Chapter 7: Connor

On his way towards his own room, Angel passed hers - well, theirs. Angel won the shower argument, but Connor wouldn't believe that beds weren't meant to be shared.

While Buffy sharpened their blades, Connor braided her hair in intricate designs.

Cordelia came behind him in the doorway. "Her hair is soaking wet again."

"She made peace with the shower." With his sensitive ears, Angel heard the pipes earlier.

Without taking his eyes off his task, Connor explained, "It burns her and wrinkles her, but she likes it."

"Vain and hygiene-crazed - it's good to see her getting in touch with her inner girl."

The comment didn't makes Angel smile. The girl before him was many leagues from the Buffy he knew. On a surface level, her nails were cracked and rough; her skin scraped and calloused, but on a deeper level, she seemed faded, like a warrior without purpose or a child without play. Her love of warm water emphasized how little she enjoyed nowadays. She used to mind dirt and slaying. Now, she just minded the cold.

Realizing how much she'd lost, his insides spasmed. He had to walk away.

Laying on the bed in her lap, Connor didn't know what to feel. His father was dead, but his friend was here. His friend was here and fed and warm and he'd – he'd never had a friend before.

"This feels nice- right."

She didn't reply.

He rolled over to look up into her eyes. "Could we stay here?"

She whispered hoarsely, "This bed? or this place?"

"With these people." Maybe she'd been to Qour Toth but this is where she belonged. This place made her hair shine.

Her fingers ran down his face. "This is your home." He closed his eyes to doze.

He hadn't lied to the man with glasses when he said she didn't walk to him. Before tonight, she hadn't. They didn't need words to understand each other, but he reached for them now. He reached because he felt warm and smooth, full and safe. He hoped she'd respond because she was those things too. Here in this room, they could hide from fear. He wanted to hide forever. Without asking, he knew she agreed. He didn't need words for that.

Connor walked down the stairs to the basement leading a tentative Buffy behind him.

Angel stepped out of the shadows with staffs in hand.

Scanning the dark room, Connor asked, "Where is it? It should be here."

Wesley looked up from his notes. "What are you looking for?"

"The green monster. If she hums, he will hear her answers."

The door at the top of the stairs opened again and Lorne called, "I'll hear em' just fine from up here kiddo - far away from the violence."

Connor frowned.

Angel did not hand him a staff. He wielded them both and swung them dangerously.

He stalked Connor.

Wesley whispered, "Hum."

Connor hummed just as Angel swung at him. Immediately, he pulled his staff back turning his attention to Buffy.

They moved in a circle. He could tell she was reading his body trying to discern his intention. Being this close to Buffy made it was hard to remember his intention. Despite their plan, their goal, he just wanted to hug her. His body looked as indecisive as he felt.

Wesley commented, "You will have to strike her at some point."

Growling, he threw down his weapons and kicked his long leg. She ducked the blow but just as quickly converted her duck to a lunge at his midsection. They fell to the ground, but she rolled forward into a summersault recovering first. With her foot on his neck, she stood above him with a triumphant gleam in her eyes.

She looked so much like her old self again.

He grabbed her ankle and used his legs to spin himself around and unbalance her. He didn't let her fall, though. Instead, in a move much like the one she executed earlier, he charged throwing her in the piles of storage.

He then turned his attentions back to Connor. As soon as he moved to strike, he heard Connor hum and desisted. To make the circumstance clearer, he approached and again tried to strike, but upon hearing the music he relented - just in time too because Buffy had been crawling across the floor like a cat.

He didn't notice how close she was until he felt two sets up fingernails at the back of his knees. She climbed him like feline and moved to blind him just as viciously.

He pulled her hands off in time and tried swinging her off. She held on.

He stepped quickly back heading for a wall. Discerning his intentions, she lithely climbed up higher and actually used is shoulders to jump forward. She tumbled forth and landed up in fighting position while he ended up throwing his whole body weight into a concrete wall, and without her there, he lacked a buffer.

She observed him carefully as if she thought the fight might over but wasn't willing to let her guard down.

Angel straightened. "Buffy, we've just begun to fight."

Standing by her side, Connor noticed the moment she tensed.

Wesley did too. If she had understood the words, Wes bet she wouldn't understand another word for quite some time. By the looks of Angel's posture, he planned to destroy her sense of safety.

A second later, he sprung towards them in vampiric face. Before Connor could hum, he felt her push him out of the way. Actually, she pushed off him which propelled him back at the same time it propelled her towards their attacker. With her side facing forward, she held her arm out and elbowed Angel across the neck.

Despite his best efforts, Angel crumpled a bit. He recovered quickly, but not in time to avoid a knee to the face. As the fight continued, Connor's guilt over the plan faded behind a growing confidence.

He would never admit it to him, but Angel made him nervous. Watching Buffy keep him at bay proved that Angel wasn't as strong as Connor feared. He could be beat. His friend could beat him. She could beat anything.

Connor hummed with joy in his heart and never saw Lorne frown.

Eventually, Wesley called an end to the exercise. Gunn called down. "If you've had enough torturing the guest, we've got pizza."

Fred added, "And blood."

Connor frowned at Angel. "Your humans eat blood?"

Fred squealed, "Ew."

Angel answered, "They really don't."

Connor and Buffy left the basement for food while the others pow-wowed.

Lorne sighed. "Was it just me or did she not pick up the humming connection?"

Shaking his head, Wesley agreed, "She expressed no curiosity as to why you stop attacking Connor."

"I approach him, she goes on the on the offensive every time." Recalling the scene, Angel concluded, "She doesn't care how he defends himself. As long as he's out of danger, she's content."

Lorne shrugged, "What now?"

Wesley looked down at his notes. "We try again."

Angel dropped his shoulders. "This isn't the only thing we have to work on."

Lorne looked at the ground. "Holtz."

"He needs closure." Angel moved to return to the staffs to the wall. "He needs answers just like I do, but his needs come first."

Wesley put down his notebook. "What do we know?"