He couldn't get the image of Anne's eyes as he'd left her from his mind, the pain he'd seen in them so deep he could feel it cut him as well. But he didn't want to feel for her. He had enough of his own pain, his own loss, and Anne…
She'd been supposed to be the one who didn't betray him. She'd told him she loved him with a conviction that no one else had ever had before, a truth wrapped around her promises so seemingly pure that he wanted to grasp on to them and hold them close to his heart. Her touch and her words had convinced him of her sincerity, until he'd done what he'd sworn he'd never do again—he'd believed.
But it hadn't been real this time either. She'd turned on him like all the others, handing him over to his father to do who knew what to his head just so she wouldn't have to deal with him the way he had been.
Connor could admit to himself, at least a bit, that he was being somewhat unfair to Anne. She was, after all, sixteen and quite free-spirited. Being tied to someone like the person he'd come back as, with his need to keep her locked away with him, wasn't something she had been at all prepared to deal with. Few people would be for that matter. But it didn't really change anything. She still wasn't what he'd thought she could be.
Anne was young. Connor knew this hurt her now, but in a few months' time, she'd probably forget about him, find someone else who was more her age and less weighed down by emotional baggage. She'd find someone to make her happy, someone she could have a real life with, start a family with.
He tried to ignore the way that tore at him, the way his insides clenched at the thought of Anne with anyone but him. Another man's hands on her…another man listening to her cries of pleasure… And him…never getting to touch her again.
Connor shook his head, desperate to free himself of those thoughts. He couldn't be with her now, not after what she'd done. He couldn't open himself up again, make himself vulnerable like he had too many times in the past.
But how could he live without her? The memories of his latest hell were buried now, fainter than they should have been, but he could still remember. He knew how many nights he'd been alone, desperate for just the brush of her hand, her scent. He'd ached without her, needed her there, if merely to hold for a moment. Anne had been his sole reason to living, the one thing he'd clung to even when everything else had faded away.
He'd lost his words, he'd lost his mind, but he'd never lost the memory of her.
For long years, he'd clung to the dream of finding a way back to her. He'd whispered her name over and over when he'd known nothing else, pictured her face in his mind until it was all he'd seen when he'd closed his eyes. She had been his light in the darkness, his angel in hell.
Had that all been for nothing? Had his desperate need to have something to hold on to driven him to see her for more than she was, to expect something great from someone who in reality, was just a girl? How could she be that woman from his dreams when she'd so easily broken his trust? When she'd lied to him and handed him over to his father so his mind could be violated yet again…
Connor froze, a sound behind him stopping in his tracks. He sniffed the air, smiling slowly when he identified the scent as prey.
It was time to stop thinking for a little while.
*** *** ***
Anne tightly clutched the pillow Connor had been using, breathing in the remnants of his scent. She couldn't believe how badly things had turned out with him, how quickly everything had fallen apart.
It had been an emotional roller coaster, whipping her around from the moment she'd seen him walk into the lobby of the Hyperion until right then. In only a week's time, she'd managed to fall desperately in love and have her heart shattered.
For the first time in her life, Anne found herself truly having regrets. She wished more than anything that she could go back, could undo what Connor had taken as such a betrayal. The last thing she'd ever wanted was to hurt him, to add to the pain he'd already known in his life.
She'd planned on helping to heal him, on showing him that he could be who he was and still be loved. She'd sensed the deep wounds Connor carried with him and had wanted nothing more than to soothe him. The connection between them had been too strong to be denied, and Anne had embraced it, blindly believing that she could make everything better just by loving him.
Anne laughed humorlessly at that. She hadn't made anything better at all. Instead, she'd just bollixed the whole thing up. She'd made it all worse.
Because of her, Connor had no chance of returning to the "normal" life he'd used to shelter himself for the past decade. Because of her, he'd spent years in hell, suffering torments she couldn't even imagine. Because of her, he was hurting now.
How could Connor forgive her for what she'd done? Anne wasn't even sure she could forgive herself.
She remembered every cry, every tremor from Connor as he'd relived his last visit to hell. He'd had to go through that because she hadn't protected him, because she'd let Angel take him away without questioning anything, without getting all the facts and making them find something better. She'd let Connor get hurt again. She'd failed him.
Anne buried her face against the pillow, breathing in his scent as she cried.
*** *** ***
"It's not her fault, you know."
Connor stopped in the darkened lobby of the Hyperion and turned slowly to face Cordelia as she leaned against the counter, most likely waiting for him. "I was hoping everyone would be asleep," he muttered as he walked right past her on his way to put the weapons he'd taken earlier back in the cabinet.
"Everyone else is," Cordelia replied. "But we need to talk."
"We really don't, Cordy."
Cordelia sighed. "Connor, I know you're upset, but none of us wanted to hurt you. And Anne…she's probably the most innocent in this out of anyone."
Connor stiffened. "She was part of it, too."
"No, she wasn't. Connor, Anne didn't know exactly what we were planning. She knew we were doing a spell to move your memories, but she…"
"Then she knew enough," Connor snapped.
"But she didn't. She barely knew anything about it at all. Angel and I made a decision that she wasn't a part of. She was there with you the whole time—taking care of you."
"She didn't want to be doing that. She didn't want to stay in there with me."
"But she did." Cordelia took a step forward, but stopped, thinking twice about approaching Connor as forbidding as his body language was. "She loves you."
"Yeah, and love is such a wonderful thing," Connor sneered. "It brings so much happiness."
The sarcasm in his words made Cordelia's heart ache. He'd suffered so much… "She didn't mean to hurt you. All she wanted was to help you, and now her heart is breaking. She can be what you're looking for, Connor—if you let her be."
"I'm not looking for anything. I gave up on that a long time ago."
"Then you're only hurting yourself. Turning you back on love doesn't make you any safer. It just makes you have to face the problems life throws your way alone." Connor didn't respond, and Cordelia waited a moment before speaking again. "You're making more out of this than there is."
That made Connor turn around. "I was rendered unconscious so I could have my memories tampered with. Tell me how that's not a big deal," he snapped.
"I didn't say it wasn't a big deal. And yeah, you do have a right to be upset about it, although I can tell you it really was done with your best interest at heart, whether you want to believe that or not. But what I meant was you turning Anne into your own personal Benedict Arnold. She didn't betray you, Connor, and she didn't do this because she didn't want to have to take care of you. She did it because she was worried about you and didn't know what else to do. If Anne had had to spend the rest of her life caring for you like that, she would have. But she didn't think that was what you would want. She thought you'd be happier like this."
"Yeah, well, she was wrong. And I don't want to have this conversation anymore."
Cordelia frowned. "You're making a mistake with her. If you end things with her now, you're going to regret it later on down the road."
"What, did you have a vision?" Connor asked sarcastically.
"I don't need a vision to tell me what's obvious. That girl's the best thing that ever happened to you. Don't screw it up because you're afraid."
"I'm not afraid."
"Yeah, you are. You're afraid to accept that you finally have someone you can trust. You know it and I know it. It's easier for you to add Anne to the list of people to who have stabbed you in the back than it is for you to accept that maybe you've finally found someone who won't."
"Look, I'm covered in blood and dirt and I'm tired. I need to shower and go to bed." Connor turned around, walking towards the stairs.
"Love doesn't always have to be dangerous, Connor."
Connor stopped for a moment at Cordelia's words before he continued upstairs, finding an unoccupied room to spend the night.
*** *** ***
Connor woke to an insistent pounding on his door. He tried to ignore it, but it wouldn't go away, and finally he pulled himself out of bed, slipped on his jeans, and stalked over to the door, opening it just enough to step out. His eyes widened for a moment when he saw that his visitor was Spike. "Um…hey," Connor said, not sure of how else to respond. He ran his hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face.
"Morning," Spike replied. "Sleep well last night?"
Connor's only response to that was an arched eyebrow. After a second, he cleared his throat and spoke. "Come to finish pounding me into the ground, or…"
Spike shook his head. "No. I've come to tell you that we're leaving the hotel in about ten minutes. Got a plane back to England waiting for us—Anne included."
"So you've what, come to make sure I stay away from your daughter now?" Connor asked.
"No. I've come to let you know that a woman that loves you very, very much is about to walk out of your life—quite possibly for good. Thought you might want to think about that."
Connor faltered a little at that, Spike's words the last thing he expected the other man to say. "Spike, I…"
"Look, I'll be blunt. You and my daughter? It gives me the, well, the 'wiggins' as my wife would say. But Anne loves you. And I think you love her, too, though you're apparently as thickheaded as your father. I want my daughter to be happy, and if that means being with you, well… It could be worse. It could actually be Angel." Spike shuddered at the thought.
Spike started to turn away, but stopped, his head cocking slightly to the side. "You know, for over a century, love did nothing but do me wrong. Seemed like everywhere I turned, I was getting the bad end of something, yeah? But I never stopped taking the chance, never stopped putting myself out there, even if I knew it could mean I'd end up with another dent in my heart. And eventually, it paid off, and all that suffering, all that loneliness and emptiness didn't mean a bloody thing anymore because I can look at Buffy and know that she's what makes my life complete."
Connor didn't know what to say, Spike's words hitting him hard. "Ten minutes," Spike told him before giving Connor a small salute and walking down the hall.
Connor swallowed, his hand shooting out so he could brace himself on the doorjamb.
Ten minutes, and Anne would be walking out of his life…
*** *** ***