Title: Encore, Encore

Author: Passionatedarkness

Authors Note: This is about Connor, it's kind of AU as though his memories faded by themselves and he's going on LA to find out the truth. These are basically his thoughts during the first time he has sex (not with Cordy, I don't count that). The girl is left unnamed, take it who you wish (ie. Faith, Dawn, hooker). Enjoy and review.

Disclaimer: It's so obvious. I own only the story, the song is Sic Transit Gloria…Glory Fades by Brand New, the rest is Joss'.

Keep the noise low,
She doesn't wanna blow it,
Shaking head to toe
While your left hand does "the show me around."
Quickens your heartbeat,
It beats me straight into the ground.

She shoved him against the wall, her lips tearing furiously at him. Feeling, touching, forgetting. Electricity was sparking and it wasn't the faulty wiring, oh no, it wasn't the wiring. She was violent, and he wasn't to sure if he enjoyed it. He always imagined his first time to be with someone he loved, not someone this rough. Not someone this empty. Not someone like him.

You don't recover from a night like this.
A victim, still lying in bed, completely motionless.
A hand moves in the dark to a zipper.
Hear a boy bracing tight against sheets
barely whisper, "This is so messed up."

She was getting more anxious, and they move to the bed, thoughts keep flying through his head about how this wasn't right, nothing was right. He wasn't right, but neither was she. Gotta love the endings to these fabulous plays. Encore, encore. She's straddling him now, and he honestly doesn't know what to do. So he closes his eyes real tight.
Encore, Encore.

Upon arrival the guests had all stared.
Dripping wet and clearly depressed,
he'd headed straight for the stairs.
No longer cool, but a boy in a stitch,
unprepared for a life full of lies and failing relationships.

His life wasn't supposed to be like this. Then again, no ones is. They tell you that things with be all right, they have to work out. God said so. They lied. He was broken and bleeding from the minute he walked into LA with a broken suitcase and a picture of his dead mother in his wallet. A mother he didn't know he ever had until the fake memories began to fade away. A mother that died to let him live. The picture wasn't even real, torn out of some vampire book he found in an occult store. He had never loved before, what could a boy like him know about love. All the times he thought he loved, were simply fake. Maybe, love didn't exist at all.

He keeps his hands low.
He doesn't wanna blow it.
He's wet from head to toe and
his eyes give her the up and the down.
His stomach turns and he thinks of throwing up.
But the body on the bed beckons forward
and he starts growing up.

He honestly thinks that he could get up and leave, and she wouldn't even notice. The thought makes him sick. He's a toy, an object to help her forget; like a video game. How fucked up is that?

The fever, the focus.
The reasons that I had to believe you weren't too hard to sell.
Die young and save yourself.
The tickle, the taste of...
It used to be the reason I breathed, but now it's choking me up.
Die young and save yourself
.

He almost wishes he had died with his mother. Then maybe this wouldn't be happening. Maybe he would be so fucked up that he wished he was dead.

She hits the lights.
This doesn't seem quite fair.
Despite everything he learned from his friends,
he doesn't feel so prepared.
She's breathing quiet and smooth.
He's gasping for air.
"This is the first and last time," he says.
She fakes a smile and presses her hips into his.
He keeps his hands pinned down at his sides.
He's holding back from telling her
exactly what it really feels like.

It wasn't like they told him. It was supposed to feel good. But it didn't. She's done this before, which is obvious. He feels dirty. So dirty. Little boy needs a bath. Dirty boys don't get to play. He promises himself that this is the last time this play will ever show. No more encores.

He is the lamb, she is the slaughter.
She's moving way too fast and all he wanted was to hold her.
Nothing that tells her is really having an effect.
He whispers that he loves her,
but she's probably only looking for...
So much more than he could ever give.
A life free of lies and a meaningful relationship.
He keeps his hands pinned down at his sides.
He waits for it to end
and for the aching in his guts to subside.

He lies. He says he loves her, and the words come out easier than expected. He really does care for her. So much. But that's never enough. She's to empty to give a damn whether he wants to hold her or not. He feels sick again. He's getting used to this feeling.

The fever, the focus.
The reasons that I had to believe you weren't too hard to sell.
Die young and save yourself.
The tickle, the taste of...
It used to be the reason I breathed, but now its choking me up.
Die young and save yourself.

He almost feels like crying. But that would be wrong. Men don't cry. He really isn't a man yet, but he likes to pretend. Like his sister used to play dress up in his mother's clothes and make up. But, wait, that never happened. Fake mother, fake sister. Fake life He can be a man…right?

Up the stairs: the station where
the act becomes the art of growing up.

And suddenly, he doesn't want to grow up anymore.

The fever, the focus
The reasons that I had to believe you weren't too hard to sell
Die young and save yourself.
The tickle, the taste of
It used to be the reason I breathed, but now its choking me up.
Die young and save yourself.

She gets up, brushes her dark hair from her face, and smiles harshly down at him. He almost cringes and gets up to leave. She thanks him for the good time, and he simply nods. As he walks out the door, he turns for a kiss goodbye. He's instead met by the door slamming in his face.

Encore, Encore.

I'm sorry, folks, the show has been cancelled.