Date: Friday, March 07, 2003 1:14 PMTitle: Shaped Author: Scy Email: firstname.lastname@example.org Disclaimer: If they were mine- probably even more unwell. Fandom: Ats Spoilers: S4- 'Salvage'. Pairing: Connor/Faith Rating: R Distribution: List archives, or upon request. Acknowledgments: Researchminion-who threw story ideas at me. Also- anyone else who suggested the pairing. And Juanitadark- who helped me with titles.
There was no way to abide where sunrise did not give boundary and opening.
Faith spoke of the authorities who wanted to lock her up again, and Connor understood running to face opponents, not the lifelong flight that people in this dimension seemed to think was acceptable.
Yet, for her he was willing to learn. A chance of being taught by a Slayer was worth the ache in his legs and pride.
Besides, this wasn't his home, all he did was play where another had set the rules. And he wasn't allowed in the game.
'My boy.' Such absolute possession in that voice. Angelus knew everything about him- could smell how he wanted and he understood making a point.
He didn't care what words had been given to protect him- those of the demon were on his trail and if he stopped moving they would find him. Find them both.
Winning mattered, but being able to pursue an adversary was even more important. A reversal of positions could be dealt with, whereas standing still became permanent.
Now Connor saw how women might rule a man with their soft skin. Cordelia had loved something in his eyes that night. Maybe just being with someone as the world burned. Or his being was easy to twist as she liked and he the one needing from the wrong place.
He won't admit how much he wants that touch. A hand on his shoulder after a fight. In this at least he is not alone. Faith cleans her weapons single-mindedly and will not tolerate mention of her past with his 'Dad.'
"Connor, are you listening to me?"
She's giving him that look- exasperated, he's only drifted off for a couple sentences. More than a minute and he'd be on the receiving end of an firm statement.
"I'm sorry. What?" Fix his face in receptive lines-it's enough to keep her satisfied for the moment. He holds hope for later.
There is a message Connor should be taking from the lecture but most of his realizations come long after experience has piled like layers in winter. 'Vampires- not really all that cold- leather smells like safety and blood.'
Being raised to think that blood on his hands was reason to celebrate may have shaped him inhumanly.
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