In The Aftermath
Connor walked over the rubble that had been Wolfram and Hart. The moon in the dark sky above him shone down, casting an eerie glow on the remains. Dark scorch marks marred the once pristine stone of the building, and small fires still burned merrily, quite in contrast to the destruction around him.
His father was dead; his family was dead. Everyone he knew and cared about was dead, and he had nowhere else to go except this burned out husk where he had last seen Angel. He didn't know why he was still alive; he had fought against the rising tide of the demons that had overtaken Los Angeles. He had fought like his father and his father's friends, but unlike them, he had lived.
He had arrived home only a scant hour before the army began plowing over the city, and when they reached his home, he knew there was little he could do, but he had tried nonetheless. His parents had stared at him in shock as he had begun fighting the demon that had entered his house, but he had no time for more than a quick order for them to run. They had only made it as far as the back lawn; he'd found their battered bodies, along with his sister, when he had followed them after dispatching the demon inside.
Connor closed his eyes against the memories, though he could still see afterimages of them burned onto the inside of his eyelids. He'd made his way here on the slight hope that his father might still be alive, but he had found nothing but destruction at the former offices.
A noise off to his right caused his eyes to fly open, scanning the charred, broken buildings for the source. His eyes picked out a figure as it emerged from behind what had been a potted plant. His gaze flickered to the distinctly military garb the other man was wearing, noting the streaks of soot and wetness before he met his gaze.
"You shouldn't be here," the man said, his voice gravely and rough, as he looked Connor over.
Connor frowned. "I've no where else to go. And ... my father was here."
The man tensed, his eyes narrowing at the information. "Your father worked for Wolfram and Hart?"
"In a way, I suppose," Connor shrugged, not wanting to get into it with someone who wouldn't understand. "I thought he might still be here."
The man laughed, though there was no mirth in the sound. He looked around, his blond hair glinting in the moonlight. "I don't know if you've been paying attention or not, but there isn't anyone coming back here. If your father really did work for them, then he's either dead or with the horde."
"He's dead," Connor answered as unemotionally as he could. "He would have stopped them if he could. He was trying to."
The man stared at him a moment before he lifted a walkie-talkie to his lips and murmured into it. Connor turned away, giving the man the illusion of privacy. As it was, he kept his ears attuned to the sounds around him, though there wasn't much to hear. The demons had done their work well and had killed every human they found.
The city was devastated; most of it was in ruins, and if the man was any indication, the military had been called in. It was too late to help most, and Connor wondered if they had any idea of what they were up against. He'd heard his neighbors shouting that it was a biological attack or that the terrorists were dressed up in costume, but he knew the truth.
When he heard the quiet murmuring stop, he turned to the man and raised an eyebrow. "Do you know what you're up against? They aren't human you know."
The blond gazed at him dispassionately for a moment, and Connor could see that at one point, the man had probably been called the 'boy next door'. He had rugged, all-American good looks underneath the dirt, blood, and grime, quite like the person Connor himself had become after Angel had changed his life. "Yes, we do. How do you?"
Connor's lips quirked. He might as well tell the truth, there wasn't a point in keeping it a secret now anyhow, not with the proof of demons so evident. "My father was a vampire. It let the cat out of the bag about what goes bump in the night."
To his surprise, the man burst into laughter, and if it had a tendril of hysteria, well, that was to be expected. His blue-eyed gaze finally settled on Connor's face, and he lost his smile. "You're serious."
"As a heart attack," Connor replied. He saw wariness return to the man's face, and he sighed. "Listen, if I was a threat to you, don't you think I'd have done something sooner?"
"What was his name?" the blond asked, his hand going to his waist, his fingers brushing on a weapon that Connor didn't recognize.
Connor took a step back, wishing he had something other than his fists to defend himself. "Angel."
His answer made the man freeze and look over at him sharply. "Angel? As in Mr. Billowy Coat of Pain?"
Connor nodded sharply. It was a decent description. "You know - knew him?"
"I dated his ex-girlfriend," the man replied, relaxing slightly. "Buffy. Angel and I met once or twice."
"The slayer," Connor commented, looking around. They could use a few hundred of them to get the demons under control, but he doubted that was possible.
"Yes," the man replied. He stepped forward, extending his hand. "I'm Riley Finn."
"Connor," he replied, taking the man's hand in his own. "You're with the ..."
"Military. Special forces, we take care of problems such as these." Glancing at Connor, Riley sighed, his weariness evident on his face. "We got here as soon as we could. I know that Buffy and the others are on their way"
Connor looked around at the devastation. "Not too much to do now," he noted dully, the pain of his loss coming back full-force.
"There is in other parts of the city. There's still fighting to do," Riley said, a hint of an offer in his tone. "The demons are still here."
"Need any help?" Connor asked, a note of hope in his voice. He had nothing else to do, after all. His family, his friends, his home were all gone so he might as well do something useful. It would help keep the pain at bay, at the very least.
"I'm sure Buffy and the others could use another set of hands," Riley replied.
Connor nodded, looking around, at a loss to what to do next. "What do I do until then?"
"Come with me. We've a camp set up just outside of the city. You'll stay with us until the slayer gets here," he replied.
"All right." It sounded better than anything he'd been able to come up with, and it would keep him busy, his mind off what had happened.
"It's not your fault."
Connor looked over and met Riley's eyes. "What isn't?" he asked sharply, scowling.
"Your father. You couldn't have done anything."
"How do you know? You weren't here."
"No, but I know how it feels to lose your family. My wife ... my wife died a few weeks ago." Riley's face was a mask, but Connor thought he could see the pain in the blue eyes that refused to meet his gaze. "Come on, we'll go back to my Jeep and get to camp."
Due to the influx of refugees turned fighters, Riley's tent was the only one with an extra space, and Connor was only vaguely surprised to find himself drawn to the blond man. It seemed natural to turn to him for comfort since he was the first one Connor had met, and when the nightmares plagued them both, they gravitated toward the other. It was only a scant week after they met - seeming both like forever and only a brief moment - that Connor pressed his lips to Riley's in an attempt to rid himself of the memories of the nightmare.
He pulled back, his eyes wide as he realized what he had done, but the blond simply shook his head, not letting him move to his side of the tent. Lips tangled, sliding and slipping, and soft moans wafted into the heavy, humid air. Skin pressed against skin, hot and sweaty in the summer night, and Connor was aware of how desperate the touches seemed, aching for reprieve from the pain and death around them, to forget all that they'd witnessed and been a part of, even for a little while.
He ran his hand down Riley's stomach, grasping the hard cock that slid against his own. His fingers curled around the length, moving up and down, rolling his thumb over the head. Riley groaned, pulling Connor down next to him, his teeth nipped at the juncture where shoulder met neck.
Connor gasped when he felt a hand grasp his own cock, and his hips thrust into the loose hold. He timed the movements of his own hand with his thrusts into Riley's fingers, his head falling to rest against the other man's shoulder.
"God Riley," he moaned.
"Ssshhh," was the quiet response, lips moving to cover his.
Connor arched his back when he felt Riley's lips leave a hot, wet trail down his jaw to his neck, then over his collarbone. He gasped when Riley's tongue traced his abdominal muscles before moving lower, angling his body so Connor could keep stroking his cock.
His hand tangled in Riley's hair, holding the short blond locks tightly when the other man opened his lips and closed them around the head of his erection. Connor felt as if he were on fire, his hand on Riley moving faster and faster as he desperately tried to keep from bucking his hips into the man's mouth. As Riley slid his mouth down, Connor bit his lip to hold back the whimpers that threatened to emerge.
The flat of Riley's tongue teased his head, flicking and moving in ever faster circles, and Connor felt his body tense as the pleasure threatened to become too much. He lost all pretense of stroking the cock in his hand when the blond worked a finger into the tight ring of muscles, pressing inside.
"Fuck!" Connor moaned, his hips moving of their own accord even as he spilled himself into Riley's waiting mouth. He lay there, quivering as the after-effects of the pleasure swept through him, his tent-mate moving back up toward his mouth.
"You okay?" Riley asked softly, his blue eyes barely visible in the dark that was the tent.
Connor managed a nod, licking his lips purposefully as he realized Riley hadn't come. He sat up and pushed Riley back, lower his head to the hard cock he'd abandoned earlier.
"You don't have to," Riley said, touching his head gently.
"I know," Connor replied before reaching out his tongue and licking up the underside of Riley's cock.
He'd never been with another man before, but he copied Riley's previous movements, moving his lips and tongue up and down and around, his fingers touching everywhere his lips weren't. A surge of satisfaction filled him when he pulled a guttural moan from Riley's lips.
Strong hands wrapped around his shoulders, squeezing as Connor felt Riley's hips twitch. A moment later, he felt Riley come in his mouth, and he swallowed as quickly as he could. Pulling up, he looked down at Riley in the darkness of the tent.
"Good night," Riley said softly, closing his eyes and getting comfortable in the blankets.
"Good night," Connor echoed, pulling his blanket over his waist, his back to the blond.
When he felt Riley's arm come to rest at his waist a moment later, he sighed, his eyes fluttering shut, and fell into a dreamless sleep.