The Fever, Part 3 Author: Elsa Frohman Rating: PG-13 Spoilers: Post Chosen. This is my AU AtS S5. Summary: Spike is back, and he's human -- sort of. He's
working for Wolfram & Hart as an outside contractor.
"I thought they'd send Fred," Spike said when Knox and his
crew arrived.
Knox smiled and shrugged. "Whoever's on this detail might not
be able to go back to headquarters -- ever. We decided it might
be better for Miss Burkle to head up the support operations
back at the office."
Knox set about supervising the set up of a bewildering array of
lab equipment. Some four hours after Spike telephoned
Wolfram & Hart, the abandoned house had been converted to a
field hospital, with six beds set up in the living room, the trash
swept away, rubber mats covering the rotting flooring and the
odor of disinfectant filling the air.
The six beds were puzzling Spike. There were two "patients,"
Ralph and Maria, and possibly a third -- himself -- if it turned
out he was vulnerable. The other three weren't for technicians,
though. The Wolfram & Hart people had taken over the
kitchen, laying out sleeping bags and air mattresses.
Maria was already settled in the first hospital bed. Her low
moans made it clear she was in increasing distress. Ralph was
hovering around her, wringing his hands and worrying. He kept
looking over at Spike, as if he thought Spike could make Maria
better, but was just refusing to do it.
"When they get all their widgets and thingamabob's working..."
Spike told the nervous vampire, feeling less sure than he
sounded.
Gunn had been pacing like a caged animal until several of the
technical crew complained he was getting in their way. He had
retreated to a chair against the front wall, where he sat glaring
at the proceedings.
Actually, the size and swiftness of the W&H response caught
Spike off guard. When he thought about it, though, it made
sense that the corporation would react to a threat to its CEO.
Spike might be in the questionable column where this infection
was concerned, but Angel was solidly in the "at risk" category.
Still, Spike had the uneasy feeling that something was amiss.
He couldn't put his finger on it. Knox was being respectful and
efficient as he set up shop. He'd started out by questioning
Spike closely about his recollections of his previous encounter
with the fever. The young man was friendly and even
sympathetic to Spike's worries about the possibility of
contracting the disease.
"The female subject's reaction upon contact with your blood
really does indicate the pathogen probably isn't going to thrive
on your tissue or plasma," the young man explained.
But even as Knox was giving his reassurances that Spike was
probably immune, Spike had the oddest feeling that Knox
would equally enjoy doing an autopsy on him as curing him.
He wasn't sure why he felt that way. Maybe it was Knox's habit
of calling the vampires "subjects" rather than patients. There
wasn't anything specific in the young man's manner -- just a
palpable enthusiasm for exploration of the pathogen that
seemed to go beyond wanting to protect his boss.
Spike was also aware that this was the young man that Fred
tended to chatter on about -- when she wasn't wondering why
she couldn't get back together with Gunn. Their last few
conversations had been peppered with "Oh, Knox says..." and
"I can't believe how good he is at..." and a few "Do you think it
would be OK if I invited him over? I mean, he does work for
me. It wouldn't be harassment, would it?"
Spike hadn't had an answer to that one. Workplace ethics was
not a subject for which he could claim any relevant experience.
The W&H crew had finished filling the bedroom where Spike
and Gunn had first encountered Maria with electronic
equipment, and Knox came over to Spike carrying a basket of
supplies for drawing blood.
"We'll start with some samples. You, Mr. Gunn, and the two
acute subjects," he said.
"I think you should start by sedating Maria," Spike said with a
frown. "You've been here nearly four hours, and all you've
done for her is put her in bed. She's starving, and she's in pain."
"Can't give the female subject any drugs for now," Knox said
evenly as he fished a disposable needle out of his basket. "We
need uncontaminated tissue and blood samples."
Spike glowered as he rolled up his sleeve.
"We've got an idea that may help her, though," Knox added as
he put the rubber tourniquet on Spike's upper arm to prepare to
take his blood sample. "We've been developing a synthetic
blood product in the medical section. It's completely inorganic,
but the large molecules mimic the structure of the proteins in
hemoglobin. If I'm right, it won't trigger the anaphylactic
reaction that human blood does in the second-stage subjects.
Our on-hand supplies should be here within the next half-
hour."
Knox took his first sample and labeled the tube of blood.
"Your turn now, " he said to Gunn.
Gunn bared his arm.
"You sure I'm not going to get sick?" Gunn asked.
"Well, you might catch a cold -- nobody's found a way to stop
that. But if Spike's information is correct, you're probably not
going to get Blood Fever," Knox said cheerfully. "What he told
me matches what little I could dig out of the Wolfram & Hart
database before I came. So, I'm reasonably confident you're
safe."
Gunn looked unconvinced.
"What about him?" Gunn asked, nodding toward Spike. "Been
hearing a lot of 'probablys' and 'we thinks.' When you gonna
tell Spike he's OK?"
"I should have an answer to that before too long," Knox
replied. "After I've collected these samples, I can compare his
with the first-stage subject, and with you, our fully human
subject; that should tell us what we need to know about his
prognosis.
"I'm pretty sure where you and Spike are concerned, our
primary objective is to find a way to either kill the pathogen in
your system or filter it out."
Knox took his sample and left Gunn to brood.
"Give the boy a break," Spike said in a low voice as he came
over to join Gunn. "It's not like he hasn't taken any risk to help
us. Since he's come here, he's just as infected as you and me. If
he can't find an answer, he's out of a job."
Gunn just frowned.
Knox was now approaching Ralph for a sample. The skinny
vampire was backing away with a look of horror on his face.
"Keep away!" Ralph whined, retreating back into a corner and
holding up his arms to protect himself.
"I just need a small sample," Knox said evenly. "You'll hardly
feel it."
"No... I can't..." Ralph whimpered.
"I can call a couple of technicians in here to hold you down,"
Knox said with a little more force.
Spike stepped in.
"You need to do this to help Maria," he said gently, taking
Ralph's arm and leading him back out of the corner. "They
need to see what it looks like at each stage. And it really
doesn't hurt." He showed Ralph the little bandage on the inside
of his elbow.
Ralph struggled with himself. His mouth twitched as he tried to
take control of his fear.
"It's OK for you," he whined. "You're not scared of anything.
You're Captain America, man. Me, I get queasy just looking at
a needle like that."
"Captain America? Please..." Spike said with a snort. "Not
bloody likely."
"I'll faint if I look at it."
"Then don't look at it," Spike said with a sigh. "Here. Sit down.
Now, look over there. Look at Gunn." He put his hands on
Ralph's shoulders to steady him, then gave Knox a look that
said "do it quick."
Ralph gulped and squeezed his eyes shut when the tourniquet
went on, but he didn't even notice when Knox plunged the
needle into his vein. When the tourniquet came off he shook
his head.
"Is that all there is to it?" he asked.
"That's all," Knox said as he labeled the tube of blood. He
moved on to Maria, who glared at Ralph as she offered her arm
without protest.
His four samples neatly labeled and racked, Knox gestured for
Spike to follow him out of the room. He led Spike out of the
repaired back door into the yard. The sky was turning pink in
the east. The night was nearly spent, along with Spike's
patience. He wanted to lie down somewhere and get some
sleep.
"I brought you out here because of the non-human subjects'
enhanced hearing. I wanted to talk to you privately."
Spike nodded wearily.
"The female subject can't do any harm in her condition, so I
haven't restrained her. However, I'm concerned about the male.
You say he's harmless, but in this stage of the infection, he's
going to be feeling a very strong need to feed. Even as timid as
he seems, I'm thinking we should restrain him -- for the safety
of the technicians who have to work around him."
Spike clenched his jaw. His hand came up, and he took Knox
by the throat, pushing him back against the house. Only his
best effort at self-control kept him from tightening his grip on
the young man's throat.
"If you're wondering who you have to worry about, I'm a lot
more dangerous to you than Ralph," he said between clenched
teeth. "I could tear your head off without even trying; you'd be
just one more added to thousands I've killed.
"Ralph, on the other hand, has never harmed a soul -- never.
And it's not because some government mad scientist shoved a
chip in his head. It's because he doesn't. That's just who he is."
Spike let go of Knox's throat and stepped back.
"OK, OK," Knox said, holding up his hands in surrender. "I get
it." His hand touched his throat, almost as if to check that it
was still there. "It's just so weird. Who ever heard of a vampire
who doesn't hurt people?"
"There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of
in your bloody corporation," Spike snapped, turning and
heading back into the house.
He's back at the Initiative in a glass cage. The air is dry and
odorless, and the floor is hard and slick. There's no comfort to
be had anywhere. The white-coated technicians come and stare
at him through the glass wall. He's naked, and he wants to
cover himself, but...
He can't move. He's pinned to an operating table with steel
bands he can't break even with his vampire strength. The light
shines down in his eyes as they cut through his scalp and drill
through his skull. He's awake. He feels every probe, each
surgical cut and each vibration of the drill. He screams, but no
sound comes out.
Giles and Buffy are looking down at him, their heads blocking
out the painful white light for a moment. They examine him
like a virus under a microscope.
"Are you sure this chip will do the trick?" Buffy asks.
"Our best brains are on the job," Giles replies. "He will be
made a suitable consort for you."
"Con-what?" Buffy asks, wrinkling her nose. "I just want a
rock-hard cock that goes all night."
"Yes, quite," Giles says.
He wants to beg her not to do this to him. He wants to promise
her he'll be good; he'll do anything she asks if she'll just set him
free. He'll stay with her forever and never leave her. He'll be
her willing slave. But he can't speak. His mouth is stuffed with
cotton packing.
"But you did leave her," Knox says through a surgical mask,
looking down at him from between Giles and Buffy. "You
abandoned her. Moved and left no forwarding address."
"About bloody time," Giles adds with satisfaction.
"We'll try the sunshine test first," Knox says. "If he doesn't
burn up, he'll be ready for you to take home."
"Do you have a dark chocolate mint Spike?" Buffy asks.
"Because I'm not sure I like this white chocolate version."
Spike sat up with a jerk, his torso drenched in sweat. He was
panting.
Gunn turned over in his sleeping bag.
"You OK, man?" he mumbled.
"Yeah," Spike said, letting out a deep breath. "Bad dream. It's
nothing."
Gunn turned over to face away from Spike again. Within
moments, his breathing had become deep and even once more.
Spike sighed. He didn't think he was going to get back to sleep
now.
He shuddered as the dream replayed in his mind. The part
about implanting the chip without anesthesia wasn't true, of
course. He hadn't even known what they'd done to him until
after he escaped. But the feel of the place in the dream was
absolutely accurate -- the glass-walled cages; the dry, odorless
air; the men in white lab coats staring at him; and the feeling of
trapped helplessness. It took him back to a place he really
didn't want to go -- not ever -- but especially not right now.
It was full daylight outside, though the sun didn't penetrate this
space. The W&H crew had left the plywood over the windows
and the room was a bit stuffy. He and Gunn had been given the
second bedroom so the 24-hour crews working in the rest of
the house wouldn't disturb them.
Spike lay back down and stared up at the ceiling. He reminded
himself for the hundredth time that the W&H medics were
nothing like the doctors at the Initiative. They were here to
help. They worked for Angel, and stopping this disease was
their only objective -- he hoped.
His misgivings were undoubtedly a result of his experience
with the Initiative. White-coat types gave him the wiggins.
Knox was here to help. There was no question about it.