Chapter 15

A/N: Thank you to Flexsis for the remarkably fast beta! *hugs*

(Inside Watcher's HQ, as Spike, Methos and Cassandra were meeting.)

Connor held in his wonderment at this headquarters. He still remembered how he'd felt walking in the doors to Wolfram & Hart, and how that all felt enormous. This building also gave a feeling of enormity, but while W&H was cold and unfeeling, Watchers' HQ felt homey. Yes, his mom would have called it homey, in that "old-English-countryside-yet-still-in-London" sort of way.

Xander had reintroduced him to Willow Rosenberg. By the way her eyes went from confusion to recognition, Connor knew that the old memory spell had reached her as well, and now it had been cleared. He understood. Before today, he wouldn't have been sure that he had met the redhead. Sometimes the old memories and the planted ones confused him. Now, he recalled that Willow had been called to re-ensoul his father after the Beast had been slain.

He stood there awkwardly with Xander and Willow. Illyria had remained outside, in her Fred form, to study the sounds of this place. Several young girls passed by the lobby, stopping for a moment to stare at him, before running off and giggling. He just didn't get young girls. Dana had run off somewhere, and a part of him wanted to take off and find her. He felt protective of her for some reason.

Xander and Willow continued talking and catching up, mentioning someone named Giles. He observed Xander breathing a small sigh of relief at whatever was said. Then Xander turned to him and said, "Why don't you go catch up with Dana? She's probably in the training room, killing the punching bag."

Another redhead was walking by when Xander called out to her, "Vi!"

"Hey, Xander!" she exclaimed, hugging him.

"Vi… is Dana in the training room?"

"You know she is. Can't keep her out of there. She sometimes scares the other girls," Vi answered. She looked curiously at Connor, causing him to shift his feet. She reminded him of a pixie queen.

"Will you take Connor there, too? Don't worry, he can hold his own," Xander requested.

"If you're sure…," said Vi, uncertainly plain on her face.

"I'm sure. Connor, let me know if you like the room. I've tried to make sure it's well equipped."

Connor followed Vi down the corridor and through the huddled masses of teenage girls.

*********

Upon entering the training room, Connor beheld an enormous area, completely stocked with every weapon and every apparatus imaginable. He spied Dana in the corner, doing exactly what Xander had said: absolutely punishing the punching bag. She was impressive. A few other girls were gathered in a far corner, brushing up on their hand-to-hand combat, though to him it looked more like they were gossiping rather than doing any serious training.

His eyes smiled at the weaponry mounted on the walls. Connor sat his backpack down to retrieve his favorite weapon. Carefully lifting out the extremely sharp, curved, sickle-like weapon in his left hand, he grabbed a cloth with his right to polish its foreign metal.

Connor had crafted it in Quor'Toth, and during his time there, it had become like an extension of his arm - all the more so since it had been strapped to his arm with leather thongs crisscrossed in three places. While Spike had been talking to Faith and the other slayers in the Hyperion, he had discovered it in one of the hidden weapon cabinets. He knew he had to have it, and he'd thrust it into his backpack before they had left the hotel.

Had someone told Connor a year ago that his family wasn't really his, but rather one crafted under the commission of Wolfram & Hart to entice his "real" father into running the Los Angeles branch, he would have asked them what drugs were they taking. But, upon meeting Angel and learning that he had to face Sahjahn, his worldview had changed. And then, in the midst of getting his ass royally handed to him by the pockmarked and scarred demon, his true memories returned. The sudden incursion of his "real" past and identity allowed him to defeat the one who had opened up the portal to Quor'Toth, allowing Holtz to kidnap him.

In the aftermath, his mind had rebelled against the confusion of the two realities, and Connor embraced the known, the familiar - his "created" family. He'd been happy and content in his ignorance, or so he thought. Time and time again, he would wake up at night, sweating with excitement over his particularly violent dreams, in which he was relishing the kill of some demon in a hellish environment. Sometimes, he caught himself daydreaming about how the axe had felt in his hand and his satisfaction at how it had sliced through Sahjahn.

Even though Connor knew Wolfram & Hart represented the darkest of evil, he couldn't help but be thankful to them and his father for placing him with the Reillys. He knew he hadn't actually grown up in their household, but Connor still appreciated the implanted feelings of confidence and self-worth that had come with the package. Better still, his "Connor Reilly" life gave him perspective over his true past, and he no longer felt bitterness toward Angel.

When Angel had walked into that café to tell him about Nina and spend some time with him, Connor knew a big battle was brewing. Yet his father wouldn't give him any information. The whole setup in the café had felt like a good-bye. Connor realized then the gravity of the situation.

Connor had suppressed his desire to tell his father that he wanted to help with the fight. He instinctively understood that Angel would be distracted in the battle if Angel had to worry about his safety - although, considering some of the battles he'd waged on Q'uortoth, Angel didn't need to worry. He could handle himself, but Angel didn't know that,; or rather, Angel didn't want to recognize that fact.

Still, he couldn't help himself from following Angel back to Wolfram & Hart later. Good thing, too, since he'd saved his dad from that big goon. That Hamilton guy had possessed power; however, in the end, Angel had ordered him to go and be safe. Of course, Connor hadn't listened to Angel at all.

Connor had been surprised by the anger sparked in him by Angel's demise. It had been the one thing he'd wanted most in the world such a short time before; but now, he grieved. He needed to destroy something … anything. The battle in L.A. hadn't been enough.

As he strapped his sickle-ax to his left arm, Connor noticed that his actions had caught Dana's attention. Dana had stopped punching the bag and was grabbing a set of Kamas, twirling them by their hilts. Connor cocked his head to the side, and Dana nodded in silent agreement.

With a rush of preternatural speed, Connor dashed to the center of the room, meeting Dana on the mat in a clash of metal. Dana had stopped his strike with both daggers extended in a lunge. He did a one-handed cartwheel to give himself some distance and also to show off his skill to his opponent. Dana, for her part, readied herself for the next attack, bending at the knees and holding the Kamas, the left over her head and the right at her waist.

Behind him, Connor heard the startled gasps of the other young slayers, and could sense that some were about to come to their sister's aid. Dana shook her head at them and ordered, "No. Stay out of this. Only training." Murmured grunts of disbelief and disapproval followed in the wake of her order.

Dana flashed him a crooked smile and then charged. Connor wondered if Dana knew she had telegraphed her move to him. Didn't really matter to him if she did or didn't. It all came out the same.

Connor used his right hand to cross-grab the Kama in Dana's left hand as it came down in a classic disarming move taught to him by Holtz. With his left hand and blade, he blocked her undercut of the right Kama, swinging it away from her body. He took advantage of their close positions to do a side-sweep kick to her legs, causing her to fall to the mat.

Fire flashed in Dana's eyes. No one had taken her to the mat so quickly before. Xander wouldn't be happy with her. She had to fix this fast. The others were watching.

In fact, the small group of slayers forced one of the younger ones to leave and tell the others. They had all heard of Dana's abilities and her craziness. Two in the group had been with Andrew when they'd retrieved her in Los Angeles, and had seen what sort of damage she could unleash. So, most maintained a healthy dose of fear when it came to Dana. To see her in battle, even if it was just practice, was not to be missed.

Dana flipped back to her feet and held up one finger. Connor nodded but kept up his guard; he'd learned to always expect an unfair attack. Holtz had drilled that into his psyche at least a hundred times in Quor'Toth.

Dana walked slowly over to the punching bag and placed the Kamas on a nearby table. She sensed that Connor's fighting technique was fluid and adaptable. In order to fight him with any chance of success, she needed to feel unfettered and wild.

Pulling the ribbons out of her hair, Dana shook it loose. Her unruly mane of ebony hair cascaded over her shoulders and covered part of her face. She cast a backward glance at Connor and smirked. Her right hand reached for a throwing dagger, hurling it toward him with deadly accuracy.

At first, Connor had been caught off-guard by her transformation. In the flick of an eye, Dana had morphed from a mere girl to a beautiful, powerful woman, and he forgot to breathe. He barely had time to dodge her missile, before he found his hands full of an angry Slayer, wielding a halberd.

Dana understood that close combat would not be successful in battling his weapon. If she could separate him from that really cool blade, then she could go in close. She'd grabbed the halberd to allow her some distance; plus, she liked it. This one was a big pole with blades on both sides.

As the halberd slashed at his left arm, Connor blocked and weaved from its blows. He sensed more people coming into the room, and he hoped that they would stay back and allow him the room he needed to move. Seeing a broadsword mounted to a wall on his right, he feigned a move to the left, and then dashed to the right to get it.

He tested the sword by performing two figure eights. He liked its balance and deemed it worthy. He knew he was showing off when he whipped the sword in his palm in a tight circle, causing the sword to come out of his palm for a moment.

"Are you done?" Dana asked, mad at herself for falling for his move to her right, and at him for the audacity to show-off for the other girls.

Offering her a smile in response, Connor sassed, "Just about," and then ran up the wall and flipped over her head. "Now, I am."

Dana stopped herself from showing any signs of being impressed. She focused instead on slicing the leather thongs on his weapon. When the first gave way, she smiled triumphantly and continued her pursuit.

Connor felt the strand give on his weapon and was incensed. Gripping the hand strap tighter, he blocked her next strike, and lunged with the broadsword. He stiffened when he smelled her blood. He'd nicked her waist right above her hip.

"I'm sorry, Dana; I didn't mean to…" Connor hastily apologized, letting down his guard.

Instead of reacting to the cut, Dana took advantage of the situation, sweeping inside and elbowing Connor in the gut. When his head bent in reaction, she clocked him with her left punch. He was thrown back at least two feet. The observers gasped.

Feeling the blood pouring forth from his nose, Connor tasted it with his tongue. He wiped the blood from his nose, looked at his hand, and laughed. "Good one."

*********
(Thirty minutes later)

The battle had turned into a war, from which no retreat would be permitted. Both Dana and Connor were bloodied but smiling from the pure enjoyment of finding one's true partner. Each time one thought they had the advantage, the other would quickly dispel that notion. The audience had grown in size, and no inch of wall space could be seen.

Dana was experiencing an alien feeling in her stomach and heart. She also felt a pooling of fluid at the junction of her thighs. She knew she'd just had her period a week and a half before, so it couldn't be that. But she didn't dare stop and ask someone about it. She had to continue to fight Connor. She would win!

Connor found himself thanking the Powers for the audience, because it kept him from just dropping his weapons, grabbing Dana and taking her against the pommel horse. He remembered feeling lust for Cordy and sleeping with her, believing himself to be in love with her. But those feelings were nothing in comparison to what he had started to feel for his opponent. She frustrated him, excited him, and challenged him at every turn.

Connor's sickle-axe was long shed, and Dana's halberd long forgotten; both had chosen Escrimas - Philippine fighting sticks. Connor enjoyed the feel of the light, white wax wood sticks in his hands. The wood was pretty much indestructible, and he trusted them not to split or splinter during the match. He couldn't tell for certain, but he thought that Dana had plain rattan ones. If he hit them in the right spot, it was possible to break them.

Connor met Dana in the center of the room, sticks meeting each other hard and fast. Throughout the contest, he had noticed that Dana would drop her left shoulder before making certain swipes. It was an opening that he planned to capitalize on.

Just then, he felt his uncle's presence nearby. Spike was back, and Connor wanted to show off for Spike. He couldn't let this slayer defeat him. He could now remember when Faith had so easily thrown him into a chain fence when they were on the hunt for Angelus. It still burned his pride.

Getting his mind back into the fight, Connor saw Dana drop her shoulder, and knew she would be following it up with an upward thrust. With his left hand, he blocked the stick, putting all his weight behind it and making Dana's left arm fly backwards. Then, he quickly followed up by dropping to his knees and sweeping the right stick behind her knees. Dana fell to the mat hard, and Connor crawled on top of her, pinning her down between his legs.

"Say it!" Connor demanded.

"Never!" Dana answered.

Connor grunted and squeezed with his thighs into her waist, with the right Escrima under her chin. "Say it, now!"

"Okay, you're a shit!"

Shocked gasps filled the room. No one knew that Dana even knew swear words.

Dana was furious, but extremely excited by Connor's position over her. Even though a part of her associated his dominant position with her upsetting past, the woman in her recognized the feel of his groin so near to hers. She licked her lips, as she caught him staring at her with aggravation.

Just then Spike, Methos, Cassandra, and Xander burst into the room. Connor paid them no mind, again insisting that she signal her defeat.

"Say it, Dana. You can't get out of this," Connor whispered.

His lips so close to her own, Dana became distracted by their fullness. "What?"

"Oh, no! No! No! Get Dead-boy's son off of my slayer, Spike. Or, so help me…." exclaimed Xander.

"Or you'll what, Xander, stomp your feet in outrage?" Spike answered loudly. "It seems that your slayer has given as good as she got. Look at the bruises and cuts on my nephew."

"But … he's on top of her," Xander protested. "And why do you keep sniffing the air?"

Spike turned away from Xander; he really didn't want the Whelp to know. Spike knew that particular scent well, although it was different each time. An excited female was something to be cherished. It sent his senses reeling, especially since it appeared that Dana wasn't the only one affected by the presence of his nephew. He also noticed the looks being exchanged between the two kids; they were enamored with each other.

Vi stepped into the room took one look at Connor and Dana's faces and blurted out, "Oh, that reminds me of that time in the cemetery when Buffy had you on the ground, Spike."

Xander's eyes bulged with sudden understanding. "No!"

"Go back to Egypt, Whelp. You like it there," Spike snickered.

Illyria materialized from somewhere and, observing the scene, decided she didn't like how her new pets were acting. She pushed through the audience of Slayerettes, and picked Connor up by the scruff of his shirt, while holding Dana at bay with her other arm. "You have damaged yourselves."

Pausing momentarily, Illyria suddenly dropped Connor on his ass, and pushed Dana away. She glared around the room with disdain. "Humans!" she spat, before backing away.

Spike had to ask, "What's wrong, Blue?"

"My pets lust after each other. These females lust after Connor. It disgusts me. Humans are ruled by such base instincts. How did they ever overtake my kind?"

Cassandra spoke up, "Love. It binds all, and destroys all."

Illyria tilted her head, absorbing Cassandra's words. "Disgusting emotion," she said finally, and left the room.

"Now look, you've ticked off Shiva. Good work," Spike said sarcastically.

Meanwhile, Connor and Dana, having recovered from Illyria's interference, had started once again to circle each other. One girl whispered, "This is like that episode of 'Star Trek' with Spock and Kirk. All we need is the music."

At that, Spike groaned. "Enough!" he growled.

The room fell silent. Connor and Dana turned to face him. "You two … enough training for today, yeah? We've got baddies in Rome we have to take care of, remember? Doesn't do Buffy and Dawn any good fighting each other. Save it for after."

Connor looked ashamed for forgetting about why they were there in the first place. He held out his right hand to Dana. "Good fight?"

Staring at his hand for a moment, Dana glanced at Spike first before accepting the hand and shaking it. "Yeah, good fight."

"I still won," said Connor.

"No, you didn't. I could have gotten out of your hold," replied Dana.

"No way," Connor began.

"Children! I said, shut it," Spike declared. "Now, let's get some shut-eye before leaving for Rome." Glancing at the swarm of slayerettes and trainers, Spike said, "'Night kiddies."