Title: Smoke and Mirrors 2/15
Author: Magpie and Wolfling
Email: magpie@moracle.co.uk and wolfling@sympatico.ca
Show: Buffy
Rating: NC-17
Category: angst, hurt/comfort
Warnings: spoilers up to the end of Chosen
Pairings: Giles/Ethan
Series: Of Old Mystics, sequel to Masks
Summary: Sometimes it's difficult to tell what is illusion and what is reality

Author Notes: Many thanks to Mad Poetess and Wesleysgirl for betaing :) This is the sequel to Masks, the second story in the Of Old Mystics series. Masks can be found at http://www.myarseisnotpansy.co.uk/piedm/masks/masks0.html.

After shutting the front door as carefully and quietly as he could manage, Ethan peered blearily at the clock. He grimaced; it was nearly three in the morning. He'd never intended to be out so late; things had got a little out of hand.

Hanging his coat up on the peg, he then crept his way upstairs, wincing when he forgot the creaking stair near the top and the noise sounded stupidly loud in the silent house. The reading lamp was on in the master bedroom, and Rupert, although fast asleep, was still sitting up in bed, his glasses on and an open book on his lap. He was snoring quietly and looked, Ethan had to admit, quite adorable.

Guilt washed through Ethan, and he hated the feeling. Rupert had clearly been waiting up for him. With all the stealth he could muster, considering he was still a little giddy, he quickly stripped and then carefully removed both book and glasses, placing the book over the top of the digital alarm clock to obscure the late -- or indeed early -- hour.

He slipped into bed beside his lover and snuggled up to the sitting man. Even in his sleep, Rupert responded to his presence, shifting to accommodate him, and wrapping an arm around Ethan's shoulders to pull him closer.

Feeling regret about not being there for Rupert after what had undoubtedly been a long and gruelling afternoon for his lover, dealing with a difficult colleague, Ethan kissed the other man softly on the chest and murmured, "I'm sorry, Ripper."

The half-embrace that Rupert had him in tightened in response to Ethan's voice, and Ethan could see that the other man was close to waking. And even though he knew it would undoubtedly be better for him were his lover to sleep through until the morning, something inside Ethan urged him to wake Rupert. He craved his partner's company.

Running a caressing hand up and down the lightly haired chest, Ethan pressed a few more gentle kisses to the warm skin and murmured, "Hi honey, I'm home."

Rupert's eyelids fluttered for a few seconds then he was blinking sleepily down at Ethan. "You're back," he murmured, and the relief imbued in those two words sent another stab of guilt through Ethan.

"Been back a while." It wasn't exactly a lie; a 'while' could mean anything, pretty much. "I wasn't sure if I should wake you, but I was missing you down here under the covers. Come down and snuggle?"

Rupert immediately moved to do so and the next few moments were spent shifting around until they were comfortably wrapped in each other's arms. "Did you have a good night?" Rupert asked, leaning in to kiss him.

Wanting very much to avoid talking about his night, and also wanting the kiss just for the kiss's sake, Ethan moved hungrily towards Rupert's mouth. The embrace was long and lingering, but when Rupert pulled back, he was frowning.

Trying to disguise his instant concern at Rupert's expression, Ethan asked, "Have I developed halitosis since our last kiss?"

"Ethan, did something happen while you were out?" Rupert asked, still frowning, one hand coming up to stroke Ethan's cheek.

"Nothing of any significance," Ethan claimed, looking down under the pretence of kissing his lover's shoulder. Now that was definitely a lie. "How were things at the office? Did you manage to solve your problems with Daddy's Dearest?"

"That particular demon has been muzzled, at least for the moment." Rupert's hand slid down to Ethan's chin, tilting his face up to meet Rupert's worried eyes. "I'm more concerned at the moment about why you taste of magic."

Bugger.

A brick of something nasty seemed to settle in Ethan's stomach. "It's nothing to worry about, Rupert, I assure you. I'm sorry if it provoked unpleasant twinges."

"I couldn't care less about whatever twinges it gives me," Rupert all but growled, brushing away that concern. "What I do care about is what's happening to you."

Why had Ethan been so bloody stupid as to wake Rupert up? The residue would have all been gone by the morning. "Really nothing to worry yourself over," he reiterated, and turned over in the bed to face the other way. "I'm tired, dearheart. Can't this wait until the morning?"

Rupert pressed up behind him, wrapping an arm around Ethan's waist and pulling him into his body. "Why won't you talk to me, love?" he asked softly.

Because if Ethan did, Rupert would surely leave him again, and Ethan could never survive that. Not now, not after everything that had happened. "Don't you trust me?" he asked, and was alarmed to hear how miserable his own voice sounded.

He was pulled even closer and a kiss was dropped on his shoulder. "With my heart and soul," Rupert replied fiercely.

Ethan was ridiculously close to crying. Rupert really couldn't have said anything more wonderful or more terrible. He wrapped his own arms over the top of Rupert's and squeezed. "I'm sorry. So very sorry."

"For what, love?" The question was gentle, but insistent.

Ethan thought of many ways to phrase his answer, some of them defensive, some of them blaming, and some of them outright lies. In the end, and in a flat voice, he told the simple truth. "I found a quiet, safe place and performed the Ritual of Abreaction." It was a basic Chaos ritual, which Rupert would know all too well, meant as a dedication of self to Discordia and inducing a not inconsiderable high.

Rupert's embrace tightened around him to the point that Ethan thought he could feel his ribs creak. "I... Why?" Rupert asked, voice husky with emotion.

"Because I couldn't not." Ethan's voice sounded hollow to his own ears.

"Are..." Rupert's voice almost cracked and he cleared his throat before trying again. "Are you thinking of... of leaving?"

It was an odd way of putting it, but Ethan thought he knew what Rupert meant, and something started to die inside him. He'd started worshipping Chaos again, and that was not compatible with him staying here. "Please," he begged, pride forgotten. "Not again. I can't... I won't do it again. Somehow I'll resist. I... oh hell..."

There was a moment of absolute stillness from his lover. "You think I want you to..." There was an intake of breath and then Rupert was pulling away and urging Ethan to turn over. When Ethan did so, reluctantly, he found himself looking up into Rupert's eyes that were full of surprise, a bit of humour, and fierce affection. "I think we're having two different conversations here, love."

"We are?" Ethan asked, hope beginning to bud inside of him.

Rupert nodded, brushing a thumb along Ethan's cheekbone. "I don't want you to leave, Ethan. Quite the contrary."

Ethan stared at Rupert for quite a few moments before uttering a relieved and heartfelt, "Thank God."

"Can I take it from that reaction that tonight wasn't about you beginning to make plans for leaving?" The question was asked with a bit of humour, but Ethan could see the very real fear in the other man's eyes.

"Rupert, I..." Ethan swallowed and forced out the words, wishing, for Rupert's sake, that he found them easier to say. "I love you." He pressed his lips to his partner's in a short hard kiss. "I'm never going to leave your side unless you use a bloody crowbar, my dear. I thought..." He sighed. "I thought, if you knew about my cravings for Chaos, that you'd leave again. Or rather, make me do so."

"Hardly. I try not to make the same mistake twice." Rupert lowered his gaze, watching as his fingers moved randomly over Ethan's skin. "I did think that Chaos would eventually make you want to leave -- that this existence would start seeming like... another prison."

Ethan shivered a little, whether in reaction to the light touches or Rupert's words, he wasn't sure. "Chaos is in me, Rupert. I can't pretend it isn't. Sometimes, in the Council offices, I feel like... like a cat before an earthquake -- all raised hackles and claws, and with a strong need to be anywhere but there. But you are in me too, you know."

Rupert lifted his head and met Ethan's gaze. "Is that going to be enough to keep you here?"

"When could I ever keep away from you?"

Some of the tension seemed to flow out of Rupert at that, but he continued to hold Ethan's gaze, his own strangely intense. "Promise me that if you do start feeling... restless, you'll talk to me. We can-- We'll work something out. I don't want to lose you again."

Ethan knew that he wasn't going anywhere, but if it took a promise to get Rupert to believe that, he was happy to make it. "I promise." Realising how much Rupert needed him was a little bewildering, and Ethan ran trembling fingers down his lover's cheek trying to convince himself this was real.

Rupert closed his eyes under Ethan's touch, but not before Ethan saw the relief that flashed through them. "Thank you," Rupert murmured softly.

Ethan wondered if he dared ask for a vow in return, but found the words wouldn't leave his lips, so he just pressed against Rupert and nuzzled into the crook of his neck.

"Did the ritual help?" Rupert sounded curious and concerned.

"For now." Ethan was having problems accepting things. "Is there something I'm failing to grasp here? Why aren't you angry?"

Rupert idly stroked Ethan's back as he asked, "Did you do something I should be angry about?"

"Should? I'm not sure. Would have been once? Most definitively."

"Once you wouldn't have restricted yourself to merely the Ritual of Abreaction."

Ethan had no idea if he'd be able to restrict himself to just that in the future either. He shifted about uneasily and then changed the subject. "The girls got home safely after spending far too much money in open-fronted shops playing unbearably loud music."

He felt the tension come back into Rupert's body. "You did... The Ritual of Abreaction was all you did? You didn't... No one was hurt?"

Ethan sighed and drew a little away from Rupert. "Trusting me with your heart and soul didn't last long, I see," he said peevishly. "I was alone and that's all I did."

Rupert pulled him close again. "I *do* trust you. But can you blame me for worrying when you're deliberately changing the subject so abruptly?"

Looking up so that their gazes met, Ethan let Rupert see a little of how miserable he was feeling, hoping against hope that it would make Rupert take pity on him and stop asking questions.

What it got him was pulled even closer and kissed. Then Rupert pulled back enough to meet Ethan's eyes again. "I promise you, I'm not going anywhere." He caressed his fingers along Ethan's cheek, eyes following his hand instead of meeting Ethan's gaze. "I don't have it in me to give you up again." He sighed. "And that terrifies me."

The noise Ethan made now was definitely close to a sob. "Ripper..." He'd got his promise without asking for it, and it felt... He had no idea how it felt yet; it was still too raw. Ethan buried his head in the crook of Rupert's neck again and mumbled. "At least we get to be terrified together."

"Just talk to me, Ethan," Rupert murmured, resting his head against Ethan's. "Don't leave me to imagine the worst." He added with a bit of humour, "I have far too vivid an imagination."

Ethan tried to talk about it all, he really did, but after a few long moments he had to give up. "It might be easier if you asked questions."

And that seemed as difficult for Rupert because there were several false starts before he managed, "I worry about you playing with Chaos because in the past it's led to innocent people being hurt -- killed even."

Ethan was confused by his own shamed reaction to that, but he swallowed it down and simply offered, "I can promise not to involve anyone but myself if it helps at all."

Rupert's eyes closed briefly. "It does." He managed a smile and to inject some humour in his voice as he added, "Means I can go back to just worrying about getting the new Council organised. And tracking down all the new Slayers. And dealing with Francesca who seems to think she should be in charge. And--"

Ethan paused. Rupert had just seemed to give him carte blanche to practice chaos magic so long as no one else was involved. Things had most assuredly changed. "I'll help in whatever little way I can." He ran his uppermost hand over his lover's skin, soothing and caressing. "Even if it's only by providing a way for you to release stress."

Rupert gave him a genuine smile at that. "Do you have something in mind?"

"Always," Ethan grinned, and pushed Rupert gently onto his back.

***

"Just us now, sweetheart," Ethan said encouragingly to Megan.

Giles had just taken Kat off somewhere to work with her privately on her demonology theory, which she needed some extra help with. Ethan and Megan were left alone in a Council classroom, a box of common summoning components in front of them.

Megan smiled shyly at him, but didn't say anything. The girl had come out of her shell a great deal since Ethan had first met her, but she still tended to become a bit withdrawn when she was the sole focus of attention.

"This shouldn't prove difficult," Ethan told her. "The idea is to give you a chance of recognising what an enemy might have summoned, and what you'll therefore need to fight. We'll start off using the crib sheet then try some exercises without it." Ethan removed a few components from the box and placed them on the desk. "Imagine, if you will, a large circle painted in blood, rank candles, an offering plate, and these items. What might you need to be preparing against, and how should you kill it?"

Megan looked closely at the items, then consulted the notes that Ethan had provided her with, frowning in concentration. "What time of day is it?"

"Oh very good," Ethan praised, impressed yet again with the girl's quiet intelligence. "Let's say it's dusk, shall we?"

She nodded, going through the notes, setting some of the papers aside as she eliminated them. Finally she handed one over. "This," she said, decisively.

Ethan took a quick look then nodded. "You are quite correct, of course." He studied Megan appraisingly. "What was life like before the cosmic power-share scheme hit you? I imagine you were a top student somewhere."

"I did okay, I suppose," she replied with a shrug. "My mom always thought I could do better."

Frowning, Ethan waved his hand dismissively. "Ah, what do parents know about anything?" He was past the point of being surprised at his attitude to the two Slayers under his and Rupert's care, but the protectiveness he found himself feeling towards Megan now was... peculiar. Even though the shy girl seemed to have nothing in common with the lad he had once been, Ethan somehow found himself empathising with the child. "You, Megan, are a very bright girl. And don't you ever dare let anyone convince you otherwise."

That got him a weak smile in return. "I'm trying, Ethan, harder than I ever have. Mom always says I don't apply myself, but I do -- I am. I'm not--" Megan broke off suddenly, lowering her head, so that her hair hid her face.

"You're not what?" he asked gently, leaning forward slightly so he could hear.

"A waste of space," Megan whispered. "Like my father." It was obvious she was parroting words that had been thrown at her for long enough that she heard them even when the speaker wasn't around.

Suddenly Ethan understood what he was connecting to. He pushed Megan's hair from her face and tipped her head up so he could meet her eyes.

"The only wastes of space in this world," he said fiercely, "are people who would say such things to a child. You are a highly intelligent young woman, a Slayer... and I'm changing today's lesson plan." He let her face go and stood up.

Megan stood up as well, although her expression showed that she had no idea what he was doing, or why.

Ethan smiled as he guided her out of the door. "Don't look so worried. I'm only going to take you for a ride on the London Eye."

"The what?" Megan asked, her innate curiosity beginning to draw her out again.

"A huge ferris wheel with a difference. I've never ridden in it either. I wasn't... available when it was built to mark the Millennium."

Her eyes lit up. "The one that's up by Big Ben? I was wondering what that was."

As they headed down the stairs to the backdoor of the Council building, Ethan told her, "Apparently, on a clear day like today, you can see for miles in all directions. Thought we both could use some perspective. And anyway, it should be fun, and that's what matters in the end." He winked at her. "I'll buy you a candyfloss."

Much to Ethan's delight, Megan giggled at that. "I just can't picture you eating cotton candy."

"Why ever not?" He turned a raised eyebrow at her.

"It's too silly for you."

He put his hand to his chest. "My dear sweet thing, it may amuse Rupert to call me 'Watcher', but *please* tell me you're not confusing me with those hollow men and women with their dried voices and heads stuffed with straw?"

"Nah. You're more...." Megan tilted her head as she studied him, "the world-weary, been everywhere, seen everything and is impressed by very little type."

Ethan chuckled. He was impressed by her sudden forthrightness, if nothing else. "Very astute of you, dear." He punched in the security code for the door out to the carpark and held it open for her. "But I do, I can assure you, know how to have fun."

"With cotton candy?" Megan actually teased as she walked through the held door.

"I happen to like candy floss." Ethan laughed with very poorly acted outrage as he followed her out. "It reminds me a lot of chaos actu--" He stopped suddenly, having realised who was straight in front of them on the other side of the door.

It was a woman in her young thirties, trying hard to look older with her black hair severely pulled back into a tight bun, and her trim body clothed in a conservative grey suit. Glasses she almost certainly didn't need hung on a chain around her neck.

"Why hello there, Ms Travers," Ethan said, his face forming his most insincere smile. This woman was like Pamela double-barrelled distilled -- the very essence of offensive conservative Watcher.

Francesca Travers managed to look down her nose at him, despite the fact that he was several inches taller. "Going somewhere, Mr. Rayne?"

"Yes, thank you," he replied, having no intention of telling her where.

"Weren't you supposed to be drilling your Slayer on spell components?" she asked, her tone implying that she wasn't really surprised to find him slacking.

"Oh dear." Ethan's mouth formed a moue. "Are you really finding life with the Council so dull that you need pay attention to my timetable? How truly awful for you. You have my deepest sympathy."

The woman's expression was beginning to resemble that of someone who smelled something particularly nasty. "The preparation of the Slayers is very much any Watcher's business. Of course I'm going to remain informed on anything that could risk that preparation."

Ethan's smile became sickly sweet. "That risk being me, of course. How charming of you to say so. Truly Daddy's wealth was well spent on that Swiss finishing school. Your manners are an example to us all."

If anything, her expression got even more pinched. "Where are you taking this young girl, Mr. Rayne?"

"Back to my bachelor pad, of course, to seduce and ruin the poor sweet thing." Ethan put his hand on Megan's back and encouraged her forwards. "And so, if you'll excuse us, we must be on our way. Debauchery, when performed correctly, can be rather time-consuming, and the corruption of the innocent is something I take very seriously indeed, Francesca. I can assure you of that."

"This isn't a joking matter," she told him sternly. "This child's development is a serious business, and you should be taking it thus."

Moving past the infuriating bitch, Ethan asked, "You thought I was joking? I'm flattered. Obviously you have more faith in my Watcherly ethics than you like to pretend. Good afternoon, Ms Travers. Do try not to rupture anything when you take the pole out from your tight little fundament, won't you?"

He and Megan walked off quickly, leaving Francesca with the option of chasing after them, which would be very undignified, or letting them go. As Ethan had expected, she chose the latter, the sound of her heels clicking as she walked away confirming that.

Megan glanced over her shoulder warily. "I don't like her."

Ethan pointed his electronic key fob at the Council car Rupert had allocated to him. "You and me both, sweetheart. She's dangerous."

"She looks at me -- at all of the Slayers -- like we're... things. Pets, maybe. Trained attack dogs." Megan shook her head. "She doesn't see *us* at all."

He opened the passenger door for her. "You're just weapons to be used in a war to her; nothing much more than tools. You do know that Rupert and I think very differently, don't you?"

She gave him a sudden, dazzling, smile. "I know."

Warmed and delighted by the affirmation and the smile both, Ethan closed the door after Megan had settled in the seat, and walked around to the driver's side, frowning slightly at his reaction.

Shaking off the vague concern, he got into the car and started it up. "I want you to be very careful around that woman, Megan. And if she ever tries to get you to do something you don't want to do, don't be afraid to tell her to bugger off. Never forget that you're stronger than her and far more important in the scheme of things."

He played back his own words in his head, and not for the first time, wondered where the hell this vein of fatherly wisdom came from inside him. It certainly didn't arise from anything anyone had ever said to him as a child. Perhaps he'd watched too much American television back in the days before the Initiative cell.

"She isn't interested in me," Megan said, as she plugged in her seatbelt. "You don't talk to weapons after all. It's Giles she's got it in for."

"Yes, you're quite right," Ethan agreed, but then his eyes narrowed, and he turned to his charge. "Megan, have you heard or seen something specific that makes you say that?"

The girl nodded. "She was talking to some of the other Watchers who don't like Giles and said that she was going to get him out."

A heaviness settled in Ethan's gut. "Did she seem to have some specific method in mind?"

"Not that she mentioned when I was listening." Megan looked at him, with worried eyes. "But Giles can handle her... can't he?"

Ethan didn't answer as he drove the car out into the clogged London streets. He was thinking he shouldn't have let his lover dissuade him from the Balshat Demon idea so easily.

NEXT