Title: Want Versus Need
Author: Brenda Antrim
Email: bren@bantrim.net
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended.
Spoilers: Incorporates and immediately follows "Darla."

Not where Darla was concerned, either. It was a good thing. On the evening of the ninth day after Angel's 'visit' Lindsey got a call on his private line. The number nobody but Holland ... and Angel ... and Darla knew. Deliberately ignoring what that fact said about his social life, he concentrated on Darla's voice purring in his ear.

"Lindsey. My lovely boy." She sounded stronger, more herself. Or more what he expected 'herself' to sound like.

"Hello, Darla," he answered softly, his fingers tightening around the cell phone.

"Come home. Now."

The call disconnected, and he pulled the cell phone away from his ear, staring at it for a full minute while his mind ran through possibilities. Glancing out the window at the lights of LA, he wondered what exactly she had planned. And what had put that confidence back in her voice. Still trying to work it out, he headed for his car.

He was no closer to a solution when he pulled into the garage. In the shadows next to the side door, a few feet from where Angel had attacked him, a petite brunette with dark, shining eyes smiled at him. He stilled, staring at her.

"Oooh," the woman sighed, staring back at him with an unnerving hunger. "Grandmother's got good taste. But does it taste good?"

"Don't call me that," Darla's voice snapped out behind him.

Lindsey glanced over his shoulder. There was a rush of movement, and the brunette was right in front of him, crowding him against the wall. He caught his breath.

"Hmm, smells yummy," she sighed, eyes closing, tongue peeking out to sweep over her lips.

She was gorgeous. Lindsey felt himself flush, and wondered what the hell was going on.

"Drusilla!" Darla's voice was sharper now, and Lindsey could see her, stalking forward from the far shadows like a lioness on the hunt. A slight whine brought his attention back to the woman who was nearly climbing his body.

Drusilla. The name rang a bell. He blinked, memory fitting the pieces together. Shit, he thought wildly, watching her tongue sweep her lips again. Drusilla. Angel's Childe. First Angel, then his Sire, then his Childe. It really did run in the family. God forbid he should ever meet William the Bloody. Lindsey opened his mouth to ask what was going on when Darla clamped a hand on Dru's shoulder and pulled her bodily away from Lindsey.

"Shoo," she clucked impatiently. Drusilla gave her a wounded look, but Darla was concentrating on Lindsey, and he was helpless to do anything but stare back.

She was a vampire again. She was Darla again. He didn't know whether to run like hell or just give up and offer her his throat. The parts south of his waist were in favor of the latter; what few brain cells continued to function were advocating the former. Paralyzed as much by his own indecision as by the power of her presence, he simply stood there and watched her. She smiled. Even with the fangs and the ridges, she was beautiful.

"It's time to give me what I want, my lovely boy," she crooned at him, nuzzling his chin up and tracing the length of his throat with her tongue. Down the tendon, lingering over the vein, the exact same spot she'd bitten as a human.

This time, he wouldn't be able to get away. The thought chilled him to the bone, dampening his arousal, fear finally chasing off the last of fascination. He didn't want this.

She did.

His mind raced, trying to find an out. He managed to speak, amazed at how calm he sounded. "What precisely is it you want, Darla?" His drawl was thick as honey.

The prick of a fang against the barely healed scabs where Angel had bitten him made his throat close up. "What do I want, my lovely Lindsey? For my pretty boy to attain his potential. All that darkness lying fallow inside you, just waiting for its chance to blossom."

She licked him, where she'd nipped him, and he shuddered. "Then the two of us are going to go do what I should have done a hundred years ago." Her voice turned icy. "We're going to turn my darling boy back to the dust he should have been when he got his cursed soul. What he earned when he refused to take mine away. He said he couldn't. He meant he wouldn't. We will."

He did his best to project acceptance, acquiescence, forcing his body to arch against hers, and she drew away slightly, gathering herself to strike. Her eyes closed in delight, a smile curving her ridged features. Lindsey took advantage of her momentary distraction to duck out and to the side of her, using her hold on him as leverage, spinning around and sending her slamming into the wall. Her hands jarred loose and he took off, running as fast as he could for the door, and the sharpened stakes, holy water and very large crosses he kept there.

He hit a wall before he made it that far. He bounced off Angel and landed flat on his back at Angel's feet.

It was becoming a habit.

From behind him he heard a flurry of movement, and a high-pitched squeal of delight from Drusilla. Angel stepped over him, then stood between him and the female vampires. It dawned on Lindsey that Angel was actually protecting him. Once the shock wore off, he pulled himself together enough to get the hell out of the way. He tried to make for the side path to the door, but Dru was there.

He cowered back behind Angel, trying his best to disappear, refusing to let pride stand in the way of self-preservation. It was easy. He was a lawyer. He was good at it. He'd had a lot of practice.

Angel straightened up, his body square in the path between Darla and Lindsey, and said, quietly, "Hello, Dru. Darla."

Dru started chattering dreamily. Angel ignored her, concentrating on Darla. Her face had smoothed out into its usual beauty.

"My darling boy," she greeted him. There was more hatred than love in the phrase. "Would you like a treat?" She gestured at Lindsey. Lindsey glared at her from around Angel's shoulder.

"Thank you," Angel responded politely, "but I've already had him."

Lindsey transferred the glare to the back of Angel's head. He was just as oblivious as she'd been.

"And I'm on a diet. It doesn't include humans. Or lawyers."

"Can I have him, then, Papa? He's pretty!" Dru sounded anxious to please, or perhaps simply hungry. Lindsey shrunk further behind Angel. Both Angel and Darla continued to ignore her. Lindsey watched, narrow-eyed, as the brunette gazed sadly at her Sire, even more sadly at her Sire's Sire, then turned to beam dreamily at him.

He swallowed and inched around as far behind Angel as he could get, knowing he was being a coward, but so unnerved by Dru's longing and Darla's demands that he felt it was the only safe place he could be. Which was, in itself, a frightening thought, when Angel was equated in Lindsey's mind with safety. When had his life spiraled so completely out of control?

Trying to avoid listening to the tiny mewling sounds Drusilla was making as she inched her way closer to him, Lindsey tuned in to the intense, hissed argument between Darla and her Childe. There was a century of pain spilling out into the open between them.

"You've cast me out since I was given this soul, but who was responsible for it in the first place, Darla? I didn't ask for a Gypsy for my birthday."

Lindsey shook his head. Still playing the blame game, only this time sharing it. It wasn't like Angel to share.

"You could have taken your revenge!" Darla's eyes were glowing yellow, and her teeth were lengthening. Lindsey knew he should be repulsed and wondered if it was too many years working for Wolfram and Hart that accounted for only feeling arousal, or if he'd been insane long before ever becoming a lawyer. He was still wondering about that when Angel's voice burst across his thoughts.

"I know you don't believe in hell! But I was there! I survived it, I wanted to die, wanted to simply stop existing, and I couldn't. I won't send you there. You have the chance to escape, a second chance I'd die for, a second chance I'm working my ass off to get, and I won't take it away from you. I can't damn you. I can't and I won't."

"You don't have to, Angel," Darla snarled in response, her facing transmuting into its vampiric form. Lindsey shuddered. Ugly as a mud fence and still a complete turn-on. There was definitely something wrong with his wiring. "Your little lark did it for me. Did what you refused to do. Gave me back myself!"

Angel stood very still, nodding his head slowly. Lindsey could feel him shaking across the few inches that separated them. "I'm sorry," Angel said so quietly for a minute Lindsey wasn't sure he'd heard the words.

"Yes, too sorry to bother with any longer," Darla spat at him.

Lindsey yelped in surprise as clawed fingers wrapped around his arm and yanked him out from behind Angel. In his fascination with the two older vampires having it out, he'd completely forgotten Dru.

His mistake.

"I've got him, Grandmother! Lovely boy, all yours. Want to come play with us, Angelus?" Drusilla chirped.

Lindsey tugged at his arm. She was solid as rock. For such an ethereal-looking little thing, there was no doubt she was still a vampire, and ten times stronger than he was. Christ, he thought dismally, even the ones that are shorter than I am can still hold me down. His skin itched, and he determinedly ignored the little spike of arousal that came with the thought of being the prize candy in a Darla/Angel/Drusilla three-way. Not that he'd survive long enough to enjoy it.

Probably not, anyway.

"I won't make the same mistake with this one that I did with you, Angelus," Darla informed him coldly.

Lindsey looked from one to the other, staying as calm as possible, unobtrusively yanking at his arm to try to break Dru's hold and running through his mental catalog of every anti-vampire incantation he could remember. Unfortunately, all of them required props of one kind or another, and while he had most of them on hand, they were inside the house, and he and his tormentors were still outside next to the garage. Unfortunate that it was still so many hours until sunrise.

Then Darla whirled to strike at him, Drusilla tugged possessively on his arm, and Angel interposed himself between his Sire and Lindsey. It quickly degenerated into the weirdest fight Lindsey had ever seen. Darla kept striking out at Angel, inflicting small wounds, baiting him, trying to call forth Angelus, certain she'd have an ally in the demon. Angel remained in complete command of the situation, trying to defend himself without actually striking out at Darla, carefully keeping his demon aspect under iron-clad control.

On the sidelines, Drusilla kept trying to kiss Lindsey. On the neck. Fangs first.

Caught between trying to get around the battling vampires and into his house where the weapons were kept, fending off Drusilla, still amorous or hungry or just attention-starved, and half-tempted to grab a bucket of holy water and throw it over the lot of them, Lindsey stayed where he was and waited to see what would happen next. Beside him, Drusilla became increasingly distracted and disturbed by the fight between Angel and Darla. Eventually, Darla caught Angel a clout across the chin that drew blood, and some of it spattered across Dru's face. She reacted as if it was vitriol.

Shrieking "Lost! Lost! All souls lost!" or words to that effect, she ran off into the night. Lindsey stared after her for a moment. Then he shook his head in bemusement. When Angelus drove someone nuts, it really stuck. Darla's infuriated shriek brought his attention back to the fight.

Talk about insanity defined.

Angel was twice her size, far superior a fighter, and he was about to lose the battle. His hands were wrapped around Darla's wrists, holding her off, and he was shouting over her screaming.

"It can't and will never be the same between us! I'm fighting for things you've never held dear and you can never understand why I need so desperately to be redeemed." She finally stopped screaming and stared up at him, tears streaming down her face. His voice softened, a plea under the roughened brogue. "You only had nothingness while you were dead. I spent centuries in hell. I don't want to go back."

The fight went out of her, and he slowly dropped her wrists. He leaned forward as if to kiss her, and she turned her face away. Angel took a step back, then reached out, grabbing Lindsey by the shoulder and pushing him down the walkway toward the house. Lindsey went forward willingly but paused at the door, unlocking it by touch, eyes still locked on Darla.

She was watching Angel as he turned his back on her and started to walk away.

Angel didn't see her pull the stake from her coat pocket and start forward. He also didn't see the look of hopeless defeat on her face as she moved.

Lindsey did.

He didn't have to think about what he did next. It was a good thing; there was no time to think, barely time to act. He reached around the corner of the door to the three foot long stake he kept next to the frame. With an aim born of desperation and the muscle memory of three years of javelin throwing in college, he cocked his arm and let fly.

Angel turned as Darla screamed. He barely missed being staked through the heart by her as she lunged forward. The stake Lindsey had thrown struck her back a split second before her own blow landed, and Angel took it through the thigh. Disintegration spread both directions from the point of impact of the stake in her heart, and Angel had one last chance to look in Darla's eyes before she turned to dust under his hands.

Lindsey knew he should go inside and lock the door and start every magickal spell he could find to keep Angel away from him. Unfortunately, his legs wouldn't work. He couldn't move. Angel looked up, rage and betrayal blinding him to everything but Lindsey. Blood lust and murder were in his eyes as he wrenched the stake from his thigh and took the few steps necessary to make it to Lindsey's side. The stake was in his hand, the point at Lindsey's heart, Angel's blood and Darla's dust making a streak down the front of Lindsey's shirt.

After the fury and noise of the earlier confrontation, it was eerily quiet. All Lindsey could hear was the muted rumble of traffic, the wind in the trees behind him, the sound of his heart racing. Angel was leaning on the stake and it moved with every breath Lindsey took. Vampire and man stared together at the filthy, bloody piece of sharpened wood just a thin barrier of skin and bone from the heart beating beneath it.

With an inarticulate growl that was half-moan, half-scream, Angel threw the stake aside and grabbed Lindsey by the back of the neck. Feeling himself pulled off his feet yet again, Lindsey reached up with his good hand and took hold of the only thing within reach -- Angel's shirt-front. He hung there, eyes squeezed shut, trying to breathe, trying not to panic, as Angel's mouth, fully fanged, hovered a spare half inch over Lindsey's neck. He knew, this time, Angel wouldn't stop. This time, he'd be dead.

Or worse. Sired by a demon who hated him, probably dusted before he even had a chance to get to know who he was. He groaned internally. God, not even turned, and already having an identity crisis. Was this, also, a tendency in Darla's children? Or was it just contagious from overexposure to Angel?

"Go ahead and do it, damn you!" he heard himself cry, then snapped his mouth closed, appalled. His eyes flew open. Then Angel did as Lindsey'd apparently instinctively expected him to do.

He backed off. There was something to be said for reverse psychology. And perhaps Lindsey understood Angel a little better than Holland thought he did.

Angel didn't go very far. Just far enough to stop drooling down Lindsey's neck. Lindsey glared up at him.

"What?" he barked.

"Why'd you kill her?" Angel asked, face smoothing back into familiar human-appearing lines.

The anger bled out of Lindsey, and he found himself sagging against Angel. Surprisingly enough, Angel allowed it. His hands curved around Lindsey's back and held him upright. Lindsey started to speak, and only realized when he tasted salt on his lips that he was crying.

"It was what she needed."

"Not what she wanted. Dru gave her that." The words were laden with pain.

Lindsey shook his head. "What she needed, not what she wanted. That's what was important. What she needed was for the pain to end. Wouldn't have happened if she'd staked you."

Pulling himself from Angel's loose embrace with more effort than it should have taken, Lindsey leaned shakily against the wall. He looked up at Angel for a long time. Those steady, shadowed eyes stared back at him, giving nothing away.

Giving up for the moment, Lindsey turned to go into his house. Glancing over his shoulder, he added, "It's what you need, too, but for you, it never will."

He didn't wait for a response, just turned back and headed into the living room. Behind him, he heard a very soft, "I don't want it to."

Refusing to turn around, Lindsey said quietly, "I know." The only answer he received in turn was silence. When he'd regained his composure and the tears finally stopped leaking from his eyes, he turned back.

Angel was gone.

Lindsey closed and locked the door, muttering in Latin and Greek, binding the perimeter, needing the extra layer of security if he was going to get any sleep that night. Not that he expected anything but nightmares. Pouring a small snifter of brandy, he staggered to the couch and sank down on the cushions.

Eventually, he lifted his glass in a toast. "To Darla. May you simply cease to be." He didn't want to think he'd sent her to hell. Not that he had much conscience for it to weigh upon; he just didn't think hell was any place for Darla.

Staring out through the window at the darkened skies beyond, he took a deep, shaky breath, and wondered how long it would be before Angel needed the pain to stop, too.

He had a feeling he was going to be waiting a very long time.

fini