Title: Afterlife
Author: Athenewolfe
Pairing: Lilah/Lindsey
Rated: NC-17
Warnings: Discussion of hell and multiple versions of hell much like dimensions. Does this even have to be a warning?
Disclaimer:Not mine
Timeline:Post-NFA
Holiday: Valentines Day
Summary: Lilah’s hell seems to be custom-made for her.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Lilah’s dreams were awash with blood. Every night was the same. Death and destruction; pain and suffering; blood and terror; and she felt it all. Each thrust, each rip, each bite. Destroying her flesh, while she lay helpless, waiting for a champion who never came.

A flash of lighting illuminated the room and a crash of thunder jarred her awake. With a gasp she sat up in the bed; pain coursing through her chest, her fingers tracing the wound which she hadn’t received. She was determined to control the tremors coursing through her body. She wouldn’t cry. She may have been condemned, but she wouldn’t cry. That was not her. She was not weak.

Composing her thoughts, she slipped out of bed and headed for her closet. Her wardrobe was representative of her new life; forced to be practical, to be sensible, and worse yet economical. She hated it. Her typical uniform: jeans, turtleneck, and sneakers. If she wasn’t in hell already she would kill for designer shoes; for silk blouses and naughty under things. To make a statement with her body and not have to live for practicality. It wouldn’t be so bad if the dimension was devoid of creature comforts. But of course, every design was here, every sinful pleasure, but it wasn’t for her. It would never again be for her.

She had always wondered what hell would be like. You couldn’t work at Wolfram and Hart and not wonder. There was no sense in worrying about it. You couldn’t control where you went, or even when you went, but you did wonder. There were so many different types of hells, hell dimensions, holding dimensions and things beyond comprehension, or even senior partner control.

You never knew were you would serve your afterlife and with Wolfram and Hart, serving your afterlife could be an accurate description. Contracts didn’t always end with death. You could end up working an eternity for the corporation. It never bothered her before. The devil you know… besides some of the dimensions were quite nice, or would have been for her.

There were, of course, dimensions with devils and pitchforks, but those were reserved for certain religions and beliefs. There were other hells. Ones where a person lived perpetually in suburbia, and others where you were stuck working at Wal-Mart the day after Thanksgiving. An endless loop of manning the toy section with everything fifty percent off and the Furbies talking to you. She shuddered, yet admired the final touch. The Furbies really were demonic.

Whipping a brush through her hair, she headed out the door, allowing the continuous rain to mask her misty face. Even though there was no one to accuse her of being weak, she wouldn’t relent. To admit to the pain would be admitting that someone, something held power over her. Pain could be tolerated, but she wouldn’t – no she couldn’t - allow whoever was in charge of this dimension to win.

Rounding the corner, she caught a glimpse of the tenants who moved in about a year after she did. The sight of their happy expressions brought her even more pain. First it was that mousy girl that Wesley had a crush on. She always seemed to be humming and being cheerful. It was sickening. Didn’t Fred realize one was not suppose to be happy here?

She had stopped once and asked Fred why she was in hell. Curious to know what type of crime the girl could have possible committed and what form of punishment she faced. She had been trapped for an hour while Fred babbled; something about evil professors and revenge. Seriously though, what kind of punishment was having no influence over your dead body? It was blatantly unfair that she crippling visions while Fred got to garden and fret about her friends.

Even worse a few months later Wesley showed up. She had tried to talk to them again, excited to see the man that she wouldn’t admit she had feelings for. The blank stare he directed at her was heartbreaking. Even Fred, had seemingly forgotten who she was. To be forever reminded of what she lost, what that unworthy twit had, and to not even be remembered as an enemy was too much. She had raged - yelling, screaming, trying to make them remember; demanding that they remember her. Yet the blank stares continued. Pride warred with hurt and she tried to avoid thinking about them now.

She started to jog towards her destination, wanting to put as much space between her and Wesley as possible. It was ironic that the person she was seeking out - the new champion her vision had foretold - lived in an area that would force her to walk by the happy couple. Every time. She pondered - who could you contact in a hell dimension to request a change of address?

Why couldn’t the senior partners have rewarded her for services rendered, or even kept her around to continue to work with them? Let her be a liaison or corporate immortal spy. It was her right! She had even picked out where she had wanted to go if she was rewarded. The hell dimension with nothing but shrimp; it would have been lovely, a virtual paradise as long as she could arrange for regular shipments of cocktail sauce. Sadly those with shellfish allergies make up three fourths of the population; it is hell after all.

She knocked softly on the door and heard the radio click off. It sounded like Lorne had been singing. She wondered if Lorne had been exiled here, or if it was a singer with a similar nasally voice. These days it could go either way: she seemed to be running into a number of people she used to know.

She hated these visions, hated the irony: for her punishment she received visions of people throughout the dimensions that needed to be saved. They were painful. They ripped through her. She felt the pain of the victims and their suffering. Even worse, she always felt compelled to do something about it.

She tried to ignore it at first, but had discovered a nasty fact. The longer she ignored it the more real it felt. Once, determined to win against the pain she had refused to act. She felt every movement, every horror the victim did and the faintness of death. But while the victim died, she awoke once again in her bed. The same vision urging her to act. She died three times before realizing that she had no choice. She was vision woman.

The door opened, framing a nice chest. She smiled; perhaps her new champion would be fun.

As her eyes continued to sweep up, she felt panic.

There was no way in hell this was happening to her. Hadn’t she been punished enough?

Lindsey was to be her champion.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Ten months later

Some habits were reflexive - nails tapping on a desk, knowing smirks, sly barbs, cutting insults, and of course, taunting Lindsey. It was routine, it was comforting, and lately it was killing her.

Her life, her afterlife was changing her and she loathed admitting it. She never wanted this gig. Never wanted to be a champion, never wanted to help people. If it wasn’t for the fact that the visions would kill her - and with the same lousy death each time - she would have just ignored her duties.

She hadn’t been sure at first about Lindsey. She hated the man with a passion. Always in competition with her, always having to be right, to show her up, to be better then her. In life, he had to be the better lawyer, to be the golden boy, and in death the better champion, the better hero.

Where she was forced to help, he seemed to excel. Even if it was meant to be a punishment he relished his role. Relished the admiration of the people he saved. Enjoyed being the hero, and was distraught when they were too late.

He made a better hero then Angel ever had, less brooding and more sarcastic. At times he was even…fun.

It drove her insane!

She couldn’t stop thinking about it. Each punishment she was forced to endure, each slight that the hell dimension served up. It was as if it was trying to force them together. One had to admit the irony of it all. Trapped together, forced to work in tandem, to serve the visions, to save lives. Any friends they tried to make were lost to death, both by demon attacks and natural causes.

They had only each other for companionship, each other and the mission.

If she had still had been a lawyer she would have sued someone for cruel and unusual punishment.

Night after night they worked together; their relationship never changing. It was always crackling with unresolved tension, with old hatred and unexpressed emotions. It was pleasant and normal. They hated each other, yet there was always something. Until that stupid holiday, the one she wished could be banned. One that she thought would make the best hell dimension of all. Couldn’t you see it – a dimension where it was always Valentines Day?

This Valentine’s Day had started out wrong, waking her up from a rare peaceful sleep. Talk about presents gone wrong. Visions of malls tormented her the entire night. Every time she drifted off because there was nothing she could do until the mall actually opened she was awaked an hour later; each time was something different, something deadly, and very annoying. The first dream was of poisoned roses, prickly thorns turning each gift into an endless sleep. The second dream was of poisoned candy, each bite more delicious and more deadly then the last. The third dream was of demon possessed stuffed animals; adorable and cuddly until they ripped your throat out.

It was an endless nightmare of visions and dreams. She wanted to kill the creatures responsible for the mess, just to get some sleep. To top it off the demons responsible were just too cute! Nothing that cute should be allowed to live. So after suffering through the walk past Wes and Fred’s house she had ended up, once more, at Lindsey’s. Noting once again two more slights against her. She still smarted about Wes not remembering her. It was so insulting. Her feelings had faded over time, but not even being an enemy, that smarted. Second, how come Lindsey got to keep his little red truck? They get sent him to hell and he gets rewarded with his truck? Couldn’t they have given her back her Mercedes Benz SLR? Was that too much to ask for? Why did she have to walk everywhere and he keeps his ride? Even in death, he managed to be rewarded more. It simply wasn’t fair!

After tracking down the demon, a cute, adorable, blonde-haired, feather-winged, cherub, she relished the fight. It wasn’t like she could really die anyway, so she fought. She was taking out her rage on the tiny creatures when a flying arrow grazed her. Nicking her arm and drawing a tiny bit of blood.

The next thing she knew Lindsey was checking her wound, blood coating his hand even though the cut wasn’t that deep. The next moments were magical.

Lips mashing and frantic hands groping each other. Clothing suddenly seeming too tight. The world narrowing down to them, their wants and their desires.

Somehow they made it back to the house. Driving recklessly and fast, needing to get to the bed, or at the very least the house. Lindsey kicked in his own door that night. Need burning him, desire consuming them. Each kiss was a test of dominance, each one trying to seduce the other, to make the other cave-in, to gain some type of upper hand. They needed the feel of skin, the touch of the other.

Pushing deep inside, filling her up, completing her in a way she had never known. It seemed like hours they were lost in each other. Lost in a sea of breathless moans and relentless fucking.

She had never felt such pleasure, known such joy. And for a moment she wondered if her hell could now be her heaven.

Once again her world was shattered. A quiet moan filled the air, a whispered name…

That name…

Darla

She really was in hell.

*~*~*~*~*~*


~FINI

Ficathon assignment:

Pairing: Lilah/Lindsey
Rating: author can choose
Timeline: any time (pre-AtS, post-AtS when they're both dead are options too)
Two or things you would like to see in this fic: a Valentine gift gone wrong, Lorne's singing mentioned, the tiny red truck of Lindsey's
Things you do NOT want: no non-con
Other comments: just have fun with it.