Title: Masks Chapter Eight
Author: Magpie and Wolfling
Email: magpie@moracle.co.uk and wolfling@sympatico.ca
Show: Buffy
Rating: overall NC-17, PG 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 :) This is
the last chapter of this story, but not the last chapter in the storyline. We're
already hard at work on the second story in the just name "Of Old Mystics"
series; the first chapter of "Smoke and Mirrors" should hopefully be out soon.
Thanks to everyone who has sent feedback for this. We hope you've enjoyed it,
and will stay with us as we continue. :)
"You're staring," Giles pointed out.
"Patterns in clouds," Ethan replied, somewhat inexplicably. He smiled gently as he lowered his eyes from Giles', and took his half-eaten butty from the blue utilitarian plate in front of him, raising it to his mouth.
The café they'd eventually found after their walk up the hill, open so early to provide for those whose job was to get the city ready for the day-workers, was cheap and not particularly cheerful. But the coffee was strong, hot and black, and the food was good in a way that would, Giles thought, make any respectable Californian enter cardiac arrest on the spot.
It was, in fact, a lot like the kinds of places they used to end up in after nights spent getting lost in magic and each other, back in their younger days. Another echo of their mutual past, which seemed closer now than ever before.
And that was the problem, wasn't it?
"You're thinking," Ethan accused. "Are you seeing patterns too?"
"I'd have to be blind not to, wouldn't I?" Giles replied, taking a sip of his coffee to avoid meeting Ethan's eyes.
"Like a circle in a spiral, like a wheel within a wheel..." Giles recognised that Ethan was quoting from a song Giles had once sung to his lover.
He smiled a little at the memory. "Something like that. It certainly feels like we've travelled back to the beginning." And despite all the complications that brought with it, Giles couldn't find it in himself to feel regret.
Ethan looked down. "I'd rather like it to go differently this time."
"Hopefully age has brought wisdom," Giles said dryly, casually brushing Ethan's hand with a light touch. It was certainly an ironic thing to say, considering that Ethan had always seemed to have the power to drive every bit of sense from his brain.
Ethan drew a deep breath as he looked up again and released it as a quiet sigh. "I find myself unwilling to ask, Rupert; I'm not sure why. But nonetheless, will you tell me what happened?"
Giles let out his breath in a weary sigh. "It's a long story," he said, delaying just a bit. He had already made the decision to tell Ethan, but that didn't make it any easier to start.
"We have all day."
He decided to begin with some background information, before he got to the truly difficult part. Unfortunately, the background was almost as hard to talk about. "A couple of years ago, Buffy died." He said the words, trying not to actually remember the events.
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "I had no idea ghosts could use a telephone so efficiently. Not to mention so offensively." He winced and lowered his eyes. "Sorry."
Giles let the comments pass, having expected something of the sort from Ethan. He doubted Buffy was ever going to be a subject his lover could discuss completely civilly. Continuing on with his story, Giles said, "A few months later, Willow brought her back. With magic."
"Little Willow? Sweet redheaded child? About so high?" Ethan raised his flat hand to roughly indicate Willow's height.
"'Little Willow' has more power than most of the magic-users I've met combined."
"I'm assuming the resurrection was fully successful then." Ethan shook his head. "Even I wouldn't fool with the Law *that* much, Rupert." Giles thought he caught a glimpse of uncertainty in Ethan's eyes as the words were spoken, but perhaps not.
"I'm glad to hear it." Giles looked down at his coffee mug. "Willow, however wasn't listening to any kind of reason at the time. She had the power, and she was going to use it, and damn the consequences."
"And there were, I take it? Consequences?"
Giles grimaced. "Indeed. She brought Buffy back -- by ripping her out of heaven. This does not make for a cheerful Slayer. But the worst came later."
Ethan didn't say anything. He lifted his coffee with both hands, as if warming them, and after taking a sip, he looked at Giles over the top of his mug. Waiting. Giles met his eyes for a moment, then looked back down before speaking.
"Willow's girlfriend was murdered. To say that Willow didn't take it well would be a huge understatement."
It was a few moments before Ethan said anything, and when he did, he seemed to have decided to keep it simple, perhaps aware of how difficult this was for Giles to talk about. "What did she do?"
"She drained all the magic from the collection of books I'd left at the magic shop, tracked down, tortured, and flayed alive the man who had killed Tara then attacked Buffy and the others when they tried to keep her from killing anyone else." Giles sighed heavily. "That's when I came in."
"You hadn't been, er, 'in' before?"
"I was in England." He shook his head. "Another long story, and not directly relevant. I was... involved with this coven in Devon; they had a seer who alerted me to what was happening, and what would happen if Willow wasn't stopped. They lent me the entire coven's power and sent me back."
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "I'm beginning to see the end of this story, but let's get there the normal way, nonetheless. What happened when you got to Sunnydale?"
"We fought. I got my arse kicked, which thankfully, had been part of the plan, however painful." Giles leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, the memories vivid as he talked. "She stole my magic, and that, combined with what she already had, drove her insane enough to try and destroy the world."
Offering a wry smile, Ethan said, "While being back in your bed may approach the heavenly for me, there still seems to be plenty of suffering in the world, and so I can't quite imagine that we're dead men talking. I assume the good witch gone bad was stopped somehow."
Giles smiled a little. "Xander reached her in time, and then he *reached* her."
"How sweet," Ethan said dryly. "I'm not quite clear why you getting your arse kicked was part of the plan, or indeed what the plan was. Although," he added as an afterthought, "I'll be happy to massage out any residual bruising you might still have."
"It was part of the plan because of the type of magic the coven lent to me. Its essence was pure, so when Willow stole it--"
"-- her cure was immediately underway. Which is why the boy could reach her. Quite ingenious, Rupert, and may I say, suicidal."
"That was the one flaw, yes," Giles admitted ruefully, taking a sip of his coffee. "But as it turned out, when Willow let go of all her stolen power, that which was mine found its way back. So here I am still."
"And if I'm guessing the epilogue correctly, after years of religious persecution, your magic is now getting just a little bit bolshy." Ethan toasted Giles with his mug, a somewhat smug expression on his face.
"Yes, I rather expected this would be how you'd react," Giles said testily, though part of him still felt disappointed at said reaction. "Go on then. Get the gloating out of your system."
Far from gloating, Ethan immediately looked chagrined. "Sorry," he muttered into the dregs of his coffee.
Giles sighed, unable to hold onto his irritation in the face of an apology. "It... hasn't been easy," he admitted softly.
"What have you been trying?"
"Abstinence," he replied, quirking his mouth upwards in a rueful half-smile.
"And that's not been working too well." It was a statement, not a question.
"Let's just say it's made difficult times even more difficult," Giles replied, remembering how close his own grief, rage and fear at the Council's destruction had come to getting out of control. The only way he had been able to cope without losing himself was to ruthlessly lock every emotion down.
Ethan stretched his legs out under the table so that they were touching Giles'. "I know I'm hardly the right person to be handing out magic advice, but if something's a part of you, the way your magic is... well, isn't it rather like sitting on top of Old Faithful and expecting not to get a somewhat violent enema?"
"Thank you for that ever so pleasant image."
Ethan chuckled. "You're quite welcome."
"It's worked for the last twenty-five years," Giles said, answering the original comment and staring down into his coffee cup. "It should bloody well keep working."
"But it isn't." Ethan's voice was schooled and as free of judgement as Giles had ever heard it. "And now I'm here, and lit up like Piccadilly Circus to your senses. It can't be helping."
Giles glanced back up at him. "It is making me rather hyperaware of the problem, yes."
A pained wince flickered over Ethan's features, and he looked down, his legs moving away from Giles under the table. "I... I'll do my best to find a harmless way of earthing myself. It probably won't last anyway."
"No," Giles said immediately, reaching out and laying a hand on Ethan's arm, though he was careful to make the gesture look innocent for anybody who would be watching. "I mean, yes, it would be a good thing for your own benefit if you learned a way of harmlessly... dispersing the excess energy, but I don't want you pulling away because of it."
Ethan's eyes clearly expressed gratitude when their gaze met Giles'. "It's going to make the monkish life even harder for you, Rupert." He grinned suddenly, and rather evilly, and then looked away, scratching at the side of his neck.
Giles' gaze narrowed. "Do I even want to know what you're thinking?"
Ethan's hand failed to rub the grin away from his mouth. "Oh, I was just thinking about you in a nice chaste Benedictine habit... wandering through the abbey gardens, open book in hand, contemplating some of the finer mysteries of life. Of course, I'd be there to defrock you."
"Of course," Giles replied dryly. He paused and then, knowing how Ethan's mind worked, added firmly, "We are not procuring a monk's robe."
"We could rent one. Is that costume shop in Islington still there?"
"I am not dressing as a monk so that you can defrock me." Giles did his best to sound absolutely certain, knowing if he showed the least little bit of interest, Ethan would continue to press the issue. And if that happened, he might as well get used to the idea of playing a monk.
Ethan laughed and then gave Giles an over-the-top sultry look. "I'll just have to imagine very hard then. Mmm, *very* hard." It was becoming clear Ethan had decided that the serious conversation was over for now, which was perfectly all right with Giles. He'd been doing his best to ignore the magic temptation, and it was harder to do so when actually talking about it.
"Watch it -- you might sprain something," he replied to Ethan in kind.
"Oh dear, and then you'll be forced to rub it better. Such a terrible tragedy."
"Better pace yourself because I'm not rubbing anything here."
Ethan's eyes twinkled. "Then my cup is truly empty. Shall we go?"
***
"Do you know," Ethan said conversationally, "I have a quite unbearable impulse to scratch a penknife along these panelled walls. Oh, don't worry, I don't have a knife on me. But the urge to desecrate is quite powerful."
They were traipsing through the hallowed corridors of the new Council of Watchers' headquarters, a huge Georgian building near the heart of London, and Ethan was finding the experience particularly bemusing. He couldn't quite believe he was here.
"Try to restrain yourself," Rupert replied dryly, though he didn't look too concerned about what Ethan might do. In fact, walking down these corridors, Rupert looked confident and comfortable. He looked like he belonged here.
Ripper had never seemed further away.
And it was that fact, as much as anything else, that was bringing out the anti-establishment feelings in Ethan. He wanted his lover back and not this man. This man was the mask Rupert had put on after turning his back on Ethan and their life together, or at least a more relaxed version thereof. It was very hard for Ethan to behave himself here as a result.
As they had been in the area, Rupert had decided to call in and collect some apparently important papers. Ethan had expected to be left in the car while his lover did so, and so was surprised when it quickly became evident that he was supposed to follow Rupert in. He was thrilled, at first, to be trusted that much, but his unease was growing as he lost all sense of where he was -- and how to get out again -- in the maze of identical wood-panelled corridors and endless staircases.
Ethan knew in his bones how much he didn't belong there. The hairs on the back of his neck were creeping, and he was on an edge so sharp his nerves were bleeding -- figuratively, at least. It felt like the walls didn't want him within them. However, that didn't so much frighten him away, as made him want to commit many amusing acts of vandalism. He let his magic move around his fingertips and felt like he was challenging the building to a duel.
"It might well be a good idea if we don't stay here too long, old chum," he remarked casually.
"I wasn't planning on it," Rupert replied, half distractedly as he nodded at some passers by. "Once I have these files, I can legitimately work from home for a couple of days. Barring any apocalypses or emergencies."
They stopped in front of a carved oaken door with a brass nameplate. It was Rupert's office, of course, and it pretty much screamed tradition and establishment into Ethan's face. He looked at it sourly, already knowing he wouldn't like what lay inside.
Rupert opened the door and led the way into the outer office, which was a bustle of activity. Ethan recognised that Smythe-Tompkins woman in the middle of it. Everyone paused as they noticed Rupert's entrance.
In full vulpine mode, Ethan smiled toothily at them all as he followed Rupert in. All but one of the small crowd were female. As well as the prim bitch, there was an equally prim older woman behind a desk, and two girls dressed very differently from the others. The token bloke was short, thin, and utterly nondescript; he was standing between the two girls looking flustered.
Ethan lounged over towards the only face he knew. "Pammy, how nice to see you again," he purred.
Rupert glanced at him, but there was fondness as well as exasperation in his expression, and he didn't actually say anything about Ethan's posturing. Instead, Rupert turned back to his assistant. "Good morning, Pamela. I just came in to get the reports from Africa; going to work at home today."
"Sir," Pamela replied dutifully, but she was looking at Ethan with increasing alarm. "Don't touch that!" she snapped, as he ran his finger over the top of a beige folder. His grin became broader still as he fondled the cardboard, being deliberately provocative. She visibly steeled herself and turned back to Rupert. "There are some other matters I need to talk to you about, sir."
Giles let out his breath in an exasperated sigh. "Fine. We can go into my office..." He glanced over at Ethan. "This shouldn't take long. Try not to terrorise the staff in the meantime."
Full of mock-affront, Ethan clasped his hand to his chest and opened his eyes wide, but Rupert didn't even notice the display, turning as he already was, to open the second door in the room. Ethan watched glumly as his lover and Pamela disappeared into the office beyond, which was, like everything he'd seen here so far, furnished expensively but austerely.
Rupert might as well be a monk really, for all the fun he'd have in this last bastion of Victorian tradition.
Ethan looked around the remaining population of the office. The older woman was glaring at him, clearly prepared to take her cues from Pammy double-barrelled, and the man was looking at his clipboard, so Ethan grinned charmingly at the two teenage girls. "Hello sweet things. Aren't you a little too brightly-coloured for this cemetery for the living?"
The taller of the two girls just stared at him, but the other laughed. "Damn straight," she said, her accent American. "We spend enough time in cemeteries for the dead -- or undead -- already. And even *they're* more alive than this place." She looked him up and down then held out her hand. "I'm Katherine -- call me Kat -- and this is Megan."
Ethan raised the proffered hand to his lips for a chaste kiss. "Delighted to meet you both, and may I say what a pleasure it is to find someone here that actually knows how to smile. And such pretty smiles you both have too."
The short grey man looked up and spoke with a peevish tone. "Girls, please don't bother Mr Giles' friend with your idle chatter."
Ethan rolled his eyes and grinned encouragingly at the children. "On the contrary, please do so bother me, girls. Otherwise I fear I may go quite mad in this den of suffocating virtue. You are two of the new Slayers, I presume?"
"That's us. Ours is the birthright and the power, and we must be instructed on how to properly channel blah, blah, blah, blah." Kat rolled her eyes expressively.
Mr 'grey' got as far as... "Katherine, I really must protest--" before Ethan cut him off, his smile now a little cruel, and his tone edged with poison meant for the man and not the girls.
"Do you know what a birthright is, Kat? It's a weapon that the establishment uses in order to get you to kow-tow to their rules. Didn't you have plans for your life before the power hit you?"
Before the girl could answer, the door to Rupert's inner office flew open. Rupert was standing in the doorway, looking supremely annoyed. "Edwards," he said to the grey man, voice tightly controlled. "Inside. Now."
Ethan chuckled softly at the obvious flinch the small man tried to repress, even though he himself had flinched a little when Rupert had first appeared in the doorway radiating anger, guiltily thinking that his lover might have overheard his comment about birthrights.
As Edwards headed in, looking for all the world like a small school boy about to be caned by the headmaster, Ethan turned back to the girls. "Don't worry. Rupert won't actually kill him, just make him wish that he had done."
Megan watched Edwards slink into the office, a look of extreme satisfaction on her face, while Kat said breezily, "Oh, Giles is cool. He's not..." She trailed off, obviously searching for the right word.
"Tight-arsed?" Ethan suggested helpfully. "Rigid, narrow-minded, order-bound, and appallingly naïve?"
"Stuffy," Megan said softly, speaking for the first time.
"That too." He smiled encouragingly at the shyer girl. Turning to the matron, whose glare he could still feel on the back of his neck, Ethan ordered, "Earl grey, black, no sugar." He didn't wait to see her reaction, immediately turning back to the girls. "So how have you been enjoying England then?"
Kat shrugged. "It's okay. Everyone talks funny though."
"You are quite right, of course," Ethan agreed drolly. "What parts of England have you actually been allowed to see?"
"Mostly just London. Though Giles took a bunch of us to Devon for a weekend a while back." Devon again -- interesting. Perhaps Ethan should ask more about this mysterious coven when he got the chance.
"I liked it there," Megan put in, voice still soft, but seeming a bit more animated. "It's all green and peaceful."
"On the surface, yes." Ethan was pleased to see the secretary woman was bustling about actually making him tea. He perched on the edge of her desk and smirked a little. "So what was on the agenda today, girls? And, hmm, what went wrong?"
"Mr. Edwards threatened not to let us have our mail," Megan said, her voice stronger with indignation.
"Unless you worked harder at becoming a little grey nonentity like himself, I presume."
Kat looked disgusted. "We'd been asking too many questions, he said."
"Ah," Ethan nodded knowingly. "Lack of blind obedience. Always a fatal mistake with people like this crowd. Aren't you girls ever allowed out to have fun?"
"It's not that bad," Kat said. "At least, usually. But Mr. Edwards is a... tight-arse, did you say?"
"Yes, 'tight-arse' is a perfectly good phrase in these circumstances. You should also consider many other sturdy British descriptives, such as--" The door to Rupert's office started to open, but Ethan continued regardless. "-- he's a gormless pillock with a pole up his jacksee who would be out of his depth in a car park puddle. "
Edwards stormed out and past them, glaring at Ethan but not stopping. Pamela followed, but stopped and went to sit behind the other desk in this anteroom, presumably her own. Finally Rupert emerged, coming over to join the three of them. "Ethan," he began in a long-suffering tone that was at least partially put on. "How many times have I asked you not to corrupt my Slayers?"
Ethan's mouth formed a moue as he looked appraisingly at the girls. "Do you feel corrupted, my dears? If you do, there's no need to thank me. It's all part of a good day's work for a man like myself." There was a clink of bone china beside him as his tea was delivered with ill grace.
Megan and Kat both giggled at that, and then giggled again when Rupert picked up the teacup before Ethan could, and winked at the girls.
"Well, if that's the case," Rupert said, heading back to his office, "you might as well join the girls and me for the next conversation." He gestured for the three to follow him.
Chuckling at his lover's cheek, Ethan followed, saying to the older woman again, "Earl grey, black, no sugar," as he entered the other room.
Once the door was closed, Rupert turned to the girls. "So it appears that you two are out a teacher," he said dryly.
Kat shrugged, not seeming the least bit repentant. "No big loss where Mr. Edwards is concerned."
Ethan prowled about the room as they talked, scanning the notice boards briefly and then heading for the window. He suspected he'd only been invited in here to stop him provoking trouble with the two women outside.
"Be that as it may, the fact remains we have to find you a new one," Rupert was saying.
"Can we have him?" Megan asked, and Ethan looked over to see her pointing at him.
Not for a moment believing Rupert would take the request seriously, Ethan giggled. "Oh please. There's so much I could teach them, Ripper."
Rupert looked at him appraisingly for a long moment, the faintest of smiles touching his lips. "I've no doubt that you could." He turned back to the girls. "Are you quite certain you want him?"
Both girls nodded enthusiastically. "He's cool," Kat declared.
Ethan stared between Rupert and the girls and back again. It wasn't that it was unlike Rupert to run with the joke in order to wind Ethan up, but he wouldn't normally tease the girls. Ethan was confused.
"All right," Rupert said.
"What?" Ethan asked faintly. Could they possibly have worked this joke out in advance between them?
"Of course, Ethan's never done this before, so I'll be assisting him." Rupert glanced over at Ethan. "If that's all right with you?"
"What?" Ethan asked again, a little louder.
"And with you two of course," Rupert said, turning back to the girls. "You think you can handle having the two of us as teachers?"
"What?" Ethan all but yelled. "Rupert, have you lost what wits your increasing decrepitude has left you with?"
Ignoring Ethan, Rupert asked the girls, "Could you give us a minute?"
"Sure," Kat said, looking back and forth between the two. "We'll go see if the tea's ready." She dragged Megan back out into the outer office.
As soon as the door was shut, Ethan strode over to his lover. "As jokes go, I've heard better from Bob Monkhouse," he complained.
"I'm not joking," Rupert told him
Fear contracted Ethan's guts and he folded his arms in front of himself protectively. "You have to be. Either that or you've finally lost it. No one in their right mind would put me in charge of children."
"It wouldn't be the first time I've been accused of being crazy."
Rupert really seemed to be serious, and Ethan's head was reeling. His mouth opened and closed a few times, but he said nothing, and finally he turned away, walking back to the window to look out over London, which was dull and damp.
Rupert came up behind him, sliding one arm around Ethan's waist. "Tell me what you're thinking?" he asked softly.
"Nothing particularly coherent, I can assure you." And that was no lie. Ethan's mind was filled with a jumbled series of half-finished thoughts. He leant slightly against the other man, seeking reassurance. "Presuming it's not simple sadism on your part... why?"
"You aren't going to get bogged down in tradition or bureaucratic idiocy," Rupert explained. "You've been out there and know what they could face. You're not going to sugarcoat things, and you are going to make sure they know there's life outside the traditional Slayer existence. Things have changed; there are enough Slayers now that those who don't want to be active don't have to be. Most of the people here have yet to grasp that fact. I want these girls to have a choice, and you would make sure they got one."
Ethan laughed hollowly, his arms still wrapped tightly around himself. "I'm quite certain you won't want them to have the kind of choices I could offer them."
Rupert tightened the half-embrace he had him in. "There's a difference between 'could' and 'would'," he said quietly.
"Please don't do that."
"Do what?"
"Trust me... believe in me... make me responsible for children..." Ethan turned his head away, although he made no attempt to leave Rupert's embrace. "I believe you may have forgotten who I am."
"I know who you are," Rupert told him, voice soft and breath warm against Ethan's ear. "You can do this, Ethan." He paused and offered, "It will drive the more conservative factions of the Council into quiet apoplexy."
"I doubt it'll be that quiet, and I suspect it'll be all the Council apart from you." There was a certain appeal in that, but still... Ethan turned in Rupert's arms in order to meet, just about, his lover's gaze. "I know why you're doing this."
"Do you?" Rupert asked, smiling faintly.
"You're testing me. Because I said that if you hadn't left me, if you'd given me the chance to follow you when you came back to these bastards--" Ethan waved his hand to express the concept of the whole Watcher's Council. "-- I would have. You're wanting me to prove I meant it."
The smile faded. "This isn't a test, Ethan. It's... I want to give you a... a chance. A purpose."
Ethan had a purpose and it was standing right in front of him. He didn't need anything else. But Rupert clearly needed him to have... something that wasn't him; that much was obvious. Ethan sighed with resignation, his gaze dropping. "I am almost certainly going to disappoint you, you know. Don't you dare hate me when I do."
Rupert reached out, gently brushing a hand against his cheek. "I'm not just throwing you in the deep end alone, you realise. You did hear the part when I said I was going to help you?"
"You're going to have to rewire my entire personality for this to work," Ethan muttered, but then he looked up, his face a perfect picture of smugness. "I'll require the top rate of salary plus all the perks, and I want to have my boss available for a thorough shagging at a moment's notice."
Rupert chuckled. "I think we can work something out that will be agreeable."
Ethan found himself smiling at his lover, despite his trepidation. "I don't even know exactly what I'm agreeing to."
"Working very closely with me in teaching those two girls what they will need to know to survive." Rupert paused and then reiterated, "*Very* closely."
Chuckling softly, and moving his arms around Rupert to hold him more *closely*, Ethan said, "Ah well, when you put it that way, how could I possibly refuse?
END