Disclaimer: Don't own the show, but I do own Raven and her past.

A/N: Well, here's the first chapter of my new fic! Ok, first off this fic is set after Connor gets discovered about burying Angel alive and gets kicked out, but before Cordy comes back. You'll see why later.

And also, this chapter is basically how Raven makes herself known to Connor and how she thinks. Not a whole lot of action but we have to walk before we can run. Also, unlike my other fics, the view point of this story is going to shift from Raven to normal, hope this doesn't confuse anyone, I'll try to make the switched noticeable.

And, I probably should have put these in the prologue, but here are the warnings: Angst, insanity, emotional instability, mentions of and/or attempted suicide, blood, violence, and lastly, sex. Can't handle, don't read. I won't mind.

And for those of you that I haven't scared of yet, shout-outs:

Ok then…….on we go.

Eye of the Raven

Chapter One

First Impressions Are Everything

Blood………..

The smell of it filled the air, thick, suffocating, making it hard to even breathe without the scent filling your lungs. Some may have retched, hating it, even throwing up, but I only smiled, staring down at the scene with a feel of detachment.

Demons - the same demons I had summoned, tricked, and ultimately, in the end, lead to death - were attacking as I had predicted they would. Blood sprayed like a fountain, covering them, the walls of the dark alley, the ground and new victims splattered with their own and the blood of the ones that had died before them.

For a moment I almost felt pity as I sensed their spirits rising into the air around me. But whatever pity I had in me was quickly smothered by jealousy. They were dead, freed, liberated, and I was still here. My heart still beating, lungs still breathing, blood still flowing…….and the visions still coming. Why should I pity the dead?

I closed my eyes for a moment, feeling the waves of panic of the people being torn apart and almost doubling over. This was the only part of the night I loathed……… feeling it all as if it were happening to myself. And still, no pity came, only jealousy. I shook my head for a moment, as if to try and clear the feelings before looking back down at the streets below.

LA, the City of Angels. No wonder Angel came to live here. Probably made him feel important, like he was protecting his city, fulfilling his calling, inching closer and closer to redemption. I had to suppress a snort at that one. Why was that everyone was so damn worried about redemption, especially a creature that would live forever?

Hell, I had heard the even the infamous William the Bloody had gone and fetched himself a soul for some Slayer that didn't even really love him. I shook my head at the thought. To me, having a soul was one of the greatest curses of being alive. Why anyone would go through all these tests to get one was beyond me.

At least Angel had the right idea - having a soul was a curse. You felt remorse, sadness, depression, everything you did you questioned because of the soul within you. Even now…….as the people below me died, my soul was reprimanding me for my selfish actions.

My eyes flickered over the surrounding area, momentary panic coming over me. He should be here by now, someone at least, should be here by now. My eyes swiveled around wildly looking for anyone who looked like they could stop it. The feelings of panic were starting to effect me as well and I tried to suppress them.

Then out of nowhere I saw one of the demons fall, a wooden arrow embedded inside it's chest. I felt a small flicker of hope as I looked for the source, the attacker, and my eyes landed on him. The same boy of three nights ago, wearing a red sweater and bearing a crossbow which he seemed to know to use quite well.

I smiled coldly and inhaled the air, sorting out the different scents. Not to my surprise, the most prominent was blood, followed by demon, human and…….. I smirked as I caught his scent. It reflected his strange parentage - smelling nearly human, but with a touch of demon that should have been human. Indeed, his scent reflected what I would find out about him later - he didn't know what he was, much less how to be it.

I smiled a little and smelt the air, discerning his scent from the hundreds of others and following it. I tried to follow it from atop roofs, but it was so faint on the wind that I was forced to walk. I landed softly, too softly for anything human and continued tracking him.

I came upon a museum and cocked my head to the side in confusion. He was living in there I knew that, but I figured someone of half-demon stature would be in something better then this…….. but then I remembered that I was no-where at all. Sleeping under bridges, in allies, anywhere where I thought I might be safe and occasionally in the bed of someone who had left town.

But in the process of using their home, I would purge it of anything I thought useful. Money, jewelry, cigarettes, silver anything that would give me enough money to buy a few weapons, a meal and maybe a room for the night and a pack of cigarettes - but I hated it.

Me, Raven Boardadash, once the heiress of a wealthy family in the Middle Ages, was reduced to stealing beds and whatever else I could find to keep me alive. At the thought, I don't think I could've hated my Father more. Shaking the thoughts out of my head I walked into the apartment building. The door to the museum was locked but with a moment of intense focus, the lock slowly slid over, leaving me feeling slightly more tired then I did before.

I walked in, took in the images of stuffed animals and other things before following his scent until I came to a door that was undoubtedly his. It seemed to lead to an attic or something. Again, the door was locked. I sighed and again used my mind to open the lock. I stepped into the room and the first thing that came to my mind was arsenal.

The walls were lined with swords, arrows, stakes, daggers……. The list could go on for a long time to come. And to the left what appeared to be a necklace of teeth and bits of skin and bones was hung on the wall. And everywhere, his scent lingered.

I felt as if I had entered the room of the past as I looked at what clearly showed his past in Quar-toth. What confused me about the necklace though was that I thought the female spirit told me that it had gotten destroyed…….. I guess old habits died hard.

I turned around a few times to get a god view of everything before I remembered the task at hand. But it was hard to concentrate over the disturbing feeling of darkness that coated the apartment. Sadness and……. lust? Disappointment…… loss. I shook my head in an attempt to clear away the feelings.

With a hand that I hadn't realized was shaking I reached out and took one of the swords that were hanging in order of length of it's hanger. Predictably, I got a flash. Nothing huge, just a small flash of a dark-haired man I realized was his father, Angel. Evidently, he had something to do with this sword, something that Connor remembered.

I braced myself as I reached out for another sword, this time getting a flash of a green demon in a suit holding it out as if a gift. I sighed. This is how it was whenever I touched something that was owned by a mystic being, or a human inclined to power. I saw whatever attached them to it, the history, and the memory they had left upon it.

Evidently, Connor had a few memories. I hung the swords back up, deliberately out of place, leaving my mark. I wanted to first let him now that I was alive, existed, before I revealed myself. I picked up a few arrows - blissfully, he didn't seem to care about them - and placed them neatly on his bed.

I walked back to the wall and picked up a dagger. I got no image this time, just a name - Holtz. I smiled bitterly to myself, he appeared to still care about the man had taken him into a hell dimension and raised him. I wondered for a moment if he still thought of him as 'father'.

I examined the dagger closely before laying it on the bed for later. Instead, I busied myself with raiding his drawer, looking for anything that could buy me some food - I hadn't eaten since the previous night. I threw open the last drawer and smirked at seeing a small wad of bills. I pulled them out and counted sixty dollars.

The part of me - the thief - told me to take it all and find a room for the night, but humanity was determined to have it's say. I compromised by taking a twenty and leaving the rest. Stuffing it into my pocket I went back to the knife and made a small cut on my palm, letting the blood fall onto a piece of paper.

The cut itself didn't hurt, but I still let out a little hiss at the heat of the dagger. After a few drops I pulled my hand back, wiping the extra blood on my pants. I was about to put the dagger back when I heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and his scent hit me. I don't know why I hadn't smelt it earlier.

A small wave of panic coming over me I hastily shoved the dagger into my pant pocket and ran for the window. In my panic, my powers ran a little wild and the window flew open of it's own accord. At the moment, and possibly for the first time, I wanted to kiss my mother for bestowing her powers on me.

I ran to the window and jumped out of it, not bothering to look back - I knew he was about three steps from reaching the door. Time seemed to stand still for me for a moment - the barely-there moment between hovering and falling when gravity realizes that you're there. In my panic, I hadn't had time to make a jump that would ensure I would land in my usual three-point and instead I landed hard on the ground before I rolled and landed on my back.

I groaned in pain before the smell of blood hit me - my own blood. I looked down and noticed the point of the dagger I stuffed in my pocket imbedded in my skin. I winced and got up, gingerly removing the blade and pressing my hand against the blood before realizing that their wasn't as much as I would have thought.

I tested my weight on my leg and saw that it would hold, for awhile at least. I cursed as I realized the money that I had intended for food only was also going to have towards bandaging. Berating myself for my own stupidity I headed towards a busy side of town in pursuit of food and now, bandaging.

Normal

He grunted as the last demon threw a surprisingly well-placed kick and his back hit the hard wall. However, the thing didn't have time to revel in it's kicking skill before the wooden arrow pierced it's chest, grayish blood spurting from the wound as it fell over, the arrow showing through it's back.

He sighed, wiping his forehead before putting away his weapon. The wailing of sirens filled the air and he quickly jumped onto a rooftop, hopped a few, and landed in another alley. Tired and dirty, he headed for what some might have called 'home.'

But he didn't have a home, not anymore. The home he had known had been a hell dimension in which he had slain demons with the only man he had considered a father - Holtz. The 'home' at the Hotel had been merely a place in which he had stayed until they had turned their backs on him. Not that he could blame them, however he felt that they could have done without letting Fred go taser happy.

Shaking away the memory of hundreds of volts of electricity going through his body he headed for the museum in which he stayed at the moment. He couldn't seem to call it home, not while Quar-toth still burned in his memory. As awful and hellish as it had been, he had been raised there and he carried a certain fondness for it - like the fondness a child will always carry for the first house they had been in.

Quar-toth held memories for him. The first time he had killed a demon, his first weapon, his first words, the first time he had been called 'The Destroyer'……. everything up until he was sixteen. And try as he might, those memories refused to fall into the hatred that he harbored for the place itself.

He turned a corner and saw the museum. Moving with the swiftness born of fighting to stay alive he went to the backdoor, fishing his key out of his pocket, wiped the demon blood off it and inserted it into the lock. The first thing that hit him was the faint smell of blood. Cocking his head to one side in curiosity he followed the scent.

He followed the it until he realized that it was coming from his 'apartment' and sped up. He reached his apartment door and threw it open, half expecting to see something bleeding on the ground, taking it's last breaths, but instead he saw nothing. Still, the smell was strong. A mildly puzzled look on his face he began looking around, but finding nothing, started to relax a little.

However, that didn't last long when he sensed rather then realized that something was off. Looking around he found out what it was fairly quickly. Two of his swords had been tampered with and arrows were lain neatly on his bed in what appeared to be some kind of Celtic shape. And on top of that, his window was wide open, the cool night breeze finding it's way into his 'bedroom.' Instantly on guard he drew out a small dagger as his eyes darted around, searching for some sign of the intruder.

His eyes landed on a piece of paper that he hadn't seen before and he picked it up, half expecting to be a ransom note of some kind. Instead, it contained droplets of blood. So that's where the scent was coming from. He brought the paper up to his face, taking a curious sniff and getting a better smell of the blood.

The first thing that hit him was the strong smell of magick and the vague smell of demon woven in amongst it. He could tell that the intruder was female, the smell of the blood held a obscurely feminine touch.

He sniffed the air, but the only sign that someone was in the apartment was the bloodied paper. He couldn't hear any heartbeats or anyone breathing. Frustrated, he crumpled the paper and threw it at the wall. Whoever it was, she's gone now, but for some reason that didn't comfort him. The fact that someone would rearrange his things and leave blood on a piece of paper somewhat disturbed him. He couldn't help the feeling that it was some kind of warning.

After all, hadn't the blood felt faintly demonic? He shook his head and walked into the bathroom, turning on the shower and stripping down out of his filthy clothes and throwing them in the corner to clean later. He stepped under the shower head and let the hot water wash over him, instantly reveling in the calming effect of showers.

Tomorrow, he decided, tomorrow I'll track down whoever it was and find out what the hell they're up to.

A/N:

Not the longest chapter in history, but it seemed like a good place to stop. And also, I re-wrote this chapter and I must say I'm much more satisfied with this version. It takes a few chapters before I can really get into it and starting writing well, so please bear with me. Anyways, please leave a review and tell me what you think!