Title: Charades 12/24
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 Sleight of Hand
Summary: Searching for meaning in the signs and symbols of life.

Author Notes: Many thanks to Mad Poetess and Wesleysgirl for betaing :) This is the third story in the Of Old Mystics series; previous stories in the series can be found
http://www.myarseisnotpansy.co.uk/piedm/mystics.html.

Ethan stared glumly at the television.

He'd nagged Rupert into getting the full Sky package, so he felt obliged to watch it occasionally, but it had turned out to be one of those things that sounded a lot more interesting than it actually was. Fifty odd channels, all showing tedious imports or repeats. Nine times out of ten, like tonight, Ethan ended up watching UK Food.

He was strangely determined to improve his bad reputation in the kitchen. How hard could it be? It was just ritual magic without the magic, wasn't it?

But Jamie Oliver spoke an annoying Essex mockney, and he seemed to be all they intended to show for the next few hours. And not even Ethan needed to be told how to create a mixed grill. Sighing, he lifted the remote and silenced Oliver with a sense of relief.

Gwydion, who had been in the kitchen, padded into the living room and came over to where Ethan was sitting on the sofa. He rested his head on the cushions and looked up at Ethan hopefully.

It was a chilly evening. Ethan had his legs curled up under him and a fleece blanket pulled around his shoulders. It was a poor substitute for Rupert's arm, but his husband was still at Madame Tussaud's with Buffy, 'cleaning up' as the message he'd left on the machine had said. Ethan had found it there after dropping Megan off at Jade's for her surprise visit. He was still annoyed to have missed speaking to Rupert in person.

"Up you get then," Ethan told Giddy, patting the cushion beside him. "But if Rupert asks, I'll deny all knowledge of how the hairs got on the upholstery."

The young dog scrabbled up onto the sofa eagerly, and Ethan endured the moment of awkwardness until Giddy settled down beside him, his head now in Ethan's lap.

Ethan absently stroked the dog's head as he sighed again. Being on his own tonight wasn't a good idea. Really, it wasn't.

He'd been feeling disturbed ever since handling the Chaos fetish, which had been used to summon the fairy creatures to Hyde Park. He wanted to talk with Rupert about it; he wanted to be reassured that his reaction had been natural and that he wasn't still a danger to his loved ones because of it. He wanted to feel himself fill with Rupert's magic and affection, warming him; even Ethan's bone marrow felt cold tonight.

But Rupert wasn't there.

He should, he supposed, get up and turn the fire up, perhaps make a cup of tea. But Giddy was comfortable now, and something stubborn and unreasonable inside Ethan didn't seem to want to take care of himself.

He sighed for a third time.

Giddy raised his head at that and regarded Ethan with his deep brown eyes for a long moment. Then he moved forward enough to lick at Ethan's face repeatedly.

"Get off, you monster!" Ethan pushed the dog back down. "I suppose that was your version of 'cheer up, grumpy-drawers', was it?" He ruffled Giddy's ears.

It was true; he was feeling sorry for himself, and the self-pity had followed hard on the heels of brooding... which had followed the guilt and worry which had followed the hesitation and craving induced by the Chaos fetish. How the hell was he meant to fight a war against a type of magic that called to him like heroin to an ex-junkie?

He didn't have an answer to that, and Rupert wasn't there to think more clearly for him. Or Megan for that matter; his Slayer was often very astute about the sort of things that confused Ethan at a fundamental level. But he'd hidden his reaction from her earlier, and really, he didn't want her to know how shaky the ground he stood on truly was. Her respect meant more than he liked to admit to himself.

Giddy barked suddenly, then got up and headed for the lobby door, stopping and looking back over his shoulder at Ethan.

Ethan's growing sense of his husband quickly disappointed the hope that it was Rupert returned home early. But it was someone the dog knew and liked, that was obvious. It was too early for it to be Megan either, so Ethan was betting with himself that he'd open the door to find Xander there. And while he'd have preferred Rupert to be home early, the American lad was good company.

Ethan headed out into the lobby and opened the front door wearing a smile on his lips... which dropped rapidly when he found Megan outside, clutching her unused bunch of keys and hurriedly wiping tears from her pale face.

"H-hi," Megan said, with a desperate attempt at false cheer. "I-I thought I'd..."

"What happened?" Ethan demanded, almost harshly, but as soon as he heard his own voice, he shook his head, forbidding Megan from answering. "Come in. You're shivering; come to the fire and get warm." He put his arm around her, drawing her inside.

Mutely, Megan let him pull her in, sniffling in an obvious attempt to hold back more tears.

Ethan shut the door behind her and guided her into the living room. After sitting her down on the sofa, he turned the fire up a notch before joining her. "There now," he gentled, pushing her long hair back from her face and cupping her cheek, encouraging her to meet his eyes. "Tell me."

She looked at him for a moment, then her face crumpled and she moved forward into his arms, burying her face against his shoulder with a sob.

"Jade," she said, voice muffled and full of tears.

"Did you have an argument?" he asked, wrapping his arms tightly around her.

"Sh-she had ano-another g-girl there." The words came out amidst the gasping sobs that Megan was no longer trying to hide.

Ethan cringed; this was worse than he'd thought. "Not just a friend, I take it." Megan shook her head. "Are you sure?"

She laughed humourlessly through her tears. "Pretty sure. There was... a lack of clothes."

Bugger. "I'm sorry, Meglet. So very sorry." Ethan stroked her hair and struggled with upwelling guilt. He'd encouraged Megan to see Jade today, had encouraged her in fact to see Jade at all. "What was her excuse?"

"She didn't have one." Megan seemed to be pulling herself together some, although the bitterness in her tone was in some ways more disturbing to Ethan. "She said I was overreacting and that this was the way the real world worked."

"This is the same girl who told you on Saturday that you were special, and that last week complained because she couldn't see you every day?" Ethan was starting to feel angry.

"I thought--" Megan shook her head. "I must've misunderstood. Took what she was saying the wrong way." She sighed sadly. "Maybe she's right. Maybe I am hopelessly naive. But I thought..." She looked up at Ethan, eyes bright with more tears that had still to fall. "I thought she liked me. But... But tonight she started picking Giddy's hairs off my jacket, and she sneered and said... she said I smelled like dog."

Oh, but it hurt to see his Slayer in pain like this. "Megan, none of this is your fault. Jade clearly isn't someone you should be with anyway. Really."

Megan sniffled again. "She seemed so nice, and she smiled at me and I felt..."

A sudden cold feeling hit him in the gut. "Did you... Megan, did you have sex with Jade?"

She looked away.

Oh God. It shouldn’t matter. It really shouldn’t matter. Long gone were the days when virginity, metaphorical or literal, was truly relevant. Sex was just another part of growing up, like learning to shave. But this was Megan, Ethan's Slayer. And her first time should have been special because *she* was. It should have been memorable for good reasons, not bad.

"Oh, my Meglet." He drew her close again. "She didn't deserve the honour." Megan buried her face against Ethan's shirt and cried silently.

He held her, stroked her hair, muttered soothing phrases and generally tried to be what she needed. But all the time his mind was largely elsewhere. This was all his fault.

He had primed and primped her and sent her out onto the dance floor like a lamb to the bloodstained altar. He'd made no real attempt to temper her romantic dreams, her desire to find her 'Rupert', and he'd positively encouraged her excitement over Jade, abetting the fledgling relationship in any way he could.

And he knew better than that. He knew the world, the way it worked. It was full of users and abusers who were just waiting for innocent young things to come along and get stuck in their web of lies. When you had no dreams remaining of your own, those of other people became irritating, and there was jaded pleasure to be had in crushing them. Ethan knew this; Ethan had done this.

And now his Slayer was crying in his arms, and it was his fault.

Gradually Megan's tears quietened, but she made no move to pull back. Ethan kissed the top of her head. He felt helpless. The sense of responsibility for her pain was almost overwhelming, but he didn't know what he could do to ease either of their discomfort. He hated Jade on Megan's behalf; Christ, the girl's name should have served as warning to what she was. How dare she do this to his Megan?

How dare he let it happen?

"What did you do when you broke up with your... first?" Megan asked softly. "You said it wasn't Giles."

"It wasn't like that, Megan." Ethan shifted uncomfortably on the sofa. "It was just meaningless sex. There was no relationship to break up." He was horribly aware that his words could be seen as proof of Jade's accusations of naivety. "Men are a different breed, sweetheart."

"Not too different, apparently." She sighed and raised a hand to scrub at her face in a childlike gesture.

"No," Ethan shook his head. "She led you on. Casual sex is casual sex; it doesn't pretend to be anything else. She was playing on your emotions. Believe me, I know. I've... I've done it." He probably shouldn't have confessed that. He gave Megan an apologetic look and took her hand from her face and held it.

"I suppose I should've known... I think I did know that she wasn't... y'know. Like my Giles. But she was nice -- or at least seemed to be -- and I wanted someone to *like* me..."

He cringed. This was truly his fault. He should have been teaching Megan about the sour reality of the world, not encouraging her sweet fantasies. "Would you like a drink of something?"

Megan shook her head, then moved to rest against Ethan again. "This is good."

And so he held her, soothing silently, for a long time. Gwydion, who had avoided the pair of them almost respectfully while they'd talked, now climbed back on the sofa without permission and warmed Megan's other side, so that she was snuggled between the two of them. Eventually the heat from their bodies and the turned up fire was sending all three of them to sleep, and Ethan forced himself to stir. He didn't want to sleep, not yet.

He had things to do.

"Bed now, Megan," he told her quietly, shaking her just a little. "Take Giddy with you for company. Would you like a hot cocoa?"

She shook her head sleepily, then leant in and pressed a kiss to Ethan's cheek before she stood up. "Thanks," she said, even managing a wobbly smile. "That was... I just... Thanks."

Spontaneously, he touched his cheek where her lips had left a small dampness. "Anytime. I'm your Watcher and your... friend. You can always come to me. I'm on your side."

Her smile became a bit less wobbly at that, but she didn't say anything else. She tugged on Giddy's collar to get him up and headed upstairs with the young dog at her heels.

Ethan watched her go, then got up and poured himself a large glass of Rupert's malt. He felt like he needed some Dutch courage for what he was thinking about doing, which was something the like of which he hadn't done for quite a while. But it needed doing. Really, it did.

And no one else was going to do it, so it had to be him. It felt almost like his duty to deliver... justice. Jade had acted like a cold hearted bitch; she had made his Slayer feel like dirt, like an idiot. Ethan had no intention of letting that lie.

He waited a while until his pattern senses told him Megan was asleep. Then he slipped his coat on and walked out of the house on his own.

He'd talk to her first, of course; give her a chance to show genuine regret. But he knew Jade would be unrepentant of her treatment of Megan. He knew it because he knew her. He'd never spoken to Jade, had only seen her from a distance, but he *knew* her.

And he was a better sadist than some tart dyke who hadn't even hit twenty yet.

***

It was still pitch black out when Giles wearily made his way up the path to his front door, but that had more to do with the time of year than him getting in at a reasonable hour. If it had been July instead of December, the sky would already have started to lighten.

Still, all in all, it had been a good night's work. Buffy and he had investigated every wax figure in the museum and removed all of the animating crystals that they'd found. Most of the time they had been dealing with inanimate objects, but there had been enough fights to keep it from getting too tedious. Madame Tussaud's would be closed for some time; it was a good thing for the business that it was the quiet season.

Buffy had enjoyed every minute of it.

Giles felt something like a smug satisfaction at that; that was the essence of what being a Watcher should be, at least for him -- doing whatever he could not only to keep his Slayer alive, but to make sure she *lived* as well.

So he was tired, but in a good mood as he unlocked the door and made his way into the house as quietly as possible, intending to make his way upstairs and join his lover in bed, preferably without waking anyone. Or perhaps he *would* wake Ethan; he'd always found the man nigh irresistible all sleepy and compliant.

All his plans vanished when he stepped into the living room.

Ethan was lying on the sofa, his body twisted in such a way that a surge of appalling fear hit Giles before his sense of his lover told him that Ethan was healthy if not happy. Ethan's eyes were closed and his face screwed up; he was breathing in tiny fast pants. There was a blanket fallen to the floor, and his fingers were dug, clawlike, into a cushion he held against his belly.

Giles hadn't even fully registered all this before he was acting, moving across the room and kneeling beside Ethan, reaching out to gently shake him awake.

Ethan whimpered and twitched but didn't wake up. Giles wondered vaguely where Gwydion was, but he thought he could hear the dog moving about upstairs, and Ethan needed his attention now. Ethan's eyes were moving rapidly behind their lids.

"Ethan," Giles said aloud and with his mind, trying to reach his lover in whatever nightmare he was lost in, worry a growing weight in his gut. "Wake up, love."

He thought he caught his name in reply, a confused and distant mental sending if he wasn't imagining it. From Ethan's mouth there came only a long drawn out whine, which sounded almost like a far away scream.

Worry was definitely overtaking him now; Ethan usually easily came awake at his touch or voice or merely his presence. Beginning to wonder if this were some kind of attack instead of merely a simple nightmare, Giles moved to join Ethan on the sofa and wrapped himself around him, sending a steady stream of magic through the other man's body.

The twitching became more pronounced, and the panting more ragged; Ethan seemed to be fighting his way towards an awakened state. In his mind, Giles heard Ethan more clearly, calling for him as if lost and terrified, begging for Giles to come to him.

Then, with a huge, desperate gasp, Ethan convulsed in Giles' arms and began to struggle, fighting wildly against Giles as if he were an attacker. "No, no, no, no, no..."

"Ethan!" Giles tightened his grip, trying to get through to his lover with voice, mind and magic. "It's all right, it's me, I've got you."

"R-- Rupert? Oh God..." Ethan's struggles stopped instantly, and he clung to Giles, his breath now coming in sobs and gasps. "Oh... oh." Giles could feel Ethan's nails being dug into his back, as if Ethan was trying to hold on, afraid he would fall somewhere.

Giles continued to hold onto him, murmuring soft reassurances, waiting for Ethan to come fully back to him. He was reminded vividly of the days directly following Ethan's rescue from that Initiative hellhole, when they had been still dancing around each other and Ethan waking from nightmares had been the norm.

Ethan quietened and his body slowly relaxed, but he didn't speak immediately. After several minutes of Giles' gentle attention, Ethan then asked quietly, "What time is it?"

"A little after five a.m." He slid a hand against Ethan's cheek. "Are you all right?"

"I... I'm not sure." Ethan squirmed under him, apparently trying to reach something.

Giles lifted up enough to make it easier for Ethan to move and get whatever he was after.

Ethan continued to wiggle however; he seemed to be feeling underneath his sweater. "Humour me, Rupert?" he asked, sounding embarrassed. "Tell me they haven't reappeared."

"What the Initiative did to you?" Giles asked, running his hands underneath Ethan's shirts and over now smooth skin where the magic siphons had been connected. "They're gone. They're never going to reappear -- anyone who tried would have to go through me first."

Ethan shuddered. "It felt so real," he muttered. He tugged Giles back down to him and pressed his face into the crook of Giles' neck. "You're very late." There was definite reproach in the comment, however gently stated.

"There are very many waxworks at Madame Tussaud's. I know this because Buffy and I had to go over every single one of them." It was more of an explanation than an apology, but he said it as apologetically as he could.

"I don't like sleeping without you."

"Is that why you're down here on the sofa?"

Ethan seemed to hesitate before he replied. "Yes. Rupert, the last time I slept without you, I had nightmares. I can't say I care for this."

"The last time you were contending with the Dark Chaos," Giles pointed out, logically, although if he listened to his instincts he knew there was more to Ethan's theory than that.

Ethan didn't answer, but after a while he said, "It's been a poor evening. Megan was let down badly by Jade."

Giles frowned, sitting up and pulling Ethan with him. "What happened?"

"Megan went to see her unexpectedly. Jade wasn't alone and pretty much laughed in Megan's face." Ethan sounded, all things considered, surprisingly calm.

"Bugger."

"Giddy's upstairs with her. I didn't want her to sleep alone tonight." And that felt like a reproach too, although Ethan probably hadn't meant it as one.

"I'm sorry," Giles found himself saying. "It wasn't like I wanted to be away."

Ethan leant against him. "Was it good? Working so closely with Buffy again?"

"Yes." Giles smiled at the thought. "It was. She's... amazing. What a Slayer can be at the peak of her abilities." He shook his head in wonder.

"Megan was fairly amazing too. In Hyde Park."

It was a bit strange to hear an echo of his own pride in Buffy in Ethan's voice when he talked about Megan, but strange in a good way. "How did that go? Find out what was causing the missing wildlife?"

Ethan looked down at his hands, which he clasped tightly. "Nasty little sprites summoned via a Chaos fetish."

Ethan's reaction coupled with the words sent a frisson of alarm and concern through Giles. "Are you all right?" he asked, brushing a hand against Ethan's face.

"I'm not... infected. It was only the kind of thing I would have once made myself. But..." As Ethan met his gaze, Giles could see how worried his partner was. "I wanted it, Rupert. Part of me wanted it, really rather a lot."

That made perfect sense to Giles. "Of course you did. But you didn't take it." He was sure of that; he would've felt the taint on Ethan as soon as he touched him with his magic.

"That is possibly more thanks to Giddy than my own willpower," Ethan admitted unhappily. "The monster was a bit of a hero today too. I on the other hand--" He didn't say anymore.

"You were tempted."

"I'm not a good man," Ethan said very quietly, wringing and twisting his hands together. "I never will be. I try for you. I try so hard. I will never be a hero. I will never have a instinctive knowledge of what's 'right' the way that you do."

Giles reached out and took Ethan's hands in his to stop the fretting. "Seems to me you've been doing a more than passable job at doing what's right. You were tempted -- I would worry more if you were insisting you hadn't been. You didn't give in though, even if you were tempted."

"You don't understand."

"Then explain it to me?" he bade softly.

Ethan gave him a very emotional look before finding control from somewhere and looking down again. "I... I didn't give in, but I didn't not give in. Giddy took the fetish from my hands, took the choice from me, before I had the chance to think, to realise I had a choice. I don't know what I would have done, and I... I doubt myself. It's just so easy to go back to that mindset where... anything goes."

"And my saying I believe in you isn't going to help, is it?" Giles murmured, as much to himself as to Ethan. "So, let's play this out. Say you did give in. What do you think would happen then?"

Ethan was silent for a long time. So long that Giles was about to say something more, and indeed, had opened his mouth to do so, when Ethan suddenly muttered, "What would have happened, what would then continue to happen, would be me letting you down. Disappointing you. Failing you."

"Oh love..." Giles wrapped his arms around Ethan, pulling him tightly against him. "The only way you could fail me is if you left. Any of these other things you're worrying about are just stumbles, things we deal with together and go on."

Ethan looked up, twisting on the seat to face Giles, and freed a hand, placing his trembling fingers on Giles' cheek. Giles gained the distinct impression that Ethan was about to say something, something important. So it was frustrating and perplexing when his lover shook his head almost imperceptibly and then more or less collapsed against Giles, having said nothing.

Much as part of him wanted to push, Giles could also sense the depth of Ethan's emotional turmoil so he restrained himself. Instead he just held him and offered, "And I'm not a hero, love. I just do what has to be done. There are times enough when that's far from the heroic."

"That's true heroism though," Ethan insisted, seeming very certain for someone who'd just claimed not to know the difference between right and wrong.

"Sometimes," Giles allowed, even though he didn't quite believe it himself. He wasn't a hero. Buffy was a hero; he was just support personnel.

Ethan was arranging himself on Giles' lap. "You care about the world. You care about ideals and moral principles, and you believe that there are sides and that you serve the right one. Something like that, anyway."

"Ideals and moral principles aren't necessarily as important to me as they once were. Keeping those I care for as safe as I can -- as well as the world -- that's far more important."

"That's *all* that matters to me -- those I care about. The rest of the world can go to merry hell so long as you and the girls and our friends are fine." Ethan pulled back enough to meet Giles' eyes. "Do you understand, Rupert? Nothing else matters. Not to me."

Giles couldn't help but remember all the times he wished he could narrow his own focus likewise. "I can't -- and won't -- fault you for that, love."

"You might." Ethan snuggled back in close, breaking the eye contact. "One day."

He shook his head. "That's not going to happen."

"You're wrong. How can you say that?" Ethan stirred restlessly. "Were I to let innocents suffer and die in order to safeguard you, you'd not find fault in that? Really? Bollocks, dearheart. You know you would."

"You wouldn't do that," Giles denied. "Not without compelling reason."

"If it were the only way to keep you safe, I'd do it in a heartbeat."

"What makes you think that if the positions were reversed, I'd sacrifice you so easily?"

Ethan pulled violently back, staring at Giles with an expression close to horror. "You'd kill innocents? For me? No." The last word was a flat denial, and Ethan started to clamber off Giles' lap.

Giles tightened his grip on Ethan, holding him in place. "You think I value you any less than you value me?" he asked, well aware the question was close to the one he'd been worrying at himself.

"I... I..." Ethan definitely seemed scared. His gaze darted erratically around the room, and his hands pushed ineffectually at Giles. "I'm not worth..."

"You're not worth it?" Giles finished disbelievingly. "Ethan, you're my heart!"

Ethan seemed to wilt a little at that, surrendering to a degree. But his words weren't any less disturbing. "I'm the bad one. The wild and out of control one. You're the good one. The *hero*. The righteous pragmatist. You mustn't... Killing people to save me is... " His eyes finally aligned with Giles'. "Don't add to my crimes."

Giles stared at Ethan, truly shocked at his lover's perception of them both. "I'm not as lily-white as all that -- nor are you so coal-black. I think that we're both varying shades of grey. I'm not planning on going around randomly killing people for you -- nor are you planning on doing so for me."

"Rupert, I... I've done..." Ethan wriggled, but not quickly enough to obscure the shudder that preceded it. "Bugger. Let's go to bed."

"Do you think you'll be able to sleep without nightmares?" Giles asked gently. He wasn't enthused about letting the conversation drop, but had to admit there would be better times and places to have it.

"If you're with me. Your presence keeps my demons at bay." Ethan's fidgeting stopped altogether, and he cupped Giles' face gently in his hands. "You rescued me from that place, and you stop me going back."

Unable to resist, Giles leant in and kissed him. "I always will," he said. "Rescue you, I mean. Whenever you need me to."

Ethan's returning kiss had something of the desperate about it.

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