The Fever, Part Nine
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

Spike followed Drusilla's scent as quickly as he could without
losing the faint traces of fragrance. He loped along the dark
streets, stopping periodically to crouch down and take a fresh
read on the ground.

The trail wasn't difficult to follow most of the time. It was a
still night and scents clung to every surface, lacking any breeze
to stir them. But even as he tracked his errant lover, he kept his
senses sharp for any sound or scent of others approaching. He
could hear them all around in the distance. The trick was to
stay out of their way. Twice he scrambled up a wall to escape
an approaching mob. Concealing himself was easy enough.
They were too intent on tearing into one another to take any
notice of him as long as he didn't move or speak to attract their
attention. The mobs would be largely immobile until one
individual broke out and tried to run. Then the rest would tear
after him, shrieking and snarling, and as often as not overtaking
and devouring him. With that vamp gutted and dismembered,
the rest would fall on one another again.

Atop a garden wall on a narrow lane, Spike crouched as
motionless as a stone gargoyle, watching this play out for the
second time. In eight years as a vampire, he'd seen and
participated in many an evisceration, but nothing he had ever
experienced compared to the savagery he witnessed now. The
screams and howls of the mad vampires echoed through the
dark, empty streets, and the odor of fresh entrails threatened to
overpower the scent he needed to follow.

He was chilled to the bone, despite the warm night. This was
blood lust more intense than he could imagine. So many times
he'd let the fever of battle run through him; it was a taste of
freedom to lose himself in the power of his fists and fangs. But
now he saw it amplified a thousand times and turned inside out.
The vampires he was watching weren't drinking the liberation
and oblivion of mindless battle, they were destroying
themselves. They were literally tearing themselves and each
other apart. There was no glory in the fight, just blood and
flesh, splattered and wasted. He wondered for a moment
whether this is what Angelus saw when he lectured about not
getting carried away. No, Spike told himself, the berserker
frenzy might be his drug of choice, but he'd never let it take
him to the levels he was seeing now.

A vampire girl -- probably turned when she was a teenager by
her slight figure and young face -- broke away from the mob
and ran blindly down the lane past Spike's vantage point. The
mob's din rose to a new pitch as they turned and pursued her.
Spike felt an irrational impulse to jump down and try to save
her. She was no one he knew or cared about, but something in
him didn't like to see a pretty girl in trouble. His chivalrous
streak, when he let it show, always drew Angelus and Darla's
scorn, and in the face of their disdain, he generally kept it
under control. Now was not going to be an exception. He'd
seen enough to know that this girl would turn on him as surely
as the others were turning on her. He had to keep his wits about
him now. This wasn't a time to follow his gut feelings.

The mob overtook the girl, and her screams rose to a climax.
Then they stopped. The struggle continued, but far enough
down the lane that he could drop to the ground and return to his
quest. A light breeze was picking up now, and he smelled
something new -- the sharp tang of salt water. The sea -- back
on the train, Dru had been going on about eating sailors. He
was certain now that was where she was headed. He didn't
bother trying to pick up her scent again. Instead he turned
toward the wind and started to run.

It didn't take him long to reach the wharf. The docks and
moorings were empty. Liverpool was a plague port. Any ship
that sailed into these waters would have departed again with all
possible speed. The only sounds were water lapping at the
seawalls and the low creak of wood on wood as the structures
cooled in the night air. Spike could see the lanterns of a ship
anchored just outside the harbor. They'd come no closer, and
they were wise to keep their distance.

There were bales and boxes abandoned on the pavement next
to the docks. No longshoremen had been here to move the
cargo for several days. The odor of rotting food hung in the air,
blotting out nearly everything else. Spike sniffed pavement for
Drusilla's scent in vain. He was about to curse himself for a
fool and backtrack to the last place he'd detected her, when he
caught sight of his objective, fifty yards or so down the
waterfront.

She was walking along the seawall, a pale figure in white
cotton voile. She'd shed her black silk skirt and bodice and
wore only her petticoats and camisole now. Pale starlight
illuminated her; she was like a ghost drifting along the water's
edge, her face turned to the sky.

He didn't dare call out to her. Any sound might draw the
attention of the mobs. Instead, he strode toward her, hoping to
catch her attention without startling her into stepping off into
the water.

"Dru..." he called softly, when he was drawing near.
"Sweetheart. We have to leave here -- now."

Drusilla stopped abruptly and turned to face him. Her face was
void of recognition. She blinked and tilted her head curiously.

"Come on, pet," Spike cajoled. "We need to find a safe place to
hole up -- the night will be over before you know it, and we've
got to get away from here."

"Drusilla..." Dru whispered. "I've heard that name..."

"It's your name, love. I'm Spike. I'm here to take you to safety."

"Edith..." Dru said, drawing out the sound of the name as if it
was something sweet and comforting.

"Miss Edith is in our luggage back at the station, love. We can't
go back for her. I'll get you a new doll as soon as I can. I
promise..."

It was as if she hadn't heard him. She turned away and looked
out to sea.

"They used to call me Edith. I'm sure of it," she said in a
dreamy voice.

Spike stopped, afraid that if he went any closer, she'd step off
the seawall. This woman wasn't Dru. She wore Dru's body,
talked with her voice, but Spike was sure Drusilla wasn't
composing the words.

"Edith," Spike said softly. "You have to come with me now. I'll
take you away from here."

She turned to face him. Her hair was wild, but her eyes were
calmer than Spike had ever seen them.

"Will you take me back to Mummy?" Dru/Edith asked, looking
at Spike hopefully.

"I'm sorry... I can't..." Spike stammered. "Your mum's gone,
love."

"Oh... I remember now. He killed them. Mummy and Daddy
and my sisters. And the nuns. I was going to be a nun, did you
know that? Bride of Christ... I was going to take vows, purge
the evil out of me. But he came..."

She fell to her knees, curling up on the ground as she began to
sob. Spike went to her, settling down beside her and drawing
her into his arms. She laid her face against his chest and wept.

"Sweetheart. We've got to get away. The others, the insane
ones, they'll come and find us here."

"Who are you?" she asked through her tears.

"I'm Sp... William," he said. "I'm here to protect you."

"William? That's a nice name," Edith/Dru said. "You're my
paladin -- my knight in shining armor."

"Yes, I am. I'll always be your protector, pet. But we have to go
now."

"No. I don't want to go."

"We have to."

She pulled away from him, sitting back on her feet.

"It has to end," she said simply.

"No, love. It doesn't have to end. We can go on forever,
together, you and me. We'll walk into eternity. Lovers until the
end of the world."

Edith/Dru shook her head, letting her dark hair tumble over her
face. "No, not forever. I couldn't bear forever," she said,
starting to cry again.

"I can't go on without you," Spike said quietly. "I need you.
You're my whole world. If you leave me, I won't last another
day.

"We won't go back to Angelus, sweetheart. It will be just you
and me. I'll never let him come near you again."

Edith/Dru looked directly into his eyes. Her tear-streaked face
was calm, but deeply sad.

"The evil came to me before Angelus. He was just its
instrument. It wasn't his fault. He couldn't help it. It used him
to take me."

"What do you mean?"

"The visions. Mummy said they were evil. She was right. I
only saw death -- the roof coming down on the miners, the
child who died of consumption, the man who was run down by
the carriage. I wanted to be cleansed of the evil, but Angelus
came then..."

"Edith... Dru, sweetheart. I don't care what your name is, or if
you're good or evil. I don't care. I love you, and I'll always take
care of you. If you want to be rid of the evil, I'll be good for
you. We'll go away, far away, where no one can find us.
There'll be no more killing, no more death."

Edith/Dru shook, her head.

"You can't take me away from evil. It's inside me. It burns. I
feel it every night. The only way is to burn it out. I have to
spend it all. I must be consumed. Only then will I be free.
When all that is good and evil has turned to ash, I'll drift away
like a feather on the wind."

"Tell me what you want me to do, love. Anything... anything at
all. But we have to get away from here."

"Be my champion, William," she said, drawing strength from
the words. "You are my dark knight. You have to stoke the
fire; make it burn so hot that everything is turned to ash. When
the good works of the world are all come to naught, only then
will I escape. Will you do that for me, my darling? Will you
burn the world to a cinder?"

The light in her eyes had changed. Edith was fading away, and
Drusilla was in control again.

"Yes! I'll tear the world from its moorings and sink it in a sea
of blood for you, my love."

"I want to be consumed," Drusilla said simply.

Spike felt a wave of relief that Drusilla had returned to herself,
and he wouldn't have to become William for her.

"Perhaps, love, but not now. Tonight we cheat death again."

He stood and drew her to her feet.

"Come with me now, pet. When we're safe and this place is far
behind us, I'll show you what burns," he said with a smile.

He stood and put a hand down to her. As he helped her to her
feet, he heard the mob coming.

"We've got to run now, pet. We can't let them catch us. When
we die, it will be in a blaze of glory that no one will ever
forget. We're not to be ended by the likes of them."

Drusilla looked confused. Spike wasn't sure she knew what he
was talking about, or the danger they faced from the
approaching mob. He took her by the hand and pulled her
along behind him. They'd only gone a few yards when he saw
the second group cutting off their escape ahead. The two
groups had seen them and were rushing forward now. They
were moments from being caught between.

Spike looked around desperately. There had to be a way out. It
couldn't end this way. There was a small booth nearby. A
kerosene lantern, unlit, hung outside the door. Spike rushed to
it and took it down. He had matches in his pocket -- he'd
recently taken up smoking odorous cigars, mostly because it
annoyed Darla. Now, if he could just get the lantern lit in time.

His hands were clumsy as he struck the match and raised the
glass chimney to get to the wick. Luckily, there was plenty of
fuel in the reservoir. The flame touched the wick and caught.
He pushed the chimney back down and held the lantern up in
front of him, pushing Dru back to stand behind.

The two groups merged as they got close. They advanced on
Spike and Dru, the lantern light glinting off their yellow eyes
and fangs. The snarling had subsided to a low growl. As the
first of the feral vampires came almost within arm's length,
Spike swung the lantern in a wide arc, scribing a yellow curve
in the air. The lead attacker dodged, frightened of the flame.
Spike feinted forward, and the mob fell back a step or two,
only to lurch forward again when Spike let the lantern come
down to his side. Spike could see that this wasn't going to hold
the mob off for long. Even now, they were finding the courage
to inch forward.

Spike and Dru's backs were to the water. Spike glanced over
his shoulder and noticed, once again, on the horizon, the lights
of the ship just outside the mouth of the harbor. He could
swim, but could he keep Drusilla with him as he did?

He turned back to the mob and raised the lantern over his head,
bringing it down to smash at the feet of their attackers. The
glass chimney shattered, the kerosene spilled, and a wall of
flame rose up between Spike and Dru, and the mob. The mad
vampires shrieked as the fire reached them, setting them
ablaze. Spike whirled and grabbed Drusilla by the waist,
pulling her along with him as he jumped into the water.

They sank into the inky depths, the screams of the burning
vampires fading away above them. Spike kept a tight arm
around Drusilla. If he lost her down here, he'd never see her or
smell her to get her back. The water was cold, dark and silent.
Not needing to breathe, there was no rush to resurface. Spike
sank slowly, holding Dru close to him as they went.

Finally, he kicked and they rose, their heads breaking through
into the warm, humid air. A low mist hugged the water, but
Spike could still see the lights of their objective in the distance.

"Look, pet," he said softly. "A ship. I'll bet it's just full of
sailors. Didn't you say you were hungry?"