Author: Eledhwen
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Up to and including 'Redefinition', AtS season 2
Pairing: Lindsey/Darla, Lindsey/Angel
Summary: Following 'Redefinition'; Lindsey is alone in his new apartment, thinking and drinking. Part of the 'Redefined' series of vignettes.
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be mine, Joss Whedon and friends'.
REDEFINED – LINDSEY
Lindsey poured himself a fresh glass of bourbon and held it in his good hand, gazing empty-eyed at the bland watercolour on the wall of his new apartment. This one was vampire-free, so far, and a part of him hoped it would stay that way.
A part of him didn't.
He remembered the non-feel of Darla's mouth near his jawbone, and the cool, soft sensation of her hand on his cheek. The graze of teeth and the stinging as his life force was drawn out of him. Burning, yellow eyes; a soft guttural growling. A low, mocking voice. "Because I love you, Lindsey."
He drank, and ran his prosthesis over the bruise which had still not faded under his chin. He wondered if it would ever fade, or if Angel would keep returning to repaint it. Once a week, the door knocked in, a silent black shadow on the threshold; a hand like steel clamped around his throat. A regular appointment, like the trip for therapy to the hospital. "How are you feeling, Mr McDonald? Do you still have nightmares?"
Oh, he had nightmares all right. But they had ceased to scare him. He almost found himself enjoying them. He had had nightmares since he had lost his hand. Since he had recorded Darla's memories on file, long litanies of sins committed a century ago. Since she had told him about one hundred and fifty years of rampage and slaughter, or blood and desire. Lindsey dreamt of golden eyes and ivory skin, of dark hair and red blood, of innocence and debauchery. There was fire and darkness and the cold smell of earth. Voices, whispering. Darla … Angelus … Drusilla … Daddy …
Lindsey laughed, shortly, the sound echoing without mirth in the bare rooms. Vampire-free. His world would never again be vampire-free. He would live out the rest of his days trapped in their darkness, caught by the scar on his neck and the empty feeling at his wrist. Marked, forever, eternally.
He put down his glass and reached for a file from the pile at his feet, humming to himself quietly. "Run and catch, run and catch …"
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Up to and including 'Redefinition', AtS season 2
Pairing: Lindsey/Darla, Lindsey/Angel
Summary: Following 'Redefinition'; Lindsey is alone in his new apartment, thinking and drinking. Part of the 'Redefined' series of vignettes.
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be mine, Joss Whedon and friends'.
REDEFINED – LINDSEY
Lindsey poured himself a fresh glass of bourbon and held it in his good hand, gazing empty-eyed at the bland watercolour on the wall of his new apartment. This one was vampire-free, so far, and a part of him hoped it would stay that way.
A part of him didn't.
He remembered the non-feel of Darla's mouth near his jawbone, and the cool, soft sensation of her hand on his cheek. The graze of teeth and the stinging as his life force was drawn out of him. Burning, yellow eyes; a soft guttural growling. A low, mocking voice. "Because I love you, Lindsey."
He drank, and ran his prosthesis over the bruise which had still not faded under his chin. He wondered if it would ever fade, or if Angel would keep returning to repaint it. Once a week, the door knocked in, a silent black shadow on the threshold; a hand like steel clamped around his throat. A regular appointment, like the trip for therapy to the hospital. "How are you feeling, Mr McDonald? Do you still have nightmares?"
Oh, he had nightmares all right. But they had ceased to scare him. He almost found himself enjoying them. He had had nightmares since he had lost his hand. Since he had recorded Darla's memories on file, long litanies of sins committed a century ago. Since she had told him about one hundred and fifty years of rampage and slaughter, or blood and desire. Lindsey dreamt of golden eyes and ivory skin, of dark hair and red blood, of innocence and debauchery. There was fire and darkness and the cold smell of earth. Voices, whispering. Darla … Angelus … Drusilla … Daddy …
Lindsey laughed, shortly, the sound echoing without mirth in the bare rooms. Vampire-free. His world would never again be vampire-free. He would live out the rest of his days trapped in their darkness, caught by the scar on his neck and the empty feeling at his wrist. Marked, forever, eternally.
He put down his glass and reached for a file from the pile at his feet, humming to himself quietly. "Run and catch, run and catch …"