Connor accepted that he was going to be a little like his father. He had studied nature versus nurture for longer than he could stand, which was far from ten thousand hours, so he was no expert, but he knew his stuff. He was also no slouch in studying so-called magic.

The law of energy never being created nor destroyed remains true in most mystical arts. While desire can bend reality and metaphysics can sway existence the energy must still be taken from a source of actual existence. This is especially true in the art of memory manipulation. One cannot create a memory for a subject if the subject has no matter within himself in which he can imagine or make sense of that existence.

That was a longwinded way of saying not even the most powerful evil corporation could make Connor smart. He had to have been smart and the memories his father had them create brought out the best in him. Now the best of him had Rory Gilmore in his arms.

"You want me," he said, "Is that what you said?"

She nodded as she attempted to wrap her legs around his standing form in her opaque tights and pencil skirt. "I want you. Am I being too subtle?"

"No," he said, "No, you're not. Good girl."

Connor was eternally grateful he had superpowers when her legs stiffened and the scent of her increased. He didn't think he could have carried her to her ridiculous pale pink bed otherwise. Not because she'd be anywhere near heavy for a normal guy but he wasn't sure if a normal guy could keep moving with so much blood gone from his brain. This is where he was like his father. Look at me all in control with my powerful self. It doesn't matter that my control hangs by a thread destined to snap. I don't have to believe in destiny. I am superman.

"See," Rory huffed in satisfaction, "I always say what I want and what I don't. Yale not Harvard. Artisan not Starbucks. The best not the basic. You not anyone else."

Rory gave Connor an indignant look. She swore she was very clear about what she wanted in life. He legs were open in her opaque navy tights with her grey pencil skirt pulled up. Her white blouse was still tucked in. Connor stood before her dressed in his business causal finest to meet the Gilmore matriarch in two hours and change. Rory's open legs and his waste made a disconnected triangle.

"You think you tell people what you want." He slowly took of one of her boots. "You think you've been good, and yet, a huge secret. Virtuous people don't keep secrets. They don't need to."

He took off her second boot. A winter wind blew outside.

"Is my secret in here?" Rory flipped over onto her stomach and began searching through her copy of Great Expectations Connor left on the bed.

"An angry letter from Dean? I tried really hard with him. I did, but…"

Her voice trailed off. She contemplated her perceived failures of girlhood staring at the words of Dickens. Connor knew Rory had no idea how sexy she was. Her legs were bent up with her stocking heels pointed the celling. She was seemed like a mythical creature in this pale pink room in the middle of one of the richest suburbs in the world. She was so sexy he ached. A thread is what kept him from being that needy lap dog that destroys everything, but it was a strong thread, like one of Superman's hairs.

If Connor were like his father he'd stop what he was doing with Rory right now. He'd remind her of what was at stake.

"Rory." Connor bent down and grabbed the copy of Great Expectations in the width of his hand.

"Stop looking elsewhere for answers and see what's in front of you." But, even Connor's best self was far from Superman. He threw Great Expectations across the room. But, he wasn't like Angel, not when he was good, and as it turned out, not when he was bad. Connor knew the limits of his control.

"You threw my book!" she gasped.

"Look," he said, "You kept a secret."

He pointed to the walls. A pimpled frosted tipped Justin Timberlake stared back at him.

"You threw my book," Rory said in a semblance of anger now.

"You said you wanted this. You said you wanted these rules and now I come here and find out you lied to me."

Rory flinched and her eyes went to the floor. The only noise a human could hear would be the clatter of pots and pans as the cook made dinner far off on the first story of the mansion. But, Connor could hear the mummers of the maid and the cable guy or whoever he was supposed to be. They didn't have to even pretend to work because the boss was out. He could smell their smoke in the basement as dusk settled outside.

But, none of that mattered now because Connor could hear Rory's breathing change and her heartbeat quicken. Almost anyone could make her feel guilty about anything for a moment.

"I didn't lie," she said, "You threw my book. I never said I wanted books thrown."

But, a moment later she would be indigent knowing she had done no wrong and she was as steady and stable as a hundred pound mountain you couldn't move.

Connor was very good at seeing patterns. It didn't matter what they were, scent, blood, calculus, moods.But, Rory Gilmore had thrown a wrench into all of that. Connor knew that he, and his people, could usually date an outsider (or an insider) for about six months. Then a huge bomb would drop. It didn't have to always be a deadly toxic bomb, but there was usually a bomb.

"You keep gesturing to the walls. Is it my half an upper class life? That was never a secret." Rory insisted.

When Connor was first with Rory he lost track. He hadn't even realized he and Rory had been dating for six months. At first he hadn't even realized they had been dating. She was a reporter from New Haven. Yes, Rory haughtily informed him, there were still reports in the world. Yes, even in New Haven. Yale was in New Haven, thank you very much.

Rory was the kind of person Connor avoided at Stanford. Those A-types that pretended that they were chill, but they were just chill compared to the other A-types ,who ended up in a corporate scandal or a mad scientist lab. The ones who burned out like suicidal/homicidal flames before thirty. Connor could see their patterns. He couldn't see Rory's.

"Really?" Connor said in Rory's old room now, "You're going with this?"

Rory hawed. She slid off the bed and walked across the puce-puke-pink carpet to pick up Great Expectations and carefully placed it on the test next to an old pink Imac and a Hello Kitty pencil holder with feathery pens.

"Wow. I'm so tired of this pattern, Ror."

Connor was lying. He was not tired of Rory's patterns. He was sure he could live eternally with her patterns wrapped up in them as a blanket of bliss.

Connor was a very good liar. He had to be. His lying led to good in the world. Lying most of the time, to most of the people, about most things could be a twisted virtue. His lies had saved many lives. Way more than they had taken. But, he knew ultimately lying for too long, to all the people, all the time, about all things, would only lead to all bad.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Rory said as she dusted off the desk.

Rory was a terrible liar even when she was telling the truth. If anything was on her conscious even the truth flustered her.

"You know," Connor said, "The pattern where you've kept a secret and you act like you have no idea what I'm talking about, and then you pretend to get mad at some trivial thing, so you don't have to feel guilty."

"No matter how guilty I ever am books are never trivial, Connor."

Sweetly pugnacious, that was what Raj, Connor's PA, called Rory Gilmore. She had wanted to interview Connor about the Ap. Not just someone, Connor Reilly, because clearly the Bakersfield, CA born Stanford grad was behind the Ap. How could the Ap predict violence so well? Was it really predicting violence so well? How could they claim there was going to be violence somewhere when they always seemed to be there to stop it? Was this all just an echo chamber affect? Why didn't he sell it? Why didn't he make millions? Why did he work with such a small team?

Rory wrote the story. Connor was mad about it. He yelled at her calling her an out of touch liberal. She called him a hipster. Rory slept with him claiming she was having a late-bloomer wild phase. Then he found himself flying to see her. Then she was doing it to see him. He didn't realize it had been six months.

"I'm sorry," Connor said now, "I went too far. I'll never hurt another book again, but this isn't about me."

Connor had gotten cocky. Pride was his sin. Not even realizing the timing Connor thought he was dropping the bomb himself. He wanted to control the damage. Connor showed Rory vampires. Connor had a whole speech prepared about how Rory could not tell the world. How she had to lie and how this wasn't about post-truth climate. This was about safety and not yelling fire in a crowded building that had always had a slow burning fire that caught some people. Yelling fire would only cause trampling. When Connor started his speech Rory stopped him saying:

No, the world already knows what it wants to. If I reported it nothing would change, would it? All that would happen is that it would be normalized. I'm aware of the flaws of my field.

Connor thought then maybe he couldn't see Rory's patterns because she was perfect.

"Believe me I know how flawed I am." Rory looked down at her stocking feet now, "My mother ran away from this life, and I made her run back because I wanted it. I did, or at least half of it and now…"

Connor crossed the space between them and squeezed Rory's shoulders.

"Rory," he said, "None of this is your fault. You know that, right? If everything goes right Lorelei won't even have to know."

"So, I keep major secrets from my mother now. I rationalized not telling her things that didn't affect her life was okay. She's my best friend. I know you think that's weird but—"

"Yeah, so weird. I had three moms. Only one is still alive. We don't even want to get into my relationships with them. " Connor said with a smile. "I have three dads and technically only one is alive and didn't help me kill things. But, you, you are the huge weirdo."

"I know I have no right to complain," she said, "I know I owe you and your family for—"

"We're just doing what we do, but—"

"No," she said, "You're going above and beyond your duty. I feel like I'm corrupting the most moral people in a Kantian sense. You should never disrupt duty."

So much for the Connecticut girl's reality being shattered and you holding her in your lean manly arms. That was Faith after hearing of Rory's reaction to vampires. Connor realized that was how he wanted it to go. He wanted her to be shattered and he wanted to be the hero.

Connor was ashamed. Ashamed and relieved when Rory told Connor he didn't have to tell her all of it until he was ready. He obviously still had secrets.

Yep, just like his dad. The other one said. That's how he buggers it up every time. Being the hero isn't about them, it's about you. Maybe you think the world needs another hero. Maybe it's an Irish guilt thing. But what does she need?

If only it had been so simple as an Irish guilt thing that night she almost died. It had really been more of a gluttonous thing. They had wanted coffee milkshakes in the middle of the night. Rory swore nothing helped jet-lag like a coffee milkshake. Connor knew Faith was there before the demon. He hadn't even smelled the demon. He just thought Faith had been tailing them to meet Rory.

Run, baby, run.

I can't, but thank you. I think I know who you are, thank you. Rory's eyes shutting after gratitude would be forever burned into every one of his memories. That and the fairy thing.

"I want you to know how much I appreciate this," Rory said now, "and I want you to know I don't want anyone to risk too much tonight. I can handle whatever happens. You have to do what's right."

Her blue eyes blazed in the lamp and sunset light. She had to know what she was doing to him on some level. What she was doing to him dropping Kant like it was nothing while pursing her pink glossy lips in those tights.

"I have to do what's right," Connor said and Rory's dewy eyes snap back up at him. "You know how I feel about Kant. There are no moral absolutes ordered good is bullshit. You have to be slave/master good and if you're not your punished."

Rory gave him a defiant Kewpie doll smirk.

"Maybe if you hadn't gone to the Ivy League safety school you would know what really Nietzsche meant when he talked about master slave morality. It wasn't about punishment, and you wouldn't have to drop and D&D reference in the middle of—"

That's it. Connor was done. He pulled her in and kissed her. She was so warm and alive. He didn't want to stop, but he did.

"That's it. You're done," he said. He grabbed Rory not too firmly by her wrist and led her to the bed. He sat down on it and stood her in front of him.

"Maybe Nietzsche wasn't about punishment but I am. Do you want to follow the rules here?" Connor said, "Turn your submission into noble obedience as ol' Fredrick would say?"

He could hear and feel her pulse quicken. Smell her thighs moisten. It was good to have all the privileges of being a vampire with none of the downsides.

"You know, it's almost kind of hot when you almost get Nietzsche right. When you reduce the entire philosophy of nihilism into what you want," Rory said

She fell into his lap and kissed him with a moan. It made a grumble in his throat. He broke their lips apart. She smelled like vanilla and old books with so many secrets.

"Ain't that what believing in nothing is all about?" he said, "But, there is some truth in desire. What do you want, Rory?"

Her forehead was hot against his.

"You know."

"Tell me."

"To be good and if I'm not…" her whisper trailed off.

"Well then, pull down your school girl tights."

"What? These aren't—" She looked down at her slim legs. "Oh, I guess I could see how they are. Why? What did I do?"

A car drove by outside. Rory looked towards the window. When she stood to look at her phone on the desk he stopped her by taking both her hands.

"Are you going to pull down your tights so I can spank your bare ass or do I have to do it? Because if I have to do it I'm going to do it how I want. "

Rory was in his lap again. She kissed him between crazed breaths. She squirmed against his hard on as he squeezed and released her crotch through her tights. Her whole body was pulsing and her moans were building. He could feel her pulse in her clit. Then, he took his hand away.

"I want you to do it," she whispered, "I want you to do it all but I can—I can-"

She panted as he put her on the bed. Once again they made a disconnected triangle with her on the bed. Her legs were in that V and he was before them. Part of him wanted to just ravage her, but the other part of him was smarter.

"Sorry," he said, "What did you say? The good hearing kind of comes and goes. Something about wanting—"

"I said…"

A shaky breath escaped him when Rory put her foot on his raging hard on. She and flexed her foot and used his cock to message her heel. Rory grinned at Connor. For a second she knew she was the most powerful woman in the world. "I want you to do it. Take it off. Take it all off. It's a stupid outfit."

"I don't think it's a stupid—"

"I think it's a stupid outfit and I want you to take it all off," she said looking at him and then away, "Then I want you to tell me what secret I'm keeping and then...Then, I want you to do what you want to me."

Rory breathed shakily as Connor bunched up her threaded tights in his fingers. She let out a moan, not a gasp when he ripped them off. Rory eagerly sat up. He undid her buttons. She slid out of her sleeves. When his hand moved up her smooth stomach her mouth opened in an oval. He took his other hand and cupped her face. His thumb caressed her pink pert lower lip she clamped her lips down on the tip of his thumb. The tip of her tongue was on his thumb. Her lips sucked. Another car drove by with whoosh and she didn't even stiffen.

Connor reached his free hand around her slim upper back and undid her gleaming white bra with the other hand. The two tiny hooks released with just the right motion. She opened her eyes and nodded and he quickly had to relax the grin on his face.

She lifted her legs so he could slide of her skirt and panties. When her pussy was exposed and pungent as fermented vanilla and dew that proved too much for him. He had to kiss it once, lick it a few times. Once she moaned he pulled away.

"You're sure you want to know the secret you kept. It's really really bad, so heinous. I mean compared to all I've done and seen," Connor said with a sigh, "And it is right in front of you."

Rory's high round brow furrowed. Connor wanted to smooth it back down.

"Boy bands," Connor said, " I mean if I was a weaker man I'd run."

Run, baby, run, Faith had saidthe night of the infamous milkshakes.

I can't, but thank you. I think I know who you are, thank you.

The kid looked normal, but he had been a demon. A demon packing a needle. They called the drug combo a Corkscrew. It was a cocktail of Heroine, Orpheus, and a fun new mystical soul-sucking drug called Iliad. How the cookers chemists loved Greek homage, but on the street all together it was just a Corkscrew.

Connor had no idea about any of this. He had a good idea the syringe had been for him though and Rory had gotten in the way. He grabbed onto her. Her eyes were still shut.

I think I was in love with you. I was sure I wanted to be with you. There are fairies. They are real. I think I want to be with them now.

"Boy bands," Rory shook her head at him fully lucid now.

Connor had stripped her naked by request. He was talking his time. While people were getting home from work outside Rory's grandmother had the luxury of taking her time with the hairdresser. Sometimes other people's luxuries did trickle down. He had delegated a lot of tasks today himself.

Connor lay next to Rory in his dinner clothes. She was so pale and peachy it seemed like she was barer than others when she was naked.

"Yes, boy bands on your wall," Connor said, "One-two-three of them."

He pointed to the posters. Rory opened her mouth in surprise like she was seeing them for the first time. Connor was sure she had put them up just because puberty over-took her and then wasn't here enough to take them down.

"You told me you were a music geek since you were four. When you preferred the Sargent's Pepper Lonely album to Raffie," Connor said.

"I thought Sargent's Pepper Lonely Hearts Club was a real band. They had a song about a sugar plum fairy," she said, "I can explain the boy bands. They aren't really—"

He kissed her. The taste of her north lips mixed with her south. Things were always spicier down south, but the north was warm and breezy.

"Did anyone ever tell you…" He kissed her warm lips again, "that you're infuriatingly hard to stay mad at?"

"Never in those words," she said, "But you notice how that still makes people angry."

Her eyes danced in the lamplight as she undid his pants and sprung him free inside the caged fiber of cotton briefs and Dockers.

"Maybe it's the choices you make," Connor said.

"The whole point of Nietzsche's master-slave society is that you don't get choices." She reached up and ran her hand through his hair.

"You should have really gone to Harvard instead of Yale. Then you'd know Nietzsche's all about rising above the master-slave society."

"Yes, supermen," she said, "I'm not the superman here. You're the one rising above…"

She started to play with his cock. Connor imagined a comic book bubble over his head: Must-delay-gratification. Connor bent down and picked up Rory's ripped tights.

"Neither am I, scrubs," he said, "I see I'm going to have to be stricter."

He quickly and loosely tied the tights around her wrists. When he looked up she was studying his face. She didn't seem notice her own wrists.

"Scrubs? What? Oh, that song. How did you—" Rory began and looked down her bound wrists wrapped in the shrunken tights.

"The same way I learned to suck poison-slash-drugs out of a wound in a timely manner. My kidnapping-slash-eighteen-year-camping-trip in hell with a psycho zealot."

"It made you the man you are." She caressed his face with her soft bound hands and scratchy ties. He shut his eyes.

"Yep. Too bad I'm kind of a dick."

Rory squealed as Connor flipped her over on his lap.

"If you want order you get punished."

Her ivory peach ass was wriggled at him. All he had to do was slap it once and it was pink. All he had to do was strike her Snow White skin and she dripped with juices of sin.

"No, wait. It's not fair," Rory said and laughed into her bedspread.

Connor spanked her gently. He knew how to do it and still get a loud slapping sound. She squirmed on his lap giving his hard on a relieving ache. She was sob-laughing. He spanked her four times. Her juices of sin flooded his lap. She kicked her legs.

"Connor, wait, I didn't really- "

"You want a way out of this?"

There's a way out of this, Connor had said. The demon kid hadn't injected Rory right. The drug had bubbled up in her skin and made a huge skin swell of flesh on her pale shoulder. It was funny. The first memory that came to Connor in panic wasn't being Stephen Holtz living in constant siege while being groomed as a killer. The first memory that cam was the first dirty joke he had heard Robert Reilly tell, his father from his suburban childhood: A guy goes camping with his best friend. A snake bites him on the dick and there's only one way to save his life. His friend has to suck the poison out. Both friends agree the bitten man had a nice life. Connor remembered not getting it. Then, he remembered being mad when he did. Shame was a stupid reason to let someone die.

His dad looked guilty. You're so noble. It's a joke. You know, it's okay to be gay, though, right? Was it okay to get your girlfriend killed like your real father? Or was Connor the one that killed his father's girlfriends? Connor would not kill Rory. He'd have sucked a hundred dicks of poison. It might have been easier than what followed.

"I don't want out of anything." Rory rolled over on his lap. It tortured his hard on.

"I just want what's fair." Rory lay across his lap.

"You know you can't have both," Connor said.

"I mean. I want to explain about the boy ban—"

"You can't stay in an unfair situation and have fairness. It's impossible," Connor said. His hand traveled up her thigh. "So, that makes you a greedy girl, so I guess I better give you everything."

He pulled her into him and gave her everything. He made love to her with every muscle she liked. He spanked her when she didn't expect it, but wanted it. He didn't say as much as he wanted because his talking ability left him. When Rory screamed in ecstasy and it sounded like nothing but heaven. Connor didn't want her to scream in any other way again, but that was the problem with having everything. It's everything. The bad stuff has to come around sometimes too.

You don't have to be with me, Connor. That's your choice, but I have a right to the truth. You don't get to choose that. But, you have another choice to make. Either tell me the truth or lie again and I'll find out anyway. Fuck the vampires. Fuck the demons. I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about you. Why happened to you? What happened that night that made you become like that? Regardless of whatever reality you're living in you don't have a choice in the truth. In time it always comes out.

It did. It came good and bad but the energy was always there. It wasn't fair that Connor had more of his share of it, but he had to make it into something good.