Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All canon characters et all belong to Joss Weadon et al. This is an answer to gidgetgirl's challenges "Rock Baby" and "Beltane Babies". Both challenges are archived at Chocolate Covered Strawberries )
Warning: This contains bits of the lauguage naughty, and will contain bits of the naughty, couple of chapters later.

She couldn't keep her eyes open, but she couldn't close them. Charlie didn't want Connor to see her cry; she didn't let anyone see her cry. When her lashes finally fluttered closed, images flooded her brain—none of them good. Her temples pounded as each scene faded only to be replaced by another. Blinking back tears, she hoped Connor wouldn't think her crazy. "Images, every time I close my eyes. Make it stop."

Connor looked at the girl in front of him. Something was attacking her mentally. Now he wasn't an emotional guy, and he rarely cared about anyone other than himself, but he wanted to help her. There was something with Cordelia, once, but she been possessed. As soon as she was in control, it was back into Angel's arms she went. Sunny was long gone, drugs and there was no one left for him to care about.

Sure he and his father had some kind of truce, but after years of beliefs were still ingrained in him; it still couldn't make Connor love Angel like a son loved a father. But there was something about Charlie Elliot that pulled at his heartstrings. He want to make her happy, make sure nothing hurt her. Perhaps he actually cared for her. He hated that.

"Come on." He offered his hand. "I know someone who can help."

!&!&!&!&!

"I'm not sure Crumpet Cakes, but there's some mystical mojo going on," Lorne said, standing over the couch in his office. Connor stood next to the demon while Charlie lay on the couch. She had all but fainted on the elevator on the way up. There's a destiny about her."

"She's a slayer," Connor said darkly. "Spike already informed me of it."

Lorne blinked. "Er…that's right. She's chock full of slayer goodness. So, does she know?" Connor shook his head at the question. "Do you want me to get Wes? He would that most experience with this type of situation. And there's nothing but the best for this little creampuff."

Connor bristled at the nickname. Charlie was his; he nodded anyway. "I'll stay here.

A few minutes later Charlie was up and alert. Wesley stood there, just having completed the newly updated version of the story of the slayer. "Any questions?"

She blinked, rubbing the back of her neck. "I'm destined to slay evil things of the night, and at one time, I would have been alone in the task. But now there are hundreds, maybe thousands like me." The two men in front of her nodded. Lorne had left, deciding that the slayer deal would be enough of a shock, never mind a green skinned demon standing over her.

Charlie started to giggling, causing Connor and Wesley to share a nervous look. "Well this is certainly something I never thought of as a form of teenage rebellion." She paused, seeing the pair of confused looks. "From your explanation, I almost have a choice in this. And if my father knew, he'd forbid it. Since it is so dangerous. So I'm going to try it out. I could be fun."

"I have to differ," Wesley broke in. "This isn't some type of hobby. It's a serious calling. You were called to fight evil."

Charlie rolled her eyes. "Like I said, it's like the ultimate form of teenage rebellion."

Connor snorted. "Ultimate form of teenage rebellion?" he questioned. "I dropped my father in the ocean in a big metal box. Then I stole his girlfriend. Beat that." He crossed his arms over his chest triumphantly.

"Your dad's the vampire with a soul, right?" Charlie asked. "That's why no one has yet to shove a wooden stake through his heart, right?"

"He's one of them," Connor clarified. "Spike's the other." He nodded to Wesley as the Englishman left. "Now there's someone who could help you with those images." At Charlie's shrug, he called for Lorne. "He's a little surprising at first, but he won't hurt you." Connor warned.

When the friendly demon stepped back into his office, Charlie bit down a shriek. "It's nice to meet you." She offered a hand.

"Oh, we've already met honey cakes. But why don't you sing me a little ditty to get thing rolling." Lorne shook her hand before settling down behind his desk.

Charlie's eyes darted from Lorne to Connor. "Um, okay." She fought off blushing. She hated to sing, always afraid of being compared to her father. "I know I'm wrong, and I don't really care. If I keep on lying, maybe I'll believe it too. So I'm going to leave, without thinking of you. And I'll find my better days," Charlie sang softly, as if she was unsure of the words or the melody, though she had often gone to sleep to it.

"Well," Lorne sat back. "Something's going on. Something big, mean, and grey. It's finding you a very nice power source. Connor," the demon looked at the young man, "see if Wesley has any idea what this is." When Charlie turned to leave, Lorne called her back. "Not all men are like that," he said softly. "Not all are pigs. Give Connor a chance. He's more like his father than he's like to admit, and Angel's an honorable man, awful singer, but an honorable man. Don't be afraid to let someone in. Now go beat some parasite booty."

Connor met her outside, giving no indication if he heard Lorne's advice. "How good is your aim?" He handed her a crossbow.

"I was always good at archery." He handed her a sword. "You're lucky I can fence, passably. Ah, the joys of going to a prep school." Connor nodded and turned.

"Let's go."

!&!&!&!&!

Charlie looked about the empty warehouse. "People complain about not having enough housing. Why don't they just subdivide these empty, and somewhat spooky warehouses? You know it's just screaming horror flick to me. What do you think?" Connor glared at her, obviously wanting her to shot up. "Sorry," Charlie apologized, though not really meaning it. "Stupidity hurts sometimes."

They walked through the maze of boxes and machinery. Every so often Connor would stop, cock his head to the side, and listen. "This way," he would hiss every so often before they would take a sharp turn either right or left.

At one point, Charlie asked, "So how are we supposed to kill it? From that picture you showed me, I don't think asking nicely would work very well." She ignored Connor's dark look "Well, it probably wouldn't."

Less than three minutes later they were in the heart of the maze of boxes. "Careful." Connor's eyes flickered over to Charlie then over to the demon. He was a tall son of a bitch, almost as tall as the Beast or perhaps Skip. His skin had a grayish cast.

"Hey." Charlie stepped out from behind a pile of boxes, ignoring the evil look in Connor's eye. "Hey," she said a little louder, getting the attention of the demon. "Yes you: big, grey, and ugly. Is there anyway you could stop doing the little mini-movies behind my eyelids? The migraines that come with are a bitch." When the demon growled, Charlie looked back at Connor. "I told you it wouldn't work. But hey, I could at least try." She hefted the broadsword. "Can I use this now? It's getting heavy."

Before she knew it, Connor had rushed past her, sword already drawn. She couldn't help but marvel how his hair almost bounced. Briefly Charlie wondered what kind of gel he used, not a hair out of place, even with all the twisting and jumping. "Will you move?" Connor shouted. "You have a sword, use it!"

Charlie blinked before laughing and jumping into the fray. Soon her muscles began to grow tired and just as she felt as if her they were straining to the point where something would snap, something inside her broke. Something, she didn't know what, washed over her. It felt as if she was finally comfortable in her own skin. Switching the sword to her left hand, Charlie hefted the crossbow into her right. Aiming it with a steady hand, she fired. The soft ping sounded as the arrow flew true. "Wicked," Charlie murmured as she dropped the sword before loading the next arrow. "Watch out," she yelled to Connor as she aimed again. This one didn't end up where she wanted, though it caused the demon to stumble.

This time she dropped the crossbow with a thump and snatched the sword from the ground. Maybe it was her imagination, but she felt a breeze brush past her ear, smelling faintly of wildflowers. Running a hand through her hair, Charlie made her way towards Connor and the demon; the sword gripped in her hand. Holding it tighter, she raised the sword in an unpracticed motion. It was very different from the foil she used when she fenced in phys ed. Closing her eyes, Charlie swung the sword a wildly, eventually hitting something. Her eyes flickered open, where she found the sword embedded halfway into the neck of the demon.

"Finish your work," Connor said quietly. At her questioning look, he made a gesture to the sword. "All the way through."

Once she did as he requested, Charlie started to giggle. "I did it." She started to dance around. "I did it, I did it. I killed the bag guy," she sang.

Connor grabbed her arm, pulling her close. "Shut up," he hissed. Then he kissed her.

!&!&!&!&!

Karlei giggled like a young girl as she watched the chosen. Her chosen. "Mine, mine, mine," she sighed, sinking down on the ground. The goddess loved it when her chosen did things themselves; it made life so much easier.

"You shouldn't infer with the mortals life." Taveh stood behind her, grave. "They are none of our concern, not our playthings."

Karlei stood, looking more of like a wise midwife rather than a young maiden. She sniffed. "We may have once been forgotten, but that does not mean we our powerless. I'll have my chosen." The goddess turned, picking up a brown furred, grey-eyed, she-rabbit, the goddess walked off.

!&!&!&!&!

Three weeks later, the pair were sitting on a bed in a hotel room somewhere in Texas. It was hot and rainy outside, completely miserable. A movie was playing, though neither was really watching. Her mind wandered; Charlie decided that she liked Connor kisses. She liked them very much. There were very few things that she liked better. Chocolate for one, and shoes another. But after them, Connor kisses were number one. Did that make her materialistic? Probably. Charlie sighed, rolling over onto her stomach, she looked at Connor. "Have you ever though about role models?"

He grunted, not really answering. She kicked him lightly. "No," he said after a moment.

"Well I have." Connor rolled his eyes. Charlie snorted. "They always ask what's it like to have Denison as your role models." She began to giggle, snorting a couple of times. "Those buffoons, Denison," she clarified, "aren't role models. Dean has a new addiction every week. Be it girls, alcohol, or drugs." She rolled over and turned off the television.

"I was watching that," Connor remarked.

"No you weren't. You were listening to me. You know I saw him snort once, Dean. It was between A Trickster's Lie and Driving at 1 am, I was ten. My father threw him out on his ass, just coming off a high." She rolled over, now on her back. "Will likes to drink, you know, sometimes he dabbles in drugs, but loves his ladies. I learned the facts of life through him, well before the age of ten. I like to pin my dirty mind on him, though he isn't the only one to blame." Smirking, she kicked off her shoes.

Connor snorted. Charlie kicked him again, hard.

"No," she mused, "Marcus definitely played a part in the whole perverted mind. I'm fluently bilingual when swearing is concerned thanks to him. He's my godfather."

"What about your father?" Connor asked, genuinely interested.

"No angel," Charlie snorted at the thought. "I've lost count of the bimbos he brought home, or the times I've found him passed out drunk in his room. I'm acutely aware of the stench of pot and the effect it has on a person." She sighed as she closed her eyes, lost in a memory. "Age thirteen, he left a joint and a lighter out while he went to a studio. Being the age I was; I lit it, ended up losing control." She looked up and over at Connor.

He didn't say anything. Connor knew the negative effects of drugs; Sunny was a perfect example.

"You know, he found me," Charlie continued. "I was all giggly at home. Marcus said that was the only time he though my father was going to him me. I was grounded for a month, credit cards taken away for six." She sniggered, "I was, am, such a spoiled little bitch." She sat back. "Still can't stand the smell of pot. I don't think my dad does it much any more. He's aware of the influence he as over me, all two months of the year."

Laughter bubbled out of her. So maybe life wasn't completely perfect concerning Charlie Rose.