Title: Smoke and Mirrors 3/15
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.

Some things never changed, Giles mused, as he watched Kat mutter under her breath while she struggled with the pop quiz she'd been given. If he closed his eyes, he could almost believe he was back in the old Sunnydale High library, tutoring Buffy.

"I don't even see why I need to know all this stuff," Kat grumbled. "I'm sure all this biology crap doesn't matter, so long as I know how make it dead."

Giles smiled as the resemblance grew even stronger. "All of this biology 'crap', as you call it, can help you figure out how to make it dead. Knowing all of this biology 'crap' can also forewarn about ways it can make *you* dead. It can help you when you're trying to predict what it's going to do, or where it's going to be."

Kat frowned and went back to work. After about five minutes, she pushed the paper aside. "That's the best I can do. If you want me to learn this stuff, Giles, teaching it in the field would be a better idea." She stretched and yawned. "Can we go and work out now?"

"There's more to being a Slayer than just hitting things," Giles told her patiently, reaching for the paper she'd just discarded.

"Yeah, looks like," she replied glumly. "That first Watcher dude -- the one with one eye? When he came and found me, told me what I was, he made it sound so cool. Didn't know it was gonna be just like school all over again. I've never been the best of students, Giles."

Giles squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. "You're doing fine, Kat. All I ask is that you try your best, and you've been doing that. If some things don't come easily, well, that's what Ethan and I are here for -- to help."

She grinned up cheekily at him. "You two are so cute together. Megan and I have really lucked out; everyone thinks so. We got the best Watchers, and we get to see them kiss."

"And that's a good thing?" Giles asked dryly. That much was different from the old days in Sunnydale; back then, any mention of him and kissing in the same sentence had been more likely to elicit gagging noises than compliments.

"Course it's a good thing. It's so... British."

"Kissing is British?"

"Older men kissing kinda is..." She shrugged, smiling. "Don't mind me, I'm just mouthing off. I think you two are the greatest."

It was nice, Giles decided, to have someone complimenting him and Ethan together. Nice enough that it overwhelmed his innate embarrassment at having his personal life talked about. "Thank you," he said, squeezing her shoulder again. "We think you're pretty great as well."

"So great that I don't have to do any more demon biology today?" she asked hopefully, with a bright smile. A strand of electric blue hair fell down over her eyes, and she pushed it back up into the clip.

"Let me take a look at your answers and then we'll see," Giles said with a smile.

But he didn't get a chance to look beyond the first -- happily quite correct -- answer, as the door to the room flew open without a warning knock. Francesca Travers stood in the doorway, sheer fury radiating from her taut figure in waves. Lord, this woman was becoming a pest. In his driest and most ironic of tones, he asked, "Is there something I can do for you, Francesca?"

She ignored Giles and said instead to Kat, "Run along to the assembly hall now, child. I'm sure they can find something useful for you to do there while I talk to your 'Watcher'." Her tone suggested she didn't really accept the title applied to Giles.

Kat looked up at him questioningly, clearly not prepared to obey the woman without his say-so.

"Go ahead, Kat," Giles said with a reassuring smile. "I'll come find you when I'm finished here."

She gave him a little smile and quickly packed her books away in her bag. Standing, Kat walked to the door, glaring defiantly at Francesca before she left.

Before the door had even shut, Francesca was striding over to Giles. "That gal has the manners of a hoyden. Our American cousins have lost all sense of decorum when educating their young."

"Funnily enough, I've found her perfectly pleasant," Giles replied. "Perhaps it's something about you in particular that's putting her off." Before she could answer, he asked once again, "What is it you want, Francesca?"

"To give you fair warning about your..." She wrinkled her nose, as if the next word was distasteful to her. "Boyfriend."

Alarm bells went off in Giles' mind, and he felt his expression grow cold and just a bit threatening. "What about Ethan?"

"I just caught him taking the skinny gal out somewhere without your supervision. When the Board permitted his employment as some kind of pseudo-Watcher, it was under the strict understanding that you would always be there to supervise."

"First off, the Board did not 'permit' his employment; I'm the head of the Council, and last time I checked, I was free to hire whatever help I desired. The Board does not then dictate to me how to use said employees, and if I want an employee to work with a Slayer directly, it's bloody well within my rights to have him do so." Giles kept his tone calm the entire time, though he let an edge of what Ethan would call his Ripper voice slide in.

Francesca was unimpressed, her Travers genes showing through. "These 'rights' will last only as long as you remain the Council Head, and if you continue to allow that homosexual criminal to wander at will around these offices and corrupt--"

Voice and manner going completely icy, Giles overrode her. "I would consider your words carefully, Ms Travers. If we're going to start bandying threats about people's positions, I would remind you that someone with twenty-five years experience -- much of it in the field with an active Slayer -- has far more influence in this situation than someone who flunked out of the Watchers Academy and has spent the time since showing off pretty clothes to bored rich women."

Voice equally frozen, Francesca answered through clearly gritted teeth. "I did *not* flunk out of the Academy. I passed every exam at the top of my class."

"Yet you weren't offered a position. And your father the Head of the Council at the time. Makes one wonder -- what lack did Quentin see in you that made him decide not to employ you."

Her face shut down completely. "I will not discuss my father with you, Mr Giles. I congratulate you on your diversionary tactic; it almost succeeded. Unfortunately for you, I am made of sterner stuff than your previous opponents may have been."

She stepped closer to Giles and looked him directly in the eyes as she added, "Your distasteful choice in lovers was talking to the child about Chaos and refused to tell me where he was taking her. That is unless I believe the rubbish he spouted about seduction and debauchery, which for your sake you'd better hope I don't. I intend to bring this up at tomorrow's meeting."

Giles was pleased to find that not a fraction of a second of doubt passed through his mind about Ethan. He trusted his lover and was quite satisfied to find that trust held up under pressure. Letting some of his satisfaction bleed through, knowing it would only rile the impossible woman in front of him all the more, Giles told her, "Ethan was well within his rights to refuse to talk to you. Like it or not, Francesca, you are just another Watcher. You're not in charge here, and you have no authority to demand obedience from any others. The sooner you let that fact sink in, the easier your life will become."

"That *reprobate* is not a Watcher," she asserted fiercely. "He has neither the training nor the breeding. He is a dangerous sorcerer, a sodomite, and a known criminal. No court in this land would consider him a suitable guardian for children. You were out of the country a long time, Mr Giles, and you may not realise how certain laws have changed here, but I've made it my business to find out."

It had been said like a threat, and her posture as she turned to leave, was triumphant.

Giles called out after her. "If you've made it your business to find out, Ms Travers, then you should also have discovered that Ethan is not someone you want for an enemy." He dropped all civility from his voice. "Neither am I."

If her face showed a reaction, Giles didn't see it, as she simply walked out the door and closed it behind her.

***

The Eye never stopped moving, constantly turning all day, everyday -- perpetually in motion like the river below. At least, that was what the brochure romantically claimed, but Ethan felt sure it was stopped at least occasionally for maintenance. The rotation was very sedate, however, and it was easy enough for Ethan and Megan to enter the capsule as it passed the landing stage.

Inside the glass egg, they settled into the seats and watched in silence for a little while as it slowly lifted them upwards. Despite himself, Ethan was impressed with the engineering involved in the huge 'attraction'. Megan was quite right, not much got through the old sorcerer's jaded defences... but since Rupert had returned to him, Ethan had found he was more able to see the magic in the non-magical again.

As they were lifted above the tops of the nearest buildings, Ethan commented, "Lots of succulent symbolism here."

Megan tore her gaze away from the panorama to look at him. "Such as...?" she asked, a smile seeming to hover just out of view on her lips.

Ethan grinned at her. "Us, rising above it all." He gestured down at the glass floor, through which, actually, they couldn't yet see much more than the Thames, but his point was made. "Whenever people try to pull you down, Megan, I want you to remember this. You're above all of that, all of them. You don't need to wear their chains and anchors."

Megan's gaze drifted back to straight ahead, her expression turning thoughtful. "Wish it was as easy as that," she said softly.

"Sometimes acting like it's so is almost as good as it being so," Ethan suggested tentatively, wondering how much of what he was saying was genuinely good advice to give to a child. "If you build up the illusion well enough, after a while, not even you can tell it's not real."

"But wouldn't you spend all your time worrying that someone might see through the illusion?" Megan asked with a frown. She turned back to him, even reaching out to touch his arm. "I'm not trying to be difficult, really I'm not, but..."

The child was wiser than he. Shamed, Ethan shivered under her touch, but reached with his other hand to hold hers to his arm briefly before releasing her. "Megan," he started, looking down. "I know I've been told to be your teacher, but when we talk like this, it's probably best to see me more as a somewhat fallible friend. I've lived a life full of... full of things I never want you to experience. I am most assuredly not a good person to be taking advice from."

"Giles doesn't think that," Megan told him, surprising him with the fierceness she was suddenly showing. "Neither do I. You *listen* to me, to what I say, and even what I can't say. You tell me things that make me think, instead of... of wallowing."

He smiled uneasily at her, not knowing quite what to say in reply. It was worrying enough that Rupert believed in him. That Megan did too... How could this possibly end well? Feeling unpleasantly emotional, Ethan spent the next few minutes pointing out London landmarks and telling mildly outrageous stories connected to them, making Megan giggle.

When he felt calmer, Ethan said quietly, "Never forget that questions are to be asked. We're all learning; the process never stops. Those who close their minds to the new are dead inside." He smiled a little wickedly. "Grey-men, aparachiks, faceless bureaucrats -- hide-bound and tradition-beholden -- and we wouldn't want to be like that, would we?"

"Is that what happened to people like Ms Travers?" Megan asked curiously. "She stopped asking questions?"

Ethan nodded approvingly. "She thinks she knows all the answers. Or rather she thinks her dead father did. I'd feel sorry for her if I were a nicer man. But I'm not, of course, and would happily transform the bitch into something that simply wouldn't look right in those prim Prada pumps. And I never said that to you, by the way." He winked at the Slayer.

"Said what?" Megan asked with an air of innocence only ruined by the sudden mischief in her eyes. Then she asked curiously, "Could you really do that?"

"Yes," Ethan acknowledged simply. They were nearly at the top of the wheel now and the view of London really was pretty amazing. It made him feel a little sentimental about this old town of his.

"Like in all those old fairy tales? Where the evil witch or whatever turns the hero into a frog or swan or something?"

"Now there we see a twisted propaganda. I prefer to see it more as the handsome mage deservedly transforming the nasty villain into something a little more fitting to their personality."

Megan thought about that for a moment, looking out at the city below as she did. "What would you change me into then?" she asked finally. "To be more fitting of my personality?"

Ethan chuckled. "You're fine just as you are, my dear. But if I was going to anyway? Hmm, something with wings. If I hadn't seen you fight, I'd say the swan you mentioned, but as I have... an owl, I think. Like Blodeuwedd."

"An owl," Megan said, as if testing out the idea. A slow smile grew on her face. "I like that."

"I'm glad," he grinned fondly at her. "Just don't ask me to do it for real. Rupert would have interesting and rather smelly new garters."

She giggled, the sound just as welcome now as the first time he'd made her laugh. "What about Giles? What would you change him into?"

"Ah." Ethan grimaced and scratched the back of his neck. "I'm glad you asked that while Rupert isn't around. It's a bit of a sore subject I'm afraid." They were descending slowly now, and swivelling in their seats, they viewed another set of famous landmarks.

"Why?" Megan asked curiously.

He rubbed his face. This was difficult. "I, um, believe I may have mentioned a few vague somethings about my dark past?"

"Very vague."

"That's for your protection, believe me. Well, I once turned Rupert into a Fyarl demon. He wasn't very forgiving about it."

Megan frowned. "So you thought a big stupid demon that likes to thump things was more fitting of Giles' personality?"

"Erm, in this particular case, it was more an ironic statement. I'm quite sure I shouldn't be telling you any of this, you know. I'm a shamefully bad Watcher... which is encouraging, I must say." Ethan chuckled.

"You're a very good Watcher," Megan protested fiercely.

"It's very sweet of you to think so, my dear." And really, as Megan, Kat and Rupert were the only people whose opinion mattered to Ethan, he supposed he should change his self-assessment, but he just couldn't think of himself as a Watcher without cringing inside. It was wrong, unnatural... like pretending to be straight. Nothing about Ethan was straight-lined.

He sighed and said, "If I am, it's purely because I have a wonderful Slayer... pair of Slayers. You make it easy on a wicked old man to go--" Ah. "--straight."

Megan grinned and impulsively hugged him. Dazed by her action, Ethan patted her back a little helplessly. Pulling away, Megan gave him a dazzling smile. "What would you be?" she asked suddenly. "That fits your personality?"

"A fox," he said immediately; it wasn't something that required consideration. "Or a Nogitsune -- that's a kind of fox demon. You've not met them in your studies yet."

"Is that like a kitsune?" Megan asked. At his look she explained, "They were characters in a novel I read."

"It's a type of Kitsune, yes. The, hmm, fun type." His eyes twinkled at her as his mouth pursed. "They're the wild foxes, masterless -- the ronin of the Kitsune, you might say."

"Ah." She nodded knowingly. "The chaotic ones."

They were approaching the end of their ride, and Ethan felt strangely saddened. "Yes, chaotic," he agreed a little glumly. "That's me." Brightening again, for Megan's sake, he added, "Now I believe I promised us both some candy floss. Let's take a walk along the South Bank and see what we can find."

"All right." As they were waiting at the door for it to be time to disembark, she said, "Thank you for this. I... You make me feel like I'm not a waste of space."

After they had left the Eye and separated from the crowds somewhat, Ethan turned to Megan, grasping her shoulders gently. "I've told you, I'm not a very nice person. I care about very little in this world. Until recently, there was only room for Rupert and myself in my heart, but now I've made a little more space inside the cold old thing. Don't you ever dare suggest that it's wasted."

Squeezing her shoulders, he then offered his arm, and together they promenaded along the Thames, searching for sweet spun chaos on a stick.

***

"So where did you and Megan sneak off to, today?" Rupert asked, as he manoeuvred the car through crawling rush hour traffic. They were finally on their way home for the weekend.

Ethan manfully resisted the impulse to claim he'd used Megan as the virgin sacrifice in the Ritual of Maelifici Corpus and answered honestly. "We played tourist for the afternoon and rode the London Eye among other things. London's changed a lot since our heyday."

He saw Rupert's eyebrows rise. "Should I be asking why?"

"I changed the lesson plan for the day, after something she said. Do you mind?"

Rupert shook his head gratifyingly fast. "I trust you. You've been doing a wonderful job." He took a deep breath. "Of course, there's others who have different opinions."

"Let me guess," Ethan said sourly, "you had an encounter with the snow queen."

"You know, that's a far more polite name than I would have predicted," Rupert said, with a sardonic, sideways glance.

"I've been made mellow by my rather pleasant afternoon. Believe me, if you'd caught me earlier and asked the same question..." He left it to Rupert's imagination. "So what capital crimes have I been accused of? Treason to queen and country?"

"Corrupting a minor," Rupert replied, then added thoughtfully, "and quite possibly cheating on me."

Ethan slipped his hand over the gap between the seats and placed it on Rupert's thigh. "And me as bent as the proverbial nine-bob," he chuckled, but then sobered quickly. "That woman won't rest until the Council's hers, you know."

"I know." Rupert's lips grew thin as he pressed them together in a grimace. "She implied as much -- threatened to try and have the Board remove me, using you as a reason."

Ethan was silent for a while, confused by contradictory impulses. His first reaction had been to offer to leave the Council and stop trying to be what everyone knew he was not. Only that, of course, would mean giving up his contact with the two Slayers. And Megan, in particular, he'd grown very... attached to. He could only assume the feelings were atrophied parenting instincts come to life after all these years, and they disturbed him with their strangeness, but he really didn't want to give Megan up.

"She's welcome to try," Rupert continued. "There are some of the old school still around, but even they have had it quite vividly demonstrated to them that sometimes the unorthodox is the most successful approach."

"Rupert," Ethan said quietly, his hand twitching slightly on his lover's leg. "I really don't want to be the weapon they use against you."

Rupert dropped one hand from the steering wheel to cover Ethan's. "Everything and everyone in my life is a potential weapon against me. Having you here is worth the risk."

"She called me that today -- a risk. To the Slayers."

The grip on his hand tightened. "You know me, Ethan. Would I have let you anywhere near them if I believed that?"

Ethan thought that Rupert, Megan as well, had far more faith in him than he deserved, but he couldn't find a way to say this that didn't sound self-pitying, so instead he said, "I really think I made a breakthrough with Megan today... or perhaps she made one with me." He smiled across at Rupert.

"Oh?" Rupert smiled back at him. "A breakthrough you feel like sharing?"

"Well," Ethan started slowly. "I think I may have gone a little way towards convincing her that she isn't the waste of space that her darling mother would have her believe she is."

He watched as Rupert's posture stiffened slightly before it relaxed, and Rupert let out a long slow sigh. "I'd suspected something of the sort in her past. The report Xander sent hinted..." He glanced over at Ethan. "She talked to you about this?"

"To a degree. Enough to know that nothing she ever does pleases her mother, and that she's been made to believe she's worthless."

"That's a significant breakthrough. It shows how much she trusts you."

Too much. Far too much. "I owe her candy floss; we couldn't find any. I'm thinking about a trip to the beach next. Maybe all four of us could go?"

Rupert pulled to a stop in their regular parking spot in front of their house, switched off the engine, and turned to look at Ethan with the strangest expression on his face.

"What?" Ethan asked uneasily.

The strange look relaxed into an affectionate smile. "I never thought I'd see the day that you'd be suggesting outings that don't involve getting into trouble of some kind."

"You've obviously never been to Southend on a bank holiday," Ethan replied, folding his arms. He disguised his genuine unease about the changes in himself, and whether they were real or not, by putting on a pretence of an offended sulk.

Rupert leaned over and kissed Ethan. "It's disconcerting at first, isn't it?" he murmured. "To find yourself suddenly acting almost like a father."

That was far too close to the truth. "Rupert," Ethan started nervously, looking down. He licked his suddenly dry lips. "I... Oh Bugger. Let's go in." He opened the door and got out of the car. Giles followed Ethan inside the house, staying silent, waiting for Ethan to speak. Once the door was shut, Ethan turned and pressed himself into his lover's arms, silently begging for comfort.

Rupert immediately responded by enfolding him in a tight embrace. "What is it?" he asked Ethan softly.

As seemed to be common these days, Ethan wanted to open up, but he couldn't find the words to explain how he felt. "I... I... She's been hurt enough," he said eventually. "She deserves... I can't... Oh hell!" He pulled away from Rupert, turning to the side, but Ethan didn't walk away. He pushed his hand through his hair and sighed. "I'm sorry," he said cynically. "Apparently I lose all ability to verbalise whenever I have something important to say."

Rupert reached out and laid a hand on Ethan's shoulder. "You're doing fine. Take your time. I'm not going anywhere."

And then, very simply, the words just fell from his mouth, in an almost casual tone. "I'm going to let her down. I'm going to let you down. You are both wilfully blind to the real me, and I'm going to hurt you."

Rupert's arms closed around him again, this time from behind, pulling him close. "We'll both make mistakes, but that doesn't mean you're letting me down. It just means we're human."

Rupert didn't understand, but really, Ethan couldn't expect him to. Only Ethan himself knew how strong the pull of Chaos was inside him. It wasn't just the magic; it was him. He'd do something rebellious, say the wrong thing to the wrong person, or let his magic out at the wrong time, and then it would all be over. Tears before bedtime.

Sighing, he undid Rupert's arms from around him, and headed for the kitchen. "I'll put the kettle on. Perhaps we can share the exquisite pleasure of going through next week's schedule together."

"No one ever told you, did they?"

Standing in the kitchen doorway, Ethan turned a confused face to Rupert. "Told me what?"

"When you were young. No one told you that you weren't a waste of space."

Ethan froze momentarily then wrapped his arms around himself. "You did."

Rupert crossed the room over to him, and reached out a hand to caress his cheek. "I wish I'd met you earlier -- I wish I hadn't..." He sighed, true sorrow in his eyes. "You're not a waste of space. You've never been. You're...you're..."

Rupert could still rip Ethan open; his lover just used words now as his scalpel, instead of sex, drugs and dodgy magic. Staring at Rupert with wide-opened eyes, and moving closer, but not yet close enough, Ethan asked, "What? What am I?" He needed desperately to know.

"I can list all your many attributes -- and I will if you want me to -- but simply put, you're my heart."

"Do you take a particular pleasure in my tears, Rupert?" Ethan asked shakily, his face a contorted mixture of smiling and pain. He felt... sorrow, grief... and that surely wasn't the right reaction to such marvellous words.

"I take a particular pleasure in your presence," Rupert replied, watching Ethan closely. "Maybe I should give you that list."

"Oh good God, please don't." Ethan all but begged; he turned away, started to say something, turned again and moved back into Rupert's arms, clinging tightly. He knew he was trembling.

"Why not?" Rupert asked softly, enfolding Ethan in a warm embrace.

"It's too much." Ethan's voice was muffled against Rupert's jacket. "I'm not... not any of those things. Don't need to hear them to know that I can't live up to them."

"What exactly do you think I'm going to tell you?" There was a slight edge of fond humour to Rupert's voice, the warmth in it a match for the arms holding him.

"Things you imagine you see in me. Illusions." Ethan pulled back a little to meet Rupert's eyes. "Megan said today that if you live an illusion, you live in fear of reality... well, she used different words, but that's what the wise-before-her-time little thing meant."

Rupert traced a finger along Ethan's cheekbone. "I've seen you without the masks," he reminded. "I'm in love with the reality of Ethan, not the illusion."

Ethan shook his head; he just couldn't accept that. "I don't even know if there is a real me under all the glamours I've fabricated over the years. I'm just layers and layers of fancy wrapping paper with nothing at the core." Nothing he wanted to meet anyway.

"Oh, there's something there," Rupert insisted, a ghost of a smile gracing his face. "It shines through regardless of how many layers you wear."

Staring into his lover's eyes, Ethan noticed that he could see himself reflected in them, and like so much else today, that fact of basic physics seemed loaded with significant symbolism. A chaos mage learns early to read signs and omens, to see the numinous in the coincidental, the messages in the natural chaos of the world. His denial had been pointless; he knew Rupert knew his soul... and far better than Ethan himself did.

And perhaps that was the problem here.

"Teach me?" he asked, still staring into the green-grey eyes.

Rupert stared at him for a long second after the question, then kissed him with a depth of emotion that left Ethan breathless. "I'll teach you," he murmured, voice gone all husky. "Whatever you need."

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