The Fever, Part 5
Author: Elsa Frohman
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Through the end of BtVS and AtS S4.
Archive: http://www.the-sandlot.com and http://www.spikedreams.com
Summary: Spike is back and working for Wolfram & Hart as an outside
contractor. He's human, sort of. This is my AU S5 AtS.
Note: Thanks to my fabulous beta, JanK, who has kept this on track
and made some great suggestions.

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.

Elsa Frohman
http://www.frohman.net/