Title: The Need for Revenge

Author: Fallingdux

Disclaimer: The following lyrics are property of Audioslave

Distribution: As long as my name's on it, you can send it to hell in a picnic basket if that's where you want to send it. I'd like to know if it's going anywhere, but you don't have to ask.

Rating: PG-13? No idea. Whatever rating light swearing earns. Subject to change as the story continues.

SPECIAL THANKS TO KENDRA FOR HER WONDERFUL FEEDBACK

*******Part 5********

Darla squinted her eyes, straining against the dim surroundings. She tried ignoring the constant, droning palpitation of heartbeats. The combined effort was causing her head to spin.

On the far wall of the club, she noticed a large mirror that ran across the entire length of the room. Lights danced across its glass surface, reflecting harsh beams of color throughout the club. She blinked, trying to focus her mind.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed several guys swaggering drukenly. In their inebriated state, two of them began exchanging punches. The taller one got the advantage, and threw his opponent against the mirror, causing several cracks and splinters to spread across the surface like ivy. No one payed them any mind, save the disgruntled bartender who simply looked on with annoyance.

If not for the loud screetching of a poorly-tuned guitar and the pandimonious atmosphere, it would have been painfully obvious that more than half of the patrons were not reflected in the mirror. Again, though, it seemed like no one cared.

Shrinking into the shadows, she avoided being seen as she snuck around to a stairway in one of the darkened corners of the room. She sighed heavily: tonight it seemed a lot more crowded than it usually was. Mildly, she wondered if Tylonol had any effect on vampires.

"Hey there Sunshine," a familiar voice called out from behind her. Already knowing who it was, she turned slowly.

"Lorne," she greeted. "Can't you do any better than Sunshine?" His forehead wrinkled a bit in concentration. "Sorry Princess, Sunshine's all I've got," he smirked. "So, what can I do for you? Haven't seen you around all week, thought you'd forgotten 'bout me."

She snorted. "I wish. I came to say yes, I'll do it. Just let me make this clear: no one hears about this. Ever," she stressed.

Lorne grinned knowingly. "Knew you'd come around Flufflefangs." Her glare only caused his smile to widen. "So, what'll it be?"

"A tequila would be good," she said sarcastically. Her gaze dropped down to her left hand and she eyed it carefully, as if just realizing the bottle that her fingers were wrapped tightly around. Raising it to her lips, she took a swig of the cheep liqour. It burned down her throat, and she held back the urge to gag on the foul liquid. Even after all her centuries of living, she was still not accustomed to the taste. Flinching slightly at the taste, she took another swig.

"You know what I meant," he admonished gently.

She shrugged. "Fine. Show Me How to Live, then. Audioslave." At Lorne's raised eyebrow, she explained "Spike and his damn music. Only shit I know the words to." She raised the drink to her lips again. Her mind was still too clear for her tastes.

"And you're sure you want to do this up here? The crowd would love ya."

She shivered at the mental image. "Just put on the fucking song."

"And with the early dawn

Moving right along

I couldn't buy an eyeful of sleep

And in the aching night under satellites

I was not received

Built with stolen parts

A telephone in my heart

Someone get me a priest

To put my mind to bed

This ringing in my head

Is this a cure or is this a disease

(Chorus)

Nail in my head

From my creator

You gave me life

Now show me how to live

And in the after birth

On the quiet earth

Let the stains remind you

You thought you made a man

You better thing again

Before my role defines you

(Chorus)

Nail in my head

From my creator

You gave me life

Now show me how to live

And in your waiting hands

I will land

And roll out of my skin

And in your final hours I will stand

Ready to begin