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Episode 18:

'I don't wanna be like Cinderella
Sitting in a dark old dusty cellar
Waiting for somebody, to come and set me free
I don't wanna be like Snow White waiting
For a handsome prince to come and save me
On a horse of white, unless we're riding side by side
Don't want to depend on no one else
I'd rather rescue myself

Someday I'm gonna find someone, who wants my soul, heart, and mind
Who's not afraid to show that he loves me
Somebody who will understand I'm happy just the way I am
Don't need nobody taking care of me'

- 'Cinderella', by Play -

Sunday, 5 AM

At first, Spike didn't know what had woken him up. He'd been sprawled on the messy sheets, sleeping peacefully... or enjoying a semicomatose state after a massive hangover. Which was saying something, because vampires got those very rarely given their complexion.

Soon, though, Spike was painfully brought back to reality and it didn't take him long to realise what had done so: the damned phone was ringing like a fire alarm. He cursed under his breath and rolled over, nearly falling from bed as he did so.

'Bollocks.'

His attempts to grab the phone had only resulted on the damn device crashing against the floor. At least, he tought idly, it had stopped the hellish ringing that seemed to pierce his eardrums and smash the only couple of braincells he still had more or less awake. For a moment, he was tempted to leave the phone on the floor and go back to sleep, but then a very familiar voice came from the phone, oddly distorted:

'Spike? Are you there?'

He frowned, his head still throbbing, and stretched out an arm to get the bloody phone. He had no idea why Darla would call him at daybreak, but whatever the reason was, it was bound to be important.

''Lo, pet. Wuzzgoinon?'

There was a small pause at the other end of the line.

'Bad time for a call?'

Nah, if it's just bloody perfect, Spike thought. However, there was something in Darla's voice, a slight tremble that told him there was something wrong, so instead of telling her off for calling at such unholy hour, he tried to clear his head.

'Not at all, pet.' So far, so good. His voice didn't sound so slurred anymore. Perhaps he could even try sitting on the bed... 'What's the matter? Is there somethin' wrong with Pigeon?'

All right, perhaps trying to sit wasn't such a good idea: everything started to revolve around him. He sank back on the bed, his head still a little dizzy as he waited Darla to reply.

'No, that's not it at all, Connor's just fine. I just... I just needed to talk to somebody.'

There was a definite tremble in her voice now, as though she were barely repressing a sob. Spike's mind was much more clear in a sudden.

'Luv, that's what I'm here for. What happened?'

When she spoke again, Darla's voice was colourless:

'It's nothing that serious, don't worry... It's Lindsey. We've just... Well, we've just broken up.'

Five months earlier

The last rays of sunlight had already gotten lost in the horizon, and Lindsey and Darla were walking through a park near the Slayer's School. In spite of the lateness of the hour, Darla was surprised to see there still were some women with their children at the swings. Perhaps because she knew all too well how unsuitable for children things could get at nightfall – after all, she'd been one of those things that lurked in the shadows ready to attack the innocent and clueless – but she didn't think she would have let her own child to stay outdoors after dark if she wasn't there to protect him. True, the children weren't alone, but she doubted their mothers would be of much help if something truly nasty came out of the dark and...

OK, Darla. Let's revise the list that says: "You realise when your job's getting at you when..."

She turned to Lindsey to comment him this, but she was surprised to see him watching the children with a warm smile on his lips. She followed his gaze and saw a small blonde boy, not older than four, clumsily trotting after a football ball that seemed to be far too big for his tiny feet. He was running towards them, his eyes fixed on the ball as this one got further and further from him. He was so focused on it that he did not see the stone in front of him, hit it with his right foot and tripped. Lindsey launched himself forward, but wasn't quick enough to catch him in time and the small boy fell with his face on the ground as the ball rolled away and got stopped by an old oak tree. Lindsey kneeled next to the now sobbing boy and helped him to get on his feet.

'Shh, shhh, it's okey. It was just a fall,' Lindsey told the boy in a soothing voice Darla'd never heard him use before, as he wiped with a tissue the tears and the dirt that stained the boy's face.

'My knee... it hurts...'

Lindsey bent his head and examined the knobbly knee carefully. 'It's only a scratch... it won't hurt for long...'

He put a reassuring hand on the boy's shoulder, whose sobs started to fade, and both of them winced when a shrieking voice was heard:

'WHAT ON EARTH DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING WITH MY SON!'

Even Darla jumped, for once cursing her heightened hearing. She was certain her eardrums had just been turned into a pulp by the shriek of who was unmistakably the child's mother: she looked right like him. Except, of course, for the poisonous look on her face. Lindsey looked up, with the most innocent and apologetic look possible on his face. 'I'm sorry, madam. I just wanted to check he was alright...'

The woman seemed to calm down almost at once at Lindsey's tone. He used to have that effect on people, who trusted him almost immediately. That was probably one of the reasons he'd been so good at deceiving people when he'd worked for Wolfram and Hart.

'It's OK, I just don't want him to talk to strangers... might be dangerous... thanks for your concern...'

Without one last glance at them, the woman hurried to grab his son's hand and drag him away. The boy looked over his shoulder and gave Lindsey a fleeting smile before his mother grabbed his ball and they strolled away, disappearing from sight.

'Lil' touchy, wasn't she?' Darla commented, although if she had to be honset with herself, she would have done much more than merely yelling at the guy who dared to touch Connor. Lindsey shrugged.

'I guess so,' he said absent-mindedly. Darla tilted her head and studied his face.

'You're really good at dealing with children, aren't you?'

Lindsey smiled fondly.

'It's true. It must be because I've always liked children...'

She raised her eyebrows.

'Really?'

'What, you don't believe me?'

She shook her head as they resumed their stroll. 'No, it's not that at all. It's just... Well, I guess I'm the opposite.'

Lindsey looked surprised. 'You don't like children?'

'Well... no, I never did. They always annoyed me to no end and, in a way, they still do. I'm afraid I don't have the necessary patience to deal with them.'

He frowned. 'You don't seem to have any trouble dealing with Connor...'

Darla waved a dismissive hand. 'Connor's a different case. I love him, and even when I was soulless and wasn't able to do so, the bond between us made me want to protect him.'

They reached to the end of the park and they found themselves back in the noisy street. Lindsey looked pensive.

'But haven't you thought... haven't you thought that you could love other children as much as you love Connor?'

Darla stared at him, astounded.

'Lindsey, is not like I'm likely to have any other children, and I'm not planning to adopt either. Anyway, I never envisioned myself surrounded by small brats, playing Caroline Ingalls... The only thing I ever cared about children was what they tasted like.'

He winced at her last remark, and she regreted her words at once. It always made Lindsey slightly uncomfortable any mention to her condition as a vampire, reason for which she tried to avoid drinking blood in front of him and mentioning anything related to her heightened senses.

Lindsey changed the topic at once, something Darla was grateful for as the conversation had gotten utterly bizarre. Only many hours later, when Lindsey and her had parted ways, Darla had time to reflect about the look of longing in Lindsey's eyes as he comforted that small boy and what it could mean...

Two months earlier

It was the sort of idea that could only occur to Spike. After all, which place could be better for a ten-year-old (okay, almost eleven) than his own house, where he could be closely watched by his mother? Darla was certain that most mothers would have agreed with her on that point, but try telling that to Spike. No, instead of that, the guy had the great idea of taking Connor to a rock concert, nevertheless. A rock concert! Connor was too young to even know the name of any halfway decent rock band that could exist. Weren't kids his age supposed to listen to more, for lack of a better word, childish music? She wasn't saying that he had to watch the Teletubbies or Barney, but a rock concert seemed to be a little too much...

Of course, Connor had been thrilled with the idea. He practically worshipped Spike, and now that his hero's visits to England were so far between, he wouldn't miss a chance to spend some time with him. Besides, he'd never been to a concert before, so it had all the allure of the unknown.

He'd made the puppy face to her, widening his intense blue eyes and looking as charming as he could. When all had seemed to fail, he'd resorted to begging.

Spike, on the other hand, had hastened to reassure Darla that the security was very tight, and that as he had a VIP ticket they wouldn't be in the middle of the crowd. He'd even promised he would bring Connor back at a reasonable hour, and that he wouldn't give the boy anything to drink or eat that could endanger his not-so-delicate health.

'Besides, who's more capable of protectin' him than me?'

Darla suppressed the urge to say 'Well, that would be me', because she feared it would sound a little paranoid. She exchanged a glance with Lindsey, who had remained silent for the major part of the discussion, but his face was unreadable. Darla sighed.

'Give me a break, OK? I'm going to fix Connor's bedroom...'

Unsurprisingly, in no time the boy was at her heels and, just as she'd expected, he resumed the begging as soon as they were out of Lindsey's and Spike's sight.

'Mum, please, please, let me go... I've never been to something like this before, and Spike said it was safe...'

'Dear, I'm afraid that Spike's not the best one to judge this sort of thing.' She began to straighten the blue sheets on his bed, and Connor went to the other side of the bed and began helping her. 'I don't know, Connor. Perhaps I should have a quick word with Severus...'

'Mum! Severus doesn't even know what a rock concert is. How can he know whether it would be suitable for me?' Sometimes, Darla was just astonished at Connor's quick thinking. 'Besides, he won't be at home. He said he was going over the Malfoys'...'

Darla sighed in defeat. 'Alright, I'll think about it, OK?'

Connor nodded eagerly, and she thought she'd glimpsed a fleeting gleam of triunph in his eyes. Darla suspected that Connor was well aware of her inability to resist his charm for long. If it weren't for Severus strict ways, the boy would be spoiled rotten.

She left him unpacking his stuff, and as soon as she started to walk down the corridor, the sound of a heated argument reached her ears.

'...don't see why you've got to butt in, Cowboy...'

'I do "butt in", as you put it, because I have Connor's best interests at heart, and I think that your suggestion is unreasonable. Connor's not nearly old enough to go to a rock concert for heaven's sake. How could you even think such a thing?'

'Know what, Cowboy? Mind your own business. I'm takin' Pigeon to the concert whether you like it or not, so get used to the idea already...'

'No, I won't allow you to do so!'

There was a tense silence, broken by Spike's sniggering.

'And what are you gonna do 'bout it, boy? N'case you didn't notice, you aren't Connor's father.'

Darla froze on her spot, right at the end of the corridor. She now had a full view of Spike, who was lounging against a wall, with a defiant look on his face; whereas Lindsey had his hands on his hips and looked utterly furious.

'The kid's already got a father, that was ol' Peaches, no matter how much that bothers you,' Spike sneered, 'and a father figure, that'd be Snape. So get over it, mate: you're nobody to decide for Connor.'

The atmosphere at the room was so charged that Darla thought it could be sliced with a knife. She feared for a moment what Lindsey's reaction would be, but he looked thunderstuck, as though he'd been slapped across the face. Or perhaps received a punch on his stomach... or a bit lower.

'Er,' both men turned to look at her, dread showing on their faces as they realised they weren't alone, 'who wants a cup of coffee?'

Three weeks earlier

'I can't believe it, Lindsey! What the hell were you thinking!'

'Darla, please, calm down...'

Lindsey closed the door of Giles' office behind him, blocking from sight the startled Slayers-in-training, whose jaws had fallen open. Darla couldn't have cared less.

'Months, Lindsey. I spent months planning it, to the minimal detail. I had everything carefully calculated so nothing could go wrong – but you had to mess up all my plans!'

Lindsey's head jerked up, an indignant look appearing in his eyes.

'I didn't mess up everything – just made a mistake...'

'Which almost resulted in the death of three of our Slayers, not to mention the very Seer we were trying to protect,' Darla pointed out, her voice an octave below her normal tone. Lindsey winced. It was a well-known fact that the real danger wasn't when Darla shouted, but when she started to speak in cold whispers.

He swallowed. 'I know I screwed that one up – but I was able to fix it in the end, wasn't I? They didn't even get hurt, Darla, thanks to me if you don't mind me mentioning it...'

Her eyes narrowed as she slowly folded her arms. Normally, such position would mean the person was getting defensive, but Lindsey knew her better than that, which probably was the reason he almost took a step backwards.

'That is, Lindsey, precisely my point,' she said silkily. 'It wasn't up to you to fix it, as Giles and I had it completely covered. You claim that you fixed it but, my dear boy, I'm afraid you're forgetting the tiny detail that, hadn't it been for your inopportune appearance, there would have been nothing in need of fixing.'

Lindsey's head jerked backwards, as though she'd hit him. He composed in no time, though, and spoke in a voice that was almost as silky and low as hers.

'I see. So you clearly think that things would have turned out much better tonight hadn't I been there?'

Darla tilted her head and feigned to consider his words.

'Well, Lindsey, the main thing is, you weren't supposed to be there. Your intervention did blow up everything we had planned – and judging by the way Giles' eyes flared every time somebody mentioned you, I'm afraid I'm not the only one who thinks so.'

A thick, electrifying silence fell upon them. Darla could tell her words had stung Lindsey, and a small part of her thought that perhaps she'd gone a little too far... whereas another part of her wanted to punch him. Harshly.

Lindsey's head was turned, so she could not see his face. When silence between them stretched on, becoming more and more charged with every passing second, Darla decided to change tactics.

'Why, Lindsey? If I had already told you we had everything covered...'

Lindsey sighed, still not looking at her.

'Not everything,' he whispered. 'The Slayers were too focused with the Seer, and you didn't have anyone to watch your back...'

Darla stared at him in disbelief. 'Lindsey, do you think I'm stupid? That I would walk into danger without backup? Sorry, but I'm no Spike or Faith, who like the suicidal thing. I prefer not to take unecessary risks, and I would have believed you knew me well enough by now to be aware of it.' She rolled her eyes. 'And the Slayers were supposed to be focused solely on the Seer, as his life was the valuable one!'

'Not to me.'

Darla stared at him, but Lindsey's face was still turned, his gaze fixed on one of Giles' many bookshelves. She ran a hand through her hair, which was covered in vampire dust, and suppresed her first impulse, that consisted of throwing at Lindsey the coffee mug on Giles' desk. Instead, she opted to calm herself down so when she spoke her voice was controlled and steady.

'Look, Lindsey, I want you to know that I appreciate your concern, really. But in times like this, I find it a little irritating, not to say insulting to my intelligence.' This time, Lindsey dignified her with a look, which was more of an incensed glare than anything else. She felt anger rising inside her again. 'Well, it's true! You really thought I had no backup? That I would let myself get killed? Do you know me so little, after two years of dating? I don't go into a mission without a Plan B. I don't go into the line of fire without a good reason. That's for the Spikes, Faiths and, why not, the Angels of this world. I'm none. I don't have a stupid, suicidal hero complex. And I'm certainly no damsel in distress to need you as my knight in shining armour for heaven's sake, Lindsey!'

Lindsey winced as though hit by an electrical shock. Darla idly wondered what could have upset him the most: her mocking of his overprotective ways or her mention of Angel's name. Normally she did not dare to mention the deceased vampire in front of him without good reason, but that night she was far too mad at Lindsey to care about his petty jealously. She noticed, slightly amused, that his hands had clenched into fists, his knuckles turning white. That would leave nasty marks on his hands.

For a moment, he looked ready to explode. His face had turned crimson, his eyes were flashing in anger and he was starting to hiperventilate. Luckily he's far too young to have a stroke... I hope. However, Lindsey McDonald wasn't known for losing his grip that easily. After a few seconds of resembling an insolated tomato, he began to take long, deep breaths and to open and close his hands, until his knuckles returned to its natural colour as the red vanished from his cheeks. When he spoke, his tone was absolutely colourless:

'And what do you need, Darla?'

Darla stared at him, then began to wave her hands in exasperation.

'I need somebody who sees me exactly for what I am, Lindsey. Not a Prince Charming to take me running into the sunset, not a hero to rescue me. I need somebody to care for me, yes, but not to treat me as though I was made of glass. I can very well take care of myself, thank you very much. Did it for four centuries so I don't need a gurdian.' She put a strand of blonde hair behind her ear and wondered whether Lindsey was getting her message or was still as clueless as always. 'I need somebody to be with, somebody who accepts me just the way I am. In short, I need you, Lindsey... the way you are when you don't try to be all 'macho' and act as if I was a normal, helpless girl. And if you can't see that... If you can't realise who I really am and accept it... then I see no point in this.'

She stretched her arms wide open, as if saying 'what you see is what you get.' Lindsey stared at her, clearly astounded.

'Darla, I... I never meant... you know how much I love you...'

'I know you love me,' she said calmly, 'but do you accept me?'

Lindsey looked at her, wide-eyed. 'Of course I do, Darla! I just wanted to protect you – I know that you don't need me to protect you, but I wasn't thinking rationally at the moment. I'm sorry if that... if that made you feel as though I didn't...' Lindsey opened and closed his mouth, obviously at a loss of how to express himself. 'I'm sorry,' he simply said. 'For that, and for what happened tonight. Do you think... Do you think you can forgive me?'

As a response, Darla shortened the distance between them and wrapped her arms around him. Resting her head on his shoulder, she could feel him letting out a sigh of relief as he wrapped his arms around her as well.

Darla wished this moment could last forever... but deep down, she knew better.

Saturday night

It was one of those simple things Darla enjoyed the most: a quiet dinner at home, a glass of good wine in her hand, Chopin music on the background and a stimulating chat with Lindsey. Not that he was being very conversational that night, though: he looked absent-minded. Darla didn't pay it much attention to that detail. She'd realised that, after two years of dating, she and Lindsey didn't need to fill the silence with useless words to be comfortable with each other. Instead, she took a sip of wine, closed her eyes and enjoyed the smooth rythym of the music and the rich flavour in her mouth. When she opened her eyes again, she noticed that he was watching her, a somewhat dazed look in his blue eyes. She smiled and, stretching her leg, playfully poked his knee with her toe.

'What's going on in that head of yours that you're being so silent tonight?'

He blinked, and a smile crept over his face.

'In our anniversary.'

Darla would have choked, had she been able to.

Anniversary? Had she just forgotten her damned anniversary?

'Wait a moment... it's not our anniversary,' she pointed out, relief washing over her. 'This is not the day we started to date.'

'I know,' Lindsey said softly, 'But it's the day I met you at the hotel, after all that time without seeing you, remember?'

Darla's eyes widened a little.

'I do remember that encounter – but how do you remember the date?'

Lindsey laughed at the look of awe on her face. In a sudden, though, his face got serious.

'How couldn't I? I didn't know it back then, but I know it now: that night, the happiest time of my life began.'

There was an intensity in his eyes that wasn't usually showed by the calm and collected lawyer most people knew. Touched by his words, Darla was only a little surprised – after all, she wasn't exactly the romantic type – at the ease with which she responded:

'Mine too, love. Mine too.'

And she was being absolutely sincere. Back when she had a soul, she couldn't experience happiness, not for real. Then, her come back as a human hadn't been particularly joyful. Once her soul had been back in place, there had been so much pain, so much self-doubt and guilt and struggle to find what the right thing was... The moments she shared with Connor were pure bliss and Spike and Faith had turned into an unexpected source of comfort; in spite of that, Darla felt she was on her own against the world most of the time. Until Lindsey came along, and she realised she no longer had to be alone.

Lindsey moved closer until there were only inches between them.

'I'm glad to hear that.'

He bent over and kissed her. She placed her hand on the back of his neck and pulled him closer, tasting his mouth as if it were the last time she could do so. She broked the kiss after a moment, though, as she knew Lindsey needed to catch his breath, whether he admitted it or not. An inter-species relationship had its particular things to consider, no doubt.

Lindsey's skin was flushed and his eyes were brighter than ever.

'I wouldn't mind doing that forever.'

She laughed softly. 'You would run out of breath pretty fast, trust me.'

He didn't seem to have listened. That absent look had returned to his eyes and Darla frowned, wondering where his mind might be.

'You know, we've never discussed about the future.'

She raised an eyebrow, bemused. Lindsey seemed to realise he needed to be more specific.

'I mean, I know we're alright just like now but, perhaps... I've been thinking... Well, I would like this to last, you know.'

Darla smiled, amused. 'Well, I'm not going anywhere, are you?'

'Yes, but...' Lindsey hesitated, and Darla had the sudden suspicion that they had reached the point he really wanted to talk about. She waited, until he finally seemed to have made up his mind. 'I have something for you.'

His right hand searched in his pocket, and he pulled out a blue small box. He took Darla's wrist with his free hand and placed the box in hers. She cast q questioning look at him, but nothing showed on his face. Darla decided that the only way to find out what was going on was to open the box.

She did so and peered into the contents of the box. Then she blinked and looked again, certain that her eyes were deceiving her, a trick of the light perhaps... When she looked again, though, the vision was still there and she started to fear she would have to accept it was real. Just in case, she tried pushing her luck.

'What is it?'

Now Lindsey was the amused one. 'Well, what does it look like?'

'It looks like a ring but...' Darla's voice tailed off as she studied it more closely. It was a ring, there was no way to deny that, but it didn't look like the rings she used to wear. It was a thin golden band, with a sparkling, traslucid diamond in the middle. She stared at it in disbelief. It looked like the kind of ring a guy would offer a girl just when he was about to... but that couldn't be the case...

'It's just symbolic, you know. Not like I'm planning to drag you into a church or anything... not precisely a recommended thing for your health...'

Darla looked up from the offending piece of metal and stone, and saw the hope shinning on Lindsey's features. The full meaning of his words hit her at last. There was no deceiving from her senses, no trick of the light: this was for real.

Darla wasn't one to dramatize things (that was more of Spike's area of expertise) but she could have sworn that the whole world had paralysed in the split second it took her to realise what was going on, both what Lindsey was trying to tell her and what he didn't realise he was saying at all. In a sudden, everything changed. The quiet, comfortable atmosphere around her became charged and asphyxiating; the music stopped having its soothing effect, as though a jarring note had broken its pleasant, natural melody; she felt the cool glass shattering in her palm although the conscious part of her knew it remained intact, whereas the taste of wine turned into dry ashes in her mouth. In a sudden, everything seemed to have shattered around her, everything was tainted, gone.

Lindsey kept looking at her, his gaze intense, but now the intensity of his gaze meant something else entirely, something she should have seen coming, something she should have been able to put a stop to before it was too late.

It was said that, when death was at your heels, you saw flashes of your entire life. Darla had had several narrow escapes, without experiencing this phenomenon. However, that night memories, if not of her life, at least of those things she should have seen earlier, flashed before her eyes.

The look of longing on Lindsey's face when he comforted that four-year-old at the park... his insistence on Darla getting Connor's custody at last... his overportectiveness of her, as well as his possessiveness when Spike showed up... the way he tried to fix her problems, whether she asked for his help or not... the hurt he'd showed when Spike had said Angel was Connor's father and not him... the jealously he still held for Angel...

Suddenly, everything made absolute, painful sense. How couldn't she have seen it before? How couldn't she have known it?

But she did know now, and she also knew what needed to be done, although it broke her heart. In that moment of clarity, though, she saw there was no other choice left, not if she wanted to spare Lindsey and her further heartache.

Lindsey's blue eyes, alight with expectation, started to somber as he saw the grim expression on her face. In silence, moving in slow motion, Darla placed the glass of wine on the coffee table, closed the lid of the blue box and handed it back to Lindsey. His eyes widened, clearly clueless about what was going on.

'It's the most beautiful gift anyone has given me,' she whispered, ' but I cannot accept it.'

His jaw fell open in shock. He stared at the box, then looked back at her.

'Why?'

Darla never ceased to feel amazed at the amount of emotions one single world could muster: shock, confusion, hurt and a hint of anger. What she was going to say next, she feared, would cause him even more hurt and anger.

'Because, with that ring, you are asking me for something I cannot give you.'

'But it was supposed to be something symbolic, Darla! It's not like I'm asking you to...'

'Yes, you are, Lindsey. Symbolic things are supposed to have a meaning... and the meaning of this ring is that you need much more than I could possibly offer you.'

She knew he would protest. She knew he would have an argument for everything she said. She knew there would be convincing words, persuasion and, if everything else failed, there could be begging. Lindsey was a lawyer, after all. Her only chance was not to let him speak until she was finished.

'This ring means that you are looking for stability, for a safe life. I cannot provide. It means you are yearning a family, even children. You know that's impossible.' Lindsey opened his mouth to protest, she silenced him with a look. 'This ring means you're craving for a compromise that I'm not sure is the kind I can offer you. You're seeking normalcy, and sunlight, and all those things human that I would never be able to give you.' Reaching this point, Darla's shoulders sunk in defeat. 'You're dreaming of a future together, Lindsey.'

Lindsey's head jerked up, and Darla recognized in his eyes the fierce look he always got when he was in the middle of a court session.

'And what's wrong with that? Darla, we're happy together. Why don't make it last? I never felt with anyone what I feel with you. Is it wrong if I say I want to stay with you forever?'

He shot her a triunphal look, but she was shaking her head sadly.

'That's the problem, Lindsey. What does "forever" mean to you? Fifty years, perhaps? Sixty, if you're lucky? To me, forever means a bit longer than that. Lindsey, can't you see,' she said, a desperate plea in her voice. 'I can give you my soul, my heart and my mind, but I can't give you a "happily ever after". I can give you the entirety of my present, but don't ask me for a future. There's no future, no forever for us. There never was.'

She rose to her feet, her face a cold mask of feigned calm.

'I'm not Cinderella, waiting to be rescued from a dusty cellar and a miserable life. I'm not Snow White or Sleeping Beauty, waiting for Prince Charming to come and take me in his swift steed. I'm not a human woman, one that can give you the children you long for, the stability you need and the possibility of reaching an old age surrounded by grandchildren. I'm a vampire, with a soul, but a vampire still, and my needs are different from yours. And I'm afraid that I can't change to fit your needs. If you fail to see that,' Darla couldn't help her voice trembling a little, 'then I have no choice but ask you to leave.'

Lindsey's flashed with indignation. 'Are you asking me to leave your house?'

Darla looked at him, an infinite sadness shadowing her clear eyes.

'No, Lindsey. I'm asking you to leave my life.'

Sunday, midday

After Lindsey had left, Darla spent a long, indefinite time sitting on the couch, staring absently into space. When she could be sitting no more, she rose and got ready for bed, although it was still too early for her. She sprawled on her bed and stared at the ceiling, but she did not sleep. Instead, she lay there for hours, unable to think, unable to feel nothing but the icy numbness that had seized her limbs.

In the moment the shadows on the ceiling began to flicker and fade, she realised she'd had enough and grabbed the phone. Her fingers dialed a number automatically.

It turned out to be Spike's, or at least the phone number Spike had that week. It was surprising how she could remember his phone numbers and his changing addresses so easily.

After she had spoken to him, she felt slightly better. She was able to rise from bed and heat some blood for breakfast. Then she proceeded to do the washing-up and wiping every surface in the kitchen, unable to come up with something else to occupy her hands and mind. When there was no surface left to clean, she sank on the couch again and turned on the TV. Within minutes, she was crawled on the couch, sound asleep.

She was brought back to reality by insistent knocking on her door. Dazed, with her pyjamas crumpled and her hair a terrible mess, she walked to the door and opened it. Suddenly she felt completely awake.

Standing before her, as if it were a vision from a bizarre dream, was Spike. A Spike that was wearing a Red Sox cap, huge sunglasses and a thick blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

'Spike, how...? How did you get here so fast, and in broad sunlight...?

He smiled mischieviously. 'I called in for a lot of favours, pet.'

Darla stared at him, speechless. Then, in a rush, all the emotions that had been trapped deep down seemed to surface, and scathing pain overcame her as burning tears rolled down her cheeks.

She didn't know how it happen, but in an instant Spike's arms were wrapped around her, as her body shaked and all the tears she hadn't shed during that long, hurtful night wet his blanket.

'Hush, hush, pet,' he said softly as he caressed her hair. She sobbed harder, for once unable to control herself.

'He's gone, Spike. Lindsey's gone.'

Spike's arms held her tighter.

'I know, pet. But I'm not goin' anywhere.'

Imzadi: Ten points to you for guessing Lindsey's motivations and which the reasons of a break-up with Darla would be. Congratulations! I guess you aren't very happy right now, but I never planned for their relationship to last. In the long run, they would've done no good to each other.

On Spike & Buffy, yep, it's sad when love dies, and I think the same can be applied to Darla and Lindsey now. Hopefully they'll all find happiness - even Severus ;). I'm afraid Lindsey won't show up in the last episode, but you're free to, in your mind, pair up Lindsey with any other female character you wish, except Anne and Faith. The rest are single.

Now, there's only one episode left, so this is your chance of leaving me a review. Not like I'm begging...