to hurt myself in all sorts of ways, just so I could know that I could feel. So that I knew that I had been chastised. Look.” Willow spread her fingers to show Spike the multiple layers of scarring in the webbing. “I used to do that with a compass point. And this.” Willow lifted a foot, and removing her trainer and sock, showed him similar scars in the webbing there. She continued, showing him burns from molten wax, cut marks across the inside of her elbows, the remaining marks of the glass cuts on her stomach. Seeing them, Spike shuddered, suddenly aware of how much the incident with the broken bottle must have effected her.

“How can you love someone as sick as me, Spike? I’m mad, not like Buffy, but mad just the same. And I made Buffy mad. I’m vile.”

Spike drew Willow into another embrace, his tears still streaming down his face. “Willow, I love you because of your faults, not in spite of them. You’re the furthest thing from vile that I can imagine. I’ll never leave you alone. I promise. Now, pet, go to sleep. There’s nothing else we can do tonight.”

Spike lay her down on the bed, and then sat next to her, holding her hand until she eventually drifted off.