The Fever, Part Eleven 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.
Ralph's first impression when he woke was of a pair of dark
eyes looking directly into his. He pulled back instinctively as
the dread that was his companion through every waking hour
flooded his consciousness. Jerking up to a sitting position, he
bumped the owner of the eyes, who fell back and started to cry.
Ralph regarded the toddler with only barely suppressed panic.
She was shrieking. He scrambled away from her.
The door opened and Sonic rushed in. He gathered up the little
girl and sat down with her on his lap.
"I... I... didn't hurt her," Ralph stammered. "I didn't do
anything. She just startled me."
Sonic tugged on one of the girl's braids. "Didn't I tell you to
leave the man alone? He been out all night. He needs his
sleep."
The little girl's wails had calmed to a sniffle.
"This is Lonna," Sonic said. "I'm 'fraid she pokes into just
about everything. Sorry she woke you up, man. I'm 'sposed to
be watchin' her, but she got away from me."
Ralph nodded apprehensively.
Lonna pointed at Ralph.
"Blue!" she exclaimed.
Ralph inched a little farther away.
"You have blue eyes," Sonic explained. "Lonna got a thing
about blue eyes."
"Sorry," Ralph mumbled. "Not too good around little kids."
"You run along, Lonna," Sonic said. "Go find Marly. It's
almost time for your PB&J." He pushed the little girl off his lap
and gave her a little shove toward the door.
"Pea'butter!" the little girl exclaimed joyfully.
Ralph relaxed imperceptibly as the little girl left.
"Like I said, sorry she bothered you," Sonic said. "You can go
back to sleep now."
Sonic started for the door.
"Oh, would it be OK, if Matt came in here?"
"Who's Matt?"
"'Nother one of the kids. He's older than Lonna, though. He'll
be quiet. Matt don't talk much. He's got some of his stuff in
here, and he doesn't like to be away from it. He's still kinda
spooked from what happened with his mom, and he kinda likes
to be by himself -- don't want to be with the other kids."
"His mom?"
"A vamp got her. He saw it go down."
"Oh," Ralph said tonelessly. "Yeah, I guess it'd be OK."
"Thanks. Matt's quiet as a mouse. He won't bother you."
Ralph lay back down and closed his eyes. He was too worked
up now to go back to sleep, but he reasoned that if he looked
like he was sleeping, people would stay away from him. He
heard the boy come in, walking across the cement floor making
squeaking sounds with his running shoes. And he heard him
remove a box from one of the steel shelving units against the
wall. After that, there was little else to be heard except for the
boy's soft breathing and the occasional quiet rustle of paper.
Eventually, Ralph dozed off again. He wasn't sure how much
time had passed when he woke. He listened for a moment
before opening his eyes. The boy was still in the room. He
smelled of french fries and catsup, and having gone too long
since his last bath. Ralph opened his eyes slowly and regarded
his companion.
The boy was ten or eleven years old, slightly built, wearing a
grubby white T-shirt with a variety of food stains on it, and
ragged jeans with a gaping hole in the knee. He wore glasses
that were sliding down his nose, and he was completely
absorbed in reading a comic book.
Ralph sat up and took a closer look. The boy noticed him.
"Was I bothering you?" Matt asked tentatively.
Ralph shook his head. "That the new Hawkman?"
Matt nodded. "Number 18. The art is fantastic!"
"Can I see?"
Matt got up and walked halfway to Ralph, but stopped. He
went back to the cardboard box next to his chair and dragged it
over with him. The boy sat down cross-legged on the floor next
to Ralph, with the box pulled up close beside him. He handed
the comic book over -- watching Ralph nervously. When he
saw that Ralph was handling the book carefully, he relaxed a
little.
Ralph glanced into the box. It was filled with stacks of comic
books, each carefully preserved in a plastic bag. He looked at a
few pages.
"This really is nice," Ralph said. "Jose Luis Garcia-Lopez. He's
good. You know your comics, don't you?"
Matt nodded.
"What else have you got?"
"I have the new Superman," Matt said, warming a little.
"Action Comics Number 806?"
Matt nodded and smiled.
"Cool. I used to have Action Comics Number 1," he said with a
smile.
"No way!"
"Yeah, cost me a bundle. I used to keep it in a special
bookcase."
"Wow! Did you sell it?"
Ralph shook his head. "It got burned up with my house."
Matt looked stricken. "That's cruel, man."
"Long time ago," Ralph said quietly.
"I'd die if my comics got burned up."
Ralph gave him a little smile. "No, you wouldn't. You'd just
start over and make a new collection. That's what you got to do
when you get the short end. You can't let yourself get stuck."
"Wanna see my favorite?"
"Sure!"
Matt reached into the box and pulled out a "Legends of Valor"
comic with a picture of a well-endowed Valkyrie on the cover.
Ralph took it and smiled.
"Good taste!" he said. "Take good care of this one. It's going to
be worth a lot someday."
"Oh?"
"See here?" Ralph pointed to the corner of the cover. "This one
was inked by Jimmy DeLuca. He had real talent." Ralph
opened the comic carefully. "He had a real artist's touch. And
he only did two books before he died. Shame really."
"Wow..."
Sonic stuck his head in the door.
"Hey, I told you not to bother him!"
"It's OK," Ralph said. "We're just talking comics."
"Gunn sent me to get you, if you were awake," Sonic said.
"Talk to you later, Matt," Ralph said as he stood up. "I'd really
like to look at some more of your comics."
"Yeah, man, later."
Wesley led Fred and Lorne up several flights of dusty stairs,
then to an access hatch in the ceiling with a pull-down ladder.
They emerged in a service area, clearly not fitted out for
habitation. They stepped over exposed conduits and cables as
Wesley led them to a corner.
"OK, we're over Angel's floor here," Lorne said. "But I don't
see what you need me for."
"Simple," Wesley replied. "You're the one person amongst us
who can make a loud noise without anyone thinking anything
is amiss."
"Loud noise? I call it singing, crumpet."
"Exactly. If Fred or I start to shout, we'll have security on us in
a heartbeat. But if you sing, people will simply say 'Lorne's
singing again,' and think nothing more of it."
"OK, but we're standing on a foot of concrete soundproofing,"
Lorne said with a frown. "Or so your blueprint says. I can sing,
but I don't know if I can make Angel hear me from here."
"Angel has very sensitive hearing," Fred offered.
"Yes, he does," Wesley agreed. "But we've got a little more
than just volume working for us here. I've chosen this spot after
careful study of the building plan. Angel's floor is isolated. The
ventilation goes directly out the side of the building, where we
can't get to it. Even the electricity is on a separate generator, so
we can't flash his lights in code or anything like that. But no
matter how isolated his floor is, there is one thing that can't be
cut off, at least not without more renovations than can be done
on the fly."
Wesley took a screwdriver out of his pocket and removed the
screws from a panel on the wall next to them. Inside were
several small pipes and one larger one, all running vertically up
the wall.
"One thing connects us all," Wesley said with a satisfied smile.
"Plumbing."
Gunn and Kareem were facing off with dirty looks as Ralph
came into the main room. All the older members of the crew
were here, standing around the two men in a loose circle. Ralph
took a spot near the wall.
"You go back and look after the kids, Sonic," Kareem said.
"This for the men."
Sonic looked disappointed, but turned and left.
"This is a bad idea," Gunn said with a frown. "You don't have
the manpower. You need to build up your crew before you try
something like this."
"We're not gonna hide in a hole in the ground. This is our
neighborhood. This is our ground. We gonna defend it,"
Kareem said, scanning the group looking for support.
"Defend, yeah. But you aren't strong enough to go on the
attack."
"Thought you said you wasn't takin' over," Kareem said with a
frown. "I'm tired of runnin' inside to hide every night. Those
streets are ours. We gotta let the vamps know it."
"Look at how many good fighters you've already lost," Gunn
said reasonably. "You can't afford to lose any more."
"We can't afford to lose our nerve," Kareem snapped. "We ain't
fancy, uptown dudes. We fought for everything we got. And if
we don't keep fightin', who's gonna to respect us? Not the
vamps, for sure. We're goin' out there tonight, and we're going
to make the bloodsuckers bleed!"
There were murmurs of agreement from all around the room.
"You shouldn't do this," Ralph said, his voice trembling. "You
don't have to do this."
"Who asked you, white boy?" Kareem snarled.
"All you have to do is stay inside at night -- behind a strong
door like you've got here, for at the most two weeks, and it will
all be over," Ralph said. "You don't have to kill the vamps.
They're dying."
"My man Ralph's right," Gunn said. "That's what I'm trying to
tell you. Him and me, we've seen it. The vamps are going crazy
because there's a sickness. If they've been on a killing spree in
this neighborhood for two weeks, in a few days, they're going
to stop killing people and start going after each other. It won't
be safe outside at night at first, because they're completely out
of their minds with hunger. But in a while, it's all going to stop
on its own. They'll all be dust, and you won't have to risk your
neck to make it happen."
"I think you're just scared," Kareem sneered. "A man don't hide
in a basement when his home is bein' overrun by monsters!"
Gunn turned to Jake. "How many kids you got here?"
Jake looked unsure of whether he should answer, since Gunn
was going around Kareem to talk to him. But he made his
decision.
"Ten, if you count Sonic."
Gunn turned back to the group's leader. "I'll tell you what a
man does. He protects his family. Those kids are your family.
You want to be a man, you stay right here and make sure
nothing gets through that door to hurt them."
"About what I'd expect from a coward," Kareem replied. "You
came here on the run, 'cause you wanted a safe place to hide.
Well, you do that, Char-lene. You stay right here and find
something to crawl under. The rest of us, the MEN, is gonna go
out and get our own back."
Lorne looked at the pipes and looked at Wes.
"You want me to sing to the sewers."
"Exactly," Wes said.
Lorne shrugged. "All right. Here goes." He took a deep breath.
"Hey, girl, whatcha doin' down there?
"Dancin' alone every night
"While I live right above you?
"I can hear your music playing.
"I can feel your body swaying.
"One floor below me,
"You don't even know me,
"I love you..."
Angel had decided that Edmund was an agent of retribution.
All these years, he'd thought his punishment for all those
murders was his guilt. But no, that wasn't it at all. It was
Edmund -- irritating, dense, obsequious Edmund. He was
condemned to an eternity of hearing "Can I get you a cup of
coffee, Mr. Angel?"
Somehow, murder had stopped looking like such a bad
pastime. Only his over-active conscience kept him from taking
Edmund apart and hiding the various pieces in creative spots
throughout the offices.
For the assistant's own safety, Angel started thinking up tasks
for him that would keep him out of the room for extended
periods. He knocked over a shelving unit in the supply room
and made Edmund put everything back on it in alphabetical
order. Then he told the assistant that everything had to be
refiled in reverse alphabetical order.
It occurred to Angel that he might be losing his mind. The fact
that the bathroom had started singing to him did nothing to
dispel that impression. Angel got up and went into his private
washroom. The voice was faint, but unmistakable -- and it was
coming out of the toilet bowl. The surface of the water
shimmered slightly. And with a mild shock, Angel recognized
the song.
"Oh, my darling,
"Knock three times
"On the ceiling if you want me.
"Mmm-hmm, twice on the pipe
"If the answer is no.
"Oh my sweetness ..."
Angel raced out of the washroom, through his office and down
the hall to the supply room.
"Give me a broom," he barked.
"Sir?"
"A broom!"
"If you've spilled something, sir, I'll be glad to sweep it up for
you."
"Where's the friggin' broom?" Angel demanded.
Edmund looked at him blankly. Angel looked around and
spotted a push broom in the corner. He grabbed it and ran back
to the office.
Lorne continued singing as Wes knelt on the floor listening to a
stethoscope placed on the concrete. He heard what he was
waiting for -- three distinct thumps on the ceiling below.
He stood up and brushed off his knees.
"I think we can interpret that as a direct order from the chief
operating officer of the Los Angeles office of Wolfram & Hart
to breach his containment," Wesley said with a smile.
Lorne stopped singing. "Well, thank goodness for that. This has
got to be the most unresponsive audience I've ever played to,"
he said, indicating the pipes.
"Right," Fred said uncertainly. "But even if Angel wants us to
get to him, we're standing on a foot of concrete, as Lorne
pointed out."
"Yes, very true," Wesley replied. "Now is the time for manly
men to do manly things." He walked a few steps to where a
sledgehammer was leaning against the wall and pulled a steel
chisel out of his back pocket.
"Would you like to do the honors, Fred?" he asked, handing her
the chisel.
Fred knelt down and held the chisel against the floor. "You'll be
careful with that, won't you?"
"Trust me, I know what I'm doing."
Wes swung the hammer and brought it down, missing the chisel
by a good six inches, knocking a chip out of the floor.
"Um... more careful than that... right?" she said.
"Yes, quite."
Fred moved the chisel over to the hole.
Wes raised the hammer again and brought it down with better
accuracy, striking the chisel and driving it into the concrete.
Lorne started to sing:
"I've been working on the railroad..."
Wes stopped and gave him a dirty look.
"Do you mind?"
"Hey, would you rather I did 'Maxwell's Silver Hammer?'"