Burning Imprints 37: The Limits of Sight
Burning Imprints
An Angel/Lindsey story.
Authors: menomegirl & strangecreature
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Fox, Etc, Etc....own them all. We’re just smutting them up for fun.
Rating: NC 17
Pairing: Angel/Lindsey
Previous chapters.
The Limits of Sight
Lorne's hands brushed across Fred's back in soothing motions as her weeping slowed, his gaze resting on Angel as his fingertips traced the lines of ink etched into Lindsey's arm. He allowed himself a few moments of luxury to remember Lindsey as he'd first known him. Fresh-faced and ambitious, eager for success, eyes brimming with keen intelligence, a voice soft and raw with unsuppressed emotion, so confident in his own abilities and heedless of the advice given to him.
It hadn't taken long for corruption to steal its way into Lindsey's soul and Lorne would shake his head in disappointment and sadness when his words fell on deaf ears every time the boy came to Caritas. The last time he'd heard Lindsey sing he'd sounded dead inside.
Now he truly was and Lorne blinked away tears to focus his talents on the fading remnants of Lindsey's aura, on the golden glow that had always seemed to surrounded him even when shot through with the often ugly spectrum of his emotions. That iridescence was still there, shimmering strongly and dimming in turns and the only color bleeding into the soft shine of it was coming off Angel as he continued his mindless humming.
The sight of it was eerie, reminding Lorne of the white-hot brightness of a light bulb just before it extinguished and it made his flesh crawl with unease, although he couldn't fathom why. He turned his head toward Drusilla at the sound of her high, childish, tinkling soft laughter and realized that he wasn't imagining it because she appeared to be seeing whatever was happening too.
Wesley had made his way over to the other side of the room so unobtrusively that Lorne didn’t even notice until he began speaking into the phone, his eyes never leaving Angel. “If you could send Janitorial up to Angel’s suite, please. And I’m afraid we require body bags as well.”
“One,” Spike called over, with a grim smile. “We’re only going to need one.”
"No," Drusilla said, her unfocused gaze clearing and settling on Eve's still form. Releasing the hold she had on the stake embedded in the downed girl's chest, she lifted her blood-streaked hand to brush back strands of honey-colored hair from Eve's forehead with a gentle touch that was at odds with the violence of her earlier actions. "Mustn’t throw the baby out with the bath water."
Wesley raised an eyebrow at that, but gave the order to cancel the body bags, setting the phone back in its cradle, an icy chill creeping up his spine when Drusilla slowly turned her head in his direction and smiled briefly before her attention shifted toward Lorne and Fred.
She didn't say anything aloud to the empath demon but nevertheless, Wesley thought he was witnessing a silent communication between them and to his watcher's eyes, it appeared as if the tension in the demon's body eased to such a degree that his breathing returned to normal.
Then her eyes flickered to Fred and her smile softened. "Little girl," she said, waiting patiently for Fred to lift her head from where it rested on Lorne's shoulder and to look at her. "You're the one in charge of all the experiments, aren't you?"
"Yes," Fred answered, sniffling as she wiped away the tears she'd shed. Drusilla nodded solemnly, slipped her hand into a hidden pocket with her dress and brought out a folded sheet of paper. She held it out toward Fred, who hesitated and then accepted it.
Her nose wrinkled in distaste at the smears of blood on it as she unfolded the heavy piece of parchment and her brows furrowed in confusion as she read what was written there. Then her eyes sharpened suddenly and she sat up straighter before looking back up.
"It must be done swiftly," Drusilla said. "Before the damage can heal. When you're done, burn and salt the earth. Do you understand, little one?"
"I think so," Fred replied. "I mean, we have all the equipment in the lab. Are you sure this'll work?"
"Oh, yes." Drusilla laughed, the sound of it still child-like and merry and the sound of it stirred Angel enough to lift his head. "The stars told me so."
*
They laid Lindsey’s body out on Angel’s bed and the wait began. Everyone stayed at first, shuffling in the small room, exchanging worried glances until Angel ordered them to leave. He tried to be as calm and reassuring as he could, despite the blood drying on his hands.
They drifted off in pairs after that, Lorne with Fred (now dry-eyed, but still shivering), Wesley with Gunn (heads together, speaking in low urgent tones), and finally Spike with Drusilla. Well, in theory.
The problem was that Drusilla didn’t seem to want to leave just yet, happily stroking the air over Lindsey’s ashen face and murmuring to herself. Angel didn’t have it in him to tell her twice and Spike was useless, still as smitten with her as ever and trying to hide it. Even with his thoughts so focused on Lindsey, the sight of Spike and Dru together again sent a rush of guilty nostalgia through Angel.
“Where will you go?” Angel asked.
Spike left off trying to coax Drusilla away, hooking his thumbs in his pockets. “Actually thought we might stick close for a while, if it’s all the same to you.”
“Curious?”
“Bit closer to ‘terrified’,” Spike admitted. “This feels all wrong, doesn’t it? Christ knows she can feel it. Something’s gone wrong with this one, Angel, and you know it.”
Angel shifted his stare back to Lindsey’s face, shaking his head but unable to deny it. "Maybe we should call Willow."
"Yeah and what are you going to say?" Spike replied, crossing his arms as he watched Dru sit beside Lindsey, her voice a low murmur that resembled Angel's earlier sounds. "You killed your lover and turned him, 'Gelus. That'll go over with them like a ton of bricks and it won't matter that you did it to save his life. They won't understand that."
"Buffy would." The quiet assurance in the tone of Angel's voice drew Spike's attention away from the pair on the bed and forced him to consider everything he knew of the woman they'd both loved. And not for the first time, he thought he knew her better than Angel did.
Lifting his gaze back up to Angel, taking a moment to look deeply into dark brown eyes that had haunted him more often than not and he saw both conviction and doubt there. "Maybe you're right," he said. "Are you willing to gamble Lindsey's life on it?"
A moment's pause and "No, I'm not," Angel replied, hands pushing into his pockets, his gaze drifting down toward his bare feet as if they were the most fascinating thing in the universe. "Guess you were right after all, Spike. It really was a devil's bargain I made when I agreed to take over this firm. I knew there would be consequences but I never thought it would be Lindsey who'd suffer them."
Spike swallowed down the 'I told you so' that wanted to come out, instead shaking his head. "You shouldn't take on the blame for this, Angel. Lindsey knew what he was walking into when he came back. It was only a matter of time and he knew it. You both did and it's done now- no use crying over spilt milk. We just need to..."
He broke off his musing to glance back at the bed, the strong smell of Drusilla's blood mixing with the heavy scent that already permeated the room. A small knife fell from her fingertips onto the carpet beside the bed and she held her bleeding arm over the gaping wound in Lindsey's chest, her lips moving in an almost silent chant as a small river flowed from her into him. "What kind of language is that? It sounds like gibberish to me."
"I'm not sure," Angel said, his forehead scrunched up as he struggled to make out the words in the low tone of Drusilla's voice and a part of him wasn't surprised that she was attempting to heal Lindsey, although he was past mortal recovery now. "Sounds like a combination of them to me." And it did-half a dozen that he knew, a few words he'd heard Wesley mutter in the midst of research, all eerily familiar and inhumanly foreign at the same time.
His gut tightened as deep foreboding swept over him as a circle of light began to surround the pair on the bed, the brightness gaining in strength with each second that passed. He heard Spike's "What the bleeding hell?" and more felt than saw his movement toward the bed. His arm shot out to stop the younger vampire, all the hair on his body goosing up as the air in the room became charged with energy. "No, Spike, don't. It might be dangerous to stop her. Something's happening. Can't you feel it?"
*
TBC....
Cross-posted to bi_archive.
An Angel/Lindsey story.
Authors: menomegirl & strangecreature
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Fox, Etc, Etc....own them all. We’re just smutting them up for fun.
Rating: NC 17
Pairing: Angel/Lindsey
Previous chapters.
The Limits of Sight
Lorne's hands brushed across Fred's back in soothing motions as her weeping slowed, his gaze resting on Angel as his fingertips traced the lines of ink etched into Lindsey's arm. He allowed himself a few moments of luxury to remember Lindsey as he'd first known him. Fresh-faced and ambitious, eager for success, eyes brimming with keen intelligence, a voice soft and raw with unsuppressed emotion, so confident in his own abilities and heedless of the advice given to him.
It hadn't taken long for corruption to steal its way into Lindsey's soul and Lorne would shake his head in disappointment and sadness when his words fell on deaf ears every time the boy came to Caritas. The last time he'd heard Lindsey sing he'd sounded dead inside.
Now he truly was and Lorne blinked away tears to focus his talents on the fading remnants of Lindsey's aura, on the golden glow that had always seemed to surrounded him even when shot through with the often ugly spectrum of his emotions. That iridescence was still there, shimmering strongly and dimming in turns and the only color bleeding into the soft shine of it was coming off Angel as he continued his mindless humming.
The sight of it was eerie, reminding Lorne of the white-hot brightness of a light bulb just before it extinguished and it made his flesh crawl with unease, although he couldn't fathom why. He turned his head toward Drusilla at the sound of her high, childish, tinkling soft laughter and realized that he wasn't imagining it because she appeared to be seeing whatever was happening too.
Wesley had made his way over to the other side of the room so unobtrusively that Lorne didn’t even notice until he began speaking into the phone, his eyes never leaving Angel. “If you could send Janitorial up to Angel’s suite, please. And I’m afraid we require body bags as well.”
“One,” Spike called over, with a grim smile. “We’re only going to need one.”
"No," Drusilla said, her unfocused gaze clearing and settling on Eve's still form. Releasing the hold she had on the stake embedded in the downed girl's chest, she lifted her blood-streaked hand to brush back strands of honey-colored hair from Eve's forehead with a gentle touch that was at odds with the violence of her earlier actions. "Mustn’t throw the baby out with the bath water."
Wesley raised an eyebrow at that, but gave the order to cancel the body bags, setting the phone back in its cradle, an icy chill creeping up his spine when Drusilla slowly turned her head in his direction and smiled briefly before her attention shifted toward Lorne and Fred.
She didn't say anything aloud to the empath demon but nevertheless, Wesley thought he was witnessing a silent communication between them and to his watcher's eyes, it appeared as if the tension in the demon's body eased to such a degree that his breathing returned to normal.
Then her eyes flickered to Fred and her smile softened. "Little girl," she said, waiting patiently for Fred to lift her head from where it rested on Lorne's shoulder and to look at her. "You're the one in charge of all the experiments, aren't you?"
"Yes," Fred answered, sniffling as she wiped away the tears she'd shed. Drusilla nodded solemnly, slipped her hand into a hidden pocket with her dress and brought out a folded sheet of paper. She held it out toward Fred, who hesitated and then accepted it.
Her nose wrinkled in distaste at the smears of blood on it as she unfolded the heavy piece of parchment and her brows furrowed in confusion as she read what was written there. Then her eyes sharpened suddenly and she sat up straighter before looking back up.
"It must be done swiftly," Drusilla said. "Before the damage can heal. When you're done, burn and salt the earth. Do you understand, little one?"
"I think so," Fred replied. "I mean, we have all the equipment in the lab. Are you sure this'll work?"
"Oh, yes." Drusilla laughed, the sound of it still child-like and merry and the sound of it stirred Angel enough to lift his head. "The stars told me so."
*
They laid Lindsey’s body out on Angel’s bed and the wait began. Everyone stayed at first, shuffling in the small room, exchanging worried glances until Angel ordered them to leave. He tried to be as calm and reassuring as he could, despite the blood drying on his hands.
They drifted off in pairs after that, Lorne with Fred (now dry-eyed, but still shivering), Wesley with Gunn (heads together, speaking in low urgent tones), and finally Spike with Drusilla. Well, in theory.
The problem was that Drusilla didn’t seem to want to leave just yet, happily stroking the air over Lindsey’s ashen face and murmuring to herself. Angel didn’t have it in him to tell her twice and Spike was useless, still as smitten with her as ever and trying to hide it. Even with his thoughts so focused on Lindsey, the sight of Spike and Dru together again sent a rush of guilty nostalgia through Angel.
“Where will you go?” Angel asked.
Spike left off trying to coax Drusilla away, hooking his thumbs in his pockets. “Actually thought we might stick close for a while, if it’s all the same to you.”
“Curious?”
“Bit closer to ‘terrified’,” Spike admitted. “This feels all wrong, doesn’t it? Christ knows she can feel it. Something’s gone wrong with this one, Angel, and you know it.”
Angel shifted his stare back to Lindsey’s face, shaking his head but unable to deny it. "Maybe we should call Willow."
"Yeah and what are you going to say?" Spike replied, crossing his arms as he watched Dru sit beside Lindsey, her voice a low murmur that resembled Angel's earlier sounds. "You killed your lover and turned him, 'Gelus. That'll go over with them like a ton of bricks and it won't matter that you did it to save his life. They won't understand that."
"Buffy would." The quiet assurance in the tone of Angel's voice drew Spike's attention away from the pair on the bed and forced him to consider everything he knew of the woman they'd both loved. And not for the first time, he thought he knew her better than Angel did.
Lifting his gaze back up to Angel, taking a moment to look deeply into dark brown eyes that had haunted him more often than not and he saw both conviction and doubt there. "Maybe you're right," he said. "Are you willing to gamble Lindsey's life on it?"
A moment's pause and "No, I'm not," Angel replied, hands pushing into his pockets, his gaze drifting down toward his bare feet as if they were the most fascinating thing in the universe. "Guess you were right after all, Spike. It really was a devil's bargain I made when I agreed to take over this firm. I knew there would be consequences but I never thought it would be Lindsey who'd suffer them."
Spike swallowed down the 'I told you so' that wanted to come out, instead shaking his head. "You shouldn't take on the blame for this, Angel. Lindsey knew what he was walking into when he came back. It was only a matter of time and he knew it. You both did and it's done now- no use crying over spilt milk. We just need to..."
He broke off his musing to glance back at the bed, the strong smell of Drusilla's blood mixing with the heavy scent that already permeated the room. A small knife fell from her fingertips onto the carpet beside the bed and she held her bleeding arm over the gaping wound in Lindsey's chest, her lips moving in an almost silent chant as a small river flowed from her into him. "What kind of language is that? It sounds like gibberish to me."
"I'm not sure," Angel said, his forehead scrunched up as he struggled to make out the words in the low tone of Drusilla's voice and a part of him wasn't surprised that she was attempting to heal Lindsey, although he was past mortal recovery now. "Sounds like a combination of them to me." And it did-half a dozen that he knew, a few words he'd heard Wesley mutter in the midst of research, all eerily familiar and inhumanly foreign at the same time.
His gut tightened as deep foreboding swept over him as a circle of light began to surround the pair on the bed, the brightness gaining in strength with each second that passed. He heard Spike's "What the bleeding hell?" and more felt than saw his movement toward the bed. His arm shot out to stop the younger vampire, all the hair on his body goosing up as the air in the room became charged with energy. "No, Spike, don't. It might be dangerous to stop her. Something's happening. Can't you feel it?"
*
TBC....
Cross-posted to bi_archive.