Chapter 6:
SHATTERED
I took the old path down, climbing over rocks and stones,
The place I knew when I was young,
And in my fear I had to carry on,
Where no-one else had gone,
Looking in the heart of darkness from above,
To the man inside,
I took my chance and set off for the light,
And started the journey of my life…
Chris de Burgh, "Heart of Darkness"
On his side of the wall, Connor wrapped his arms around his legs, rocking back and forth. His jaw clenched and unclenched, listening to Dawn's silence. He hated it when she was quiet. It let him think, whether he wanted to or not. There was nothing in the room to distract him, nothing he could look at besides the inside of his memories. Bland colored walls, bare mattress, a chair too heavy for him to lift. Dawn said once that the room was smaller than her mother's closet when he'd asked what her room was like. When he'd first been tossed in here by one of Lilah's demons, he'd paced the floor, seeking a way out. He'd turned up nothing. Dawn even suggested trying the ceiling but they both discovered there was no way of escaping the room besides the door they'd each been thrown through.
Connor slammed his fist into the mattress repeatedly. If he had his strength, he knew he could go through the wall that separated him and Dawn. If he had his strength, he probably could've gotten them both out of these cells. Instead, he could barely recognize this body, not quite his own. It felt strange and unfinished; weak. In this body, he couldn't even smell a demon until one was nearly on top of him, much less hear one. And his eyesight failed him at ten body lengths.
He remembered hearing, though he hadn't understood it at the time, Lilah saying that Darla, his mother, had been brought back completely human. "Guess it works that way on all the supernatural brats," she'd said, staring at him as he'd tried to free himself from his captor.
A dull rage slithered through him, familiar in its flavor. He wasn't himself anymore, not Connor, son of the vampire with a soul, not Stephen, son of Daniel Holtz. He dug his fingers into his long hair, pulling at it, his body trembling. He'd barely begun to figure out who he was and he'd died. Now he was brought back from the dead as a new person, maybe a demon, how was he to know? It was wrong, coming back from the dead, he knew that. He wasn't sure who he was anymore but he knew he hated this body, this weak boy with no survival skills.
Tucking himself into a ball, Connor leaned his forehead against his knees. Nothing was the same any more. Nothing was right. And even the thought that Angel was here, in the building with him, didn't give him any hope. After all, the vampire hadn't protected him before. He let me die, Connor thought, he let me die and now I'm back and I'm not even me anymore.
The scenes leading to his death were vivid paintings in his mind. The acrid smoke smell of burning buildings, cars, worse things, clogged his nostrils. His skin felt puckered from the heat. And Cordelia had all but ordered him to go to the Hyperion with her.
Fire continued falling from the sky while they made their way to the hotel. Connor was reluctant to return there, his body still reacting to the sensations Cordy had introduced him to the night before. Neither of them had been prepared for the strangers facing off with Angel Investigations in the lobby. Cordelia amazed Connor, not for the first time, by sailing through all of the tension to reach Angel's side.
"So," she'd said, folding her arms as she turned to face the intruders, "you saw fire falling from the sky and decided to come help?"
A black-haired man stepped a little forward from the others. "Something like that, yeah," he said, his voice running on the ragged edge of fury.
"Well, something happened before we got here," Cordelia said, rolling her eyes. "What is it?"
Fred had blurted out, "They want to kill Connor!" and voices raised immediately, everyone speaking at once. Though taken aback, Connor thought it made sense. The demon appeared where he was born. For all they knew, his birth brought it to this world. A hollow pit formed in his stomach but he shook it off. Now wasn't the time to show fear. Instead, he studied the new faces, searching for their weaknesses. He'd need to know them if a battle started.
Connor recognized none of the strangers; a blond man, stabbing his finger at Gunn; a thin redhead, arguing with Fred. The man who'd spoken first squared off with Cordelia. Connor barely gave him a second glance. He knew Cordy could take care of herself and the man didn't look like any type of threat. A girl, younger than the others, hugged herself off to the side and an older man, maybe her father, Connor wasn't sure, kept an arm around her in comfort. A woman flanked the black-haired man, her hands firmly set on her hips. Almost directly in the center of everything was Angel, his head lowered slightly, reminding Connor of a Kishta beast about to charge. A little blonde woman, her arms folded and her chin held high, stood opposite Angel, the argument roiling around but not quite touching them.
Connor blinked, watching the pair as they stared at each other. He'd seen Renwarns stare like that at their prey; a hypnotic gaze he'd learned the hard way was nearly impossible to break. As the verbal fight started to escalate towards violence, they both snapped their attention elsewhere. Angel's voice reverberated around the room, outshouting them all. "Now," he said, his voice low and dangerous, "tell me that again, Buffy. Tell me why you want to kill my son?" His hand swept sideways, pointing out Connor to everyone in the room.
The blonde tightened her jaw. She didn't bother looking, though everyone else in the room was focused on him, so many eyes at once that Connor felt uncomfortable. He flipped back his hair, meeting them all with the same murderous smile he'd offered Angel the first time they'd met. Her voice was almost as low as Angel's but equally dangerous. "You know why. I've explained it. If you can't get it through your thick head that he's the cause of all this -"
"Oh no he isn't," Cordelia interrupted, forcing her way between the pair. "You're just trying to punish Angel for having a son, aren't you, Buffy?"
The blonde slowly turned towards Cordelia. "I'm not punishing anyone," she said. "I'm trying to save the world."
"Again," the black-haired man muttered, though loud enough for everyone to catch it.
"At the cost of a boy's life!" Cordelia shouted, moving into the blonde's space.
Connor tried not to wince that Cordy still thought he was a boy but the scene in front of him was too fascinating to let him think about it long. "Oh, please. Like saving the world hasn't cost Buffy her life more than once," the blonde next to the black-haired man said.
"Ahn," the black-haired man said, in a long-suffering voice then he blinked, realization crossing his face. "She's right."
The woman in front of Angel straightened her back just a little more and her chin tilted a little higher to meet Cordy's glare. "This is my job," she said, her voice level but thick with anger, "it's my call, Cordelia. I am the Slayer."
Cordelia's eyes widened then narrowed sharply. "Not when you threaten my family, it isn't." She pressed even closer to Buffy. "You're gonna have to go through me to get to him."
Connor almost smiled at that. Cordelia was willing to fight for him, even though he was sure he could protect himself from this strange woman and her friends, too. He sobered abruptly. Would killing him make the Beast go away? Was that why the blonde said he had to die? He focused on the drama in front of him.
The knife-edge smile that cut Buffy's face obviously startled Cordy. "Sounds like fun," she said.
"W-wait just a minute," the older man said, stepping away from the girl. "Surely we can reach an amicable agreement."
Angel snarled, "Not when my son's life hangs in the balance."
"It's the only way, Angel," Buffy said, still speaking directly to Cordelia. She said the words very clearly. "I'm sorry."
"From this side? You sure don't sound like it," Cordelia almost hissed, her fists clenching.
"Cordelia!" Angel's voice was like a whip and he reached forward, dragging Cordelia back to his side. "I'm not handing over my son as a sacrifice, Buffy."
Angel had come to rescue him from the zombies at Wolfram and Hart. Connor knew that Angel meant it but he could also tell that both his father and Cordelia were taking the threat seriously. He glanced over the crowd, meeting Gunn's eyes. The older man gave him the barest shrug possible. There was still too much going on and Connor didn't really trust Gunn not to hand him over to this blonde woman. Gunn had made it clear before he didn't trust Connor and the feeling was mutual. If the world needed saving, Connor wasn't sure that Gunn wouldn't just hand him over to Buffy and her companions.
The blonde tossed her hair back over her shoulders. "I guess I have to take him, then."
"You can try," Angel snarled.
Her smile was more bitter than sharp as she said, "I can do it, Angel. You know I can." Connor wondered at that but Cordelia's sharp gasp spoke more than she thought. So did her shoulders, lifting to come into an offensive position. She thought the blonde meant it. Buffy raised her voice. "This is between you and me." Her hand swept out to indicate all the others. "They don't have to be involved."
"Hell with that, Slayer," the blond man said, lurching forward. "You need us."
"I hate to say Spike's right," the black-haired man said, reaching out to her, "but I gotta go with him on this one, Buff."
"Get out of my hotel," Angel said, venomous, "and take your pets with you."
Buffy recoiled, her eyes widening as if this verbal slap was something she wasn't expecting. "What did you say?" Her voice was so soft, it was fairly lost in the crowd. Connor could read her surprise from his place near the door.
"Yeah," Cordelia said, "get out of here!"
Thrusting away her reaction to Angel's words, Buffy said, "You know I'm right, Angel," ignoring Cordelia completely.
Cordelia seethed in response. Connor knew how much she hated being ignored. Before she could act, the girl broke away from the older man, running up to Angel. "You can't do this, Angel," she said shrilly. "You can't send us out in that!" She clutched at his arm. "We can work out something, I know it!"
His face softened. "Dawn," he said, achingly gentle, "this isn't your fight. It's between Buffy and me."
"Yeah but I've been there before! I was the sacrifice last time. Me!" She shuddered and Buffy wrapped an arm around her waist, connecting the three of them together. Connor frowned. There was so much there, so much he didn't know anything about. Who were these people? Why did Cordelia find them a threat, especially the blonde? Was it the way that she and Angel looked at each other? The way the girl didn't let go of Angel's arm, even when she relaxed, if only a little, into Buffy's embrace? "I know how scared you can be, how much it hurts knowing you're the one who has to stop it." She glanced at Buffy. "You died for me," she said, her voice almost a sob. "I don't want you…I don't want anyone to die again."
"It isn't your choice, Dawn," Buffy said. She gently pulled the girl away from Angel, not taking her eyes off of him. "We need to settle this."
"You're getting my son over my ashes," Angel rumbled and Dawn shrieked, "No!"
"If that's the way you want it." Buffy shoved Dawn back into the redhead and lunged forward. Angel whipped Cordelia out of the way, sending her sprawling into Fred. He met the blonde's attack, blocking her punch and knocking it aside with his forearm, throwing his own blow. She ducked out of the way, golden hair streaming behind her, using her momentum to carry herself into a cartwheel and kicking at Angel's face.
"Weapons!" Gunn shouted and the team scattered. Connor leaped across the room at Gunn's cry, somersaulting through the air. He was the first to reach the weapons' cabinet, snatching at the door. It slammed shut under his hand and he yanked at the handle, trying to pull it open.
"We need weapons," Gunn shouted, swarming up the stairs towards him.
"It won't open," Connor yelled back, sweeping the room with his gaze. He realized the redhead was staring at him, her fingers pointed, her expression triumphant. Showing her his teeth, he kicked at the cabinet, rocking it.
"You bitch!" Cordelia snapped, her eyes turning white, distracting Connor.
The redhead flung up her hand, blocking the brilliant ray that Cordelia shot at her. The beam shattered against her palm, ricocheting into fireworks to rival those outside. Angel flung Buffy through the path between the two women, distracting them both. "Buffy!" the redhead screamed as Angel's fist connected with the blonde's chin. Buffy sailed across the room, slamming into one of the columns. Her eyes darkening, the redhead's hands spread apart, fingers open wide. Connor felt his jaw drop as blue lightning ran between her fingers, becoming a huge ball of energy.
"Dad!" he shouted as the redhead flung it at Angel. Angel whirled, the hem of his jacket swinging in an arc as the ball of lightning struck him mid-torso, flinging him backwards to land near the blonde. Beside Connor, Gunn and Fred were pushing over the cabinet, sending it crashing to the floor. Weapons broke free, sliding into the lobby and Gunn did a predatory leap, snatching up his home-made axe in a forward tuck and roll, landing on his feet next to the dark-haired boy and swinging.
"Xander!" the redhead yelled, her magic knocking Gunn back into Fred, sending them into a heap on the floor.
Connor raced across the lobby, scooping up a curved sword as he ran, bringing it up in front of him in an arc as he charged the redhead. He ran over the blond man, sending him flying, leaping into the air and bringing the sword down in an overhead sweep. "Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live!"
The blade that caught his turned his stroke and Connor found himself shoved sideways by the old man. He stood in front of the redhead, panting slightly, his weapon held at ready. "You don't want to fight me, boy," he said, his blue eyes dangerous behind the glasses he wore.
"You're trying to kill me," Connor spat out. "I don't think I have any choice."
"Wes, help us," Connor could hear Fred shouting over the din. In the corner, Angel and the blonde picked themselves up, leaping at each other again. The force of their impact sent them through the front door. Cordelia snatched up a sword and ran after them, avoiding Wesley's grasp. Connor flashed a grin at the old man and charged out of the hotel after Cordelia. Behind him, he could hear the fight still going on. He figured they could take care of themselves. He had to see how this ended.
The fight raged through the streets of L.A. It was all Connor could do to keep up. The girl, reed thin with long brown hair, somehow managed to keep up with him, as if she could track Buffy the way he found himself following Angel. He caught sight of others, both struggling against the demons that rose to revel in the chaos the Beast brought and each other. Connor remembered coming across the Beast itself, its laughter as Angel and Buffy fought in front of it with swords they'd picked up somewhere in the battle. As Connor watched, the girl nearby, they turned almost as one to face the Beast. The blonde's sword skimmed across the Beast's skin, sparks flying from it. Angel's heavier weapon fell on the Beast's arm and bounced off, nearly throwing him off balance. Somehow, Buffy caught him with her shoulder, keeping him upright.
"Join me, Angelus, and rule at my left hand," the Beast said, in a voice that sounded like rocks grating together.
"Sorry, I've got plans tonight," Angel said.
"Destroy the Slayer, Angelus."
"That's part of the plans." Angel wheeled back towards Buffy, his sword crashing down on hers. The Beast's laughter rang through the streets. It raised one hooved foot and slammed it onto the ground. Connor shivered, freshening his grip on his own sword and in a swirl of black jacket, Angel and Buffy disappeared into a fissure opening suddenly beneath them.
"Buffy!" the girl screamed, flinging herself through the hole. Connor wasn't surprised that Wesley, the old man and the redhead suddenly appeared, the redhead's hands dripping of magic. With a word, she shot a bolt of lightning into the Beast's chest. It shrieked, a burn appearing on its chest. The redhead spoke to the sky as Wesley and the old man chanted, lightning swirling above them all.
"What the hell's going on?"
Connor looked over his shoulder at Gunn and Fred, both looking worse for wear. Cordelia was with them, her eyes wild.
"I don't know," Connor shouted back over the noise of the rising wind.
"Where's Angel?" Cordelia said, her hand gripping Connor's shoulder tight enough to bruise.
Connor jerked his head. "Down that hole."
"That's it. There's no way that bitch is gonna kill him," Cordelia said, tearing off her jacket. "I'm not losing any of my men to that Slayer." Grabbing her sword, she started for the hole.
"Cordelia, no!" Wesley shouted, the sound of his voice thin under all the magic. "Stay back!"
"The hell with that," Cordelia said. She looked at them all, meeting their eyes in turn. "She's a Slayer, that means she's super strong. It doesn't mean she can't be beaten. Are you coming?"
Connor didn't bother waiting for their answer. He charged forward, leaving them all behind, leaping into the opening feet first, holding his sword high above his head. He landed and rolled, cracking his head against something hard. Shaking it, he tried to force back the blackness that threatened to swarm over him. Staggering to his feet, he saw the fighters, blows raining down from either side, their weapons silver arcs and swirls, no longer discernable as blades. Connor limped forward, finding the girl hitched over a broken chair. "A theatre," she gasped out, "funny."
"Are you all right?" Connor asked, barely turning his attention from the battle in front of him. He'd never seen his father move this way, so deadly and fluid and the blonde matched his moves and gave them back like a mirror.
"My ankle," the girl said with a grimace. "I might've broken it. I can't stand." She grabbed his wrist when he started forward. "Don't leave me, please."
"It's my fight," Connor said, staring down at her tiny hand, cold against his heated skin.
She shook her head slowly, her blue eyes huge and shiny with tears. "No." A smile, or a grimace, he wasn't sure which, crossed her mouth. "It's always theirs."
"But," Connor began.
The roof overhead creaked and something fell down. Connor grabbed the girl, hauling her back with him. They fetched up against a wall as the Beast straightened, shaking its head, dust rolling off of it and flinders of wood flying. Its slitted eyes swept the room, focusing first on Connor and the girl, then on the fighters. Its smile was chilling.
"What is that thing?" the girl asked, her voice tinged with horror.
"I don't know," Connor said, "but I'm gonna stop it this time." Setting the girl down before she could protest, he started forward. The Beast's attention was focused on Angel and Buffy. His smile grim, Connor crept closer, unable to run through the debris. Something glittered out of the corner of his eye. Connor flicked a glance there, suddenly pulling to a stop.
Angel's sword glowed rich blue, like the lightning that had crashed into the Beast aboveground. Buffy's was equally as brilliant, nearly blinding in the dim light filtering in from the opening overhead. Their swords crossed and an arc of light leaped from them, illuminating the room. The Beast threw up its arm, its eyes not able to adjust that quickly.
The hair on Connor's arms prickled. He hesitated, crouching, watching, feeling as if he shouldn't move. Angel's sword swung again, so very fast that the cleaving air screamed, the blade clashing hard against the blonde's. The light was somehow brighter, lingering in the close air. The Beast raged, taking a step towards them.
"Angel!" Cordelia's voice rang through the hole. "I'm coming!"
"Cordy, no!" Angel howled.
Cordelia flung herself through the opening, incandescent light wrapped around her, vying with the brilliance of the swords. As if her appearance broke the dam, the blond man leaped through the hole, followed by the dark-haired man. Turning her white gaze towards the fighters, Cordelia said, "No."
The swords flickered and Connor sucked in a deep breath, his hair standing on end. The magic was broken, was wild. It swirled around them all, the Beast's laughter somehow caught and amplified in it. Human voices were pitiful compared to that wind though Connor heard a shrill scream pierce the magic. His head whipped around almost involuntarily and he saw the girl, hauled into the air by the magic, her body limp and her mouth sagging, green light pouring out of her.
The pressure built between one heartbeat and the next and Connor ducked reflexively, dropping his sword to clamp his hands over his ears. The explosion rolled over him and he squeezed his eyes closed, curling into a ball to protect himself. The Lord's Prayer trickled through his mind, giving him something to cling to as the power rippled around him. He heard something like clothes tearing, though a hundred times louder and jerked his head up, watching in horror as something he couldn't recognize sailed through a hole nearly as large as the Hyperion lobby. Other things followed it, huge, small; bright, dull; some winged, some clawed, some armored. All indescribable, even to his demon-jaded eyes.
Swallowing hard, Connor reached for his sword only to find he couldn't lift it. A low laugh dragged his attention from the rip in the world and he raised his eyes to see a creature formed of sickly orange, knobbly skin; four huge fists holding various weapons. Its harsh breath curled around his face and he winced, scuttling backwards as one of the weapons lifted and began its descent towards him.
The heavy thud showed him how slowly the creature moved. Connor leaped to his feet, looking around quickly. He spotted Cordelia, protecting Gunn. The blond man and his dark companion were fighting back to back and Angel stood over a heap of clothes, a sword in either hand, warding off whatever came near him. "Connor!" he shouted as he beheaded something that spurted pale green blood. "Help me!"
Something warm as sunlight washed over him at Angel's cry. Connor found himself smiling as he tucked and rolled past the aggressive orange demon, already out of its lumbering reach. He rushed down the path towards where his father was, leaping over a six-legged thing with the body of an insect and the torso, head and arms of something vaguely human. It clacked at him but he was past it before it realized he was there. Connor strong-armed a scrawny pink thing out of his way and jumped up onto the platform Angel was on.
The demon facing Angel was grey-skinned with a head that narrowed down into a snout full of sharp teeth. Another one crept up on his blind side. Connor flung himself forward, bowling over the grey demon, grabbing its muzzle and twisting sharply. The 'snap' of its neck breaking widened his smile. Angel decapitated the demon nearer to him and gained them each a breather. "Here," he said, tossing Connor one of the swords. He leaned over, scooping up the blonde girl.
"Did you kill her?" Connor asked, shaking his bangs out of his eyes.
Angel shot him a look, settling the woman over his shoulder. "No." He flicked his gaze around. "We've got to get out of here."
"But she wanted to kill me," Connor began.
"Later, son," Angel said firmly.
"Cordelia," Connor glanced around then realized she and the others were missing. His heart plummeted. She hadn't died, had she?
"They're gone, Connor," Angel said curtly. "We have to fight our own way out." He shifted Buffy's weight on his shoulder and gestured. "You'll have to lead the way, son."
"I don't understand." Connor fended off a demon that, at the sight of his sword, turned and ran another direction. "She tried to kill you!"
The six-legged demon crawled towards them. Angel grimaced. "We'll talk about that when we're all safe." He growled, the demon face he kept hidden sliding into view. "Get moving, Connor."
He opened his mouth and took note of the crawling demon, nodding once and slashed his way through the stream of creatures racing through the opening between the worlds.
Connor didn't, couldn't remember how they broke out of that pit, only that they eventually reached the surface. The world aboveground was already changing with the influx of demons. Something monstrous clung to a nearby building, huge wings outstretched and fire gouting from its mouth. Bodies, human and otherwise, already littered the streets. Connor beat off a demon intent on pulling a screaming woman from her car, stalled against the curb. She stared up at him in horror, her hands fumbling in her purse and pulled a gun. He watched in amazement as she turned the weapon on herself, sticking the muzzle in her mouth and pulling the trigger. Gagging, he turned away from the car as the woman crumpled in the seat, the remains of her skull a mass of red and grey. A scream alerted him and he twisted back towards the beast on the building, lifting into flight, its wingbeats taking it on an interception course for a jet, falling from the sky.
"Connor!" Angel's low voice carried, snapping him from his trance. "Come on." He loped along the street, the slight body draped over his shoulder not even a hindrance to him. Connor followed close behind.
"What's going on?" he asked when they paused in an alleyway; letting a herd of something blue and shaggy gallop past.
"The wall between the worlds was destroyed," Angel said grimly. He'd pulled the woman off his shoulder to check her over, barely paying attention to their surroundings. He gently stroked Buffy's cheek, his expression tight and worried.
Connor wondered how Cordelia would feel about Angel's caring for the blonde. He wasn't going to bring it up though, instead asking, "How do we fix it?" He flinched when one of the blue shaggies hit the entrance to the alleyway. It bawled but kept moving.
Angel flicked his eyes around the alley, up and out. "I don't think we can," he said.
"What?" Laughter threatened to spill from his mouth and Connor wondered at it, why he might laugh in this situation. "You're not giving up." He tossed back his hair, not quite keeping the sneer out of his voice as he said, "You're a champion."
His dark gaze fixed on Connor, holding his eyes for a series of heartbeats. "We were trying to keep this from happening," he said and glanced towards the mouth of the alley again. His heavy sigh startled Connor as he picked Buffy up. "This would be easier if you were conscious," he told her limp form, the faintest hint of humor in his voice. Connor followed as Angel made his way to the entrance of the alley.
"Oh, God," he whispered, peering wide-eyed from behind Angel's bulk.
The blue shaggies were gone, leaving ruin in their wake. A car with a flashing light on top of it was overturned, a man in a dark uniform firing a gun at the creatures moving in on him. As they watched, helplessly, the creatures swarmed, pulling the man down. He screamed then the sound was abruptly cut off. One of the creatures, its long snout dripping of blood and strings, swiveled its head towards the alley. Connor saw it snarl and leave its prey, bringing some of its companions with it.
"Not that way," Angel said, shaking his head.
"Up?" Connor pointed to a fire escape as the creatures began making their approach.
"Give me your sword and go."
Connor took a few steps to build up a momentum and leaped, landing and catching himself before he crashed into the metal barrier that kept him from pitching back into the street. He leaned over the barrier, seeing the long-muzzled creatures poised at the mouth of the alley. Angel didn't even glance at them, focused on making the jump. "Come on, Dad," Connor said.
Angel tossed both swords up and, as Connor caught them, leaped, a sheer fluid movement. Connor dropped the swords to grab for the vampire as the structure vibrated. One of the blades slithered out of reach, falling to the ground in a straight silver streak. The two men exchanged a glance.
"Oops."
"Couldn't be helped." Angel gave him a tired grin. "Thanks, son."
Connor hesitantly smiled back, hefting the other sword. "Up?"
They climbed to the top of the building, leaving the snarling pack below. Connor took the lead now that he had the only weapon. He was almost surprised that Angel didn't protest but he had his hands full. The blonde started shaking uncontrollably when they reached the roof, hard enough that Angel nearly lost his grip on her.
"What's wrong?" Connor asked, nearly wincing when he heard the worry in his voice. Why did Angel care what happened to this woman? Why did he care? Buffy had wanted him dead.
"I don't know," Angel said, somehow maintaining his grip on the blonde. "Buffy? Buffy, wake up." Her only response was a weird, low moan; her body arching almost hard enough to break free.
"I heard that she," Connor nodded his head at the twitching blonde, "could kill you."
"She's a Slayer, Connor," Angel said, his voice not changing from the gentle tone he offered the blonde. "It's her duty to face vampires." He met Connor's eyes unflinchingly. "And destroy them."
"So why didn't she destroy you?" Connor asked, a little uncomfortable with the expression on Angel's face.
"We already played that game," Angel said. He glanced around. "We're too exposed up here. We need to get somewhere safer."
Connor agreed. It was open on the rooftop, not enough cover. There were things in the sky and things on the ground and all of them seemed to want to eat them. He shifted his grip on the sword. At least they wouldn't go down without a fight. "How far is it to the Hyperion?" he asked.
Angel raked his gaze over the city. "A couple of miles." He paused. "I think."
Connor dragged a hand through his hair. "We can make it."
"You can," Angel said. He cupped Buffy's skull, holding her against his chest. She let out a faint cry and her body went limp again. "I'm not sure --"
Connor interrupted. "I am." He gestured. "The buildings aren't that far apart from each other. We can get past that pack down there and get to the ground. Maybe underground," he said with a worried glance in the sky. A pair of winged things were battling up there now, their shrieks audible even over the other sounds rising from the city streets.
"Lead the way, son," Angel said, rising to his feet, the blonde drooping in his arms. "But be careful."
Connor opened his mouth then snapped it shut again. Angel wasn't just doing the good father thing, he meant it. Connor nodded. "Okay," he said.
Taking off over the rooftop, Connor made it to the ledge without any problem. He wished he could plug his ears from the sounds below. Too much noise, none of it familiar. Los Angeles was strange after Quor-Toth; these new sounds, though similar, gave him a chill. He glanced back and waved at Angel, who moved with the speed of a hunting Gnarar, even hampered by the blonde. "I'll go first, check it out," Connor said and without waiting for a reply, flung himself into the air.
He landed on the next building over, tucking and rolling to absorb the shock of the landing. Bouncing to his feet, he made a rapid circuit of the roof. Nothing dangerous lurked in any of the few places there were to hide. He made an all-clear gesture towards Angel. Connor wasn't surprised by the leap that brought Angel and the blonde across the gap. How many times had Angel startled the others with his predatory grace? Even Cordelia forgot what Angel was more often than not. Connor grimaced to himself. He didn't even want Cordelia to share space with Angel in his thoughts.
They continued on that journey for the distance of a block and the chaos below didn't end. Connor wondered if it ever would. Police cars lined some of the streets, their sirens adding to the cacophony; gunshots echoing around the walls of the buildings. Angel winced, peering over the side of the building, seeing what was happening below. "Oh, God," he whispered. "If we'd known."
"Known what?" Connor asked. To drop down into that war below would mean his death but he still itched to try it.
"The balance could be that easily upset," Angel said.
"Huh?" Connor whipped around to face him but the vampire was already moving on, heading for a doorway set into the roof. He paused next to it, his expression changing abruptly as he glanced from the door to Connor and back again. Connor wondered at the too-fleeting glimpse he caught of Angel's eyes, the way they changed from one second to the next as he turned to the door and kicked it open. The metal door boomed as it bounced off the wall behind it.
Connor stared at Angel in shock. The force he'd used in opening the door was far more than necessary. "Whatever's down there knows we're coming," he snapped, sweeping the sword towards the door in emphasis.
His face still twisted oddly, Angel said in a strange, tight voice, "So sue me." Without waiting, he plunged into the building, still cradling the woman close to his chest. Rolling his eyes, Connor took off after them.
They made it to the ground floor with little problem. Though some of the walls and floors were saturated with blood, there were few bodies strewn about. Connor noticed Angel's shoulders sagging and heard him say softly, "What a waste," as he stepped over the body of a man, no older than Connor. He spared the body a glance; after the zombies, he was wary even when something appeared dead and trailed Angel through the stairway. Their shoes rang hollowly on the concrete and Connor found himself hating this world with its harsh land and buildings. At least on Quor-Toth, he could sneak up on things.
They reached the final door and Angel hesitated. "I'll lead," Connor said, brandishing the sword. He checked through the window, seeing nothing unusual on the other side and pushed it open. Creeping out, he ranged out from the door, senses alert, listening, testing the air, searching for anything out of the ordinary. Seeing nothing, he waved and Angel moved through the door in a sweep of darkness, the blonde's hair the only bright thing about him.
"Get back!"
Connor froze, freshening his grip on the sword's hilt. A faint click-click came to his ears and he swallowed. He recognized the sound of a gun cocking now and he knew the damage that they could do.
"You don't want to do that," Angel said, his tone low and soothing. "We're not here to hurt anyone."
"Shut up just shut up!" The man's voice quavered as he stepped out from behind a counter.
Connor caught the scent of fear, the strong tang of urine carrying off the man. How had he missed it before?
The gunman moved closer, the weapon sweeping from Connor to Angel and back again. "What's going on out there?" he asked, his eyes wild, sweat sheening his face. "Fire from the sky, then those…things. They ripped Madeline to pieces, right outside the door! And the sounds," he shook his head, his dark hair glued to his skull, "they ate her while she was still alive." He choked, squeezing his eyes shut. "I couldn't do anything. I was scared, too scared."
"We understand," Angel said.
The man shuddered, bring the gun back up. "Shut up," he snarled. "I told you." His lips skinned back from his teeth, reminding Connor of vampires he'd faced. "It's the end of the world, isn't it?"
"Yeah," Connor said, exchanging a glance with Angel, who shrugged.
"No. No!" Squeezing one of his hands against the side of his face, the man somehow managed to keep them both in his sight. "It's not right."
"We might be able to help you," Angel said cautiously.
"Help me?" The man laughed, a chilling sound. "Help me? Who's got the gun, baby. Who's got the gun?" He waved the weapon at Connor. "Put down the pigsticker, boy. Slow, like. And you. Why don't you put down the girl."
"She's hurt," Angel said quickly.
"Don't care," the man said, a giggle escaping him. "Put her down."
Angel obeyed reluctantly, stepping back when the man told him to though he was clearly unhappy with the idea of leaving the blonde lying in the middle of the floor. Connor found himself sliding the sword across the floor, towards the man who kicked it farther away. "Now, you two get up against the wall over there. Hands up, keep 'em up," he said, the mad grin splitting his face.
They both stood against the wall, hands raised as per orders. The man pranced to the blonde, keeping the gun trained on his prisoners. Cautiously, he squatted next to Buffy, his fingers trailing across her face. A wordless protest escaped Angel and the man jerked around to face them again. "Quiet," he snapped, though the smile remained fixed in place. The man's fingers drifted lower down her body and Angel tensed beside Connor. "You know," the man said, giggling, "maybe it's like the Garden of Eden. I'm Adam and she'll be my Ee --"
The glass behind him crashed in. Angel pushed Connor to the floor, protecting him with his body. Twisting beneath his father's weight, Connor craned his neck, trying to see beyond the shattered glass everywhere. The man screamed, firing his gun at the scarlet and orange demon that held him at eye level. The demon grunted as the bullets struck its sharply planed face, throwing the man across the room. He smacked into a wall and slid down it, his body broken and leaking blood. The demon stretched its clawed hands towards the blonde and Angel exploded off of Connor, leaping into the air and catching the beast around its thick neck. His weight threw it off balance, taking it to the ground. Screeching its rage, it grabbed Angel, hauling him off as it started to its feet. Connor scrambled across the slick flooring, snatching up his sword. He charged into the fray. The demon noticed him and snarled, tossing Angel aside. Connor jumped, tucking his limbs in close, his forward momentum forcing the sword deep into the demon's chest and knocking it back to the floor. It roared as Connor planted his feet, tugging on the weapon. Eyes the color of lemons glared down at him and Connor leaped reflexively, the sword tearing out of the wound.
The demon clutched at its chest with one clawed hand, a forked tongue flicking out. "Devil," Connor panted. "Demon." He raised the sword. From the corner of his eye, he saw Angel crawling towards the blonde. He danced sideways, drawing the demon's attention away from his father. "You'll go down easy, won't you," he taunted.
The creature huffed and snorted, its nostrils flaring. It crawled after him, then with a querulous groan, slithered to the floor. The thump when it hit was heavy enough to make the ground shiver under Connor's feet. He grinned ferally, prowling towards his opponent. He pulled the sword back to cut off its head.
The demon lunged upright, all its teeth showing in its wide mouth. It grabbed him tightly, its claws scraping across his clothing. Gritting his teeth, Connor tried to stab it again. The thing snarled, twisting its body to avoid the strike. One hand caught Connor's sword arm, the other dug into his torso. Its lemon eyes gleaming, it began to pull him apart.
Connor gasped, kicking out at the demon. It tucked him closer to its body, keeping him from doing any damage. Connor struggled against its grip, fear sliding down his spine like a drop of ice water. The pain increased abruptly and he dropped the sword, hearing it clatter on the cool floor beneath him. "Dad," he yelled, then louder, "Dad!" The pain swarmed over him, a fire burning in his shoulder. Connor wailed in pain, his heartbeat a stampede in his skull, black dots swimming in his eyes. There was a wet, tearing sound and he blacked out, barely realizing when he hit the floor.
Somewhere in the distance, the beast screamed again and he could hear Angel's answering roar. He forced his eyes open, blinking away the specks that threatened to blind him.
"Connor? Son?" Angel's voice. "Oh, God, son," he said, his voice choppy.
"Is it dead?" Connor wondered if the words even got out. He couldn't quite focus on Angel's face. The pain in his arm was dulling but he felt cold. The floor. It had to be the stone floor.
"It's dead," Angel said. He sounded muffled. "Connor, are you there?"
His pulse was slowing. Connor forced himself to sit up or he thought he did. He blinked. Angel seemed so far away. "Dad?" he asked.
"I'm here, son," Angel said, taking his hand, holding it tightly. "I'm here." He stroked Connor's face. For once, his fingers didn't seem cool.
"Is she safe?" he asked though the words didn't sound right. Did he actually say them or think them?
"What?" Angel leaned close, his head tilted so his ear was close to Connor's mouth. "What is it, son?"
Connor saw something glowing off to the side. "Cordelia?" he asked. Something thudded in his ears, something important was happening but he couldn't remember what. He blinked up at Angel, wondering why his face somehow became the more familiar one of his father, Holtz. And then….
He jerked, remembering the sound of Lilah Morgan's voice, the sight of her outside the wooden cage she'd brought him back in. The smell of magic coiled in the air, somehow bright and dark at the same time. He remembered trying to break free of his guards and this body, this puny, human body, failing him miserably. His first sight of Dawn, drawn and miserable, neither of them being exactly what Lilah wanted.
She had told them that so many times in the past few weeks. "Two special, supernatural brats. You'd think bringing you back from the grave would do me some good." She'd loomed over them both, trying to cow them. Dawn just glared back after the first or second session with Lilah. Later, she'd told Connor through the wall, her voice tight, "Fear isn't an option." He wasn't exactly sure what she meant but it sounded like the right thing to say.
"You might still be useful," Lilah had said, smiling at them both as they tried to free themselves from their demon captors. "Just not exactly the way I planned. See, I needed the Key or, barring that, the human son of a pair of demons. What did I get? A pair of normal brats with some history." She'd shrugged, prowling in front of them. "But I might be able to use you as bargaining chips, you know? Surely someone in the city of angels still wants you." Her smile became predatory. "And they might be willing to trade."
Connor shivered, tightening his grip around his knees. Lilah now had three hostages and she was right, he knew. Someone would want them. Someone always wanted them. He didn't feel the rough surface of the wall cutting into his back as he began rocking, too lost in his misery.
* * *
