Some are lean and some with grace, and some without;

All tell the story that repeats

Of a child who had been left alone at birth

Left to fend and taught to fight

Suzanne Vega - Blood Sings

CHAPTER FOUR

"Having a good time?" Cerridwen draped her arms around Connor's shoulders, stretching out along his back. She nearly squashed him onto the small table they had made theirs inside the Grasshoppers Pub.

He looked at her, bemused. He loved her green eyes and her raven hair. Cerridwen was beautiful but he had come to think of her as a sister. Still, the soft giving feel of her breasts against his back was more than a little pleasant. "Yeah, I can't believe Rhiannon made me dance with her."

"She warned you she would. You're getting slow dancing down pretty good." She smiled encouragingly as she let go of him and sat down.

Connor returned the smile. "Thanks to you."

"You do like practicing." Cerridwen tapped his nose and Connor could feel a blush rising in his cheeks. "You're cute when you're all shy."

Connor stared at his empty water glass, his face getting hotter. "I'm not shy."

"That's why you're red all the way to here." She ticked a finger against his ear. "Are you going to dance with me?'

He nodded. "If they play another slow song."

"Girls like fast dancing, Connor. You're not going to see much action sitting along the wall." Cerridwen slapped a hand on his thigh; that wasn't unpleasant either. "I know Bron and Dylan are trying to teach you how to dance."

"And I'm no good," he said, decisively.

"Connor, you can remember intricate fight moves, you should be able to find a rhythm and dance at least as good as..." Cerridwen swept a hand out to indicate the small dance area, where the young patrons mostly bopped and swayed in place. "any of these losers."

He pouted. "Well, I can't."

"Says the man who's not shy." Cerridwen kissed his cheek and bounced off.

Connor touched the flesh her lips had pressed against. Dylan assured him that Cerridwen had no interest in him sexually, that she was merely a friendly girl. He half thought his friend was lying to him because he didn't want his sister involved with the son of two vampires and a known murderer. He didn't blame Dylan.

"My sister's flustered you again."

Connor looked over his shoulder. Dylan stood behind him with a pint glass in hand. Connor rolled his eyes. "She seems to enjoy it."

"She's female, isn't she?"

"And I'm sure she'd love to hear you bashing her sex." Connor smirked up at Dylan. "So would Mad Dog."

"Which is why you won't be telling Aunt Saeth anything." Dylan shook a fist at Connor who snorted. "Want me to sneak you a beer?"

Connor shook his head. "I know I told Cerridwen I'd dance with her again but I'm probably going to head home soon."

Dylan's pale brow winkled. "Are you sure? The night's young."

"I'm tired. I just can't sleep but I don't want to take more medication." Connor glanced around. He could swear someone was staring at him but the pub was too crowded for him to tell.

Dylan clamped a hand on Connor's bony shoulder. "You might want to ask Savage if you can try something herbal."

Connor made a face. "I'm trying to take nothing. I don't like how the stuff makes me feel. I wish I could just get rid of the dreams," he said, feeling guilty for saying it. His nightmares were part of his punishment and he deserved every terrifying moment of it.

"I have something for dreams," Dylan said.

Connor looked at him petulantly. "Alcohol or magic?"

Understanding flickered in Dylan's blue eyes. "I know you approve of the former more than the latter but I was talking about a charm."

Connor bobbed his head. "I'll try anything."

Dylan clamped a hand on Connor's back. "I'll get Cerridwen to work one up for you." "Thanks." Connor got up, looking around, still feeling eyes on him. He couldn't find who it was, dismissing it as imagination. "I'm gonna go."

"Okay."

Connor watched Dylan fade back into the crowd. He headed for the door then paused for a moment outside the pub, just enjoying the lack of people. The summer night was relatively cooler. He wanted to take the long way home. He knew it was dangerous at night but he missed the action. The creepiest thing about rural Wales was that it was too quiet. No demons, no vampires, no nothing. He didn't know how to handle the silence. He needed action. He could feel the boredom eating at him and resolved to bring it up to Savage. Maybe it was part of his illness that he couldn't be content and peaceful. It worried him.

He hadn't gone a block when he heard someone calling his name.

"Connor, wait."

The voice was too husky to be Cerridwen who had a melodious tone but the speaker was definitely a woman. He looked back over his shoulder. What he saw caused him to spin around so fast he nearly fell on his butt.

"It is you. I thought I'd gone crazy." Justine raced up the sidewalk and threw her arms around him. "What are you doing in Wales?"

"Justine?" Connor was too shocked to say more. He had always wondered what had happened to her even though he never expected he'd see her again. He suspected she had fled the moment Wesley let her go.

"Did you come here after killing him?" She let him go, taking a step back.

Connor looked around nervously to see if anyone could overhear them. The street was dark and deserted, making Connor feel even more uneasy. "He's not dead, Justine."

Her expression screamed her disappointment. "Why not?"

He waved her off. He didn't want to think about killing Angel. He had begun to see his father as someone he wanted in his life. Thoughts of killing in general just brought back nightmares about Cordy and the others. "I can't talk about this, Justine."

"You promised Daniel." Her words, the harshness of her eyes, felt like a knife in his heart.

Connor shrunk back. "It's too complicated. I can't...leave me alone, Justine. Just go...be happy, okay? Forget about Angel and me and Father."

"Is that what you're doing here? Forgetting?" She shot him an accusatory look. She stabbed a finger against his chest.

"I'll never forget," he whispered, angling back towards the pub. He needed his friends. He could feel himself coming unglued just thinking about all Justine represented. "I have to go. Don't follow me."

"This isn't over, Connor."

Connor was shocked when she didn't trail after him. He didn't expect her to give up so easily but maybe she hadn't actually given up. She was smart enough to know that pursuing him into a crowded pub would only cause a scene. She might have already been in Grasshoppers. Maybe she was the one he had felt staring at him. If so, then she knew he wasn't exactly alone.

Connor fled back into the dimly lit pub and lost himself in the crowd. He wormed his way back to his friends' table. Cerridwen was nowhere to be seen but Dylan and Bron were there with a row of shot glasses lined up along with a pint of Guinness each.

"Change your mind, Connor?" Dylan looked pleased.

Connor looked back at the door but Justine didn't appear through it. "Yeah. Can I have a drink?"

"Sit. I'll go snag you one," Bron said, popping up.

"We were about to do shots of Irish whiskey. Want some?" Dylan pushed him a glass filled with amber liquid.

"Okay." Connor thought about Savage's warnings not to mix alcohol and his medication. He knew he could get away with one beer which Bron quickly brought back. Something about seeing Justine had brought back too many dark memories. Thoughts of having to lop off Father's head to keep him from rising, the look in Angel's eyes as he and Justine welded the vampire into his coffin, the pain in his side as Angel threw him into the wall and told him Justine had lied to him, that she was the one who killed Holtz. What if that were true? One more betrayal to add to the heap. He needed the drink. Movies, tv and his friends had told him that alcohol could help make you feel better.

"You gonna do shots, too, Connor?" Bron grinned at him.

He lifted the shotglass, the smell of the liquid burning his nostrils. He thought maybe he shouldn't then decided if it was good enough for his friends, it was good enough for him. "Why not?"

"Cause it's stupid," Cerridwen said, pushing through the crowd. All three men gave her a look, wondering where she had been.

"Leave him alone, Cerridwen. A man's gotta do what he's gotta do," Bron said, lightly shoving his adoptive sister. "Fine." Cerridwen shoved him back then jostled Connor for good measure. "Be an edjit then."

Connor looked into her angry green eyes then remembered the hurt he had seen in Justine's. He slammed the whiskey back, thoroughly unprepared for the burn. He gagged and choked as the whiskey ripped the breath from him. He could hear Dylan and Bron laughing at him but it sounded like they were far away. The roar of blood in his ears drowned them out.

"Told you." A smug look settled on Cerridwen's face. "You're Irish, Connor. You should be able to handle this stuff," Dylan said smoothly putting down a shot.

Connor coughed, reaching for another shot. "I'm fine." The second shot didn't go down any easier. Cerridwen slapped him on the back of the head as he put down a third then called him an edjit again before stalking off. The Guinness felt cold and soothing on his raw throat when he finally got to it. The room spun and he thought maybe Bron had gotten him a refill on his pint at some point. Savage's warning came back to haunt him. What if he had poisoned himself? No, he had taken his pills at dawn. It was nearly midnight now. He should be fine. And so what if he wasn't. Dying was too good for him after what he had done.

"I feel dangerous," he said, or intended to. His tongue seemed to be in business for himself.

"Drunk, you mean," Cerridwen sniffed, having returned to the table to hover over him protectively. He wasn't sure what she thought her brothers might do to him. He vacillated between appreciating her concern and wanting to tell her to just leave him alone.

"I know just the thing for that," Dylan said, swaying a bit in his seat. "The dangerous bit, I mean. You're handling the drunk stuff well on your own."

"What?" Connor tried blinking the two Dylans into one but couldn't quite get him to merge.

"Coming home and going to bed." Cerridwen tried to tug Connor up but he slipped her grip like he was liquid.

"Stop being a mother hen," Dylan chided. "Magic, Connor."

Connor scowled, slinging back his hair. "I don't like magic."

"I know but it's time you got a little of Rhys and Lowri's special artwork," Dylan said, polishing off his beer.

Cerridwen pursed her lips. "Maybe you aren't as pissed as I thought, Dylan. Protective magic is good for a man who wants to be dangerous, Connor." She stroked his arm.

He leaned his head against her shoulder since it was beginning to feel too heavy to hold up. "You think, Cerridwen?" "Sure. We all have some of that special artwork," she said, slipping an arm around him to support him.

"This thing has saved me already," Bron said, tapping his biceps where a tattoo of the y Ddraig Goch, Cadwaller's red dragon stood protective just by the very look of him.

"Okay, if you guys think so," Connor said, not really sure why he was giving in. He barely knew what he was agreeing to. All he knew was he felt very happy at this point and if his friends thought it was good for him then it had to be. "When do we do this?"

"Let me make a call."

One short cab ride later, Connor found himself swaying on the doorstep of Dylan's friends, Rhys and Lowri Coffin. They were the same age as Dylan and Connor had met them a few times before. The twins looked amazingly alike, thin almost wraithlike and Connor had been told he looked enough like them to be kin. He wasn't sure that was a compliment. Rhys was as feminine- looking as his sister. Both of them had propositioned him more than once. They made him nervous but tonight he was too drunk to care.

"I was angry when you woke us up, Dylan sweetie," Rhys said, shaking a finger at the blond young Watcher-in-Training. "But when you said Connor was finally ready for ink we were wide awake."

"I already pulled out some transfers from you to choose from, Connor," Lowri said, running a hand along his arm. "Unless you have an idea what you want done."

Connor shook his head. "This is their idea."

"You liked this one the last time you were here," Rhys shoved a picture under Connor's nose. He remembered it. Lowri had been so pleased that the design had captured his imagination.

"I liked that a lot." He more than liked it. He had thought it was beautiful when she had first shown it to him. Remembrance of that shone through the alcoholic fog.

"Any idea where you want it?" Lowri asked, leading him back into the shop her parents and she and her twin worked out of.

Connor thought for a moment then said, "My right shoulder blade."

"Excellent choice, let's get this shirt off of you," Rhys said, tugging at Connor's clothing.

Connor took a step back nervously, remembering the time Rhys had tried to kiss him. He hadn't liked that. Still, he stripped off his shirt. He laid stomach down on what looked like an exam table, following Lowri's hand gesture, and let her inspect his back.

"You have such fine, pale skin. This will look beautiful," Lowri assured him. "What sort of spell did you have in mind, Dylan?"

"Protection," Dylan said and Connor looked at him, searching for answers. He didn't like magic and being reminded of what he was about to submit to set off alarms in his brain. A reassuring look from Dylan silenced them.

Rhys nodded. "Given who he hangs out with, maybe something to alert him to demon activity ought to be added."

Connor only had a vague idea what this magic was or what it meant but he didn't understand the worried look on Dylan's face when Rhys mentioned demons. Dylan said something to the young artist in Welsh. Lowri picked up scissors and cut off a small lock of his hair.

"We need this for the spell," she said, sprinkling the hair on a bed of herbs lining a silver tray.

"What do I need to do?" Connor asked as Lowri arranged the ink containers on the tray.

"Just lie there," Bron said as Lowri and Rhys started chanting over the inks they had set out.

"And try not to cry like a baby," Dylan said as Cerridwen sponged off his shoulder with alcohol. "Because we will laugh."

Connor lifted his head, panic in his blue eyes. "Cry?"

"You'll see." Dylan grinned.

Lowri put the picture Connor had liked so much previously down on his skin, leaving the transfer behind on his flesh. She and Rhys pulled on latex gloves and set to work. Connor knew immediately what Dylan had meant the instant the ink worked like liquid fire into his body.

"Try not to fidget, Connor. We're going to be here for hours," Lowri said and Connor wanted to change his mind. But he knew it was too late so he gave into the drag of the alcohol and slept through a good portion of the process.