Title: Masks Chapter Seven
Author: Magpie and Wolfling
Email: magpie@moracle.co.uk and wolfling@sympatico.ca
Show: Buffy
Rating: NC-17 overall, R this chapter
Category: angst, hurt/comfort
Warnings: spoilers up to the end of Chosen
Pairings: Giles/Ethan
Summary: Giles finds an old friend
Author Notes: Many thanks to Mad Poetess and Wesleysgirl for betaing :)
"Spoilsport," Ethan said. Ripper rolled his eyes at his lover and pulled the boy closer with a tight arm across his back as they walked. It was gone five in the morning. They'd spent the whole evening getting progressively more wasted on cheap lager and expensive weed at a mate's house, until the intoxicated rituals they were playing with ended up covering the floor with a swarm of transparent centipedes.
That was when Ripper'd decided enough was enough, and he'd dragged Ethan out into the cold night air to sober up. But Ethan was bloody irrepressible, and of course, wanted to do the spell again, now, and with 'interesting' variations on the wording that he'd thought up.
"You're not going to want to stop until we conjure up a herd of carnivorous pink elephants, are you?" Ripper tried to sound stern, but it wasn't something he seemed to be able to manage with Ethan.
"That has a certain appeal. We could let them go after the high tea and twinset brigade down at Henley one Sunday afternoon." Ethan giggled drunkenly. "Nellies amongst the old nellies. Flesh-eating, carmine nellies leaving carnage along the riverbank and trumpeting to the yachtsmen. Give us a kiss, Ripper, my love."
Ripper willingly did so, pulling Ethan flush against his body and claiming his mouth with his own, savouring the taste of alcohol and magic that lingered on his lips.
The way Ethan melted against him never ceased to speak to Ripper in a deep place, bringing out a level of fierce possessiveness that he hadn't known he was capable of before he met his lover. Ethan was such a heady mixture of pliant and deadly, like a stray cat that was feeling friendly... for now. As they kissed, Ripper felt Ethan's spidering hands move down over his arse, where the barely perceptible touch suddenly sharpened into claws digging in.
He growled, tightening his own grip to the point where he knew he was leaving bruises. This was another new thing he'd only found with Ethan -- this mixture of pain and pleasure. The other boy shuddered and moaned into the kiss, circling his hips and rubbing sensually against Ripper. They were going to end up shagging in the street if they weren't careful.
Reluctantly breaking their lips apart, Ripper held Ethan firmly by his shoulders and looked around at their surroundings. Hmm, Belize Park -- they weren't too far from Hampstead Heath. They could trek up Parliament Hill and watch the sun come up.
Watching the sunrise had been something Ripper had done quite often at school; sometimes finishing papers, but more often just thinking about what was out there in the dark, and what he was supposed to do about it. The last month before he had left, he'd been up thinking about forced responsibilities, freedom and choices. It was while watching the sunrise that he'd finally made the decision to choose Ethan over university.
He hadn't had a chance to sit and watch one since and suddenly felt the urge to so now.
"Come on," he said, heading in that direction and pulling Ethan with him.
"Where are we going?" the other boy asked. "Somewhere delightfully wicked, I hope."
"Parliament Hill," Ripper replied.
"That's not wicked... although I suppose it could be... " Ethan's hand squeezed Ripper's as they trotted up Rosslyn Hill. "Are we going to be debauched? I do hope so."
"You always want to be debauched," Ripper pointed out. Which was pretty much the reason that he hadn't had a chance for much else since he and Ethan had moved in together. "We're going to watch the sunrise."
"Ah. While shagging like horny goats, of course." Ethan asserted hopefully.
"No, because then I'd be watching you, instead of the sun."
"Oh, I'm sure I could situate myself so that you could see both." Ethan was starting to pull back in Ripper's grip. Either he wanted to slow down or to stop. "Are you seriously going to make me clamber all the way up there just to watch the dawn?"
Ripper stopped and turned to face him. "I'm asking you to come and sit with me and watch the sunrise," he said, holding his lover's gaze. "The choice of whether you do so or not is yours." He let go of Ethan's hand and started walking again, holding his breath as he waited to see if Ethan would follow.
"Hey!" came the slightly outraged complaint as Ripper heard Ethan's footfalls hurrying behind him. "You can't lose me that easily." An arm was threaded around Ripper's waist under his jacket. "I never said I wouldn't come. I always come for you, don't I?" Ethan snickered.
"You didn't sound very enthusiastic," Ripper grumbled, though something had eased in him at the swiftness with which Ethan had caught up to him.
Perhaps responding to the genuine concern under Ripper's words, Ethan sobered a little and said sincerely, "I'll always follow you, Ripper. Wherever you lead. You should know that." Returning to drunken extravagance, he continued, "You're my king, my liege, my commanding sovereign to kneel before. Whither thou goest, I will trot along behind like the good and well-behaved boy I am."
Ripper snorted. "Well-behaved? You?" But he wrapped his arm around Ethan's shoulders, pulling him closer as they walked. As they cut through the maze of side streets, still heading towards the heath, Ethan started feeling inside Ripper's jacket, looking for something. "Not that I'm not enjoying this, but can I help you with something?"
"You've got the nicotine, my dear. I need to warm my lungs up if I'm to get up there." Ethan pointed at the rising green slope of Parliament Hill before them, acting as if it were bloody Everest and not a gentle incline.
Ripper took out the pack, and after grabbing one for himself, passed it over to Ethan. Instead of searching for his lighter, he concentrated and with a single muttered word, lit the tip of his fag with magic.
"Show off," Ethan told him, but he sounded proud of Ripper's ability with fire magic, which wasn't an area Ethan himself had much talent in. He snuggled closer as they walked onto the grass and started up the slope, apparently trying to get a light for the fag in his mouth.
"Saves time," Ripper replied, reaching out and touching his finger to Ethan's fag, lighting it as well.
Ethan inhaled deeply, and then took the cigarette between two fingers as he exhaled. The sky was starting to glow pink on the eastern horizon, and the birds were getting quite excited about the closeness to dawn, their chorus becoming louder. "Nice," Ethan said after a while, and it was unclear if he meant the smoke in his lungs or the glory of urban nature.
"This has always been my favourite time of day," Ripper confided, as they found a spot where he thought they might settle on the grass.
Ethan wasn't impressed; he pouted down at the wet turf. "I do hope you're not expecting me to plonk my delicate arse down there. It'll give me something unmentionable. In the unmentionables." He giggled, effectively spoiling the sulk. But it was clear he wasn't about to sit down.
"Complain, complain, complain. You're acting like some overly delicate bint of a romance heroine destined to die of consumption in the final chapter." Nonetheless, Ripper concentrated and used a variation of the spell he'd developed to dry their clothes in an effort to save them money on laundry. "Exhala aquam viduum." The grass steamed slightly for a few seconds, and then he sat down on the perfectly dry patch, looking up at Ethan with a raised eyebrow.
Ethan clasped a hand to what would've been his bosom, had he changed sex, and said theatrically, "Oh, Mr Giles, you are such a gentleman. Why, your manners quite put me to shame." He dropped his cigarette butt to the ground, twisting his shoe over it, and then dropped to his hands and knees beside his lover, grinning somewhat evilly.
"Ponce." Ripper reached out and grabbed Ethan's arm, pulling him up and around until he was settled in front of him. Closing his eyes for a brief second, Ripper relished the feel of his lover's body resting against his.
Ethan wriggled, getting comfortable between Ripper's legs. "One might almost say this was quite pleasant," he remarked, and then spoilt it -- quite deliberately, Ripper was sure -- by adding, "Of course, dawn would be the ideal timing for that nymphs and shepherds spell I was showing you."
"Hush," Ripper told him. "Just be quiet and watch."
And so they sat in companionable silence, Ripper's arms wrapped around Ethan, as the glow on the skyline spread through the clouds until the whole of that area of sky was filled with glorious fiery hues, and Ripper felt he might be in a painting by Casper David Friedrich. Ethan was motionless, and Ripper rather thought his lover was as captivated by the sight as he was, although he knew Ethan would never willingly admit it.
"When I was little, I used to wake up and watch the sunrise from my room," Ripper began in a soft voice, not wanting to break the moment. "Growing up in a Watcher family, I knew the kinds of things that went bump in the night. Watching the sunrise made me feel... safe, somehow."
He felt Ethan's hands move over his own, stroking softly, and his lover said in a quiet, thoughtful tone, "I can't imagine you scared of the dark. You burn so brightly." The way Ethan saw him never failed to amaze Ripper. Was it any wonder he had chosen this over a life of nothing but expectations and responsibilities, where he was seen as nothing but his family name?
"I learned to fight what was in the dark, but even the best fighter needs to relax sometimes." He tightened his embrace, pressing even closer to Ethan, his next words being whispered directly in his lover's ear. "You make me burn brighter than I ever thought possible."
"Fuel to your flames." Ethan chuckled softly at the thought. "I rather like that."
"Long may we burn," Ripper murmured, turning Ethan in his arms to kiss just as the sun cleared the horizon.
***
Ethan's lungs were burning. They were only halfway up Parliament Hill from the carpark, the sun was already showing over the horizon, and his lungs felt like he'd been inhaling acid. Rupert was being very solicitous, of course, but Ethan couldn't let his lover see how badly off he really was, as then this pleasant adventure -- his first trip out since his rescue -- would be over. There was really only one thing for it.
Bending over, pretending to check the lace of the ugly trainers Rupert had him wearing, Ethan separated himself physically from the other man, as he didn't want Rupert sensing what he was about. Mouthing silently, "Incita et restitue," Ethan let the magic flow through his body, energising and healing. This was the way he'd always kept himself in one piece before, no matter the level of debauchery he'd indulged in. Yes, there was a price, but payment wasn't due for quite a while yet. With a bit of luck anyway.
With a spring added to his step now, Ethan straightened up and smiled cheekily at his lover. "Hurry up, old man. We'll miss the main event." Rupert was frowning at him, but he didn't say anything; he merely nodded and continued on up the hill.
Ethan inhaled deeply. He felt better than he had for many years. Not just since before his imprisonment, but earlier still. This excess of power within him seemed to be charging every cell, making him feel alive and vital. But he had to be careful that Rupert didn't notice, as he felt sure his lover would not approve. Once he would have, but not now. So Ethan kept his pace slower than he would have preferred and his breathing just a little bit laboured.
"You're not fooling anyone, you realise," Rupert told him conversationally.
Oh. Oh well, so much for that. "Might as well stop trying then, I imagine." Ethan began to walk at the speed he wanted to. "Am I in trouble?"
Rupert didn't answer the question directly, instead observing, "I can understand the desire to be better right away."
Ethan was quiet for a while, pondering his lover's attitude, which was somewhat perplexing. Rupert seemed accepting of Ethan's use of magic, neither approving nor disapproving. But Ethan knew that Rupert felt strongly these days that magic purely for the sake of personal comfort was wrong. "It's certainly pleasant to know you're not expecting too much of me," he said wryly in the end.
Rupert gave a half shrug. "My disapproval wouldn't change a thing, would it?"
But it could; Rupert's anger could change everything. Ethan wasn't sure he should admit that however. If Rupert hadn't worked it out for himself after Ethan's failed attempt to play the perfect houseguest, it was probably best to keep under wraps just how much power his lover could now wield over him. Ethan was vulnerable enough without adding that to the psychological cake mix.
Feeling a spark of inspiration, he offered, "If you have a use for my magic more to your liking, I'll gladly harness it to the plough, so to speak. I've plenty to spare after all."
Rupert glanced sideways at him as they walked. "Using the magic to heal isn't necessarily something I'd be against," he said. Ethan looked over at him, confused but undeniably pleased.
He slipped his hand into his lover's again as they reached the top of the hill. "You've surprised me. I'd thought, erroneously it seems, that you'd see it as -- what was it you used to say? -- lighting a candle with a flame-thrower? You use your own power so little, Rupert. Which, by the way, and speaking as someone who could have happily sat still for hours just watching you wield it, is a sin and a crime against nature." He winked at the other man, trying to encourage lightness in the difficult conversation.
"I still believe that," Rupert said quietly. "It's not that I'm not worried. You're walking a very thin line between using the magic and letting it use you. I've seen what can happen if you lose your balance."
Ethan frowned. "*If* I lost my balance, Ripper dear, and I'm not agreeing that I did, it wasn't the magic that tipped me over."
They stopped, and Rupert turned to him. "I was speaking in more general terms, love. The times I've seen what can happen, it wasn't you."
Deciding to let the subject drop, at least for a little while, Ethan slipped his arm around Rupert's waist, wanting to feel his lover closer. And Rupert, in turn, drew him nearer still. They stood in silence, watching the last few moments of the dawn until the sun was clear of the horizon, and the shades of pinks and oranges were fading from the sky. Then Ethan reached out with his fingertips and gently turned Rupert's face towards him.
Rupert's expression was totally unguarded, and the emotions there -- love and wonder, worry and fear -- were enough to take Ethan's breath away. So he didn't say any of the things he'd been considering -- about magic, about them, or about their mutual past. Instead, Ethan found the scaldingly sincere words, "God, I worship you," falling from his lips, and terrified he might let any more appalling truths escape, he surged forward to kiss Rupert's lips with a passion so intense it hurt.
He felt Rupert's arms wrap around him as they kissed, holding him close with an almost desperate strength, almost like he was afraid Ethan would disappear if he let go. Wanting somehow to reassure Ripper, wanting to give his lover something solid, although he didn't know quite what or how, Ethan groaned into the kiss and tried, impossibly, to get closer still.
Rupert finally pulled back, but only enough to search Ethan's face. Whatever he saw there made him smile and kiss Ethan again briefly. "You still make me burn," he murmured.
"Like a candle or a flame-thrower?" Ethan asked with a fond smirk. He was feeling really very happy indeed, and it wasn't a feeling he was at all used to these days.
"Like..." Rupert looked over his shoulder at the brightening sky. "Like the sun," he finally said with a smile.
And that made perfect sense to Ethan, as that was exactly what Rupert was for him, what he'd always been -- the source of warmth, light, and wonder in Ethan's life. Perhaps the long dark winter that had fallen when Ripper had left was now, finally, over. "I'd rather like to restore my tan then," he grinned. "If that's all right with you."
Rupert chuckled. "As fascinating as the prisoner chic look you've been sporting is, I think I can live without it."
There was a noise from behind them, and they turned to see two largish dogs bounding in their general direction. The owner, a robust-looking older woman, strode closely behind. She whistled her pets to her side to stop them bothering the two men. "Good morning," she said in a brusque but friendly tone, apparently unbothered by the loose embrace they were still sharing.
When she and her dogs had moved by, Ethan turned to Rupert. "Thank you for bringing me here again."
"Thank you for letting me," Rupert replied.
"Fancy a cup of coffee?"
"Desperately." Rupert's mouth quirked upwards. "Shall we find a shop somewhere, or go back to the house?"
"Am I allowed to give myself just a touch more--" He made an extravagant gesture with his hand. "-- vim and zip?"
"Do you really need it?"
"If we're staying out, yes." Wanting to keep the mood lighter, Ethan added, "Look at it this way, Rupert -- it saves on curtain wear and tear."
"All right then." Rupert pulled back, but kept hold of Ethan's hand as they started back down the hill. "We're going to have to talk about that -- but coffee first."
After a few moments consideration, Ethan decided that had indeed been permission he'd just heard. Of course, he could have just recharged himself and said nothing to Rupert, but for some reason it felt more comfortable to be told he could first. He shut his eyes as they walked, trusting Rupert to guide him, and intoned, "Incita et restitue." He let the power surge through his cells again; God, it felt marvellous. Absolutely bloody grand.
Ethan tried his damnedest to prevent over-spill into Rupert via their joined hands, but soon realised that his control of this extra magic wasn't subtle enough yet, and some escaped. Ethan felt his lover react physically to the surge. Once they had played with magic that way for the unadulterated bliss such games sometimes induced, but Ethan knew things were different now. "My apologies. I hope that wasn't too unpleasant for you."
"No, it wasn't, quite the contrary." Rupert's grip on his hand had tightened during the spell, almost to the point of pain, but now he seemed to make a conscious effort to loosen his fingers. "That's the problem."
"I should have let go."
Rupert's grip tightened again. "No."
Ethan was confused and ever so slightly alarmed. "I... I didn't mean to tempt you. I know once I would have... But I know that you... Oh bugger. Am I ballsing this up?"
"No," Rupert said again, stopping and reaching up with his free hand to touch Ethan's face. "It's just that you're not the only one who has to relearn balance. Which isn't necessarily a bad thing."
They were quite close to the road now, and even at this time in the morning, there were still a fair few people about. But if Rupert didn't care, Ethan certainly didn't either, and he moved his cheek softly against his lover's fingers. Ethan did care about what Rupert was saying, however, and he frowned. "I'm getting the decided impression, dearheart, that there's something I don't know about. Something that happened while I was... gone, perhaps?"
"There was an... incident," Rupert admitted, rather haltingly. "Involving a coven, a grief-stricken witch, borrowed and stolen magic, and almost the end of the world. Again. I almost died as well, but given the imminent end of the world, that doesn't seem much worth mentioning."
Ethan stared hard at his lover for a few moments and then turned and started walking again, now with a far brisker pace. "We're going to drink strong black coffee, Rupert, and I am going make myself a pain in your delectable arse until you've told me all about this."
"You mean you'll stop being a pain in my arse after I do?" Rupert asked bemusedly, as he fell into step beside him once again.
Ethan chuckled. "Only if you want me to."
***
"Well, this is scintillating, I must say," Ethan complained, chucking the book to one side. The two boys were lounging on their bed doing what Ripper referred to as 'research', and what Ethan preferred to describe as 'stifling creativity'. He rolled over and grabbed the box of fags and the ashtray from the upturned tea-chest that served as their bedside table currently. "Magic, in my humble opinion, should be fun."
"And this will be," Ripper replied, not looking up from the book he was reading. "Once we prepare."
"I'm afraid, my dear, you are still labouring under Watcher's Academy indoctrination," Ethan replied with a fond smile, as the other boy was at his most adorable when concentrating hard. "What this will be then is *predictable*." He lit up and lay back on the bed, inhaling deeply.
Ripper finally looked up at that, his eyes meeting Ethan's over the top of his book. "I haven't heard any complaints about my magic before."
"You're not hearing them now." Ethan blew a long stream of smoke directly up into the air. "If I don't help with this murder of spontaneity, then the results will still be a surprise to me. Therefore it is my intention to conscientiously object until the barbarity is over."
Ripper lifted an eyebrow in response. "You have to know the basics of a spell before you can effectively play with it."
"Of course you do," Ethan smirked, his words utterly insincere. Apart from anything else, Ripper was insisting on researching in far more detail than Ethan would ever consider calling 'the basics'.
"Fine," Ripper said, eyes narrowing dangerously. He put the book carefully aside and crossed his arms over his chest. "Why don't you demonstrate?"
The hint of anger in his lover's eyes made Ethan harden a little just from seeing it. "Aw, come now, don't be such a crosspatch. You get on with the -- undoubtedly vital -- work of research, and I'll play a supporting role." He took a drag from his cigarette and exhaled slowly through his nose.
But Ripper's expression had turned stubborn. "Oh no," he said, voice low and challenging. "You're convinced I'm wasting my time, go ahead. Prove it."
Ethan sighed theatrically. Clearly he wasn't going to be allowed to relax this afternoon. "Your wish is my command. Or should I say, your command is my wish?" He sat up, stubbing his fag out in the ashtray, and then faced Ripper. "Half the joy of magic is never knowing quite what you'll end up with. That's the difference between art and craft, my friend. Any schoolgirl with the right book can learn a spell by rote and make some boy want to kill himself for her. But you and I, Ripper; we're artists."
Raising his hand between the two of them, Ethan splayed his fingers out as if holding a ball, and said casually, "Ex tempore componere." An uneven ball of fuzzy red light appeared, hovering above his hands. "Behold, the clay, and now... we sculpt." He held out his other hand to the side, palm up, inviting Ripper to play.
Looking more interested than confrontational now, Ripper reached out and took Ethan's proffered hand, palm to palm, fingers entwined. That hadn't quite been what Ethan was planning, but this was all about improvisation after all. He lifted their joined hands and slowly moved them inside the darkly glowing ball, gasping as a shock of unaligned power shot down his arm and entered his body.
Ripper immediately, instinctively, took hold of the magic, adding his own and twisting the two centres of power together. As Ethan watched, the corners of Ripper's mouth turned up into the beginnings of a smile of delight.
Ethan's own mouth was wide open in something approaching ecstasy. He wasn't trying to shape or move the magic at all, allowing Ripper to control it as he would. All Ethan did was to maintain as steady a supply as he could manage, considering the sheer pleasure that the raw power swelling in every cell in his body was bringing to him.
The ball of power that had originally been situated on his palm was growing, expanding its circumference until it surrounded him, and Ripper, and the bed they were sitting on. They were in the power and the power was in them, and Ripper was there with him, pushing him to lie flat on the mattress and covering Ethan's body with his own.
If Ethan could have spared brain synapses to think with, he would've noted that this high was vastly beyond any drug-induced euphoria he'd ever known. Not even mescaline had come close to this. But his mind was on another plane entirely, where instead of thought, there was only sensation and realisation. He wrapped himself around Ripper and clung to him, feeling as if he were on a wild and dangerous fairground ride.
Clothing seemed to melt away, leaving them skin to skin, and even that wasn't close enough. Then Ripper was inside him, moving in time with the pulse of magic as it poured over and through them, until Ethan couldn't tell where they ended and the power began.
The natural, normal boundaries between them collapsed. The merging of their power was a melding also of their minds. Not so much on an intellectual level, as the rational brain was not connected to this experience, but on an emotional and spiritual basis. Ripper was inside him, in every cell, and he was inside Ripper. One of them was laughing, or maybe crying, and Ethan had no idea which mouth the noises were coming from.
Their climax was overwhelming, a moment of perfection that seemed to go on forever, bonding them to each other, and to the power itself. And afterwards, for a very long time, they just lay there, Ripper still on top of Ethan, until they began to realise once again that they were separate entities.
It felt like he was being torn in half when Ripper eventually rolled from him, and Ethan made a small, desperate noise, trying not to weep. But his lover reached out and pulled Ethan over, wrapping his arms around Ethan and holding him with the same desperation that Ethan felt.
"Ripper. Oh God, Ripper," he moaned, only half-aware of what he was saying. He wanted to start the magic up again, become whole again, but the well had run dry, for now at least. Ethan buried his face in the crook of his lover's neck and clung.
Ripper didn't say anything, just held him tightly as the feeling of loss gradually faded to something that didn't ache quite so much. As they both began to regain their equilibrium, Ripper's grip loosened and he chuckled throatily.
"I'll grant you that there is something to be said for spontaneity," he said.
"You have words to say?" Ethan asked with a broken laugh. "Care to share?"
"Isn't that what we just did?"
Smiling, as he really didn't have many words just yet, Ethan stared into his lover's eyes, which were a source of endless fascination for him even when he wasn't strung out after an incredible high. There were so many colours in Ripper's irises, flecks and smudges of greens, blues, greys and even browns... Looking into them was like watching clouds on a blustery day and seeing shapes and symbols within the chaos.
"What are you thinking?" Ripper asked, feathering a light touch against Ethan's cheek.
"The thought of being without you -- it's rather... worrisome."
"I'm right here," Ripper pointed out. His mouth curved up into a half smile. "Can't get much closer."
Ethan chuckled a little, but there was a bitter sound to it. "Even my childhood puppy got itself run over."
"I promise you, I'm not going to get myself run over." Ripper pulled him closer, wrapping Ethan up in his arms protectively in a way that Ethan would never admit he craved.