Title: 'We relate'

Author: Rakel

Summary: Connor's POV of Faith and their relationship. Fairly short reflective piece. Connor/Faith

Disclaimer: Connor, Faith and all characters of BtVS and Angel belong to Joss Whedon, 20^th century Fox and Mutant Enemy.

Dedication: Fernando for Beta'ing (and for the line: The night enveloped us like a thick fog of violent intent. Which I used, cuz it rocked ;) )

Rating: R for language

Spoilers: Nothing in particular. Seasons 1-4 of Angel.

Feedback: Please. It's my first Connor/Faith fic meeoww_@hotmail.com

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We relate.

'Birds of a feather flock together', isn't that what they say?

It's true.

Because we are the same.

It began in an alley. In the rain. It was wet and it was dark. The night enveloped us like a fog heavy with violent intent. The night was the mother neither of us ever really had.

We met and we fought. Fists thrown with practiced grace on both sides. Legs dancing, colliding in a mockery of a dance. We were two shadows, acting out our fury to the darkness. Puppets feigning a dance of sorrow and anger and hate.

She was fury incarnate, a dark goddess kicking my ass. I was nothing to her. Nothing but a little boy with accidental super powers.

A poor bastard child with no one left.

Just like her.

Bereaved, discarded, and judged. A pair made of the same mould. Her hatred was mine. My anguish was hers.

That night in the alley our bond formed. We ended it on an even foot. Her knife at my throat, my sword at hers. We stood like that, panting, shivering, drenched in the rain. Water pounded the ground angrily around us, sensitive to our mood. We were desolate and ready to kill each other. I could feel the nick of her blade rubbing against the taunt skin of my throat. Neither of us had the advantage. We could both easily lose.

To lose would mean to die.

We were both ready, to die, though. We could sense it in the other. That final sick desperation in our hearts. The need to be saved, or to be killed. One or the other, and for a moment, it didn't matter which. Death would be a blessing, redemption a cross waiting to be born.

Holtz taught me bible passages daily. 'The meek shall inherit the Earth' was a favorite. Bullshit. The meek will die at the hands of those willing to take what they want.

People like us. We fight. We kill. We are good at what we do. We are young and we are strong. Wisdom and gentleness only get you so far. Then you have to take what you want, what you need. And we do.

No doubt, it will end in an alley. The dank, dirty stench of the city slums, beckon to both of us. A second home. Where it began, so shall it end. We are both drawn there, night after night. Different alley, different foe. Same outcome.

We live; they die.

We fight together; we fight apart.

We fight and we win. Because we want it. We want the glory of winning, of being the best, fastest, and strongest that we can be. We are fucked up, fucked over, but together we are unstoppable.

She is like me in so many ways. Deep inside she yearns to be loved, to be worshiped. She will not settle for second best. Neither will I. She walks a path somewhere between darkness and light, and I would follow her to the ends of the earth. She is the slayer, but it is not that simple.

Nothing ever is.

She is wild, and she is fire. Danger, violence, and death are her trade marks, but they are also mine. We act on impulse; we inflict pain. It is our calling. Slayer means killer. So does destroyer, in a round about way. Like I said, birds of a feather.

She is my love. She is mine. And I am eternally hers.

I will not leave her like the others. I will not abuse her like those before me. I will be at her side. A constant in this screwed up life of ours.

Back in that alley, violence united us, and one brutal, impassioned kiss joined me to her forever. Lips bruising and demanding, hands wandering and harsh. Pressed against each other. It was not romance. It was not hearts and flowers and nor was it love. It was release. It was solace. It was need, hunger, desire and longing. It was passion and understanding.

Like I said. We relate.

Fin.