TITLE: Starting Anew
AUTHOR: Ragna (writinggoddess@aol.com)
RATING: FRT, for cursing.
CLASSIFICATION: Lindsey/Spike interaction, mentions of past Lindsey/Darla and Lindsey/Lilah interaction
SUMMARY: Lindsey and Spike get into an argument on the way to Sunnydale.
SPOILERS: AU after "Crush," but mentions events in "Dead End."
DISTRIBUTION: Any sites with my fic up; you all have unspoken permission. I write it, you can post it. Everyone else just keep my name on it and let me know.
DISCLAIMER: If you don't recognize it, chances are it's my own creation. If you do, I don't own it. Joss Whedon, Kazui Sandollar, The WB, UPN, et. al. most likely do. The song "Ming Tran" belongs to Gob.
FEEDBACK: Please send it offlist and let me know it's feedback; I do rapid delete on my account due to a lot of spam.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Used Challenge In A Can and got "Lindsey," "grateful" and "sword" for the first one; "Lilah," "lost" and "stake" for the second one; and "Spike," "melancholy" and "rain" for the third one.

***

The rain poured down the windows as Spike and Lindsey made their way north to Sunnydale. Rain always put Lindsey in a melancholy mood, but for one, he was grateful for the company.

He turned to Spike. "You know, when I came here for the firm, I was basically promised bright, sunny skies year round."

"Well, mate," Spike said, smiling slightly, "rain's a good friend to a vampire. We can walk outside during the day, if we're careful."

It had been about an hour and a half since they left the cheap motel, sometime past midnight. Lindsey had waited at the bar for Spike, drinking Coke and staying lost in a set of thoughts he hadn't verbalized to his driving companion yet.

Course, Spike didn't pry. He's poked and prodded at Lindsey's life enough in their last two encounters, the most recent resulting in this road trip to Sunnyhell. Spike absently fingered the stake he kept in his pocket, an odd habit he'd started since he began helping the Slayer.

"You know, Lilah would never have been caught dead in weather like this. I think if she's stepped outside in the rain, she would have melted like the Wicked Witch of the West."

"Sounds like Darla," Spike said absently.

"What was she like? Before..."

"Before you all brought her back from Hell?"

"Yeah."

"A bitch. But one of the best of 'em. She got what she wanted, she knew just what to do to get it, too. I must say, there were times I admired her. Most of the time, though, she just annoyed me." Spike flipped the radio on and turned the dial, settling on a fading rock station coming in out of Los Angeles.

"Just because she knew what she wanted doesn't mean she's a bitch."

"Mate, you just knew the sanitized human version. Bet you barely knew the woman who brought down a thousand men."

Lindsey gripped the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles beginning to grow white. "What are you saying, I should have let her die?"

"Yeah, mate, that's exactly what I'm saying. Better yet, you never should have brought her back in the first place. Let her rest in Hell where she belonged."

Lindsey felt as though a sword had been shoved roughly through the area of his heart. He should stop this conversation before it got any worse...

"Is that where Drusilla belongs, then? In Hell?"

"Probably, mate. I think I'm headed there too. Angel may be the only one to escape such a fate," he said, putting his feet up on the dash. "He's doing what he needs to do. Just like you."

"And how would you know this is what I need to do, Spike? You've only talked to me once before you tracked me down a few nights ago. You don't know a damn thing about me."

Spike shrugged. "And you don't know a damn thing about me. Let's keep it that way."

"Fine." Lindsey went back to concentrating on driving. The thoughts floating through his head were spinning by so fast, he didn't know which ones to latch onto to keep his sanity.

He could finally admit, at least to himself, that he wanted Darla, and now...

"Darla was a minx. She could get any man to do whatever she wanted them to do. her early education as a whore came in handy; she knew the ins and outs of using sex appeal." Spike shook his head. "She got you, too."

Lindsey shook her head. "She was different."

"How would you know? We're talking about the great-grandsire I was forced to be around, who made damn sure I knew how much she and Angelus despised me. So how the bloody hell do you know she changed?"

"I know because I loved her," Lindsey said through gritted teeth, a tear falling down his face.

"And did you honestly think she loved you?" Spike asked.

"What, like you loved Drusilla? You fucking killed her."

"It was for her own good," Spike said.

"Says who?"

"Me."

Spike pulled a cigarette out of his pack and stuck it between his lips as he looked for his lighter. "Besides, mate, what'd you think she'd do? Turn you into a vampire, too? Make you her lapdog just like she did Angel? Oh, I forgot, you're not like Angel. No, you're the bad guy, all reformed like. Wait...so's Angel."

That was the last straw. Lindsey didn't want to hear anymore. He just wanted his past erased so he could start all over, and here was Spike dredging everything up. The fucking bastard...

Lindsey pulled the cigarette from Spike's lips. "Fuck you."

Lindsey flipped the radio off and pulled the truck over. "Out."

"Why?" Spike lit a cigarette and looked at Lindsey. "Afraid to change you opinions? Face it...that's what's life's all about." He took a drag off the cigarette. "Why do you think vampires eventually screw up and die? Because most don't change."

Lindsey rested his head on the steering wheel, then lifted it up and started the car again. "Spike?"

"Yeah, mate?"

"When we get to Sunnydale, leave me the hell alone."