Connor was on the verge of sleeping when she said that the werewolf girl was okay, and he contemplated that for a minute. That meant that she hadn't killed anyway, and that Marl hadn't killed her. Marl could have done that, on the basis that the girl might one day kill someone, but he hadn't. And Connor would be eternally grateful for that. 

The fact that Elizabeth mention that...well, it could be a breakthrough or it could just be a vague memory rising up. Either way, he was happy she had told him that, and he slowly drifted of the sleep, grateful. He dreamt, and it wasn't a nice dream. 

He woke with a scream on his lips, and a cold sweet on his forehead. His uninjured hand went to his neck, to the bite, and he closed his eyes. Then he realized that Elizabeth was sucking his shoulder and he looked to her quizzically. He was pretty sure she hadn't bit him...she was his sucking on his shoulder. He blinked, amused. He knew it was probably early afternoon, and not wanting to wake Elizabeth, he carefully moved away. He grabbed clothes to change into, and headed to the bathroom, looking at himself in the mirror. He was pale and almost sickly looking and he swallowed. 

He turned to the shower, showering for a long time, the water on as hot as he could stand, hoping the heat would give him some colour as he thought about the dream. Connor's abilities in the supernatural were virtually just sensing when something was around, but sometimes he did have dreams. 

And this one had been incredibly strong and vivid. The only reason he could think of for that made him shudder, and he decided not to contemplate that. When he had finished showering he dried and dressed, heading to his laptop, glancing over at Elizabeth, and began to search the his trot of the last 319 years.