Title: Smoke and Mirrors 15/15
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.

This is the last chapter of Smoke and Mirrors, though there will be an epilogue, probably posted later this week. The next story in the Of Old Mystics series, Sleight of Hand, is plotted and we're working on it, so it should be out soon. Thanks to all the people who have sent feedback; we're always happy to hear that people are liking our story. :)

Ethan slumped in the pillows, his mind unpleasantly fogged by what, if he didn't known better, he would believe to be home-made laudanum. Jonah the healer and Kat quietly moved about the room; Ethan wasn't sure what they were up to. The mask over his mouth and nose, while it obviously obscured neither his vision nor his hearing, somehow gave him a sense of being apart from the bedroom's other occupants.

Well, most of the occupants anyway; Rupert sat in the nearby armchair, going over some files that Pamela had sent down from London. Every few minutes, he'd look up at Ethan, and although he didn't say anything, the connection between them was palpable.

It was what allowed Ethan to know he was really here in this sick-room.

He had an ongoing conundrum with the herbal drugs they kept feeding him. The Chaos withdrawal was entering the final stages; the last and most entrenched spiritual toxins were all that remained. His lungs were awful, every bit as bad as the chronic pneumonia that had resulted from the Initiative treatment. And this time he had added pleurisy. He was as weak as a newborn and almost as useless.

The drugs eased his breathing and distanced his pain, and Ethan couldn't fault them this. But he hated the way that they made everything so vague and hazy. >From his own thoughts, to his sense of time, and indeed, all his perceptions, everything seemed removed from him, seen through a glass darkly. He was more grateful than he could possibly say for the anchor of Rupert's presence.

Kat sat on the bed next to him, more of the blasted laudanum stuff in her hand, and Ethan shook his head. She frowned, but put the cup down on the bedside table. "You can take it when you feel you need it," she said, watching him with worried eyes.

He intended to try to do without it for as long as he could. He wanted an attention span greater than a goldfish's for a little while. And anyway... wasn't there something he had to do? He attempted to smile at Kat encouragingly through the mask.

That got him a smile in return, even if it was a little wobbly around the edges, and a quick kiss to his cheek just above the mask's strap. "Jonah says that you should turn the corner soon," she told him, trying to encourage him in turn. "Just a few more days."

Talking through the mask seemed too much effort, so instead he raised trembling fingers to touch her face, while keeping what he hoped was solid eye contact. Ethan really appreciated the care he was being shown, especially by Kat, who was turning out to have a strong aptitude for the healing arts. But really he wished everyone bar Rupert would go now.

"You should get some rest," Jonah told him, coming over to join Kat and clasp her shoulder.

It seemed to have been some kind of prearranged signal because Kat immediately stood up. "I'll come back later," she said. "We can watch porny videos, if you're up to it."

Knowing he could get away with it because he was sick, and therefore had to be humoured, Ethan sniggered behind the mask and made an effort to speak. "I doubt even my birthday... porn could get much of an 'up' from me... currently... so this is probably the safest time for... us to watch it together... It's a date, sweetheart." He hated how his voice sounded slurred to his own ears, and how the breathlessness staggered his sentences.

Kat smiled at him and squeezed his hand, then left with Jonah.

Ethan glanced over at Rupert to see how much attention his lover was paying him.

"Need something, love?" Rupert asked, his eyes seemingly focused on the papers he was reading.

Ethan sighed softly. The pair of them were just too linked now for him to even consider doing what he was about to do without Rupert knowing. He might as well be honest then. "I intend... a spot of magic."

He instantly had his lover's complete attention. Rupert opened his mouth, then closed it with a frown. "What kind of magic?" he finally asked.

Ethan stared at the other man with eyes that annoyingly wouldn't stay focused. He reached up and slid the mask from his face. "I need... clarity."

Rupert put the files aside and came over to sit on the bed beside him. "There's nothing I can say to change your mind, I suppose," he said, reaching for Ethan's hand.

As their fingers intertwined, Ethan smiled softly, then frowned as he tried to explain. "There's something... nagging at me, Rupert. I can feel it... in the back of my mind. Something I have to know... or do. But I can't bloody well focus -- not with this herbal heroin inside me."

After a long searching look, Rupert sighed and asked, "What can I do to help?"

Ethan considered a self-sacrificing response -- that he was fine, that Rupert should get on with his work -- but he would never be that unselfish. "Your magic blocks a lot of the pain..."

Without a word, Rupert let his magic slide up over Ethan's form through their entwined fingers. Ethan closed his eyes.

After briefly allowing himself to enjoy the pleasure of Rupert's magic, Ethan began to call on his own. He opened up his fogged magic senses and put all the concentration he had available into seeing the patterns of his own body. In particular, he studied the array of the herbal narcotics affecting him...

With a feeling of now or never, Ethan twisted.

Befuddled as he was, his touch was clumsy, and he felt his body jolt and shudder as he bullied the pattern into a new shape. It wasn't the rape of dark Chaos, but it utterly lacked the finesse of the magic Ian had been tutoring him in.

Pain filled Ethan as the effect of the drugs abruptly left his system. He groaned and slumped against Rupert.

His lover wrapped his arms around him, and the magic flowing into Ethan from his lover increased. "Ethan--" Rupert began, worry and censure in his voice, but cut himself off. "This is what you needed?" he finally asked, in a softer tone.

"It's a start," Ethan croaked, wincing. "I'm sorry to put you through this, dearheart..."

"Put me..." Rupert's embrace tightened and the magic flowing from him shifted somehow, seeming to seek out the places that were the most raw and aching, soothing over them; the pain Ethan felt immediately decreased dramatically. "You're not putting me through anything," Rupert finished, nuzzling Ethan's cheek in a brief, gentle caress.

"That was... Have you been practising?" Ethan asked, his sense of relief considerable.

"Maybe a little," Rupert admitted, sounding pleased with himself. "It's helping?"

"Yes. A great deal." Ethan smiled broadly at his lover, snuggling close. "Now perhaps I can hear the voice nagging at the edge of my consciousness."

Eyes closed again, Ethan reached deep within himself once more. It was so much easier with both the drugs and a lot of the pain gone from his body. He didn't try to pinpoint whatever it was that was clamouring for attention, he simply relaxed within Rupert's arms and let any thoughts that wanted to emerge to do so.

"Oh..." he breathed, as the tickling thought became a fully-fledged awareness. "Rupert, what's the weather like out?"

"There's been a storm building most of the day," Rupert told him. "Should break soon."

"It's going to be huge," Ethan replied, feeling a thrill of excitement. He turned and affixed his lover with an avid gaze. "Take me out in it."

Rupert frowned, and for a moment, Ethan was sure his lover was going to refuse. But instead the other man simply asked, "Why?"

Which forced Ethan to actually think about why he might be feeling so compelled to be outside when the storm hit. "I'm not sure exactly. It just feels... I can see myself out there... no, not me -- *us*. Standing on the cliff-tops. Oh -- Rupert, like the end of our sodding dream." He giggled a little, then moved. And as Rupert's hands slipped from around him, Ethan grabbed them, holding onto them as tightly as his weakened state would allow. "Take me to the cliffs, dearheart. Please. I... I need this."

For a long moment, Rupert just looked at him, searching his eyes. Finally, he nodded. "All right."

Ethan kissed him. "I know the temptation to consider me prematurely senile must be strong, so... thank you." He turned and wriggled to the edge of the bed. As he sat on the edge, no longer touching Rupert, Ethan almost changed his mind. His head spun, and the ease that his lover's magic brought him almost instantly began to disappear. Looking down at the pyjamas he was wearing, Ethan groaned a little. "I, um... I need some more practical clothing."

Rupert was already getting up and moving to the bureau where their clothes were stored. "You need warmer clothing," he said dryly, as he got out trousers, a T-shirt, boxers, and a thick woollen sweater, bringing the whole lot back over to the bed.

Ethan began to fumble at the pyjama top. The invalid wear had been bought for him by their two Slayers, and so he was wearing it like the good pseudo-father he was. It was covered in a design of cartoon foxes, and Ethan had wondered a little glumly just how many more vulpine-themed gifts he could expect to receive from now on.

The glumness hadn't lasted for long, however. A gift was a gift, and even if he looked a complete pillock, the pyjamas kept him warm and meant he was cared about.

"Perhaps I should leave this on," he panted, after failing to get the top over his head.

"Or perhaps you should let me help you," Rupert countered, reaching out to pull the shirt off, then assisting him in putting the T-shirt and sweater on.

Each time Rupert's fingers brushed against Ethan's skin, there was another little burst of magic, his lover taking advantage of even the briefest of contacts to reinforce the energy that was hovering between Ethan and the pain.

"That's nice," Ethan understated. "You can keep doing that." He let himself be laid gently back on the bed, so that Rupert could change his trousers. Ethan put his hands behind his head and grinned up and across at his lover, as Rupert pulled the boxers into place. "You know, being a cripple isn't all that bad."

Rupert glanced up at him. "Perhaps you're getting a bit too much magic," he said mildly, though he didn't lessen the flow at all.

Ethan did up his own belt, then sat again. "Thank you," he said sincerely, meeting Rupert's gaze. He then took the flask of the less narcotic herbal gunk and slipped it in his back pocket, just in case. He could feel the building storm even more clearly now, and there was a sense of urgency also growing inside him. Ethan needed to be in the thick of things when it came.

Rupert put an arm around Ethan's waist, helping him to his feet. Ethan thought about what lay ahead and frowned. "The stairs are going to be a mite tricky."

"Only if you squirm," Rupert replied, lifting Ethan up into his arms like he had back in the early days of Ethan's recovery from his Initiative incarceration.

"Bugger..." Ethan did squirm, just a little, as he hadn't been expecting that. He might have lost a little weight with this spot of illness, but he was nothing like the skeleton with skin he'd been after the Initiative had done with him. "Rupert, you'll do your back in."

"Then we can be invalids together." Rupert started out of the room, heading for the stairs.

Ethan dipped his head and curled his legs in, trying to take up as little space as possible. Closing his eyes, he found the motion as they went down the steps did indeed bring back strong memories of the days after his rescue. "Was I more or less of a trial to you back then, my dear?" he asked, confident that his lover would understand what he was referring to.

Rupert didn't answer right away, seeming to think over the question seriously. "Things back then were much more... uncertain," he finally said. "I wasn't sure what to expect, or to hope for, realistically."

Ethan opened his eyes to see they were approaching the front door. Rupert held him by the coat-stand, and Ethan liberated their matching Berber coats. They were going to need them. "But I didn't make you carry me out to cliff-tops to take in the bracing air, did I?"

"I didn't know if you wanted to be there, or if the only reason you hadn't left was because you weren't able to," Rupert said softly. Then, as they slipped outside, he added in a teasing tone, "Besides, I'm used to you asking for outrageous things."

Ethan grinned at the last comment. "That's what makes me fun to have around," he claimed, chuckling. The wind was already blustery outside, picking up the first of the autumn's fallen leaves and setting them dancing.

"Looks like it's going to be a bad one," Rupert observed, as he headed for their car, only putting Ethan down when he needed to open the passenger door.

Ethan leant against the car and breathed in the outdoor air, which was rich with ozone and building power. For all his sickness, he felt alive and excited. When Rupert, after helping Ethan into the passenger seat, shut the door on the growing storm, Ethan felt disappointed.

Rupert got in behind the wheel, and slid the key into the ignition. He glanced over at Ethan. "Are you all right?"

Ethan nodded. He rested his hand on Rupert's leg, greedily seeking more magic. "A little impatient, is all." To distract himself, Ethan returned to what they had just been discussing. "You should have known I'd stay, really."

"Maybe so," Rupert said softly, as he turned the car down the driveway. "But we were both so hunkered down behind our emotional defences, it's a wonder we could even see each other."

"You..." Ethan paused to consider his words carefully. "You took a leap of faith."

Rupert mulled that over. "I think we both did," he finally said.

"Maybe," Ethan acknowledged, relaxing back into the seat.

They sat quietly as Rupert drove through Combe Martin and out the other side. The sky was dark enough for evening now, although it was only early afternoon. Rupert took them along single-track roads, clearly heading somewhere specific. Ethan didn't ask where; he trusted his partner.

Finally, just after passing a National Trust sign, Rupert pulled the car into a small dirt carpark. It was at that point that large interspersed drops of rain started landing on the windscreen.

Parking the car, Rupert turned off the engine and glanced over at Ethan. "Cliff-top, you said."

"Yes, I need to meet and greet," Ethan confirmed. "Play the gracious host."

"Yes, we must show proper etiquette to the weather," Rupert said sardonically, getting out of the car. He came around to open the door for Ethan. "Can you walk?" he asked, as he helped the other man get out.

"With help." Ethan swayed a little as the burgeoning force of the elements hit him. "I can use magic to strengthen my muscles. There's certainly enough power about us that I can draw on."

He thought, rather giddily, that he could probably fly if he twisted the air currents just right. On the other hand, with the amount of natural chaos about right now, that would probably be asking for a quick trip out to sea. He chuckled to himself, and the wind caught his quiet laugh and whisked it away.

The rising force of the storm surged around them, the wind slapping their faces with the heavy raindrops. They donned their coats, doing up all the many fastenings, and sealing themselves inside the fleece-lined waxed material. Ethan fiddled with the last of his buttons, his fingers too clumsy currently to manage well.

Rupert did the buttons up for him and paused when he was finished, looking closely at Ethan's eyes. Smiling, he leaned in and kissed Ethan lingeringly. When Rupert drew back, Ethan tried to follow his lips. His lover chuckled and gave him a small peck, before saying, "I thought you wanted to meet and greet the storm."

Nodding, Ethan let the wind charge him up and fed the power to his sick muscles. This wasn't healing, and it wasn't masking. It was more like a magical set of limb-braces to help him get where he was going.

Rupert kept a supporting arm around Ethan's waist as they slowly made their way up the trail towards the cliff's edge. It was hard going for Ethan, even with magical aid. As they reached the ridge, leaving the protection of the hillside, the wind seemed to become much stronger, and Ethan's lungs threatened to give out all together. He turned against Rupert, seeking temporary shelter against his lover's chest.

Wrapping his arms around him, Rupert sent more of his magic through Ethan's system. "You're all right," he murmured, as if to reassure both of them.

Ethan moved his mouth up to Rupert's and stole a kiss, and quite possibly, some warm air too. Then he turned to face the storm and walked confidently --more or less -- out to within a couple of feet of the cliff edge.

Rupert followed a step behind him, and when Ethan stopped, Rupert wrapped his arms around Ethan's waist, pulling him back against his chest. As Ethan had been feeling just a little bit precarious, the solidity of his lover behind him was very reassuring. Any conversation would be immediately lost to the clutching fingers of the wind up here, so Ethan squeezed Rupert's hands to show his appreciation.

Then he turned all his senses outwards, spreading his arms, and inviting the storm to... well, communicate in a fashion -- to make itself known to him. And as his awareness spread outward, Ethan saw the moving patterns of the tempest. They were huge and in constant flux, the movement of every atom dependent on that of every other atom, all racing together in a furious dance.

And suddenly Ethan was seven years old again and standing on a beach being held -- loved -- by another storm a long time ago. And then, equally suddenly, he knew why he was here, on this present day cliff, and what he had to do. He slumped back against Rupert, his rock of support, and let his lover bear much of his physical weight.

Ethan extended his magic, all of it, making himself huge and diffuse, mingling with the over-excited air around him, the angry waves below, and the thick boiling clouds far above.

And once his power was so mingled that it had become the stuff of the storm, become part of the vast pattern, Ethan stiffened. He had to let Rupert know somehow what to expect, but he didn't have the time to explain. In the end, he found himself yelling, "Be prepared!" and only afterwards realising that he hadn't spoken the words with his mouth. But he knew, without a doubt, that Rupert had heard him.

And then the time for thought and communication was gone, as Ethan summoned all his magic home. It came rushing back at the speed of thought... and it brought the storm with it.

For a few short moments, there was perfect calm on the cliff-top. Their coats, which had been flapping madly in the bluster, hung still. The rain no longer fell. Down below, the sea was unnaturally peaceful under the still darkened skies.

Then Ethan began to shudder.

It was like trying to hold his breath for an unnatural length of time, while simultaneously resisting the impulse to sneeze, vomit and otherwise eliminate from his body. Ethan kept the insane amount of power inside of him for as long as he could hold it, shaking and whimpering, and let go only when some instinct told him it was enough.

The storm wailed out from him with a banshee howl and enough force to knock both men back into the sodden grass, and it took every last stubborn clot of dark Chaos with it when it went.

Triumphant and satisfied, Ethan laughed loudly.

And then passed out.

***

Giles felt like his heart had stopped when Ethan went limp, and for a second he wasn't sure if his lover had just passed out or... Giles didn't even let himself finish the thought, didn't need to as in the next instant he felt Ethan's pulse strong and steady under his fingers.

He shifted them around, running his hands over Ethan's body checking for damage, reaching out with his magic to do the same thing...

Except that when he touched Ethan's power with his own, it was different. *Ethan* was different. The slightly bitter under-taste -- the dark Chaos that had always been a part of Ethan for as long as Giles had known him -- was no longer there. Even while Ethan had been weaning himself from it, it had still been there at the most basic levels, masking and tainting his lover's essence.

Until now.

Ethan twitched. His head fell back and his mouth opened and moved, and although Giles couldn't make out any words through the roar of the wind, he knew his lover had spoken. Giles shifted their positions again, trying to shelter Ethan from the gale as much as he could. "What was that, love?" he asked, unable to resist leaning in and kissing him, savouring the new sweetness.

Ethan kissed back, weakly at first, but then with more strength, his hand slipping around Giles' neck to lightly hold him. Giles smiled against Ethan's mouth as the kiss continued. Kissing Ethan was always an enjoyable pastime, but now, with the untainted power running just below the surface, it was downright addictive.

Finally, Ethan broke the kiss, panting for breath and grinning up at Giles. He pushed his fingers through Giles' soaking wet hair, laughing when the action caused much of the water to fall onto his own face.

"You taste... feel... God, Ethan..." Giles heard the wonder in his own voice.

"It's gone," Ethan said, still grinning. And somehow they were hearing each other perfectly well now, despite the gale, the crashing waves below them, and the thunderous rain splashing into the increasingly muddy grass they were lying on. "It's all gone. I should feel a little sad maybe, but I really don't."

"No more bitter," Giles murmured, his magic instinctively reaching out to caress and intertwine with his lover's. "Pure essence of Ethan. Nothing to be sad about there."

"I can get better now. Perhaps the coven might deign to heal me, you never know." Ethan chuckled, writhing happily as their magics intermeshed. "Talking of which..." He tried to arch up and reach under himself for something, but Giles above him, and his own coat, seemed to be making that difficult.

"What are you after?" Giles asked, even as he rolled them over to facilitate... whatever it was that Ethan was trying to do.

"Kat's flask," Ethan explained, pulling up his coat to reach it.

"Let me." Giles slid his hands over Ethan's body as he moved to retrieve the item in question from Ethan's pocket.

As the action necessitated groping Ethan's arse, he giggled and wriggled on top of Giles, clearly in excessively good humour. "Do you still know that spell you used to use for our laundry?" he asked, rising shakily up onto his knees, straddling Giles, so that he could swig from the flask.

Giles continued to run his hands over Ethan's form, unable to stop touching him. "Yes," he replied. "Have something in mind, do you?"

Ethan nodded, clearly still able to hear Giles, even from this distance. Dropping the flask to the ground beside them, he pushed his soaking hair back from his face and then held his arms out. His face showed an expression of concentration, and perhaps a little strain.

Once again, the storm... stopped.

Only it didn't, of course. Just a foot or so away from Giles head, he could still see the heavy rain splashing into puddles. But somehow, around them both was a still oasis. The roar of wind and waves, the buffeting of the gale, the drenching rain -- were all gone.

Ethan bought his hands down and rested them on Giles' chest, leaning on them slightly. He was panting again, but grinning hugely.

Giles chuckled. "Better than a sodding umbrella." Sliding his hands slowly up Ethan's arms he murmured, "Exhala aquam viduum," and directed a bit of his magic, removing the excess moisture from their hair and clothes, as well as the ground around them.

Ethan shivered as if Giles had touched him sexually. "I don't know why, but your magic tastes even better now, my dear. And it was always somewhat of a godly elixir." He paused to catch his breath, then added, "These clothes may be wonderfully dry now, but they're decidedly in the way." He tugged rather uselessly at Giles' Berber. "I want to touch you."

"That's convenient," Giles said, quickly undoing the buttons and zipper on his coat and sliding it off, then reaching for the buttons on Ethan's. "Because I want you to touch me. And vice versa."

As Giles pushed Ethan's coat down his lover's arms, Ethan dropped forward, almost falling out of the coat, and sprawling on top of Giles. Warm hands cupped Giles' face. "Mmm, touch me then," Ethan murmured, kissing Giles softly, his magic travelling from lips, tongue and fingers.

Giles slid his hands into Ethan's hair, holding him in place and deepening the kiss. His own magic flowed out of him as easily as breathing, meeting and mingling with his lover's as if it had always been meant to be that way.

It was different than all the times in the past they'd done this; always before there had been something sharp and jagged about Ethan's magic, something that had resisted and fought Giles' for dominance, something that had kept them aware of the edges no matter how close they got. There was none of that this time -- no fight, no edges. Their magic, their power, met and simply blended together, becoming a new whole with an almost audible click.

He felt Ethan tremble and moan above him. Their lips were dragged apart just long enough for Ethan to groan, "God, you're making me whole. Rupert... you're *healing*. Look."

One of Ethan's hands grabbed his, and suddenly, Giles found he was seeing rather as he imagined Ethan saw. He saw what he somehow knew were the patterns of the damaged flesh in Ethan's lungs, and how their melded magic was starting to restore the flesh to the shape it should hold.

Fascinated, he watched the shifting pattern, feeling the way the magic wanted to go, seeing the way the pattern should be without the damage, and how it grew from a shadowy possibility to a solid reality, distantly aware of Ethan's breathing easing as they continued.

"Bugger..." Ethan moaned, moving on top of Giles. "Oh..." Suddenly, he sat up and pulled off his jumper, leaving the T-shirt behind. He pushed Giles' sweater up too until the material bunched under his arms.

Giles had lost the image of the healing when Ethan let go of his hand, but he could still feel the magic moving through them both, unable to tell which was his and which was Ethan's. It was as much sexual as anything else, and Giles was becoming increasing desperate to feel Ethan's skin against his, to bury himself in his lover's body, to make their connection physical as well as spiritual. Groaning, Giles thrust up against Ethan's body, his hands moving to scrabble at Ethan's belt. "Need to feel you..."

"Yes. Oh, yes..." Ethan clearly fully agreed with the sentiment as his hands were under Giles' shirt now, pushing up his chest and dragging down again in a firm, demanding caress. "Rupert, please..."

Giles retained enough rational thought to realise he couldn't just magic their clothes away, not out here, although his urgent and growing desire made his fingers clumsy as he tried to open Ethan's trousers. "Need this off," he growled finally, tugging at the material.

Groaning with frustration, Ethan moved off Giles and lay on his back, quickly removing his own trousers. "Dearheart, *please*." There was urgency in his voice as he reached for Giles. "Touch me. Oh God, take me..."

Having removed his own trousers while Ethan was similarly engaged, Giles was more than willing to comply, letting Ethan pull him close. He groaned at the first skin to skin contact, and took control, shifting their positions so that he could slide into his lover's body on a stream of magic.

Ethan clenched around him immediately, gasping. His legs tightened on Giles' back as he thrust his arse up to meet Giles' downward movement. Their melded magic surrounded them, keeping them warm within Ethan's bubble of stillness, keeping them highly aroused. Ethan reached up for a kiss, his mouth open and needy.

Giles closed the remaining distance and devoured his lover's mouth, getting lost in it all, the physical and magical both. There were no words to describe it, this kind of closeness, unity, and Giles never wanted it to end.

Such was the intensity of the euphoria they shared that neither was capable of much in the way of rhythmic movement. But it mattered not at all, as the pleasure grew inexorably on all levels, blinding them completely to anything beyond each other. They could have had an audience of curious Tri-horned yogra-beasts, and they would never have known.

When finally, their physical orgasms arrived, utterly synchronous, they hardly noticed them against the backdrop of crescendoing ecstasy throughout their minds and spirits.

It was something that was impossible to maintain at those levels, however, and gradually the flow of magic between and around them tapered off, leaving them both back inside their own skins. But again, it was unlike times in the past; even when it was over, there remained an awareness of the other which went beyond their normal senses.

As their minds slowly became capable of intellectual thought once again, Ethan shifted below Giles, letting his feet drop to the grass. Neither of them seemed to want to talk immediately, being content to lie there, kissing softly and nuzzling, but eventually, Giles felt, as much as saw, Ethan wince.

"Sorry," Giles murmured as they disengaged as gently as he could manage, rolling onto his back and pulling Ethan to lie against his side.

"No, my dear, it's not you," Ethan reassured quickly, snuggling close again. "Well, not in any way I mind, anyhow. The storm's passing, that's all." Giles didn't quite get the significance of the remark until Ethan added, "I was using its wildness to maintain the, um, magic umbrella. Self-maintaining magic is the best kind, don't you think? Only this is quite a costly spell now the nexus of the storm has passed inland."

"We should probably get dressed and head back to the car then." Giles reluctantly let go of his lover and reached for his trousers. "After all, we've just got you healed, don't want you to get ill again."

"And there are your aged and decrepit joints to consider as well," Ethan said, remaining deadpan for a fraction of a second before disintegrating into giggles. "Oh, Rupert," he sighed happily, lying on his back with his hands behind his head and making no move to dress himself. "It really seems a bit redundant to say this after what we've just shared, but I do love you. So very much."

Giles stopped dressing long enough to lean over and kiss Ethan. "I love you too." There was so much more he could say, but if he started he was pretty sure they would never get out of here.

As Giles finished getting himself together, he could feel Ethan's gaze upon him. Turning to look at the other man again, Giles frowned at Ethan's still half-naked and dishevelled state. His lover raised a laconic eyebrow. "What, you mean just because I'm well now, I have to dress myself again?"

"Yes," Giles said, tossing Ethan's trousers to him.

"Aww, that's a shame," he pouted. "A bloke could get used to having a personal valet." Ethan obligingly got himself dressed, however. He turned to Giles as he fastened the buttons on his Berber, his fingers now as agile as usual once again. "Shall we get to the car while I can still maintain the umbrella? The storm may be gone, but the rain still looks cold enough to dampen our good spirits."

"I'm not sure anything could dampen my good spirits right now." Giles caught Ethan's hand as they started walking. "But yes, not getting wet would be a benefit, if it's not too much of a strain for you."

"There's time enough to collapse when we get in..." A sudden thought seemed to hit Ethan. "Oh, I do hope we haven't worried our Slayers."

"We haven't been gone that long. Besides, I think they will forgive us when they see you."

"Yes, and our busy-body mentors probably watched the whole thing in Technicolor and Dolby surround sound, anyway."

Giles winced. "I'm trying very hard not to think about that."

"Sorry," Ethan said, not sounding it at all. He'd always been a natural exhibitionist and clearly the thought of an audience at the very least amused him.

They reached the car and got in, and Ethan let his spell go with a grateful sigh. "I have at least managed to see Ian naked in return," he commented casually.

"I think I'll stick with trying not to think about it," Giles said dryly, as he started the engine.

Ethan reached over and stroked Giles' face with the back of his hand. "I suppose there's no way I'm ever going to be able to make you jealous again now, is there?" he asked in a mildly teasing tone. "Couldn't you just pretend one day? Take a swing at someone for me, just like the old days?"

"You want me to thrash Ian for you?" Giles asked in amused disbelief, as they left the carpark.

"Oh no." Ethan threw his hands up, laughing. "Someone that we don't like. I tell you what, when we get back, I'll flirt outrageously with Francesca."

Giles laughed out loud at the mental picture that inspired. "Her head would spin around before exploding."

"What a very pleasant thought," Ethan said gleefully. He took in a deep breath and let it out again slowly. "Oh, I'm happy as a sandboy who's uncovered buried doubloons. I didn't know days came this good. Really, I didn't." He reached over and squeezed Rupert's leg. "You did this to me, you truly wicked man."

"You freed yourself first," Giles told him, dropping a hand down to cover Ethan's. He glanced sideways at his lover. "I just was damage control."

"I'm not just talking about being whole physically again, Rupert," Ethan said, smiling softly. "Glorious though that is. You've made me whole in ways I didn't even realise it was possible to be complete in." He turned his hand under Giles' and interlinked their fingers. "I was nothing but broken circles, and now, together, we're twinning spirals. Like DNA." He laughed. "As above, so below. Oh dear God, I believe I may be having a spiritual moment. Call the priests!"

"It's like in the dream," Giles said, remembering the repeated imagery of intertwining circles around him and Ethan. "Two wholes that link together."

"Forming the symbol for infinity," Ethan added quietly, suddenly a little subdued. "That dream was important, wasn't it?"

"It's beginning to appear so, yes." Giles turned it over in his mind; he had some training in interpreting dreams, as prophetic dreams were one of the Slayer's traditional gifts. But still, obtaining some more skilled opinions might be an idea to consider. "The coven has a seer," he began tentatively, unsure of his lover's reaction to this suggestion. "We could see what she has to say about it."

"It might well be best to know," Ethan agreed easily enough, but his tone was worried. Giles strongly suspected his lover was reviewing some of the darker aspects of the dream.

Giles raised their clasped hands to his mouth, brushing a kiss against the back of Ethan's. "Although I must say -- us for infinity, I can wholeheartedly embrace that portent."

"Here's to the Infinite Us," Ethan toasted, chuckling. The more sombre mood was already over -- as was his lover's mercurial way, Giles thought fondly.

Ethan and him, together from now on -- it was perhaps, given their history, the most unlikely outcome. But for Giles -- for them both -- it was, quite literally it seemed, a dream come true.

THE END

EPILOGUE