Connor had joined the residents of Grimmauld Place for their evening meal. The chair at his side was empty, awaiting Dawn's return from the neglected garden – she found that spending too much time in the old manor affected her magic, and so regularly went out to centre herself. Across from him sat Harry, still muted by his revelations, and either side of the boy were Ron and Hermione, the latter still puzzling over the printed sheets detailing the spell used on Dawn. Ginny was next, occasionally leaning in to comment on any ideas Hermione had. On the other side of Dawn's still-empty chair were the twins, heads together and deep in conversation. Not that low voices prevented Connor hearing their talk.

He was distracted from eavesdropping by the loud and vaguely annoying blaring of the All-American Rejects' "Dirty Little Secret" originating from Dawn's cell phone, left by the side of her plate. Sighing, he realised she would not yet be ready to come inside. Assuming it would be one of the Scoobies checking on them, he flipped the phone open without so much as glancing at the display. That was his first mistake.

"Hey, Dawn's outside right now – can I help or do you want me to go and get her?" Second mistake.

"Connor?" came the reply, sounding slightly tinny. Later, Connor would blame that distortion for his slow uptake, but now he just didn't recognise the voice. Mistake number three.

"Yeah, it's me. Who is this? Connection must be bad…"

"Connor, it's me, Angel. Your dad. I need to talk to you, not Dawn, I just…" Connor's fourth mistake was being too stunned to reply, allowing Angel to plough ahead.

Finally, he processed the turn of events. With no words to express himself, he reverted to growling down the phone line, before dropping the cell phone, still open, and streaking out of the room.

Seconds after he left, Dawn entered, seemingly aware of a problem. She made straight for the still-babbling cell phone, picking up and after a second's listening uttered what sounded like a string of swear words, although, as they were in one of the many demon dialects, only herself and Angel, half a world away, understood them. She then spun on her heel and shot after Connor, finding her way to him by following the crashes now reverberating through the house.

She slowed after reaching the seventh and topmost landing, an unexpected – yet still familiar – feeling urging caution. The shaking of the house led her to the door on the far left. Inching it open, her eyes became impossibly wide. She could see no sign of Connor, not through the whirlwind of trinkets and large objects now flying around the room. Stepping onto the wildly vibrating floor boards, she nearly lost her balance. Righting herself, Dawn began to step into the maelstrom, eyes searching for the boy. Locating him curled into a corner, she attempted to reach him. Her dodging kept her unscathed for the most part, but a large silver candlestick flew into the side of her head, and Dawn felt the hot, sticky blood well above her eyebrow, and her hair swiftly dampening. Regardless, she moved on, until she could crouch in front of him. Wrapping her small hands around his wrists, she pulled him to face her, heart breaking on seeing his expression.

"Connor, listen. Connor," she spoke softly, and when she failed to gain his attention, she leaned forward, kneeling and almost resting herself against him as she spoke into his ear.

"Connor, I need to you to calm down…"

"How, Sunrise?" he growled out in response, "How the hell can I calm down?"

His hands were encircling her wrists now, his grip tight, not allowing her to move away from him.

"Just breathe, Connor. Slowly, breathe."

She could feel his chest rise against hers, and then fall. Before, he had been so still, barely breathing in his wild anger, just growling constantly with the little air he had.

"Okay," she continued, "now I need you to let everything fall to the floor – slowly. Can you feel the ties linking you to them?"

Dawn felt him nod, head falling into the crook of her neck.

"They feel all tense, right?"

Another nod.

"Well, relax them, just like you'd relax a part of your body."

She heard crashes from around the room. Better dropped than still flying around, she supposed.

"Now, relax your body, starting from the toes. Just let all your muscles relax. You need to not be so tense."

Dawn felt him do so, the shaking lessening as he did so. When at last the floor was still, she spoke again.

"Hey, hey. You okay?"

She felt his face lift from her throat, and then his eyes were looking back at her. And felt her heart break all over again. The earlier fury was replaced by swirling confusion, tinged with apprehension. In less than ten minutes, everything had changed for him. He already knew it, but he needed confirmation. And she had to be the one to deliver that earth-shattering blow.

"Dawn, what just happened? Tell me, 'cause I'm not sure I understand." His usually low voice was scratchy, as if each word was costing him so much effort.

"Con, I…" Dawn sighed, resigning herself to the words she had to say. Steeling herself, she looked directly into his eyes. "Connor, you used magic."

"See, that's what I thought. But it's not possible, is it? I'm not a wizard. I don't use magic. Hell, I barely trust magic. So, I can't have done magic, now can I, huh, Dawnie?" His voice had grown progressively louder, and angrier. While nothing was zooming around – yet – his grip on Dawn's wrists had tightened, and he had yanked her closer to him with each statement.

"It happened, Con. I don't know how and I don't know why, but it did. Accidental magic – it's a burst of power from anger or fear. And it shows you've got the gift." She was trying desperately to keep her voice steady and soothing, but she knew it shook. Damn him, but he terrified her when he got like this. Straight fury she could handle, but this controlled anger was what drove him to his worst moments. Like every time before, Dawn was terrified.

"The gift? This is a GIFT? Are you kidding?"

"Con, I – "

"Oh, don't give me that, Dawnie. We both know I don't want this. So don't call it a gift. Now tell me how to get rid of it."

"You can't, Connor – it's a part of you. But you can learn, you can – "

"Go to your little magic school? No. I want it gone!" He roared the last point, yanking her off her knees and into his lap. One hand grasped her wrists, which he'd pulled to behind her back. The same arm held her crushed against his chest. His other hand slid behind her neck to the base of her skull, forcing her to look at his face. He spoke again, his voice dark. "Tell me how."

"Connor, I can't! I – "

"Scared, Dawnie? Poor little baby… Do I scare you? You want to run away?" He was lashing out now, unable to stop himself spiralling, he would hurt her as much as he could, to keep her with him.

"Stop it, Connor." Her low voice shook, and she cursed it.

"Damn, I can even feel you shaking. Smell the fear… practically taste it. God, it's intoxicating," he continued, regardless.

Despite herself, Dawn fell further:

"Connor, please…"

"Please what, Dawnie? What do you want, hey? Me to let you go? No, I don't think so. You came to me, remember. You want to be here with me."

"I want you to be yourself again."

"I can't though, can I? 'Cause my self doesn't do magic, now does it?"

"You do, Connor. It's always been there. Just under the surface."

Silence. He didn't release her, didn't move at all. She could only watch his face for change, his eyes having shut. When they shot open once again, they were sad.

"What am I going to do, Sunrise?"

His grip on her slackened, but she didn't move away. His head fell back into her throat, and she wrapped her arms around him.

"We'll figure it out, Con. It'll be okay."

It was the first time anyone had promised him that. And Connor, despite all his training, let Dawn hold him as he cried.