Disclaimer: You know, this never changes, no matter what I write for. I don't own it, just my character and her past.

A/N: OMG I HAVEN'T UPDATED IN YEARS!!!!!! i stopped writing this a long time ago becasue i got distraced, but i'm back writing it again, so enjoy! Ok, the beginning of this chapter is going to be a little strange because it's a recap, but in Raven's POV……. You'll see what I mean. And as usual, not much to say except that I hope this chapter turns out and shout-outs to you people:

Ok then……..here we go again!

Eye of the Raven

Chapter Three

The Dance of Victory and Defeat

Raven

I stirred and immediately snuggled into something soft that wasn't ground for once and inhaled the smell, freezing for a moment then instantly bolting awake as I realized that it was covered in Connor's scent. I looked around, everything seemed slightly familiar. My eyes finally landed on Connor himself and I froze, unable to move as everything came back to me.

He smirked before standing up and tossing my - well, his - dagger into the air before catching it and looking back at me.

"I'm guessing you've been here before." He said conversationally, but the welcoming didn't reach his eyes as he held up the dagger I had taken. "I have a few questions…… and if you plan on living, I suggest you answer them." I said nothing, but looked around, realizing that I was cornered.

I tried to hold in my panic…….. this wasn't how things were supposed to be! I wasn't supposed to get a fucking vision in the middle of the battle - I was supposed to be dead! Kissed by metal and sent on the way to eternal release to rejoin my mother. But of course, I could never have things my way. Someone up there in a higher plane hated me, I was sure of it.

I instinctively reached down into my pocket looking for my dagger and found it was empty.

"Looking for something, witch?" He said in a slightly teasing manner, holding up my dagger. "Doesn't feel right being robbed, does it?"

"I have a name." I bit out, he looked at me as if weighing his options. "It's Raven." He just shrugged, making no comment but accepting it. While he was looking in the other direction I shoved my hand down my top, looking for my secret weapon.

"You won't find it." He said simply, holding up the switchblade and pinning me with his ice blue eyes. "I took it when you were unconscious."

"You went down my top?" I asked, slightly offended at having been molested in my sleep, but at the same time excited in a strange way. I think I'm about two steps from or over insane. He merely shrugged again.

"I couldn't allow you to have weapons."

"I hope you got a good feel." I muttered, determined not to let him see that in a strange way, it was comforting but infuriating. If he could touch me, if his hands could create a feeling of heat on my pale skin, then I was alive. But the sheer fact that I could be used for no more then pleasure made me feel defiled, cheap.

"Believe me, I wouldn't feel a witch if you paid me." He muttered and I could instantly tell that he hated my kind. I didn't care really - I hated my own kind and my own power, wishing nothing but death upon myself. However, I didn't have to ponder this as the blade of my own knife was pressed against my throat. My heart raced with excitement - there was hope after all.

"How do you know about Cordy?" He demanded, blue eyes blazing in a way that told me he cared for whoever he was talking about. From what I was feeling, the feelings inside him for this women were strong, and yet, the love he felt seemed tinged with something deeper, a desire and lust for revenge.

"Cordy?" Who the hell was Cordy?

"Cordeila." He corrected. "You whispered her name before you passed out - and this better not be a trick."

"The blond." I whispered more to myself then to the boy were was staring at me in a slightly manic way, drinking in every word. "The one who disappeared." He pressed the knife harder against my flesh, the cool blade teasing me and yet causing no fear. Like raindrops on a window pane, touching something that I was, but I could never touch it myself.

I had had enough of his feeble attempts at intimidation - I decided to fire both guns. "Do it, Steven. Go ahead, destroy one more force of evil. Claim your name, you're place." I smirked at the reaction of my words. His eyes had widened at his former name and the slurs on his title of the 'Destroyer,' blazing with either sadness or anger, I couldn't tell. But I had to ask myself one thing - if he was known as the 'Destroyer', why wasn't he killing me? The thought was infuriating and I wondered why every time I tried to get myself killed they either died or were too damn weak to do it.

"You think you're tricks and ancient tongues will work on me?" He demanded and I settled on anger. I didn't know if I was supposed to answer so I kept my mouth safely glued shut. "Do you?" His fist came out before I had even seen it and hit me across the head, throwing it back so that it hit the wall. I groaned in something similar to pain and blinked a few times momentarily disoriented. I opened them again and fixed my eyes into a glare, trying not to let the feelings of elation and pride show through. Maybe he had it in him after all - he wasn't afraid to hurt me if it got what he wanted.

Most people would have called it selfish, but for some reason, it caused a deep admiration in me. He wasn't afraid to hurt me. He burned with the fires of newfound pity and humanity in his veins, burned with the caring and love in this world, and yet, he would strike me and not think twice. I prayed that the fire never burned his strength away and left him an emotionally weak train-wreck. I prayed he never lost his ability to strike me if I called for it.

And still, the temptation to test him was too strong to resist. If I was going to be trapped in this corner, I should at least throw out some tests of my own, to gauge his reactions as he was gauging mine. Indeed, it was a dance that were both dancing, trying to predict each others footsteps and create a pattern all our own. My head was still slightly sore and it only made me want to play harder.

I wanted to see him angry, wanted to see that fire first hand. I was like Athena's suitors breaking into the house of the warrior, hoping that he would get angry enough to kill him and find his courage. I wanted him to find his strength to kill me. I wasn't worried about courage, I knew he had it. All he had to do was let it go.

"Come down to brutalizing women now, Noble Steven?" I taunted and like I said earlier, I couldn't help it. Despite my desire to poke and prod him, there was an underlying menace in these words that I didn't know was there until I uttered them myself. If there was one thing I hated it was being cornered and weak and he was making me feel both. Smitten as I was with him, I was quickly beginning to hate him as well as being fascinated. But this was good. That meant that not all my anger and malice had to be feigned. I could play the game better if I was tainted with hate as he was sure to be.

"You're no women." He bit out. "You're a monster filled with tricks and lies and I won't be part of it!" I don't why those words hurt. I had been called many things over the years ranging from wench to demon but 'monster' had never been among them. But it wasn't the word itself that surprised me - it was the fact that it even hurt me. I had thought that I had long ago lost the ability to hurt or feel pain. Even to laugh or smile, or to hate…… and yet, within mere minutes, he was awakening my long dead emotions. I both hated and commended him for it.

He was truly unique, but I didn't know if it was this uniqueness that would be my emotional downfall. In all honesty, he was beginning to frighten me as the emotions churning in me did. I wanted to puke my feelings all over him and let him feel what being re-awoken like this felt like.

"How would you know?" I retorted in a petty defense that even I knew was pathetic. "You don't know me! You can't even get my name right!" The words were feeble, hollow, and sounded like something a child on a playground would say. Come on, Raven, you can do better then this.

"I know what you are." He hissed as he wrist flicked, landing the blade at my throat again. "And I won't kill you until you tell me what I want to know. I'm not going to give you want you want." I wondered of the word 'shock' was written on my face. He knew I wanted to die - he knew.

I looked up to see him smirking slightly and I guess he could see my shock although I tried to make my face unreadable. He knew I wanted to die………the thought disturbed me a little, that he would know something so intimate so quickly. Maybe it was just my deep-seated paranoia but it made me wonder what else he could know about me. Maybe I was right about his eyes - they penetrated you, went inside you and read everything in your mind. I had to look away from him and I was sure he assumed that he had won round one by a long-shot. He would have been right.

With a few simple words, my carefully constructed game plan feel apartment at the seams. I had to make a new one and fast before he could throw anything else at me. I made a vow to myself to be unshakable. Expect the unexpected and I'd be fine…….. so why did I suddenly feel like a bug under a microscope, still alive and wriggling to get free while a pin was stuck through me to hold me still? It was unnerving and made my head swim, unable to elaborate on my game plan until he would look away.

He obviously hated magick, but I was sure that he had some himself to do this to me. How many times had I played these games and won hands down? And already, my best cards were used up after not even a day. Somehow, I felt inadequate. I decided to play the brutal honesty card.

"What is it you want to know, Your Highness?" I replied, still feeling the cold metal. Funny, how strange I was. Most people trembled in fear in the light of weapons, and here I was shaking because he had just turned to tables and I wanted nothing more then for it to go into my throat.

"What do you know about Cordy?" Of course - typical male wanting to know about the woman. Wait, no. He wasn't typical, wasn't even close. I was sure that if he was typical, he would bleeding on the ground, dead and robbed by now. I couldn't even think straight anymore and I realized I had met my match. Still, brutal honesty prevailed - it was all I had for now.

"That she's in a higher plane." I answered, spilling out the knowledge my vision had bestowed upon me, the feelings of hers that had entered me. "And she's bored." I added as an afterthought. The words were kind of funny. She was a higher being then mere mortals, blessed with going to a higher plane and escaping these creatures and still, she was bored and missing her friends. The fire of her humanity burned hot in her and I shrugged away from it like a disease. My humanity was long gone…….. good riddance.

"What else?" He demanded. His voice was harsh but I couldn't help but notice the hopeful glint in his eyes. So he had a soul, a look in his eyes that reminded me of a hopeful child. In a way, I found it pathetic, but clearly reflected on the number of times I had looked like that, at least in the beginning before I had slaughtered the child within me and anointed my face with the blood to sanctify her death. I preferred not to count.

"She's coming back." I answered, knowing that it was what he wanted to know, needed to hear. For a moment, I felt almost taken advantage of before I asked myself what else I would do without my damn visions if not to help the helpless and warn to weak. A wave of disgust broke over me and I almost wanted to vomit.

I wasn't a hero, I wasn't a protector and yet, somehow I felt compelled to warn people of future accidents and even pull some divine intervention when I had to. I laughed darkly at the thought of and I thought Connor was confusing. Indeed, I had managed to confuse myself more in the last few moments then Connor had all night. It was times like this that only sanctified the deep-seated thought that I had long ago crossed over the fine line between sanity and madness. Looking back, I can't remember exactly when I realized, but over time it became a fact. Like one plus one equaled two. I knew it and never questioned it.

I looked up to see him looking at me with those eyes, probably wondering what I had laughed about. I wished to the Gods that he would stop looking at me, and yet, I was fixed on him. Gray and blue in a silent war that was being waged, the bedroom was suddenly a battle ground. It was so strange to be fighting a war without any bloodshed, the thought seemed to threaten the destruction of everything I had ever known. I didn't want to think about it anymore.

A caught a few flashes from his mind without meaning to, mostly of the blonde girl, Cordeila. I felt the worry radiating off him, the way his stomach was clenching with anticipation and nerves. I wondered why he cared so much. And before I knew it, the words came flying out of my mouth. I really should get a lock for it at times.

"Why the hell are you so concerned? You her brother or something?" I knew the answer before it left his mouth. There was too much passion inside him for the love to be sisterly, and besides, they looked nothing alike. I caught a quick flash of her holding him, but it was gone before I make it out. However, it gave me enough to know that something private had happened between them, something that had made them bond.

"No."

"Didn't think so." I said with a sigh. "There was too much passion." Why am I talking? Why am I elaborating? What the hell am I doing? In an hour he had me talking more then I had in days, weeks maybe. My mouth just seemed to become exceptionally loose around him and it made me leery. I wasn't going to establish trust with him, I wasn't going to bond with him despite the fact that he seemed just as loose-tongued as I was. He seemed the silent type.

He slowly lowered the knife before fixing his eyes on me in a way that seemed to pin me to the wall. Such power was reflected in his eyes and still I found myself wishing that he could find something else to gawk at. His eyes were burning me with the life inside him. I wanted to recoil, like Devil's Snare did from fire and light.

"She's for sure coming back?" He asked, and again I saw the hopefulness in him. It was almost childlike in a disturbing way. He was so dark and tainted, and yet pieces of him were purely innocent. I don't think he'll ever make sense to me. "Why should I trust you?" He tried to make himself sound indifferent, but his tone betrayed him.

To him, trust meant total honesty and devotion. Only when there was that, and the person had proven it would he allow himself to trust. He tried to make himself seem tough about it, but I knew that he was building a wall around himself and the world. Trust meant letting someone in. I wondered how many times he had been hurt. I blocked out how many times I experienced betrayal.

"Maybe because I'm the person you just beat, threatened, and interrogated." My words were flat, dead, hollow. I didn't care, but I couldn't help throwing out the next comment, the next step of our dance. "And because you have no choice." I wondered what he would do to that. I wondered if his love for this women would outweigh his hatred for witches, but he said nothing, keeping his mind carefully guarded.

He placed the knife on the bed and sat on the dresser again, staring into space. Did this mean that he trusted me with leaving a weapon so close to me? Or was it merely another test? I wasn't going to bite the bait and give him a reason to confirm his paranoia that I wanted to kill him.

I knew it was risky, but I carefully reached out to his mind with my own. I only managed a few quick images of an ocean and a metal box before his head snapped in my direction, eyes blazing with a haunting fury. I prepared to die.

"Don't you ever read me." The words were said quietly, but held all the authority of a window shaking shout. He had an usual ability to hold people's attention with no effort at all, a tendency to make people obey him with mere words and his presence. I wondered if he was somehow related to Hitler before I remembered that he was of Irish descent. Even if I hadn't know who his father was, the name alone could have told me. Connor….. very Irish.

"How did you-?" I never got to finish my question, but I had never intended to. That and I knew damn well how he knew I was entering his mind, I just wanted to hear him say it. Give me a window of opportunity to try and reach him. He let out a little bitter sound that sounded something like a laugh.

"I grew up in Quar-toth." He answered, his eyes still diverted and the knife still between us. I knew he could see it in the corner of the eye. "You think I didn't learn to recognize magic when it was being used on me?"

"So if you hate magic so much why don't you just get on with killing me? Injuring me at least and rendering me helpless?" I prayed I didn't sound to hopeful, but to me, it sounded more taunting. It was a challenge. Come on, Connor. You have the strength to hurt me, you have the courage. Again, bitter laugh.

"I don't grant wishes." He muttered, eyes downcast in a way that told tales of his former wishes, but of what, I couldn't tell. He had long blocked his mind from me. "Besides, I want to know if you're telling the truth about Cordy."

"How many times have I told-"

"I'll see for myself." He answered, cutting me off in that annoying way of his and leaving us in a heavy silence. I took this time to mentally berate myself for my stupidity at letting him keep me in that hold and bring on a vision about a women that he was clearly infatuated with. I wondered how deep it went, if it was an obsession, lust, or deep and true love. For some reason, the last option made slightly jealous. Perhaps it was because I wanted him for myself, to test and study without anyone getting in the way. Poor little selfish creature I was, but so beyond caring. I was pathetic, there was no questioning it now.

"You love her don't you?" I asked suddenly after a few moments of tense silence. He gave a little start and turned to look at me. So I had managed to catch him off guard. I liked that. Maybe I wasn't totally powerless in this situation. The fact that I was able to startle him, that he couldn't predict me, was oddly comforting.

"Why do you ask?" The question was calculated, guarded. The question was enough to give me an answer all it's own.

"Well, if you're going to keep as a hostage, I might as well get to know you." I answered with a shrug, making a stab at casual conversation and hiding the fact that I was slowly trying to unravel him. I have a feeling he wouldn't like that much.

"I don't want to get to know you, witch." He replied simply. He was good. Hiding insecurity with cruelty. He didn't want me to know that he loved her, he wanted to protect her. It was almost sweet in an infuriating kind of a way. I wanted to split his skull with an ax and read everything inside him. Instead, I settled for an attempt at being civil.

"It's Raven." I said through gritted teeth. If I was going to be held her, I was going to make sure that he knew my name. I wanted to at least get inside him, even if it was only through my name on his tongue. I wanted to spell my name in blood so that he wouldn't forget it. "R-a-v-e-n."

"I know how to spell." The words were harsh. I wondered if he was a little offended, wondered if he thought I was trying to insult his intelligence. Another insecurity. I wondered how many he had. "Funny that you should be named after the bird that leads the souls of the dead."

"Ya, downright fucking ironic." I muttered, letting my anger slip as I read between the lines. He was calling me a killer and a being that communicated with spirits, but it was clever the way he disguised it as a casual statement. For a moment I wondered if he was playing the game back at me, taking statements and seeing how I would interpret them. More paranoia on my part, I was sure. Still, I couldn't shake the feeling and it bothered me.

What happened to being unshakable?

More silence and I found that I was rapidly starting to hate him, but at the same time, he awed me. His power, his wit, his androgynous sort of beauty, ivory skin, much like my own marble white flesh - even his unusual ability for making me angrier and more emotional then I could even remember being since at least a century ago in a matter of minutes……. all of it made my stomach clench in a slightly painful way, sort of like cramps.

Someone had once told me that it took a lot of hate to match a lot of love. I prayed to every God and Goddess I knew that that statement would never be true for me. Maybe I was as afraid of love as he was. For some reason, that thought made me feel safe.

If fear held back love, then I wouldn't even think twice about gulping it down like a favorite beverage. Look from afar, test and torture, but never get close enough to get a backhand. I didn't know where those words had come from, but they seemed to safe to me. They seemed real.

I sighed, leaning back against the wall, content to study his face and try to read his thoughts through his eyes. I liked his eyes, really, when they weren't pinned on me. They were blue like an ocean, and as deep with secrets and past pains. I could tell that despite his pale white skin, he was as dark as the night. Again, this comforted me. Maybe it's just that misery loves company…….

Then a saw a small flash of color surround him before it disappeared. His aura. It didn't surprise me that it was yellowish gray. Negativity, death, mental health issues, spiritually in need and lastly, lacking direction. He reminded me of myself and I suppose in a way I felt connected to him despite my anger. But even that seemed too much for me, too close, but it couldn't be helped.

I couldn't shake the feeling that he knew I wanted to die because he did - or had wanted to - as well. Back to the phrase 'takes one to know one'…… I wondered if it was the same for suicidal people. Was it like bees, a pre-written path that were meant to take, never wondering why, just following the flock, looking for our own kind.

"How soon?" The question jolted me out of my reverie and I looked up to see his eyes on me. I couldn't think.

"Huh?" I was hoping for something witty, a sarcastic remark and was deeply disappointed in myself when I heard that one word leave my mouth. How common, and how utterly lacking in originality. I wanted to hide my face in shame of the stupidity of that one damn word. What was wrong with me? Oh yes…….it's those eyes again……. I remember now……….. fucking bastard.

"How soon will she come back witc- Raven?" He had used my name……… and won round two. He was starting to annoy me with his surprises and secrets. He was like a maze I was stuck in and someone kept changing it around. But in a way, the thought of the unknown within another being intrigued and excited me. He wasn't like the other humans whose lives were so boring it was a miracle that not all of them killed themselves just for something to do out of sheer boredom. I contemplated his question for a moment, trying to find an answer myself.

"I have no idea." I answered truthfully. "I only know what the visions show me, but I would imagine soon, she's been up there for awhile." I didn't add the fact that she could rot up there for all I cared. I could tell that he wasn't totally satisfied with my answer, but he took it in with a quiet acceptance that for once didn't hold tension, but something close to peace. I hoped it wasn't the eye of the storm.

He shifted a bit on the dresser and lit a cigarette before offering one to me. Would the surprises ever end? I mumbled thanks and took one, fishing for my lighter. At least he hadn't taken that away.

"You don't look the smoking type." I knew it was lame, but the silence was starting to get to me. He just shrugged taking a drag.

"I don't really know why I started." He mused casually. I just nodded, smoking quietly. I knew it was a stupid idea seeing as I was half demon and immune to mortal sickness, but for a moment I thought I could feel the smoke slowly poisoning me. For a moment, I really was in love with hydrogen cyanide.

My eyes flicked around the apartment and landed on his necklace of bone collections before he spoke to me again.

"It was you that rearranged my stuff wasn't it." It wasn't a question, but I hadn't expected it to be. There was too much evidence against me. I couldn't help but smirk as we both sat within a poisonous cloud of countless cancer-causing chemicals. It was almost beautiful, like being in a gas chamber, but knowing you won't die. It gave me a strange sense of immortality, only punctuated by the fact I couldn't die, at least not yet. Great, what was formally lifting my spirits was now making me depressed.

"I was wondering when this was going to come up." I answered meekly, feeling more at ease thanks to the nicotine in my system. "Yes, I did. I took your dagger, moved your swords and left a Celtic symbol with your arrows." How is it that I could make this seem so casual? And why had I left out the twenty dollars?

"What did the symbol mean?" He was guarded, still afraid of my witchcraft, of the symbols that induced curses and misery. I considered having some fun with this before I decided on honesty. Don't ask me why.

"It meant Destroyer." I replied simply. "I thought it was fitting." Again, no words, but silent acceptance. A trademark of someone who had been on their own far too long. Again, I saw myself, and again, it disturbed me.

"The sun's coming up." I looked towards the window and saw a pale orange glow that was only slightly distinguishable from the thousands of lights.

"So it is." I looked over at him, my eyes asking all the questions.

"You're not going anywhere." He answered calmly. "Not until Cordy is back." I couldn't help the words 'trade one women for another' from popping into my mind, but I sealed them at my mouth. Think warm bed.

"So what's your plan?" I asked, trying to seem to casual. "Tie me up in a chair while you sleep? Tie me to the bed? Chain me to the door by my ankle?" For some reason, he seemed amused. A ghost of a smile was on his face. Wow, didn't know he could smile. For some reason, I counted it as a victory among my many defeats. I made him react, me - 1, Connor - two. Oh to feel the bitterness of defeat.

"I don't sleep often." He muttered and I realized that he really was far too paranoid for his own good. What, was he afraid that someone was going to break into his house in the middle of the day? However, I wasn't going to argue. I got the whole bed to myself.

"Suit yourself." I muttered and wriggled under the covers, relishing the warmth and softness. I realized my boots were missing, not that I cared. My head hit the pillow, covered in his smell, but beggars can't be choosers. I don't know long it took me to fall asleep, but it couldn't have been long because one moment I was thinking about something and the next, everything was peacefully black.

A/N:

Wow…….. didn't intend for the chapter to drag on so much, sorry. Well, there you have it, a first class ticket into how Raven thinks. I'm actually quite proud of how this chapter turned out seeing as I was having trouble getting this fic to suit my liking. I mean, Connor is a complicated character and I want to do him justice so sometimes it takes a few rewrites. And for those of you who haven't guessed yet, this romance is going to take a while to develop because as you can see, things are going to be complicated….. and I mean really complicated, especially when Cordy enters the picture. But for now, please leave a review and tell me what you think so far!