A/N: Set partly during the episodes "Redefinition" and "Epiphany".
...
Lindsey kicked open the door to his apartment and carried Darla through, laying her down on his couch. Drusilla was close behind him, still wailing about Angel. Dru had called Lindsey, on the cell phone that Holland had given her. From her ramblings, Lindsey had managed to ascertain her location and that Angel had done something terrible to them. Darla now looked as weak and helpless as she had when she was human and dying of syphilis.
"Darla?" Lindsey cradled her head tenderly. "It's alright. I'm here."
"Lindsey?" She reached out to stroke his face.
"You'll be alright," he promised her. "You're safe here. No one knows you're here."
"Need to feed," Darla whispered.
Lindsey held out his good arm, his wrist exposed. "Here."
Darla took hold of his wrist, eyeing Lindsey as if expecting some sort of trick.
"Drink," he instructed. Darla hesitated, then her face changed and she sunk her teeth into his flesh. Lindsey winced as she drank hungrily, his body growing woozy as her strength increased. For a moment he thought that she wasn't going to stop, that she was going to drain him dry, but she clearly knew he was more useful to her alive. She let go as he slumped back on the floor. She unbuttoned his shirt with superhuman speed and wrapped it around his bleeding wrist, applying pressure until the feeling that he was about to faint passed.
"Thank you," he said hoarsely.
She hesitated. "Dru needs to feed, too."
Lindsey looked at Drusilla, who was curled up in the corner of his apartment, singing to herself. He knew where Wolfram and Hart kept a supply of cold human blood, for client meetings. He didn't know where the blood came from, and he didn't want to know.
"I'll go get her some blood."
...
Lindsey was sitting in the corner, playing on his daddy's guitar, when the knock on the door came. His mother, who looked especially tired that morning and was wearing more makeup than usual to hide it, smoothed down her clothes before answering.
"Mrs McDonald?" A strong Texan accent came from behind the door.
"Yes." His mama stood back to let the man in. He was big and burly, not like Lindsey's father, who was small and slight.
"I'm here to collect your husband's debt," the man drawled as he stepped over the threshold. Lindsey had stopped twanging at the guitar strings and was sitting silently, watching the strange man stroll in.
"I know. I've been expecting you." His mother's voice was quiet.
"Where is Mr McDonald? Out runnin' up some more bills?" The man sounded cruelly amused. He stopped dead when he saw Lindsey hunched in the corner.
"What's the kid doin' here?" he demanded.
"He's sick," his mother explained. "He's too sick to go to school today."
The man walked over and reached out as if to tousle Lindsey's hair. "Cute kid, ain't he?"
"Don't touch him!" his mother snapped. The man stopped, his hand inches from Lindsey's head, an eyebrow raised menacingly.
"He's contagious," his mama explained quickly. "Lindsey, I need you to go to your room and be quiet, okay? I just need to talk to this man."
Lindsey nodded and got to his feet. He walked barefoot across the cold floor, into the bedroom he shared with the other five. "That's it," his mother said in her soothing twang as she went to shut the bedroom door. "Stay in there and don't come out till I come get you, okay?"
Lindsey nodded and went to lie down on his mattress on the floor. His fever was making him shiver. The door closed behind his mother. He could hear the low murmur of voices, the sound of footsteps and then creaking sounds coming from the next room. He lay very still and waited for his mama to come and get him.
...
"Where did you get this?" Lindsey picked up the ring that Darla could only have got from Angel.
"It was my payment," said Darla dully.
"Payment?" Lindsey repeated. A cold feeling had settled around his heart. "What are you talking about?"
"What do you think I'm talking about, Lindsey?" Darla's voice was almost mocking.
"I don't know!" Lindsey's voice rose. "What happened?"
"You want details, Lindsey? Is that what you want?" She was still mocking him.
"Yes. I need to know everything. All of it." Lindsey's voice was now a low growl. "What did he do to you?"
"The same as all the others." Darla looked away. "I'm a whore, Lindsey. You knew that."
He stared at her. "I thought we—"
"What did you think, Lindsey? That we had something special?" Darla almost sounded angry now. "I'm a vampire, remember? I don't have human feelings. You were the one who had me turned back."
"I saved you." His voice was hoarse.
"I didn't want to be saved," she enunciated.
He sat on the other end of the couch to her, as far away from her as possible. He wondered why she didn't just kill him, now she no longer had any use for him. Part of him wished she would.
He stood up and tore off his jacket, throwing it down along with his keys. He took one last look at Darla before heading into his bedroom. She didn't try to stop him.
He pulled open the closet, where some of Darla's clothes were hanging next to his. He rifled through his wardrobe, ignoring his father's guitar sitting below the clothes. He found the boots he was looking for and ripped off his tie as he slammed the closet door shut.
It was time for some payback.