The Long Road Home
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters.
High School was supposed to be the worst years of life, in general.
At least, that was what Connor's buddies kept complaining about. Girls didn't want to have anything to do with you, other guys kept trying to undermine you, teachers thought you were a menace to society at large and parents…well. Parents just didn't trust you. Period.
Every time he shut his locker, every time some retard jock walked past sniggering about some stupid detail he did or didn't pay attention to…yeah, he could see how High School could be the worst years.
Most of the time though…most of the time, he felt as if he was looking down on himself from somewhere up above, reading lines from a script. As if none of this was real: like he should be somewhere else, doing something else.
The problem was, he couldn't remember where or what. On the other hand, talking to other kids his age, it seemed as if feeling this way was normal. No one seemed to feel like they belonged.
***
Angel had to be the coolest guy he had ever met. For one thing, he was a vampire. For another, he knew other vampires and demons, and that really hot chick with blue hair, wearing a leather catsuit. Also, he almost broke that demon dude in half.
All of that was…way cooler than anything he had ever seen in his life. In his real life anyway, as a Liberal Arts major.
He didn't want to show how excited he was that there was a prophecy about him, about Connor. He was Connor for fuck's sake. He lived in a nice house, in a nice neighbourhood, with an irritating sister and average parents.
But there was a prophecy – somehow, in the opera of the entire universe, he was bound to play a part. Him. He mattered.
Playing with weapons though. That was a lot harder than it looked on television. They were heavy bastards, and some of them he had absolutely no idea which side was the wrong side to grab without slicing off fingers. Seeing Angel, awesomest dude ever, cringe at the sight of him handling weapons, Conner couldn't help but feel that he didn't fit in the vampire's world either.
So where did that leave him?
***
He was gonna die. He could tell, mostly from the pain and the inability to breathe. Sahjhan (who named these people?) was leaning over him gloating something, but Connor couldn't hear it for the ringing in his ears. His vision began to dim.
Then, like a candle in a dark room, something flared up inside him. Flashes of a past he didn't think he recognized suddenly appeared in his mind's eye, filling in the gaps he hadn't truly known were there.
With something like glee, he realized: he knew how to do this. How to beat this jackass.
In a single move, he's tossed the ugly fucker off him; Connor could feel the edges of his lips twitch upwards in a smile which two minutes ago, he wouldn't have recognized on himself. The axe, when he grabbed it, felt comforting in his palm. Suddenly, the callous between his thumb and forefinger made so much more sense as he hefted the weapon - he didn't get it from swinging a baseball bat. He got it from killing monsters like Sahjhan.
He exulted as he stabbed and swung, allowing himself to use the strength that was his birthright. He sliced through the demon's neck, and reveled in the kill. Not for the last time, he missed the necklace around his neck – he wanted to keep a trophy, for his first kill back.
Yes. He was home.