The Fever, Part Five 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.
Liverpool, 1888
Something was wrong. Spike leaned back against a wrought-
iron pillar and watched Drusilla twirl through the empty
railroad station waiting room, her arms spread and her skirts
lifting like an umbrella. Her head was thrown back, and her
dark hair had come loose from its pins. She keened as she spun,
singing a song only she understood.
That wasn't what was bothering Spike. It was reasonably
normal behavior for his lover.
No, what was bothering Spike was Angelus and Darla's lack of
reaction. Usually, they'd be over here ordering him to get her
under control before she drew a crowd. Not that there was
anyone here to see Drusilla's performance.
The ticket-seller was dead. The man had slammed down the
window after answering Angelus' question. Angelus and Darla
exchanged a wry look; then the male vampire put a hand
through the glass, with no more care than if he had been
reaching into the larder, and pulled the unfortunate little man
out by the throat. He and Darla made short work of the clerk
and tossed aside the body.
That, in itself, surprised Spike. Only moments before, Angelus
had been telling Spike to keep a low profile. Spike shrugged.
About time Angelus stopped being so cautious. He and Darla
were walking toward Spike now. Angelus wore his usual
scowl, but Darla was smiling sweetly. That was generally an ill
omen for someone, somewhere.
"Well, well, isn't she just the sweetest little Dervish," Darla
said sarcastically.
"Drusilla," Angelus said sternly, "stop that! You'll just make
yourself dizzy."
"What?" Drusilla said. She stopped her whirling and wobbled
drunkenly.
Spike went to her, and she collapsed into his arms. He swept
her up and spun her around once more.
"Don't you think that bloody corpse is going to attract more
attention than my dark ballerina's dancing?" Spike asked with a
smirk.
"Not what I'm worried about," Angelus said. "There's
apparently been rioting here the past few nights. Nobody's
going to notice another corpse more or less. Just think Dru
needs to calm down. It's going to be good hunting tonight. You
don't want to have to sit it out to keep her from hurting herself,
do you?"
"You hear that, love? Riots. The blood will flow tonight. We'll
feed until we're sated, then feed some more."
Drusilla let out a crazy laugh.
"No supper for you tonight, my bad boy," she said.
"What? Didn't you hear Angelus, sweetheart?"
He set her down. Her hair was wild and falling in her face, but
her dark eyes burned from behind the mass of dark curls.
"Heard Daddy well enough," she said petulantly. "But Daddy
doesn't know. Hell has crawled out of the earth and stalks the
streets. It's here for us."
"That's right, love," Spike said with a smile. "And tonight we'll
feed on the chaos."
Drusilla shook her head.
"No, no, my sweet, sweet, bad dog. Tonight, chaos will feed on
us."
She turned and snarled at Angelus.
"It's retribution, Daddy," she said in a strange, faraway voice
without a trace of the affection she normally directed toward
the older vampire. "Kingdom come, thy will be done. It's come
for you and me, and Spike, and Grandmother. Evil will receive
its just reward. We shall be consumed."
They brought in four more "patients" as soon as the sun went
down. The four vampires were unconscious, and trussed up in
sturdy ropes and leather straps. Their mouths were sealed with
duct tape.
Spike watched uneasily as they were manacled to their beds.
"The beds are specially reinforced," Knox said. Spike turned to
him in surprise. Distracted by the entrance of the new arrivals,
he hadn't heard the technician's approach. "It's safe. They won't
be able to get free."
Spike raised an eyebrow. "Not exactly what I was worried
about, mate."
Knox shrugged. "Since these guys aren't exactly volunteers, we
felt we needed some extra security precautions."
"What are you planning to do with these -- subjects?" Spike
asked uneasily.
"We got baseline blood samples at the collection point," Knox
said, warming to the explanation. "They were uninfected.
We're going to be taking samples at three-hour intervals for the
next three days, so we can trace the growth cycle of the
infectious organism."
Spike frowned. "Let me get this straight. You're infecting
healthy... well, uninfected, vampires..."
Knox nodded, apparently not seeing anything wrong. "Yes, we
need to get a full profile on the organism before we can
develop an adversarial agent."
"Adversarial agent?"
"Something that will kill it," Knox said.
"I see," Spike said, not really sounding as if he did.
"I've got more samples to run," Knox said, sensing that the
conversation wasn't going well. He retreated into his work.
Maria was sitting up in bed, watching the W&H field
operatives, in white anti-contamination suits and hoods,
strapping the newly arrived vampires to their beds. There was
an air of distaste in her expression.
"Must they be tied down?" she asked Spike.
Spike sighed. "The techs are all human, love. They're afraid."
"They didn't do that to me," Maria said.
"You can't hurt them, sweetheart."
"The humans call us cruel," she said with a frown.
"Fear makes people cruel," Spike replied quietly.
"I can hear them talking in the other room," Maria said. "Do
they realize that? They talk about us as if we are animals. They
don't care about helping us. It's only a job for them."
"You've fed on their kind for longer than most of them have
been alive, sweetheart. You don't really expect them to be
sympathetic, do you? Your kind, their kind -- you've been at
war since history began."
"Then why am I here? Why do they feed me the nasty fake
blood? Why should I trust them to stick needles in my veins?"
Spike was quiet for a moment.
"I won't lie to you, love. They couldn't care less about you. But
they do care about their jobs, and their jobs depend on stopping
this before it gets to their boss.
"They don't really care about him, either. But he has power,
and that makes them do what's right for him. And if they can
cure you, they'll have the answer he needs. So, helping you is
in their best interests."
Maria looked down at her hands. "I don't have much time left,
do I? I've heard them say I'm approaching the third stage. Isn't
that the end?"
"I don't know for certain, love. Knox seems to think that the
synthetic blood will help you last longer. He says it will slow
down the disease as it's consuming you."
"Maravilloso, I can die slowly."
"Not if they find a cure, love. Then you'll be fine."
"Really? And if they find a cure, will they give it to me?"
Spike was silent.
"So, I am to be a sacrifice for the good of Angelus."
Spike shook his head. "Angel wouldn't want that, so he won't
let that happen."
"What about you, Spike?"
"Pardon?"
"Are you one of them, or one of us?"
"Damned if I know, love."
Maria let out a small, bitter laugh. "Of all of us, I think perhaps
you are the only one who is not damned."
Gunn woke up and turned over. As far as he could tell, Spike
was still asleep. The sleeping bag was in a tangle on the cot,
pulled over its inhabitant's head, twisted around his body.
Gunn sat up and stretched. He checked his watch and found it
was after eight.
"Rise and shine," he said, poking his companion. "We've got
hours and hours of hours and hours ahead of us."
The figure in the other sleeping bag writhed, and a head poked
out -- Ralph's head.
"Whoa! What happened to Spike?"
"He said I could use his cot," Ralph whined, scrambling away
from the black man. "Really! He said I could!"
"OK, whatever," Gunn replied.
"He said I could!" his voice rising an octave.
"Gotcha. No problem, man. Calm down."
Ralph continued to regard Gunn with suspicion. Gunn rolled
his eyes.
"I'm not going to hurt you."
Ralph kept nervous eyes on Gunn as he worked his way out of
the sleeping bag.
"You are one jumpy dude," Gunn said, rubbing his chin. "I
don't know how you've survived."
"I... I keep to myself."
"'Cept for Maria."
"Yeah..." Ralph's voice softened, and he smiled -- just a little.
"That is one fine-looking mama," Gunn said. "I'd say you were
doin' pretty well for yourself."
"It's nice to have somebody..." Ralph said tentatively.
"Somebody to look after, other than just me... you know?"
Gunn sighed. "Yeah, I know."
"I'd better go see how she's doing."
"Yeah, you'd better do that. Better not let old Spike spend too
much time with her, dude. He's a lady killer if I ever seen one."
The smile disappeared from Ralph's face.
"You don't think..."
"Come on, man. Spike's not going to hurt your lady."
"Yeah, I know that. I mean..."
"Just teasin' you, man. Just teasin'."
"Oh, yeah... sure."
Ralph hurried out of the room.
Angel paced his office, which seemed more like a prison at the
moment. The phones were dead. He'd sent his personal
assistant -- for all the use the idiot was -- to see about restoring
communications, but for the moment, he didn't know what was
happening outside his bubble of isolation, and it was driving
him mad.
He was sealed off. Even the ventilation system had been
separated from the rest of the building. He couldn't even visit
Cordelia, whose care facility was three floors below this one.
Then he remembered the cell phone he always carried, but
seldom turned on. Maybe he could make contact with the
outside world after all. He pulled the device from his pocket
and opened the cover, staring at the buttons. He really should
have learned to use this thing, he told himself.
A lengthy examination revealed the "on" button, and then the
"dial" button. He punched in the only number he could
remember, then snapped the phone shut in frustration before it
could ring on the other end. Cordelia's number -- that was
going to do him a fat lot of good.
He thought for a moment, then remembered the memo with the
list of W&H cell phone numbers that he'd received soon after
moving into this office. He dug through the papers on his desk.
Aha! There it is.
He ran a finger down the list -- Lilah Morgan. That's the ticket.
The phone buzzed twice before she answered.
"Lilah Morgan."
"Lilah, Angel here. The phones are out on this floor. I need
communications."
"Sorry. Not in charge of infrastructure issues," the voice on the
other end smirked.
"I don't care. Get someone who is on it!"
"That would be... inconvenient."
"Are you refusing a direct order?"
"I don't take orders from you, Angel. I work for the senior
partners. If you've got problems with your phones, call building
maintenance."
"I can't; the phones are out!"
"You called me."
"Lilah, don't be such a bitch. Get someone to fix my phones."
"As I said, that would be inconvenient."
"Why?"
"Because I'm not on the mortal plane, darling. Back with the
senior partners now."
"I can call someone off the mortal plane on a cell phone?"
"Wait till you see the long-distance surcharge, sweetie," Lilah
chuckled.
"Right... I'll call building maintenance."
"I don't think so," Lilah smirked.
"Why not?"
"You never remember to charge that phone, do you?"
Angel cursed as the phone went dead in his hand. He tossed it
against the wall and watched it shatter.