Disclaimer: Ok, I don't own Angel, wish I did, but don't. I also don't own the lyrics to 'Me, I'm a Thief' by Sarah Slean either. She's very underground but this is a great song - go download it!

A/N: When I checked to see if there were any Connor/Cordeila fics out there, I was really surprised to find next to none. So, being the rebel I am decided to make one! That and this couple is my favorite couple in the whole series because of how unexpected it is. And because I happen to be madly in love with Connor, insanity and all. Ok, it's going to be dark (typical, you can't make it happy and cheerful when Connor's in it, can ya?) but I hope you like it.

Oh ya, and the warnings: Mental instability, mentions of self-multination, insanity (like Connor can represent anything but) and finally, sex. And like I always say, can't handle, don't read.

Anyways, without further ado………

Summery: It's no secret that Connor is in pain, has deep-seated issues, and wants to die. But what happens when he makes one final plea to Cordeila to kill him?

A Life Once Lived

The cigarette in his hand had almost completely burned away, but he was oblivious to this fact as he stared at the door. Open it. He told himself firmly. Stop being so pathetically weak and open it! However, his mind and his body seemed to be working separately and his body stayed where it was, frustrating the hell out of him. He wanted to scream at himself to move and get on with it, but his throat was frozen. Every time he tried to speak, his lips sealed together, making them impossible to open.

Besides, even if he could open his mouth, he probably wouldn't. Afraid that some terrible, blood-curdling, animalistic sound would fly out from inside him, shaking the walls. No, that wasn't what he needed right now. He needed to be calm, silent………… strong.

He snorted at the word. Since when had he ever been strong? What did the damn word mean anyway? It seemed that everyone idolized it, worshipped it, wanted to hold, caress, even rape it without even really knowing what it was or what it stood for. He vaguely felt a small pain in his finger and looked down to see the cigarette ember touching his skin. He threw it to the floor and smashed it into the carpet.

Here comes again

Blood in the vein

His gaze then returned to the door, never wavering, never failing, never reacting. Only his mind screamed to move his sorry ass and knock on it, open it……..doing something other then sit there like a moron. And still, his body wasn't moving.

Why are you stalling? He demanded. It's what you want isn't it? What she wants? His mind didn't provide any answers, not that he expected them to. He had long forsaken his own self and mind for answers. He sighed and hung his head for a moment as the memories of why he was standing outside the door fighting to come through.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he began to sort them out to try and find some logical order in his pathetic excuse for a life.

It was early morning, the sun had barely begun to rise as he lay exhausted on his bed. He closed his eyes, trying to tempt sleep, but he knew it was futile. Sleep had long ago abandoned him. Mostly, he had just lain in bed to try and feel some small shred of normality when he had nothing better to do.

It had been a typical night - kill vampires, slay demons, save lives. It was becoming monotonous, but he didn't dare stop. As boring as it may be sometimes, it was the only thing he could do. His only reason for being, his only excuse for a calling.

Seven a.m., the cars come

Gotta fly, gotta say goodbye

Leave them before they leave me

He rolled onto his back, away from the offending light that he detested. Although he wasn't a vampire, the light still hurt his eyes. His pale skin shimmered in the faint light, but it did nothing to make him want to sleep. Sighing and realizing the utter pointlessness of his attempt, he rolled out of bed, reaching for his pack of cigarettes and lighting one.

He didn't even really know why he did - maybe because he had heard that humans used it for stress, or maybe just to take comfort in the fact that he was slowly poisoning himself. He rubbed his blurring eyes, took another drag and blew out the smoke calmly as he got dressed for a second time. He wished he could sleep, if only to pass the daytime, where he had nothing to do, no purpose to fulfill.

He glanced around, a pair of fuzzy slippers catching his attention. The sight sent a small arrow through his heart at realizing that Cordy was gone. She had gone back to Angel to 'figure some things out' and hadn't returned for three nights. Jealousy hit him like physical blows as he picked up the slipper and tossed it at the wall.

She hates me, he thought, she went back to him because she hates me, just like he does. He thought back to when she had kissed him after staking her first vamp, and he had kissed her back with a passion that he didn't even know he had until that moment. She had seemed fine then and he felt hope for the first time that maybe someone loved him, wanted him, needed him. He had dutifully protected her, ensuring that harm never got near her.

Turning the sheets

Rolling in his sleep

He wants me to go faster

So, that night he tried to……… he didn't even know what. It had come out of him of it's own accord. He had grabbed her by the waist, yammering about training, but not in a demon-slaying sense. Looking back, it had seemed like a natural thing to do. She liked him………… right?

He snorted at the thought, wanting to smack himself for his lewdness. But he didn't regret it. He had wanted to be with Cordy, to hold her and touch her……to know that she loved him……and now, she was gone, and was alone again.

Alone……… and being filled with only more lies. Lies about his family, lies about his existence…… a life built on hundreds of thousands of lies. Even Cordy - who he thought was his - had lied to him. She wasn't coming back………she had already come back, but not to him.

Back to Angel.

He didn't think he had ever hated his father more then he did then. Cordy was his…..HIS! She had decided to stay with him hadn't she? Until………

He shook his head, trying to clear away the thoughts. He took his last drag of the cigarette and crunched in on the floor before an idea hit him. Not thinking, he merely left the apartment, heading for the Hotel. He was silent, sure that with their sleep patterns, everyone would be asleep. He climbed up the walls, twisting into painful positions until he reached Cordy's window.

It was locked, but came loose with one good whack, causing the window to slide open. He stepped inside, noting that she was, as he predicted, dead to the world.

I know that she's somewhere underneath

But I don't know how to find her

He stared down at her frame for a moment, taking in her face, her short blonde hair fanning out on the pillow behind her. She looked like an Angel.

'How ironic' he though to himself, letting out a small mirthless laugh 'I'm in love with an Angel……and my father's name………..and I never even knew him…' Another small laugh came out of his lips as the irony sunk in. 'Just my luck.' He shook his head slightly before moving closer to her sleeping frame. His hand nervously reached out and touched her cheek, feeling the smoothing skin of her face before pulling back.

"She's perfect." He mused sadly, stroking her hair. "And she loves………him." The words seemed harsh to him as his hands curled into fists as he tried not to smash something. Anger however, soon gave way to sadness and he felt a yearning to crawl into bed with her. Not to do anything, just to hold her……… smell her, know she was there.

He held this impulse in check, however, reasoning with himself that he would only scare her. Instead he merely gave her a small, chaste kiss on the lips. She turned and squeezed her eyes, causing him to jump back. His eyes darted wildly in panic before he ran for the window, slinking down the walls like a cat, but not before grabbing a silk scarf and a small photograph off her dresser.

Why? He didn't quit even know that himself.

Me, I'm a thief

I'm a falling star

I'm a photograph taken

From where you are

He held the scarf in his hands, staring at it. He didn't know why he took it, maybe just to have something of hers around him, besides what he had brought her. Maybe he was a compulsive thief……… Gods only knew.

His eyes wondered to the photograph and he smiled at it for a moment. It was a picture of everyone in the gang (Wes, Gunn, Fred, Lorne, Angel and Cordy) and he noted that her hair was dark when this photo was taken. His eyes raked across the faces and landed on Angel's, his eyes narrowing as he saw the way Cordy was leaning on him.

All of the sudden, he hated the whole picture. Reaching out a lazy arm he slammed the photo down, causing the frame to smash. He winced as the shards imbedded themselves in his hand and fingers. It stung for a moment before it ebbed into the soothing rush that always followed pain. A calm serenity that trailed shedding his own blood.

"It's ok………" He muttered to himself, remembering what had become a mantra in his head. "The blood shows you're real………remember?" He sighed and his eyes flickered to the floor.

The photo had slipped out of it's frame and had fallen to the floor, face up ,as if to mock him. Cordy's smiling face, her arms locked around Angel in what seemed to be a sort of love. He hated it. She still loved him, an unfeeling monster who only cared about it's own lust.

He slammed his injured had into the dresser again, causing the shards to dig in deeper, as he realized what the photo meant. She loved Angel……… she didn't have any room for him in his heart. Just like with all of them and their lives - no room for biological fuck-ups to weigh them down. No time for so-called 'miracle children' which was really just a nicer term for 'freak of nature'. Cordy wasn't going to come back, or even wait for him to show up, not while she had Angel………

I love you still, always will

Here's hoping you'll be waiting, but I

Gotta fly, gotta say good bye

Gotta find out what's aching

He slammed his hand down on the dresser again, digging the shards even deeper and splattering the photo with blood as a dry chuckle escaped his lips at the pain. 'You're a real boy now, Connor!' He chortled at his own sick humor, but the laughter died away as he again looked at the photo. 'Don't tell me you didn't expect this' said a taunting voice in his head 'You didn't expect that you would amount to anything in this dimension?'

"Shut-up." He muttered at the voice, and seriously contemplated whether he was going insane - or if he already was. But still, it held a stinging note of truth. He was nothing in this plane. Not even good enough to serve as a punching bag……… just an outcast with nothing and no-one. And the one thing he thought he had was gone…………

'Did you honestly expect them to bow to you and call you 'The Destroyer' in this plane?' The voice pursued, sounding oddly like Gunn's . "To fear you outside of the little hole you crawled out of? Did you expect that Cordy would just jump-'

"SHUT-UP!" He yelled these words, slamming his hand down on the table again as he body started shaking from the force of his emotions. He brought his hands up to his temples, ignoring that his injured hand was bleeding. 'Damn emotions - turn them off!' He demanded as his body shook more violently from the force of his breakdown, similar to the one that Cordy had induced before.

"TURN THEM OFF!" Again, he didn't realize that he had shouted the words until he heard them himself as he stopped holding himself up and slammed into the dresser, reeling.

Me, I'm a thief

I'm a falling star

I'm a photograph taken

From where you are

The pain was vague as his hand again got hit against a hard surface. Not that it mattered, they were shaking to much to be of any use anyway. Then the images started - images of his past, in Quar-toth, of the night he had tried to kill his father………

All of the images just began pouring into him in the telltale sign of another one of his stress-induced breakdowns. ………

Do you know why you were given to me?

God gave me to you……… because he took them.

Good boy. You just be good, listen to your father and all of Heaven will be yours one day, understand, Steven?

You're father is evil…………never forget that Steven. You are the Son of two vampires, both of them evil, both them full of hate and Sin. But you are a special child, you can use your powers for good…………..

He clutched his head as images came, as if the pain in his skull could drown out everything going through his mind. He sealed his mouth shut, using all his will power to keep it that way, afraid of opening it and the jumbled images coming out of his mouth in a tumble of phrases that didn't make any sense and would only confirm his insanity………….

Angelus killed you're father, Steven! I saw him do it, bit right into his neck………

Show me you're face! I want to see the face that's killed so many. Show it to me!………………

He was unaware that he was crying until he came out of it and felt the hot wetness on his ivory cheeks. He reached up to brush them away, annoyed with himself. 'Weakness.' He sneered at himself as the blood mixed with the tears on his hand, forming a mixture that looked like crimson paint. 'You're showing weakness and letting yourself be pathetic, stop it!' At once, the tears seemed to stop, taking to fallen unseen behind his eyes instead.

So, shed your tears

That's what they're for

I don't expect you to understand this

War

A wave of dizziness and head-splitting pain washed over him and his hands began shaking harder. For one blessed moment he thought he might be dying. Even the fact that he was a heap on the ground with his knees drawn up to his chest, gripping his head with shaking hands didn't seem to matter much anymore.

But as the pain started to subside and coherent sentences began taking form again, he realized that he was still very much alive. The thought filled him with an emotion he couldn't immediately name. It stayed for a moments before it hit him - disappointment.

He tried to stand up and was harshly reminded of the pain in his right hand. He looked down to see pieces of glass sticking out of wounds covered in dried blood. A small puddle was on the ground where his hand had rested during his episode.

He groaned and began the tedious process of pulling the foreign objects out of his skin. He hissed as the first one - a large piece of glass- slipped out of the wound followed by a stream of hot blood. For one sick moment he wanted to shove his hand into his mouth and let the blood pour down his throat. He shook the desire away, refusing to become a monster like his father was. He took a cloth and held it over the bleeding cut until it subsided and then started the process again.

Half an hour later all the shards were out, and his hand was looking considerably better, although still mangled looking. He couldn't have cared less as he sighed and leaned back into his chair. His eyes flicked around the room - a habitual thing to make sure that nothing was going to attack him - and his eyes landed on the picture again.

It was like something chronically infectious……… always there, always teasing him, always making him hate, always making him feel pain. In short, something he couldn't get rid of.

He clenched his teeth, getting beyond annoyed with the damn thing.

"That's it." He muttered, grabbing a lit candle from his dresser and gabbing the photo. He smirked with a dark satisfaction as he watched the edge of the paper catch on fire and quickly spread, consuming the photo. He watched in silence as the flames consumed her dark hair and her face until there was nothing left.

"Bye Cordy………………………"

I go quietly

("And, oh, they beg me to steal")

No, you don't get me

("There's nothing, nothing to feel")

No, you don't get me

("And, oh, they beg me to steal")

He shook his head slightly as he returned to the present, the memories falling back. He looked at his hands as saw that were a little shaky from remembering another one of his……….breakdowns, or whatever they were.

He hadn't realized that he had lit another cigarette until the smell of smoke hit him and he took a drag before turning determinedly back to the unopened door. Why couldn't he do it? When he had left his apartment half an hour ago, he couldn't wait to get here, and now all of the sudden he was choking.

Was it because he was afraid that she was going to say yes? Not likely. He wanted death, yearned for it……… so what was taking so damn long? He sighed, staring down at the half smoked cigarette, contemplated butting it out on his hand, and finally crushed it with his boot.

Oh, me, I'm a thief

I'm a falling star

I'm a photograph taken

From where you are

'Do it.' He commanded himself, firmly. 'Just knock, you know she's in there, you can smell her, you hear her heart beat, now knock!' He shook away the thought about his desire to feel her heart beating against him, to hear it through her chest while he………

And, suddenly his body leaped to life, rapping on the door before he was sure he had even moved at all. He waited for a few moments before she opened the door, a large smile on her face.

"Hey- Connor!" Her face was an expression of surprise and barely-masked traces of fear. She stumbled over her words, caught off guard. "What are you - I mean, how, I mean - Come in." She sighed with defeat at the pointlessness of her words. Connor hesitated only for a moment and stepped into her room, trying to ignore just how good her scent really was.

She sunk into a chair, but he remained standing, looking around the room that he was going to die in.

"So……..um………. how are you?" Even as she spoke them, she knew how lame and hollow they sounded. However, Connor didn't seem to care much.

"I've been asking myself the same thing." He mused, a mirthless grin on his lips. "Care to fill me in?" He wasn't surprised by the confused look on her face. "Never mind, I'm not making any sense." Cordy, however, still appeared concerned.

"Are you alright?" He said nothing for a long moment, making her worry if some kind of large reaction was building. After all, Connor wasn't exactly predictable. "Connor?" However, he barely heard her. He was wondering if he should get things over with quickly, tell her what he wanted and be on his way to Hell. Or, should he try to make conversation………. He quickly discarded that idea. He hated talking, he was used to keeping things to himself, used to keeping his hollow emptiness inside himself only.

It had gotten to the point where he was waging war against himself. Against his need to love, protect, to have something to hold and be there, and the fear that love would only mean more lies and falsehood.

Shed your tears

That's what they're for

I don't expect you to understand this

War

"No, Cordy." He muttered. "I'm not fine……..I never was." Her face turned into a look of concern at these words.

"What do you-?"

"Mean?" He finished for her, the sentence having been so predictable. "You tell me. You tell me why you left!" The words hadn't meant to come out like that - loud, angry, accusing. But now that he had uttered them, he found that he wasn't at all sorry.

"I left to figure some things out!" She replied, feeling the rage and sadness coming from him. It was in his aura like waves. His very existence seemed to made of it.

"You left for him." He muttered, gazing at the floor. "For a monster………. a monster I should have killed a long time ago."

"Angel isn't a monster!" She protested, suddenly feeling highly offended without knowing why. Her memories weren't completely back yet.

"And what do you know?" He bit back, his temper getting the best of him. "When you came back you hardly knew you're own name."

Me, I'm a thief

("Here comes again, blood in the vein")

I'm a falling star

Her face was again shocked, and this, he did feel bad for. He sighed, whipping out the dagger that was concealed in his pocket. Her eyes widened and she backed up.

"I'm not going to hurt you." He assured, playing with the weapon. "I can't hurt you……." His eyes had taken on a strange look that sent chills into her stomach.

"Connor……… give me the knife."

"I plan to." He answered smoothly. "But I have to reserve some of the job for myself."

"What job?" She asked, getting tenser with ever second that knife was in his hand. He merely shrugged.

"Killing me."

"What?"

"You're going to kill me." He repeated smoothly, like this was nothing strange. "In Quar-toth the best way to go was assisted suicide."

"I'm not killing you!" She yelled, backing up more still. His pleasant nature was instantly gone, changing from light to completely miserable.

I'm a photograph taken

From where you are

"You have to!" He exclaimed, an underlying panic in his words. "You're the only one I'll let-"

"Murder you?" She retorted. "I won't Connor, I care about you too much to let you die!"

"You're a liar!" He yelled at her, everything inside him finally letting loose "You don't give a damn about me! I protected you, I made sure you were alright, I killed any kind of possible anger that came within ten fucking feet of you! And the minute I try to care for you, you run back to a corpse!"

"I didn't run-"

"Yes you did." He bit out, not letting her finish. "You love him……….I'm nothing to you."

"Well sorry if I left after you come up behind me and try to feel me up!" At this point, her own temper was flaring, her old spark coming back. His expression was a mixture of shock and anger.

"I only wanted to -" He fell silent. She was right, he had tried to have sex with her, but not the way she made it sound - like he was ready to fuck her on any flat surface he could find. All he had wanted to do was know she was there, that she was his.

His expression fell, his eyes glazing over. Cordy sighed, her anger giving way to pity. All he needed was someone to love……..and to be loved. When she thought about it, it wasn't a whole lot to ask.

"Connor, I'm sorry." She muttered, seeing how much he was hurting. "It's that you're so-"

"Young?" He finished, a semi smirk on his face. "In Quar-toth, age was nothing…….. and besides, what does it matter if you love the person?" He looked over at her, locking eyes briefly as she took in that he had used the word love.

"You're not in Quar-toth anymore Connor." She said softly. "You're on Earth now, and things are a lot different……." He said nothing in return, just letting it all simmer for the time being as he continued playing with the knife.

"You're going to hurt yourself!"

"Won't be the first time." He replied softly. "But it will be the last - the last time will be by your hands, not mine." Just to prove his point, he accidentally-on-purpose let the knife graze the back of his hand, making a fine cut.

"Connor!"

"It's ok." He muttered, wiping the blood on his pants and noting that he didn't quite feel it. He rolled up his sleeve, revealing rows of self-inflicted scars across his wrist. "I'm fine…………., were both fine now." He went to move his sweater back over the scars when Cordy grabbed his arm.

"What the hell have you been doing to yourself?" She demanded, shell shocked at his pale arms, which were covered in fine scars. He just shrugged.

"I like the pain……. makes me feel something."

Shed your tears

That's what they're for

"Connor……..oh God, sweetie." Going purely on instinct, she pulled him to her in a hug, letting him rest his head on her shoulder.

"Just do it, Cordy." He whispered, his voice threatening to crack. "I can't - I'm not strong enough." She nervously ran her hand down his arm, prying the knife out of his hands and holding it up. For a second he looked hopeful - before she threw it to the ground.

"No!" She said again, making it perfectly clear that she had no intention of ending his life, but he was close to snapping.

"And why the fuck not?" He screamed, pulling away from her. "You don't know shit about what my life's like! You have Angel, and everybody else, I've got no-one, you left remember? NO-ONE!" He made a dive for the knife, his fingers clutching the handle, the point at his own throat.

Cordy didn't even have time to think. Going on instinct, she lunged for him knocking him off his feet and onto the bed, the point now at her throat.

"If you're going to kill someone, kill me." Instantly, he let go of the knife, hating something so deadly so dangerously close to her jugular. She gripped it and chucked it across the room this time, ignoring the painfully loud noise it made.

For a moment, the two of them lapsed into silence, each staring the other down. The only things that Connor could hear was the sound of her heartbeat as she continued to hold him down on the mattress, and the sound of cars in the street. He tried not to remember what he had been thinking about her heartbeat before - skin on skin, knowing she was alive, and making him alive at the same time.

I don't expect you to understand this

War

("Seven a.m., the cars come")

He breathed hard, trying to ignore the fact that she was clad only in a nightgown, instead focusing on glaring at her.

"Why'd you do that?" He demanded, his disappointment leading into anger. "Why the hell did you have to do that?" He could feel himself shaking from the force of his nerves and knew that she could feel it too.

"Connor, just clam down." She soothed. "Things will be fine, I promise."

"Don't lie to me." He spat. "My fath- Holtz said the same thing, and look where I am now!" A humorless laugh escaped his lips at this, as if comparing the ironies. "The same thing…….."

"Connor, just stop this." She was pleading now, her eyes threatening to fill with tears. "This isn't what I wanted-"

"No." He answered for her. "It wasn't - you wanted Angel." His voice was strangely hollow, like he couldn't feel anymore, like he couldn't care. "Kill me Cordy. I'll be out of your way - I'll be out of everyone's way and you can go back to how you were without me."

"We want you here!" She exclaimed, her voice cracking. "I want you here! You told me who I was, you showed me……… you didn't lie to me….you….." He words were cut off by a tear that leaked from under her eyes, falling onto his cheek.

"Cordy." He murmured, suddenly coming to life and holding her head. "Stop, don't do that." However, another tear slide out from her eye and without thinking he kissed it off her face, letting the saltiness flow into his mouth. She's crying………because of me……

"Cordy, please stop." It was almost a plea now. He hated seeing women cry - especially Cordy and when he caused it. Actually the whole event was putting him into a mild panic. His hands were embedded in her hair, taking in the smell of it, tainted with the smell of her tears.

For some reason, it reminded him of the ocean in which he had sent Angel into his watery grave. To him, the smell confirmed that everything was really happening. Smelling the scent of his father's near demise sent a small ripple of peace within him that he was only vaguely guilty of.

She pulled her head back and stared up at him, her big doe eyes still glassy from her crying. She opened her mouth to mutter something when instinct overtook him. He didn't even think about what he was doing, all he knew was that he had pressed his lips against hers.

Me, I'm a thief

Oh, I'm a falling star

A little noise of shock came out of her before she let herself fall into it, reasoning that it was for him - it was what he needed to stay alive. Telling herself that it was more then just sex for him - for him, it was a confirmation of his sanity, his existence. It was clarifying that she was really there, that she would be with him - that she loved him.

Maybe it was this mantra that didn't protest when he slipped his tongue into her mouth, letting her take in the taste of her own tears and tobacco. She told herself that it was the mantra inside her head that was making her stomach warm, her body tingle - that's about when the excuse stopped working.

He brought his arms up around her and flipped her, so that her back was pressing against the mattress, her body pressing against his. And still, she didn't protest, telling her unbelieving mind that it was for him and only him. Trying to ignore the flashes of heat reaching her pelvis, but it pressed to be acknowledged.

"Connor." She muttered as his lips trailed down her neck, but whether it was a moan or an attempt to get his attention she wasn't sure yet. "Connor." He pulled back looking up at her with a mixture of love, lust, and fear of rejection.

"You want me to stop." It wasn't a question so much as a statement - an admittance of defeat. He hung his head and started pulling away when she stopped him, staring into his ice blue eyes that were burning with a fire that seemed to have consumed her as well.

"No." She whispered, a little grin on her face as she reached for his shit and tugged it over his head. "I don't." Drugs couldn't have made him as high as those words did. She wanted him - needed him. Without thinking he tackled her and kissed her with as much passion as he could muster as she threw his shirt to some dark corner where it was quickly forgotten like trash in the street.

"I love you." The words came out before he could stop them, despite the fact that her neck and shoulders were occupying most of his mouth as he kissed them.

"I know." She whispered, trying not to look at his mutilated arms. She couldn't help but wonder how old they were and if she had caused them. However, her thoughts were distracted as he carefully began slipping the top of her nightgown down, revealing her breasts. He had to admit, this view was better then stealing little glances down her top when she wasn't looking.

He stopped for a moment to drink in the moon-bathed beauty of her pale skin as much as wonder as what the hell to do next. There wasn't exactly a whole lot of cuddles and affection in a hell dimension filled with demons and things bent on killing you to make a home in your rotting flesh.

"Connor?" His eyes darted back to her face that was smiling in a cute little way. "You alright?"

"Fine." He muttered and started kissing her collar bone again, traveling lower and lower until he reached her breasts. He didn't know if it was just him or if her skin really was hotter there, almost burning his tongue as it ran over her. Either way, he didn't care. Let her burn me, he thought Let her burn me and maybe I'll wake up and this will be real.

I'm a photograph taken

From where you are

("Seven a.m., the cars come")

Her hands went into his hair as he kissed her stomach, pulling down the nightgown as he went until he finally slipped it down her legs, the material falling into a silky heap and being lost somewhere in the covers. He couldn't have cared less about where her clothes were at the moment. In fact, he hoped he never saw them again.

He took another moment to look at her, totally exposed to him, her skin shimmering in the moonlight. Mine. He smirked at the thought. After everything he'd been through, the shit he'd endured he finally had something to call his own. The thought sent a rush of excitement through him and before he even knew what he had done his fingers were touching her, reaching inside her.

Her hips jolted, giving him his sought after reaction and making his heart race. He went faster, searching for more reactions, discovering her layer by layer. Bent on giving her pleasure while he still could, and cherishing the fact that it was because of him - all of it.

After years in a hell dimension, after obliterating demonic life after demonic life - all that time of causing pain and death he could finally do something to benefit another being, and that was all he needed. Her climax took him by surprise, a little mewling sound stuck in her throat as her hips jolted and her muscles clenched. He could smell it on her and the smell made him want her more.

So, shed your tears

'Cause that's what they're for

"Connor." It wasn't a moan, more of a sigh of contentment but that was just as good for him. She was content, she was happy. A small smirk played around the corners of his mouth for reasons unknown even to him as she kissed her before entering her. Never mind that he had never done it before, never mind that he should have been clumsy, the whole event being a two minute fumble…….it seemed that pure instinct alone was guiding him, a primitive knowledge breed into his very being.

Her hands reached up, gripping his shoulders in encouragement, making her nails dig into his taunt flesh. The more he moved, the tighter her grip became until it was a dull throb of pain that he took in reassuringly. The pain means you're real……… this is real………

A ghost of a smile graced his soft features against the inside of her neck, where his mouth was working, kissing her neck, drinking her in as he moved faster still.

He drove her to her to pleasure, more by instinct and luck then any real skill, but hearing her moan his name as her hands were buried in his hair was good enough for him. She was happy, that was all that mattered. As long as she remained happy, he would too.

She was everything he had to live for now, a frail and feeble connection to anything resembling humanity, but she was there, in his arms, naked and his. He didn't think he would ever get tired of that thought. They laid there for a moment in silence, breathing heavy as he rested his head on her breast, sweat soaked hair sticking to his skin.

Cordy's hands lightly ran over his back, over his face, smoothing his damp hair back and finally down to his arms where he fingered the scars.

"Connor?" He opened his eyes and lifted his head to look at her.

"What?"

"Does mean you're……ok now?" Her words were hesitant, slightly tinged with fear of his unknown reaction and man's strength. He smiled, a little chuckle escaping.

"Yes." He muttered, stroking the curves of her stomach before he rolled of her onto his back. She cuddled into him immediately, loving the strong sense of security that she found in his arms. However, the fear in her voice was bothering him. "And don't fear me, Cordeila, I can't hurt you…….. I could never hurt you……" The words trailed off into nothingness as he draped a lazy arm possessively around her waist. Cordeila………his…… he was never going to forget that.

His mind was drifting for a moment, reflecting on the only other girl who had kissed him - Sunny - and smiled a little, she might have loved him, but she was dead. Dead and gone. He wasn't going to let Cordy die even if it took him risking his own life. He was brought back into the present by Cordeila nuzzling his scarred wrist, giving him little kisses as if that alone could make the them fade.

"It's ok." He murmured, kissing her lightly on the lips. "I'm ok……. were ok." She nodded, not looking at him for a moment before she steeled herself and looked straight into his eyes.

"Are you going to try and kill yourself again?" He could tell that she was fighting to keep her voice steady, it was on the verge of cracking. He squeezed her hip reassuringly with the hand that was drape along her body.

"I won't die unless you let me." He answered confidently. "Or until you die, but I won't let that happen." She nodded after a moment, not sure whether to be disturbed or relived. It was always hard with Connor. She sighed and cuddled into him, tired from earlier casualties.

It took only a few moments before he heard her heart slowing, her breathing become even and peaceful and he couldn't help but smiling to himself. After all these years of hating his father, seeing him as the thief of human lives and happiness well…………. now finally he was the thief.

He had come and stolen the heart of the women he loved. Was able to steal her because he had a heat and could love. Because he had needed her so badly and now she was here, locked in his arms and safe from harm. He sighed as his gaze fell on the knife that had earlier been intended to end his life, the hilt was twinkling evilly in the pale moonlight, as if trying to beckon him.

He had the silly urge to give it the finger but settled for looking down at Cordy's sleeping face, so perfectly peaceful and untroubled. She's perfect……… If he was asked to count how many times he had thought that, he would loose track after five for he barely even considers the thought before it even comes to him. He gave her a kiss on the forehead, taking in the feel of her warmth against him, the unison sound of both their beats in perfect pace with each other, making them one.

He stole one last glance at the knife and for a moment her thought it was spelling out the word 'thief' at him through the shadows and light from it's hilt. He sighed and contentment, pulled her closer to him, and found that he wasn't at all sorry.

For someone that had stolen lives and happiness, one women, even one as perfect as Cordy, seemed a small price to pay. He kissed her forehead again, noting how cute she looked in her sleep. "I love you."

He muttered to her sleeping form and taking another peek at the accusatory knife before repeating it. "I love you."

("Seven a.m., the cars come")

I don't expect you to understand this

("Here comes again, blood in the vein")

War

("Seven a.m., the cars come")

A/N:

# Dies form so much typing then magically comes back to life # Finally done! But hey, at least it wasn't as long as the epilogue of my other fic……. 21 pages dear lord. Ok, I know the ending was a little weird, but I sorta meant for a bit of a metaphor/symbolism kind of thing there, I'm a huge fan of it. Well, I'm finally finishing this at like, 2 in the morning so all I have to say is if you've stumbled across this fic, please leave a review and tell me what you think! I see hits now, I'll know if you haven't, lol.