Title: Ashtray Girl
Author: Evie
Email: nerdswereright@yahoo.com
Fandom: AtS
Pairing: Fred/Connor
Rating: PG-13. because I have a dirty mouth.
Summary: Connor remembers. Or tries to forget.
Disclaimer: I'm not Joss. If I was, Connor would still be very much the old, angryangstypretty Connor instead of Ben.
Notes: Written for thawrecka for the FredFicathon, who requested Fred/Connor and wasn't all that specific. Hopefully she won't hate it all too much. Much love to _elektra for telling me not to change things. <3

He remembers when Fred told him about bombs. It had been after some kid in San Diego had tried to blow up their school using a small bomb set in one of the storage rooms in the basement, and the story had been all over the news. The attempt had failed, but the idea that something so small could do so much damage had struck Connor's curiosity.

The next day on their way back from patrolling, he'd asked Fred about it. She'd gotten this excited look in her eyes, just like whenever she was explaining one of her weapons that to Connor looked a lot like the machine that made toast. She'd spent at least twenty minutes explaining to him as he listened avidly to how bombs worked, the different kinds, the wires, how they could be set off. Gunn finally stopped her, saying it probably wasn't the best idea to teach someone as already powerful as Connor how to do something so destructive.

Fred had nodded, looked sheepish and then turned back to Connor, who looked annoyed at the suggestion. "He didn't mean, well," she started. "It's just, you know, not a good idea to teach anyone, really, how to do something like that. And you're at such a fragile age..." She stopped. "Oh! I didn't mean that you're fragile, it's just teenagers..." She sighed and placed a hand on his arm, and smiled. "Just, you know, don't go blowing people up. ' Kay?"

Connor nodded. "Don't worry, Fred. I wouldn't do anything like that." He snuck a resentful look at Gunn, then turned back to Fred and smiled.

If he'd known then what a lie that was, he wouldn't have bothered lying to her. Gunn, fine. But he'd never wanted to hurt Fred like he did.

He remembers the hottest day of the year, late at night when it had cooled down to a whopping 102 degrees outside. All the windows in the hotel were open, and Fred and Connor had opted for skipping out on patrolling while Gunn went out to pick up the slack.

He knew she was worried about him being out all alone, but as soon as the joint was lit and the room was hazy with smoke, any worry she might have had about anything faded and became a peaceful, giggly, calm.

They were sitting close, so it wasn't a far reach to pass the joint back and forth, or maybe just because it was more comfortable that way. She was talking about Angel, that they couldn't stop looking, they had to find him.

In any other state he would've been annoyed, but it was so nice here... and the hopeful look in her eyes stopped the usual scowl or smirk from forming that came with the mention of the bastard's name.

It only made him feel sorry, that she probably wouldn't ever give up hope of looking for him, even if everyone else had, because it was in her nature. He could see it in her eyes, she'd had to survive worse. He didn't know how he knew, but he could feel it, because the same look was still in his own eyes, no matter how deep he'd buried it.

He knew she'd been lost before, just like him. He can't remember being lost, but he knows that he was. He could feel it in his heart, every time he looked in her eyes, or every time he went near Angel's old room, because Angel is a part of him. Sometimes his heart feels cold, blackened, non-existant. But whenever he's pummelling a demon or around Fred he can feel its usual steady beat speed up, and he knows it's there.

It only felt right that when she'd stopped talking for a moment Connor had turned and kissed her, moving his hand under her jaw so they fit together just right. She didn't kiss back, but she didn't try to move away, just let him kiss her.

When they pulled away a bit, Fred looked into his eyes for one long moment, then away, out through the window to somewhere Connor was sure wasn't in sight but in her head. She put the joint to her lips and sucked in, letting out smoke slowly. "We're not going to find him, you know," her voice was low, and breathy, and Connor almost thought it wasn't hers.

She looked back at him and he nodded, having no need to hold back anything, because at that moment he felt nothing but guilt for her. "I know," he said quietly.

And she looked at him, into his eyes and studied his face. A new mask of determination spread across her own. "But I'm not gonna stop looking. He found me, once, and... I can't let him get that lost."

He pulled her back toward him and kissed her again, and this time she kissed back, softly at first, but it got more intense as it deepened. It was good, and made him feel dizzier than any of the weed could ever had, being this close to someone so much like him.

They moved on to the bed, and she put the joint in an ashtray on the nightstand where a pile of ashes already lay. Maybe that's all they're destined to be, he thought. Ashes. All that's left of what was once a bright and burning flame.

And he could feel her hurt, because he'd felt it too, and he wanted to tell her everything, just stop fucking lying to her. But he knew it would only hurt more if he told her, she was too much like him for it not to.

And oh, how it hurts. Like one electric shock that goes through his veins and... oh, wait, that's the nice taser Fred must've had stashed somewhere in the hotel. He has to hold back a bitter laugh, because it's the same thing he used on Angel when Angel seemed to betray him. He thinks she'd find it funny, too, if she were on good speaking terms with him instead of crying on Gunn's shoulder.

He and Gunn just glare at each other from across the room, and he wonders if he knows how many times he and Fred fucked in their bed while Gunn was off protecting the city from all the awful things that lurked there. He'd like to tell him right now, or maybe when he gets out of the chair, but he knows it will just hurt her more and he doesn't want to do that, so doesn't say anything about it.

He knows things will never be the same between him and Fred, and he wants to tell her he's sorry. He wants to be able to say he wishes he could take it all back, but he doesn't. This wasn't about her, it was about doing what he thought was right, and still thinks is right. He wishes it hadn't hurt her, yes. But he wouldn't ever take it back.

He doesn't want to taser her just to get out of here, but he has to, and if she thinks about it enough she might just understand. It's about survival with them, and sometimes, sometimes it's about revenge.

Things aren't the same, not at all. The next time he sees her, Cordelia is back, and there isn't any time to try to make things right with Fred. And Cordelia... she's completely different from everything Fred is, and Fred was what he needed then, but now...

Cordelia can't understand him, and she probably never will, and maybe that's better.

It seems to get a bit better, maybe. Fred points a gun at him when she's startled, and he can joke about the time with the taser. She blushes still, but she's not angry, and it's better. Nothing else is really said, though, because he has to take care of Cordelia.

He almost resents it, her being pregnant, but there's something in this world that is actually his... and he can't help but be proud of that.

They don't say another word to each other, but they find time to go into one of the empty rooms and fuck. Because the world might just be ending this time, so why shouldn't they do what they really want?

He wonders if he should start counting the times he has sex to an apocalypse.

Angelus smells her all over him and laughs.

Not long after, and everything goes to hell again. The thing that he made, the thing that he was so proud of is threatened, the only person who stood by him through this whole mess, is threatened, and what is he supposed to do but protect it? Fred's going to bruise in the morning, and he's not sorry, but he wishes it didn't have to be her. He wishes she could understand.

Maybe, maybe wishes it was her he'd been protecting.

There's a moment in Jasmine's shiny new world where he and Fred find time to kiss and talk about in excited voices the things Jasmine's going to do for the world.

Then she pulls a knife on Lorne and he knows he'll never get to touch her again.

And now, as he's back to where it all starts, or maybe where it all ends, a bomb strapped to him and Cordelia lying next to him and a store full of whimpering people, he thinks of Fred. He wonders where she is, if she's thinking about him. If she'll cry when they pull his body out of the wreckage. Wonders if she'll blame herself for teaching him how to do this, or any of the other things she taught him.

He wonders if things had been different, would she be on this floor next to him? Would she even want to be?

He lays down next to Cordelia on the cold floor, and presses a button. Everything afterwards is a rush of loud noise and images of people he once knew, and people he can barely remember. Only a few faces really stick out, and her face is one of them.

There's a silent moment where she smiles at him, and he wishes that moment would last forever. Then it's nothing but ashes for his precious ashtray girl.