Title- Cold as Hell
Disclaimer- Joss Whedon owns it
Summary- Connor doesn't think much of L.A.'s winter.
XXX
This was winter? Connor had trouble believing it. It was warm, too warm, though he couldn't tell it from the wary Fred and Gunn acted. They thought sixty degrees was frigid. Fred had no meat on her bones, so Connor sort of understood her complaints.
Regardless, it wasn't cold, not like he had known it on Quor-Toth. There the cold killed. There were nights his fingers and toes had gone black from the cold. Father had called it frostbite and said without Connor's healing ability, he'd be without his digits. Angel's blood came in handy even if he hated being a vampire's son.
The cold stopped some demons in Quor-Toth but brought others. There were no breaks, no off seasons in hell. None here either. Vampires always had to eat. It kept Connor from being bored, and he kept people alive as he hunted the hunters. It worked out that way.
Connor stared down from his perch on a fire escape on a building adjacent to a popular club. He had learned the best hunting grounds in this area. Humans here were so oblivious. The vampires picked off the drunk, young and dumb. Connor was younger than they were for the most part, but he didn't drink and he wasn't dumb. He was every bit as dangerous as the vampires. Gunn and Fred thought he was out looking for Angel, but they didn't mind him picking off other vampires along the way.
Tomorrow he would have to stay at home for Christmas eve. Connor didn't quite understand all the fuss. Father had made it sound far more sedate than Fred did. Connor found all the lights and decorations and the whole idea of gift-giving confusing. Still, he didn't really mind making Fred happy by staying in with her and Gunn. There would be other days to kill vampires and demons. From what he understood, New Year's eve was a huge day for drunken revelry. That should be prime hunting. Connor couldn't wait.