Title: Smoke and Mirrors 6/15
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.

"Don't you think you're driving rather fast for these roads?" Ethan said nervously. The Devonshire lanes were narrow, undulating, and winding, with towering hedgerows to either side. Visibility was rarely more than a few feet ahead.

Rupert glanced over at him with amused disbelief. "This is about half the speed you used to habitually drive at," he pointed out.

"Keep your eyes on the road, please," Ethan snapped back. There was a distinct giggle from the back seat, and he turned to direct a brief glare at the two girls. "Is something amusing?"

"You sound like my mom when my brother just got his licence," Kat informed him with a grin.

"Yes, well, it's a good thing for you that I'm not your 'mom', or I'd be smacking that impertinent little-- Rupert! For God's sake, get out of the middle of the sodding road!"

He knew they were all laughing at him. He was on edge, that was all; Ethan was still half-convinced the coven would sense his arrival and blast him where he sat. And Rupert was taking stupid risks for some reason known only to him. Didn't he understand that the girls were too important to endanger? That *he* was too important to Ethan to play games with on-coming traffic?

"Relax," Rupert told him, reaching over and squeezing Ethan's hand. "Nothing's going to happen."

The words, or at least the sentiment behind them and the firm grip on his hand, did reassure a little, although Ethan would have rather Rupert kept both hands for driving. He took a deep breath and concentrated on the road ahead as they crested yet another hill and found themselves facing a magnificent view of rolling green pastures leading down to the sea.

"Oh, we're nearly there," Megan said behind him. "I remember this."

"So is this when we're supposed to start asking 'are we there yet'?" Kat piped up.

Ethan rubbed at his forehead; it was starting to ache. "Is it too late to turn around and go home?"

Rupert squeezed his hand. "This isn't so bad," he said. "Try travelling with an entire busload of Slayers."

"I can sense them, you know," Ethan remarked casually, as if it didn't scare him silly. The combined power he was aware of in this place seemed enormous.

"They've been here a long time," Rupert replied, just as casually.

"A busload of Slayers?" Kat asked, confused. There was some murmuring in the back then as Megan explained in hushed tones some things that she apparently knew about magic.

Ethan said nothing more for a while as they motored into more inhabited areas, passing a sign naming the small town as Combe Martin. The smell of ozone was in the air as they drove along a surprisingly long high street, past many shops proclaiming cream teas and Cornish pasties. Just after they'd left the town again, Rupert hit the indicators, and they turned up a narrow private lane that twisted uphill.

"Yay, we're here!" Kat announced happily. "I call dibs on the bathroom."

"Not if I get there first," Megan countered, both of them unbuckling and at their respective doors, looking like they were going to be out and off as soon as Rupert stopped the car. Ethan tried to remind himself that they were Slayers, and even if they did jump from a moving car, it wouldn't hurt them. His scalp was crawling, and he dragged his fingers through his hair, scratching viciously.

Rupert noticed. "Wards," he explained. "It affected me the same way the first time I came."

"Oh, I'm enjoying this little getaway so much already," Ethan replied, his tone dry enough to suck moisture from the surrounding air.

They drove into a tree-lined courtyard by a large white farmhouse, and Rupert stopped the car. He turned, reaching out to run his fingers through Ethan's hair in a way that somehow seemed to help alleviate the itch. "How are you doing?" he asked.

Ethan gave him a weak smile, but didn't reply immediately. The Slayers had their doors open and were getting out. "Girls with super-strength get to carry the luggage in," he called to them, then looked back at Rupert. "I'm not about to run away," he promised quietly.

His lover smiled and leaned over and kissed him. "I know."

After stealing another kiss, Ethan asked, "So the woman that runs this guest house is one of them, and I have to be on my best behaviour from this point on?"

"You don't want to scare Megan and Kat," Rupert teased. "Just be yourself, and don't go out of your way to cause trouble. You'll be fine."

"Be myself and not cause trouble -- isn't that a contradiction in terms?" Ethan asked, as he unbuckled his seatbelt. The girls were obediently getting the bags from the opened boot of the BMW. He looked over at the house and saw a robust-looking woman in riding gear walking across the gravel to them. "Ah, must be the witching hour."

Rupert got out of the car and went to meet her. "Lucy," he said, reaching out to take her hands briefly. "Thank you for taking us on such short notice."

As Ethan reluctantly got out of the car, he heard her answer, "Good to see you, Rupert," in a brusque but friendly voice, well spoken, but with an edge of the West Country drawl. "You too, girls. You have the Exmoor Room between you this time, and the men have the Beech Room, if you want to take the bags up." She turned to look at Ethan, and he had to resist the urge to start scratching again.

"This is my lover, Ethan Rayne." Rupert introduced him. "Ethan, this is Lucy Harkness, who is going to quite probably spend the next week telling me 'I told you so.'"

"Mr Rayne." Lucy nodded, her expression neutral. She had brown hair collected in a bunch and hairnet over the back of her neck.

"Call me Ethan, please. Forgive me for not shaking your hand, but I fear a matter-antimatter explosion."

A small but genuine smile appeared on the woman's freckled face. "Wise, I'm sure." She turned back to Rupert. "Get settled in, and we'll chat over tea. Do you ride, Ethan?"

"Yes, but not horses," he heard himself answer.

Off to the side, Rupert seemed to be struck by a sudden coughing fit, but Lucy merely looked amused before she headed off to the side of the house, riding crop in one hand, helmet in the other. Kat and Megan were walking through the front door with the luggage.

Ethan turned to Rupert. "I think I might fancy a spot in the saddle later. It's this fine country air, you know. Makes me long for the crop in my hand, the mount tensing below me..." He sniggered and started walking to the door.

He was surprised by Rupert's arms going around his waist from behind, pulling him back against his lover's body. "I think something like that could be arranged," Rupert murmured against Ethan's ear, then let go and sauntered past him into the house.

Suddenly more than a little hard, Ethan stared after him and thought that maybe the holiday wasn't going to be so bad after all.

***

Giles closed the door to their room and leaned against it, relishing the sudden quiet. Kat and Megan meant a lot to him, but teenage girls when excited tended to go on about anything and everything. At length. It all got somewhat tiring after a while.

Ethan had gone to look out of the window. "Everything's so *green* here," he said, and it was unclear from his tone whether he considered that a good or a bad thing. He turned to face Giles, leaning back against the sill. "Tea was nice. I have fondness for a well made toad-in-the-hole." His eyes twinkled with humour, but then he frowned slightly. "So when can I expect the third degree?"

"I don't know if you can." Giles crossed over to where Ethan was standing. "With Lucy and the others, often you're in the middle of the third degree before you realise it's happening."

"Ah, more like the Spanish Inquisition then." His lover wasn't smiling, but the twinkle was back in his eyes.

"Essentially, yes." Giles slid his arms around Ethan's waist. "How are you doing?"

"Much better than I'd imagined." Ethan moved off the sill and wrapped his own arms around Giles. "And you?"

It was rather a novelty to have someone asking him that; Giles was more used to being the one doing the worrying. "I'm okay," he said, pulling Ethan closer. "Thank you for asking."

"How okay is okay?" Ethan asked, tipping his head and licking unexpectedly up the side of Giles' neck.

It was still rather a novelty to have someone do that to him as well. "Mm, better by the second."

A soft chuckle vibrated Ethan's body, and Giles felt lips and gentle teeth on his neck. "I wonder how soundproof these rooms are," his lover murmured, before nibbling Giles' earlobe.

"I've never had occasion to test them," he admitted, tilting his head and giving Ethan better access.

Ethan moved back, his eyebrows raised. "I would certainly hope not."

Giles smiled at the possessiveness in the words. "Jealous?"

"Have I got something to be jealous of?" There was just a hint of a pout on Ethan's face.

Leaning in, Giles did his best to kiss the pout away. "What do you think?" he murmured when he pulled back.

Ethan appeared to consider the question seriously. "I think that, with a very few notable exceptions, you took your vow of abstinence into more areas of your life than just magic... but really, Rupert, I've no idea what you got up to while I was gone. I used to keep an eye on you, you know, but I couldn't then." He looked down, and Giles thought maybe he felt a slight shiver pass through the other man's body.

Tightening his embrace, Giles rubbed Ethan's back soothingly. "The last time I had anything remotely like a relationship was before your last visit to Sunnydale. I think..." He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "I think that, at some level, I was waiting for you to show up again."

Ethan looked up and met Giles' gaze, and just for a fraction of a second, his lover's dark eyes seemed unbearably sad, but then he grinned and the sun came out. "So are you going to shag me or not? I can't imagine we'll have long uninterrupted."

"The rest of the day if we want actually," Giles said, then gave his lover his best wolfish smile. "But I am definitely going to shag you. Just means I can take my time."

Now Ethan definitely did pout, but this time it was put on as Giles could see the delight in his lover's eyes. "Waiting is so tiresome," Ethan said, and slipped his hand between them to cup the front of Giles' trousers.

"Always so impatient." Giles pushed forward into Ethan's hand, leaning in to let his mouth hover right over his lover's. "I thought you wanted to go for a long hard ride..."

"Yes," Ethan breathed against Giles' lips, squeezing his cupping hand, "Now, and not when it pleases the horse."

"Impatient *and* demanding," Giles said, his voice becoming husky as Ethan expertly pushed his buttons. "Now, what should I do about that?"

Deft fingers outlined Giles' swelling cock, rubbing and softly pinching, as Ethan's tongue flicked around Giles' lips. "Well, you could give me what I want," Ethan suggested, his voice a sultry purr.

"And just what would that be exactly?" Giles asked, his lips brushing against his lover's as he spoke.

"You," Ethan breathed. "Taking what *you* want."

Arousal surged at those words. "I think that can be arranged," Giles growled, kissing Ethan aggressively.

Ethan moaned into the kiss, yielding to it in a way that seemed to invite Giles to take more, to take as much as he wanted and then still more. His lover's arms wrapped around him, and Ethan pushed and rubbed against him like a stroke-hungry cat.

Giles slid his hands down Ethan's arms, closing a tight grip around his wrists and pulling them until they were bent behind Ethan's back. "I think I'm going to have to come up with a way of curtailing your squirming."

Through both their trousers, Giles felt Ethan's cock twitch against his thigh. His lover's breathing was heavy and his nostrils flared. "Yes," Ethan averred, then slowly and deliberately began to struggle.

Tightening his grip to just this side of being painful, Giles stepped back towards the bed, pulling Ethan with him. "You think the bed can take it if I tie you to the headboard?" he asked, almost conversationally.

"Oh, most certainly," Ethan replied, trying for, but not quite managing a similar tone. Giles doubted his lover had actually considered the question at all.

"Right now, I could say I want to paint you bright blue and you'd agree, wouldn't you?"

"Ripper..." his lover moaned, struggling some more against Giles' strong grip, but carefully never enough to actually risk breaking free. "Please, Ripper."

It was as easy to slip into that mindset as it was to slip into the accent as he pushed Ethan onto the bed. "Don't move," he ordered, before letting go of Ethan's wrists and turning to their bags, looking for something that could be adapted into restraints.

Giles could feel his lover's gaze upon him as he drew out two leather belts from a suitcase. When he turned back to the bed, he was struck by Ethan's appearance -- dark-eyed and wanton, his hips lifted by his crossed hands beneath them, his erection pulling the fabric of his slacks taut. Totally caught by the sight, Giles reflected that this wasn't anything new. He'd been caught from the first moment Ethan had ever looked at him that way.

"Never could resist you," Giles said, as he crossed back over to the bed and straddled his lover, the belts in his hand.

Ethan grimaced as Giles' weight made lying on his hands increasingly uncomfortable, his neck arching as he tipped his head back. "I'm the way you made me," he murmured. Giles couldn't decide whether that was a non sequitur or not.

"I didn't make you," he countered, gently tugging on Ethan's arms and pulling them above his head. "Though I may have encouraged certain... proclivities."

His body straighter on the bed now, Ethan looked up at Giles and smiled. "That wasn't quite what I meant, although far from untrue."

"We helped shape each other, I think," Giles murmured, wrapping one of the belts around Ethan's wrists. "Still are."

His lover nodded. "Since before we even met, you were the mold which shaped me." Ethan made no attempt to escape the thick leather, although he rotated his wrists a little against it and smiled.

"I must have a long reach then." With the other belt, Giles tied Ethan's bound wrists to the headboard.

"I've always been somewhat single-minded," Ethan said, tugging hard at his wrists now that he was securely restrained. "It was necessary that I... had someone. I knew exactly what I was looking for." While Giles knew that the boy Ethan had been had stalked him for a while before first making contact, this was new information.

"And what was it you were looking for?" Giles asked softly, running his hands lightly down Ethan's arms, feeling the muscles bunch and tense as his lover pulled against his bonds.

"You," Ethan answered simply, but then went on, his gaze locked to Giles'. "I needed... a mirror. Not a twin, not a mirror in that sense, but someone who could tell me who I was. Someone with chameleon-hued eyes I could search for patterns and meaning..." He looked down self-deprecatingly, as if embarrassed by his own words, and when his gaze moved back up, he was smirking. "So if you know anyone who fits the description, be a doll and send them my way, would you?"

Giles leaned over and kissed him gently, moved as he always was when Ethan allowed him glimpses behind the masks, although the masks were thinner now than they had ever been. "I see you," he murmured as he pulled back. "I'll always see you."

Ethan chuckled in a way that sounded almost nervous. "Please keep kissing me, Rupert, as hard as you dare. Else I'm going to say something cringingly sentimental, and we don't want that, do we?"

"Love you," Giles told him, then did as requested, losing himself in kissing his lover senseless.

***

"You obviously love him," Lucy said, with customary bluntness. "But do you trust him?"

Giles had ridden out with her to this narrow and secluded valley where they now sat together on the hillside. Below them, the bottom of the 'V' was filled with a fast flowing brook, which he could hear more than see, as the ferns had grown high on either side of it. Their horses, tethered loosely nearby, munched contentedly on the lush grass, their girths suitably loosened. It was a lovely Indian Summer day.

"I haven't always," he admitted, staring down at the hidden brook. "There've been times in the past that... well, things weren't the way they are now."

"What changed?"

Giles gave a half-smile. "Everything."

Lucy swatted a fly from her jodhpurs with her riding crop. Her broad, freckled face frowned at Giles. "Which really tells me nothing at all. He's too important to you for me to ignore, Rupert. Not if you want the help you came here for."

"I'm not trying to be facetious, Lucy. Everything has changed. The Council being destroyed, and everything that followed, made me take a look at my life and what I considered most important. Ethan had been through a horrendous ordeal that almost destroyed him. So I was less prone to be judgmental, he was less prone to be defensive, and..." Giles shrugged. "We got past, well, the past."

She nodded, her blue eyes never leaving his. "Can *we* trust him?"

"Yes," Giles replied without hesitation. "Absolutely. Perhaps five or six years ago I would have answered differently, but the Ethan that exists today... You can trust him."

"Good," Lucy said, clearly prepared to take Giles' word for it. "I imagine his daily presence in your life is what we have to thank for your return here, considering how unwilling you were to deal with this matter previously."

"Ethan has always had rather strong opinions about my magic," he said dryly.

"Oh?" Lucy seemed slightly surprised. "He actually persuaded you to come here? I meant merely that his level of power must have been a constant reminder to you." One of the horses whinnied and shook before returning to its grazing.

Giles flashed on the feel of Ethan's magic sliding over his skin, and he couldn't totally suppress a tiny shiver made up as much of lust as discomfort. "You would not be incorrect in that statement," he admitted.

"Good," the witch replied with satisfaction. "I'm assuming therefore that we can talk about your magic without you instantly finding an excuse to end the conversation."

"It's rather warm today, isn't it?" Giles asked, looking up at the sky.

The riding crop stung as it came down on his calf, even through the denim of his jeans. As he turned a disbelieving glare toward Lucy, Giles heard her chuckle, even as she answered in kind. "Yes, we're having a very mellow September."

Giles rubbed his calf. "I trust this isn't the teaching technique you used with Willow."

"No, I save this technique for the more difficult students. Talk to me, Rupert. Tell me about your magic."

Sighing, Giles leaned back, giving in. This was, after all, why he was here. "What do you want to know?"

Lucy stirred and reached over for the backpack she'd discarded earlier, drawing out a thermos flask. "Let's start at the beginning, shall we? Tell me about the first time you used magic."

"I was twelve. It was a glimmer cantrip," he said, remembering his excitement when he'd succeeded at creating the magical equivalent of a night-light. "My father had given me a book of beginning spells, and I'd been studying it for a week."

"A magic-aware family then," she noted. "Do all the Giles' have it?"

"To a greater or lesser extent." It had been one of the things that had led to so many of his family being Watchers to the Slayer over the years. "Although I was told that I had more ability than any Giles in several generations."

She handed him a thermos cup full of dark strong coffee. "So your family approved of and encouraged your magic. Good. Show me the cantrip."

Giles blinked, startled. "I beg your pardon?"

"The glimmer cantrip. I want to see it."

"Why?"

Giles saw the crop twitch against Lucy's boot, much like the horses' tails twitched in reaction to mosquitoes. "I want to observe your power and how you use it."

Giles opened his mouth to ask why that particular spell, but closed it without saying anything at the look Lucy shot him. "Fine," he muttered, settling himself and reaching for just enough power to do as he'd been requested.

The gestures and words came back to him with very little thought and in less time than it took to think about it, there was a bright speck of light hovering in front of them.

"Well?" Giles asked, after taking time to lock down his power again.

Her blue eyes examined his features carefully. "Well?" she repeated his question.

"Did you get whatever you wanted out of observing?"

"I learnt a little. It will do for now, but you must be prepared for the fact that I will be setting you many magical exercises. What are you so afraid of, Rupert? Do you know?"

Giles didn't pretend that he didn't know what she was talking about. "It's not fear," he said. "It's prudence."

Lucy sipped her coffee. "What are you so 'prudent' of then?"

"Magic isn't a tool to be taken lightly. You know as well as I what can happen when you do."

"Tell me."

"You do remember the world almost ending a year back because of Willow's magic getting out of control?" he said dryly.

"You believe that happened because Willow took magic lightly?"

"It happened because she never took responsibility for the using -- or misusing -- of magic. Even when she'd given it up, she treated it like an addiction, not a tool that she had to learn how -- and when -- to use." Giles spread his hands. "If that's taking magic lightly, then yes."

A plane hummed overhead as Lucy nodded, and said, "So for you, magic is a tool that one has to learn how and when to use. I'm starting to understand."

Giles frowned. "Understand what, exactly?"

Lucy seemed to completely ignore his question. "Tell me, does Ethan see his magic as a tool?"

He smiled wryly. "Ethan sees his magic as only slightly more important than his need for air."

"Why is it so vital to him?"

"It was all he had for most of his life," Giles answered softly, remembering the boy Ethan had been when they first met. "It's become an essential part of his self-image."

"Does he take it lightly?" She put the thermos back together and returned it to the rucksack.

"More like the exact opposite."

"But he's not afraid of it... I mean 'prudent', of course." She smiled wryly at him.

"Actually, lately he's tried to be as *prudent* as he's able to be," Giles replied. It was obvious what she was trying to do, but the point she was trying to make wasn't valid. "I'm not Ethan," he pointed out. "I don't need the magic the same way he does."

Lucy sat up straight, her gaze sharp, direct and dangerous. "Really."

He lifted an eyebrow. "You think I'm lying?"

Before answering, Lucy stood, and began to buckle her riding hat back on. "Frankly, yes. I believe you're lying to me, and lying to yourself. I believe you need the magic as much as anyone who has innate power does. I believe that at least part of your attraction to Ethan is a desperate longing for the part of yourself you have cut off and left to atrophy in some locked room inside your head." She turned to tighten the girth of her mount. "Yes, you're lying."

Giles fought to control the anger Lucy's words caused -- not so much at the accusation of lying as he had half-expected that -- but at the words about Ethan. "Are you," he began, voice deadly calm, "implying that I don't love Ethan -- that I'm only using him?"

Lucy slipped her arms through the rucksack's straps and turned to study Giles carefully again; it provoked a feeling of near-physical irritation somehow. "No," she answered finally. "I said earlier that your love was obvious, and it is. I don't think you're using him, but I do think you're using his magic." She turned back to her horse and lifted herself into the saddle. "Come along, Rupert. That's enough for today."

"That much at least we can agree on," he said in clipped tones, as he got up and went to his own horse. That was definitely enough for today.

Giles wasn't sure if it wasn't enough for a lifetime.

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