Heat of the moment (7/19)

Author- Midnight Faith

Spoilers- 'Lullaby.'

Distribution- FF.net, AOH, buffysearch.net and Neurotica… anyone else just ask :)

Pairing- Lilah/Lindsey. Past Lilah/Angel and Lindsey/Darla (I'll never be clean again…)

Rating-NC-17

Summary- Cracks begin to appear

Disclaimer- they belong to the almighty Joss… I am but a child in his candy store

Dedication- To Bobbi who is one in a million

The waitress looked over at the couple in the corner and smiled to herself in sympathy. Being a roadside diner she saw plenty of couples who'd obviously just had a row like this. But these two… crammed into the corner booth away from the dim light of the single fluorescent strip. She saw such pure pain in the woman's eyes as her obviously angry boyfriend spoke to her over the table, expression changing from out and out devotion to fury in seconds and then back again.

"I'm sorry, OK?" Lindsey said, finally pretending to not concentrate on his greasy diner food. He looked at Lilah, crammed into the corner on the opposite side of the scratched Formica table to him, body the epitome of defensiveness.

"For what?" Lilah asked, staring at him with steely eyes, desperately trying to conceal the hurt she was feeling, the space between them able to accommodate three people.

"For being rough with you… for making you bleed." he said the words bitter with remorse across his tongue. Regretful images flashed in his head instantly, him completely ignoring her needs, only about himself, slamming into her roughly, over and over, him coming, pulling out of her… and finally realising she was bleeding, tears stinging her eyes full of horror.

"Three drops of blood does not constitute as bleeding." She downplayed casually.

"Says who?" Lindsey asked candidly. Lilah rolled her eyes in response, adopting her ice bitch persona. He desperately wanted to reach across the table and touch her, tell her he was sorry over and over, with her cuddled up in his arms, forgiving him, kissing him, telling him- He was snapped back to earth by her next cold words.

"Stop it. It doesn't matter." She said, too brightly, aware of where his thoughts were taking him. It was too close, too deep, especially after how he'd been with her tonight. Nothing co-ordinated; his feelings didn't make sense to her anymore.

"If it doesn't matter then why are you pissed at me?"

"I'm not pissed at you." She said neutrally, almost giving in, almost allowing half a smile to slide across her lips, but she stopped herself at the last moment reassuring herself she was in control.

"Then why is the gap between us Grand Canyon size?" He asked, feeling empty without her body stretched out against his, her curves matching perfectly the smooth lines of his flesh.

"Shut up." She snapped, to maintain her distance.

"Don't tell me what to do." He said, getting more agitated, his face more flushed by the second.

"Then don't tell me what to do." She snapped quietly, trying to divert another scene.

"For God's sake, Lilah!" he said, anger raising his voice, attracting the unwanted attention of a nearby waitress, "My five year old Nephew's more mature than you!"

She chose not to reply, turning her body away from him further. She was hurt he'd snapped at her. She wanted his patience, his trust; his… love, her conscience struggling for a better word. If she wasn't so damn stubborn, she realised all she wanted right now was him to hold her. Apologise his mouth brushing her ear so only she could hear, sending shivers down her spine and him kissing her cheek so softly, she could barely feel it, the way she knew only he could.

"You were thinking about him weren't you?" he asked, more rhetorically than questionably, his expression sour in an attempt to evoke a reaction. He'd opened his eyes briefly, to see her eyes closed, body arched, hands laced in his hair but refusing to look at him.

"I'm not the one who said someone else's name." She pointed out bitterly, finally finding the chance to use her ace card.

"What?" He asked directly, leaning across the table almost in menace.

"You said Darla." She said looking directly into his eyes.

"I said Lilah." He said, looking right back into hers, his voice low and dangerous

"It sounded like Darla."

"It was Lilah," he said shifting closer, "I wasn't thinking about anyone but you." Hurt she'd think anything else of him, his voice soft and comforting. She was swayed by the sound of his voice, wanting to believe him knowing full well it could've been her intense paranoia whispering in her head.

"So you must really hate me as indicated by the rough, animalistic fucking you gave me." She told him, thinking he cared about her more than that. Couldn't he see this was something special and nothing like the quick screws they'd had in the past? She couldn't fall back into that, with him, not when they were so close to some kind of twisted normality.

"I was trying to be passionate. I was trying to be…" he trailed off, seeing how motionless Lilah's face had gotten at his apologies.

She was silent for a moment before saying, "Just be gentle next time, OK?" She said, pouting and giving in, feeling no energy to fight anymore.

"Next time?" he asked, with a curious grin.

"The motel has never heard of TV…" she pointed out, trying to keep her facial expression relaxed but her inner defences guarded.

"So I'm just your past time?" he retaliated heatedly, not knowing why he expected anything else.

"Yes, and I'm yours. You just close your eyes and think of Darla." She said, feeling the need to hurt him, emotionally like he'd hurt her physically.

"How many fucking times? I wasn't thinking about her… she's dead to me." He said, in that moment of epiphany realising he meant it.

"She's dead to the whole world." She pointed out, voice neutral, hands shaking, words sparkling with maliciousness.

"What?" He asked, panic and mistrust setting in. Was she lying? Would she dare?

"You don't know?" she asked, muted malevolence sparkling in her eyes, revenge sweet on her tongue.

"Know what?" He asked, a mirage of horrible images whirling around his brain, Darla, good, sweet and innocent, Lilah the vicious perpetrator.

"Got all night?"

"As a matter of fact… yes."

"The short version is she staked herself." She said, knowing she had to tell him the whole truth, regretting it instantly and wishing she could rewind the clock five minutes. His face instantly set in shock.

"And the long version?"

"She staked herself to save her baby," Lilah said, standing, suddenly dizzy, knowing she'd pushed him away and he might never come back.

She walked quickly to the ladies' rest room, Lindsey following a few steps behind, not for the world caring what the sign on the door said.

The bathroom was deserted, neon lighting harsh highlighting every corner.

Lilah was scrubbing her hands raw under the cold water tap, in a physical obsessive compulsia to try and remove the horrible pain she was feeling, when Lindsey found her.

"Are you blind?" she asked viciously.

"I don't exactly care," he told her, turning off the tap and taking her red, freezing hands in his. Despite his own pain brought on by revelation he found himself desperate to dull hers. She felt so shocked with herself, so sickened all she wanted to do was prolong her suffering, punish herself for hurting him.

"You slept with her didn't you?" she asked him, staring vacantly at her hands, physical pain flashing through her body in her moment of recognition.

He didn't reply as she met his eyes in abhorrence.

"Oh my god," she said, pulling her hands sharply away, "Are you saying there's a chance Connor's yours?"

He didn't reply his skin suddenly as pale as hers, trying to take everything in. Everything he was feeling, everything she was feeling. Lilah felt physically sick at the image of them together, mentally and responsively comparing it to the way she and Lindsey had looked in the mirrored doors of the wardrobe barely an hour ago. Had he ever seen himself and Darla together? 'Was she better than I was?' She thought, instinctively paranoid.

She walked away from him, slumping in the chair in the corner of the bathroom, head in her hands, drained, exhausted and shaken to the core, distrustful and aching from his disclosure.

He followed her, bending down to her level lacing his arms around her, realising she was shaking violently, too empty to attempt to pull away.

"Cold?" he asked her, concerned.

"Emotional," she corrected.

An apology stuck in his throat so he reassured instead,

"I was only thinking of you tonight."

"I know… you too." She felt herself relax under his touch, exhaustion seeping from them both, the main fight over. Now they were going to have to deal with the consequences. Would there be any going back?

"I mean, who else could I pretend to be married to? Maybe one day… for real." He asked, trying to make her soften in his arms, words falling from his mouth without thinking.

"If you ask me to marry you, I'll kill you." She said, deadly serious, tense and non-contemplative.

"I'm not." He reassured only half-serious.

"Good, because I'm starting to like you." Lilah knew herself even in her rawness it was more than just 'like.'

"And liking someone means complete honesty, so… its Angel isn't it? Your mystery guy." His eyes begged for it not to be true. Be some office low life, a guy from the mailroom who didn't even register on the food chain. She paled more so if it were possible knowing in her heart she had to be honest.

She nodded, clinging to him tightly with her revelation, the metaphorical gap between them already widening.

*****

Lindsey sat on the edge of the bed, stroking Lilah's hair gently. She was curled up in a foetal position, tensely, tears threatening, clawing at the back of her eyes and throat.

"How are you feeling?" Lindsey asked her, worried, wanting to be close again but too afraid to hurt her.

"OK," she told him, gesturing to the now empty box of painkillers on the floor, "They help." She felt his body tense in response, frightened by how dependent she was on them.

He began to lie out extra pillows from the top of the wardrobe onto the floor, regretting it instantly though there was no going back knowing he needed space tonight.

"So you're not… sharing the bed then?" she asked, trying to sound casual, her body too exhausted of feeling to feel anything but numb.

"I need to think." He leant over the bed and kissed her cautiously and when she didn't respond turned away from her.

"I knew telling you about Angel would freak you out. Enough to end us wouldn't you say?"

"Not necessarily I just… I really need to think and… maybe obsess a little over how he's so much better than me." He said, his voice raw.

"You're the one I have feelings for, so come to bed? Please? I just… I want you to kiss me the way you did before." She asked, close to tears. He chose to ignore the desperate sound of her voice though every instinct told him otherwise.

"No," he shook his head; "If I do that you'll be imagining I'm him… being gentle with you… soft… the great hero and I can't be that… we'll talk in the morning."

He settled on the floor, turning his body away from her without another word.

She turned away from him, allowing herself for the first time in years to cry silent tears of rejection.