Title: Charades 13/24
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 woke up relaxed and contented in his husband's arms.

Then he remembered the evening before and his mood immediately disintegrated, like a vamp dusting in the sun. Megan crying, Megan in pain and his answer to it, which now he had to seriously question the wisdom of. Well, no. He'd never thought it wise, not in the slightest. But he had to reconsider the necessity of it now in the clarity of day.

No, it *had* been necessary. No one should be allowed to get away with hurting Ethan's Slayer.

Rupert's words last night, after waking him from that appallingly real nightmare, had not helped of course. Which was odd, as they should, Ethan now realised, have reassured him considerably. Instead, they'd panicked him, filled him with guilt and fear... What was that about?

Suddenly restless, Ethan sat up and swung his legs from the bed.

"Ethan?" Rupert's sleepy voice came from behind him.

"Go back to sleep, dearheart. You don't have to get up yet, and you had a very late night."

He should've known better. Rupert sat up and laid a hand against Ethan's back. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he answered immediately, but then admitted, "I may be a little ill at ease."

"Why?" Rupert rubbed Ethan's back lightly.

"Yes, why." Ethan chuckled dryly. "Good question that."

"So what would be the good answer?"

He shrugged. "Damned if I know," he lied. "Probably just residue of last night's nightmare."

Rupert tugged on his shoulder gently. "Come lie back down," he urged.

Ethan sighed softly and obliged. There was no point in resisting, and anyway, he didn't really want to. He settled into Rupert's arms and tried to relax.

"Would talking about it help?" Rupert asked softly. "The nightmare I mean?"

"There was nothing new. It was just like the old ones. Pain, helplessness, humiliation... the knowledge that I'd never get away from it by my own steam." He didn't really want to talk about this, or anything else for that matter. Maybe he could distract Rupert. Ethan ran an exploratory hand down his husband's chest.

Rupert looked at him with sadness in his eyes. "I'm sorry you went through that."

Ethan shrugged. "It's all done and over now, providing you're around to stop me dreaming. Let's talk about nicer things. Such as how it feels when I do this." He moved a hand sparking with magic across Rupert's belly.

Rupert's eyes darkened with pleasure. "You know how it feels," he replied, brushing the back of his hand against Ethan's cheek, adding a gentle touch of his own magic.

Good. This was better than questions. Ethan surged up and sat over Rupert, straddling him, grinning down cheekily as the covers fell back behind him. He wiggled his arse and said, "See anything that tempts you, sir?"

"You always tempt me." Rupert's touch remained gentle, almost as if he was afraid of damaging him.

Gentle wasn't what Ethan wanted, and yet for some reason he didn't feel like he wanted to push Rupert either. He frowned slightly as he ran his hands over Rupert's chest and murmured, "I could do with being taken out of myself."

"Is that what you really need?" Rupert looked at him long and searchingly.

"Yes?"

Rupert covered Ethan's hand with his own. "You don't sound very sure."

Ethan's frown deepened, then with a pronounced sigh, he lifted himself from Rupert and lay down beside him again. He stared up at the ceiling and said nothing.

Rupert rolled to his side and slid his arm around Ethan's torso. "Talk to me, love."

"I don't want to talk," and he knew he sounded petulant. "I don't even want to think."

"But that's not really going to help things, is it? It's just putting off dealing with whatever's wrong." Rupert's voice dropped to something more intimate and loving. "Talk to me so that I can help."

Ethan wasn't sure why he so often found himself in this situation. Not wanting to talk, but knowing that inevitably he was going to. Because Rupert wouldn't give up. And even were Ethan to get up now, presuming he could escape Rupert's arms at all, he would find the subject returned to again and again throughout the day until he gave Rupert what he wanted. What Rupert thought he wanted, anyway. "How much of this is possessiveness?" he asked, trying a different sort of diversion.

"My wanting to help you?" Rupert frowned.

"You wanting to know all my thoughts."

Rupert seemed to consider that. "I won't deny that some possessiveness may play a role -- you are mine, after all." Despite everything, the casual way he said that threatened to steal Ethan's breath. "But it's more about loving you and not wanting to see you in distress."

And this of course was why Rupert always won, always got his own way. Because Ethan was just so bloody grateful to be loved and cared for that he could, ultimately, refuse Rupert nothing. But neither could he tell Rupert about what he'd done to Jade because he knew that was something they'd never agree upon. Regardless of everything Rupert had said last night, Ethan knew his husband, knew he'd never accept such vindictive action.

But the girl had hurt Megan, and that, really, was that.

Rupert sighed. "And you're still not going to talk to me."

Ethan scrubbed his hands over his face. "I wouldn't say I was in distress, dearheart. I'm just slightly uncomfortable, that's all."

"Uncomfortable enough that you want to stop thinking?"

He sighed loudly. "Rupert, do you want me to talk, or do you want me to talk to *you*? If I promised to talk to someone else...?"

"If you would feel better talking to someone else, of course I'll support that," Rupert said immediately, although there was a hint of disappointment in his tone, a sudden stiffness in his body lying tight beside Ethan's. "I promised you I'd give you whatever you need, and if that's space, then I--"

Ethan winced. "No. No no no. I don't need space. That's you, not me. I'd live in your bloody pocket if you'd let me. I just need..." He rolled his eyes in exasperation, as here it came. "Maybe I just need to be allowed to keep my guilty secrets secret."

"Even when they're driving you from our bed?" Rupert sighed and made a throwing away gesture. "Fine. If that's what you need to do, far be it from me to stop you."

"Wouldn't it have been nicer to just have shagged?" Ethan asked sadly, as he sat up again, his back to Rupert. This hurt. But it still seemed the lesser of two evils.

There was a long moment of silence, then Ethan heard the sheets rustle as Rupert sat up and pressed against Ethan's back, wrapping his arms around Ethan's waist again. "You're entitled to some space if you need it -- be it physical or mental." Rupert's grip tightened. "Although I don't think I'd be able to give you any emotional space."

He could tell him, he really could. But then he'd be made to undo what he'd done. Oh hell, this wasn't meant to happen. There never used to be all this... angst before when he'd played the Trickster. Ethan seemed to have developed a Rupert-shaped conscience, and he didn't like it. He took a shuddering breath and leant back against Rupert, saying, "I want to make Megan breakfast in bed before we head into the office. I want to spoil her today, let her know she's loved."

"That sounds like a wonderful idea." Rupert dropped a kiss on his shoulder. "So are you, you know. Loved."

Ethan squeezed his eyes tight shut and bit back on the emotion that aroused. Then patting Rupert's hands, he slipped from them and started to look for clothes.

***

Giles sat in his office, alone apart from his sleeping dog. After a morning's worth of silent mental debate, he reached a decision and picked up the receiver, dialling Lucy's number from memory.

If anyone asked, he would tell them he was calling to see if the Coven -- and especially Keri -- could shed any more light on the sudden rash of Chaotic incidents, but in truth he was calling because even if Ethan didn't need to talk, *he* did.

The phone picked up at the other end of the line. "Of course you do, Rupert," said a male voice. "It's only to be expected," There were no males living in Lucy's house, but there was one who visited often.

"Reading minds at a distance, Ian?" Giles asked. "Or am I just that predictable?"

He heard a deep chuckle. "Sometimes I get a feeling, a thought perhaps, as the blasted machine rings. Nought but a parlour trick. I'm afraid Lucy is out riding; I'm waiting for her myself."

"Ah." Giles paused, feeling more than slightly awkward. "Perhaps I should call later--"

"I thought you wanted to talk."

"Yes, but I don't want to bother..." Giles trailed off. "I should probably just skip the arguing to save time, shouldn't I?"

There was a short pause at the other end, which was not uncommon when the two of them spoke. Although Giles and Ian had always been friendly enough together, there had tended to be some unspecified tension lurking under every attempt at communication, even in the days before Ethan's rescue.

Then Ian said, "Howsabout you tell me how my student is doing? He hasn't been in contact for a while."

"He's keeping secrets." That hadn't been what Giles had meant to start the conversation off with, but it was what came out when he opened his mouth.

"And you're concerned." Giles could almost hear Ian nod his head.

"Yes. Whatever it is that he's not telling me is bothering him a great deal."

"Why do you think that might be?"

Giles sighed. "That's the problem. I don't know."

"No, you're just trying to answer the wrong question. I meant not what is Ethan not telling you, but why might he not be telling you? I'm certain you can answer that, Rupert."

There was something of the droll and superior schoolmaster about Ian's tone, which didn't exactly warm Giles to the older man. But he gritted his teeth and answered the question. "He's afraid."

"And what's he afraid of?"

"Of talking to me obviously." That came out more frustrated and short than he had intended.

If anything, Ian's tone became more stubbornly urbane. "And why would that scare him?"

Giles pushed his glasses up enough rub at the bridge of his nose. "Because he's got it into his head that I'm some paragon of virtue and he's the personification of sin, and that I'm either going to reject him or he's going to taint me somehow."

"Is he right?"

"What kind of bloody question is that? Of course not." Ian remained silent, although Giles could hear him sucking on something in the background. Giles was rapidly losing his patience. "You have another opinion?"

Even then he didn't get an immediate answer, but eventually Ian asked, "Do you truly consider yourself incorruptible, m'boy?"

He snorted. "Far from it. But neither do I consider Ethan totally corrupted like he seems to believe himself."

"Corruption... happens. It's inevitable. Ethan will make you wilder, less certain. That will happen." Was there a slight catch in Ian's voice when he added, "That has happened."

"I know." Memories of his youth with Ethan ran through Giles' mind, and the feelings of losing himself that had finally driven him to leave. "There are... risks, but the alternative is not to have Ethan in my life. Which is no alternative."

After another pause, Ian said something surprising. "Don't let him get away with it."

Giles blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"You're a bonded pair. You made that decision, both of you, and yet both of you are resisting in your own ways." Ian's voice became low and dramatic. "Understand this, Rupert Giles. The only way both of you will survive, the only way you'll succeed in your task, is by allowing the bond to be what it needs to be."

A cold shiver ran down Giles' spine at Ian's words, which seemed to hold a power that reached right through the phoneline. "That merely involves giving up our autonomy entirely." He sighed heavily. If that was the price he had to pay to have Ethan, then he would just have to pay it.

Ian snorted, his voice back to normal. "Merely?"

"Ethan's right. You are a miserable old crow."

That prompted a long chuckle, but it seemed to end with a sigh. "Enjoy your yuletide, m'boy. Make things right before it comes, and make the most of the time when it does, of each other. Spring will bring more than green leaves."

"Is that when the hibernating bear is going to awaken?" Giles asked sharply, referring to the prophecy they had been given.

"Haven't you already seen the signs of its stirring? It's coming... and we can blame you and Ethan for that."

"How so?"

Ian sounded sympathetic in his reply. "They sense you both; they sense your success compared to those who have gone before you. They know they have to act now, not later, or else you will become too powerful for them to combat."

Giles was still not used to being the focus of such a prophecy. "This... it's not that I haven't dealt with this kind of thing before. But it's still difficult to believe that Ethan and I--"

Ian interrupted brusquely. "I would suggest for the sake of us all that you learn to believe and fast."

Giles opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by a knock at his office door. The noise in itself was startling as Giles could sense it was Ethan behind the door, and his lover *never* knocked. Ethan did then walk in without anything being said, but there was something almost hesitant in his action, and when he saw Giles was on the phone, he gestured at the door as if asking if he should leave again.

Giles shook his head, then spoke to Ian on the phone. "Something's come up here and I have to go. But thank you for the information."

"Enjoy your midwinter, Rupert. And remember, the greatest gift you can give to each other is yourselves. Which is not just trite sentimentality in this case." And with that, Ian hung up.

As Giles put the receiver down, Ethan walked over. He was holding an orange file out of which papers poked out in a higgedly-piggedly manner. Giles supposed he should be grateful Ethan had put them in a folder at all.

"What's this?" he asked as he reached out to take the folder, deliberately brushing his fingers against Ethan's as he did so.

Ethan let Giles take the folder and stepped back. "Important is what it is. Xander and I have found a link between the Hyde Park and Tussaud's incidents, perhaps with some of the out-of-town Chaos events too. We want to go to that address now and try a touch of magically aided reconnoitring."

"Excellent." He opened the file and glanced through its contents. One of the more suspicious Tussaud guards and a member of the Hyde Park staff both had a lot of stock in a mysteriously undefined company called P&G Holdings. At least two of the other Chaos-related incidents had also involved people with links to that firm. "Feel like some extra company while you do so?" Giles asked after he finished reading.

Ethan took another tiny step back. "The fewer the better really. Xander and I... well..." He stared at Giles' desk. "No, of course you should come."

"You don't want me to."

Ethan's gaze didn't move from the corner of Giles' desk. "I always want you with me."

Mindful of what Ian had told him, Giles got up and moved to touch Ethan, to pull him into his arms. "You sound less than convincing, love."

For a second or so, Ethan was stiff and resistant, but then he sagged and his arms wrapped around Giles. He rested his forehead on Giles' shoulder and said nothing.

Having Ethan in his arms always made things seem better, even when there were issues lying between them as now. "You can't push me away, you know," he said conversationally. "Doesn't matter how hard you try to, I'm still going to be here." And he would repeat that every time his insecure lover needed to hear it.

"I don't want to push you away. Truly," Ethan insisted. "If I had my way we'd always stand this close."

"It might make doing some things a bit difficult, but," Giles continued, softening his tone, "it might just be worth it."

He felt Ethan's hands slipping under his clothes, felt their warmth on his back. "Xander's waiting for me, but I don't think he'd mind waiting a little longer." Ethan's breath was hot on Giles' neck.

Giles smiled. "You have something in mind?" he asked, not pushing for the moment, just working on making sure they were connecting after the awkwardness of that morning.

"Always." Ethan's fingers poked between Giles' waistband and his back, pushing down and sending out little exploratory sparks of magic.

"Yes, I rather thought that might be what you were thinking." Giles closed his eyes briefly to concentrate on the sensation; pleasure like this he would never take for granted, any more than he would Ethan himself.

Ethan's lips pressed into the base of Giles' neck. "Complaining?" he asked before continuing to kiss up Giles' neck and along his jawline.

"Do you hear me complaining?"

Ethan pulled back enough to grin, then tipped his head and moved in for a kiss. The sight of Ethan's grin -- especially after the notable time it had been since the last time Giles saw it -- pulled an answering grin out of Giles even as he gave Ethan the kiss he was mutely asking for.

Ethan pressed in as their lips closed, his proximity making it very clear how he was feeling physically. The kiss was slow but deep and full of low-flame intensity. Giles was beginning to think fondly of the day he'd taken Ethan over his desk, when the damned intercom buzzed loudly.

Giles pulled back reluctantly. "Bugger."

"Let me tell Pammy to go away," Ethan said, reaching out a hand to the machine.

"She wouldn't have buzzed if it wasn't important," Giles said, pulling Ethan's hand away. "She has standing orders not to disturb me when you're in here unless it absolutely can't wait." He gave Ethan one more quick, apologetic kiss, then keyed the intercom himself. "What is it, Pamela?"

"Sorry, sir," came her electronically distorted voice. "There's something you should see."

Of course there was. "I'll be right with you." He switched the intercom off and turned back to his lover. "Looks like you best go on with Xander without me."

Ethan's pout looked a lot more genuinely unhappy than the expression normally did, but he forced it into a wry smile and nodded. "I've been needing you since this morning. I suppose a few more hours won't make much difference." He collected together his scribbled papers from Giles' desk and closed the folder.

"I always need you," Giles told him, pulling Ethan close for a brief moment more. "We'll continue this tonight. When there won't be any interruptions."

Ethan met his gaze for a moment or two longer, then turned to go.

***

Bobridge House was a block of offices with a central foyer. No one at the front desk gave Xander and Ethan a second glance however, as they walked in and straight to an open lift. "First Floor," Ethan instructed Xander, whose hand hovered over the buttons. "Just press the 'one'," he added with exasperation, before Xander could tell him that they were on the first floor.

"Stupid British numbering system," Xander muttered, as he pressed the appropriate button.

Ethan was quiet as the lift rose, extending his senses, tasting the atmosphere for Chaos or magic in general, but there was nothing significant enough to perceive. The lift door opened, and they stepped into an empty corridor. A plaque on the wall announced three office suites on this floor, including their destination -- 'P&G Holdings'. It was an anonymous name covering up what they suspected was a group of Chaos mages working together to cause mischief around London.

Which made it a little disappointing that he could sense nothing.

He shrugged at Xander. "Shall we go take a shufti?"

"Sure." There was an awkward pause and then Xander was saying, "Just to be absolutely clear, a shufti would be...?"

Ethan rolled his eyes. "A quick look around. Preferably without drawing attention to ourselves by being conspicuously... American."

"Guess I shouldn't have worn my red, white and blue boxers then, huh?"

There was not a patriotic bone in Ethan's body; nonetheless he drew himself up to his full height. "In case you've failed to notice, Davy Crockett, the *British* flag is red, white and blue, and indeed, proud Brits can frequently be heard to cry 'three cheers for the Red, White and Blue'. Sometimes they even sing it."

"Really? Doesn't that get confusing at international events?" Xander asked, so earnestly that Ethan knew he was deliberately playing the ignorant American. Ethan considered several biting responses, but then simply blew the lad a kiss and set off down the corridor chuckling to himself. "So being conspicuously American will draw attention, but being conspicuously gay won't?" Xander asked, as he caught up and fell into step beside him.

"I don't know," Ethan flashed a grin at Xander as they walked. "Shall we snog under the security camera and see what happens?"

Xander snorted. "You seemed to have mistaken me for someone older, British and much more Gilesy."

Ethan didn't answer as he was staring at the door of P&G Holdings. The blinds were down in the windows, and there seemed to be no light beyond. He held his hand up to shush Xander as he reached out with his pattern senses. "No one at home, and only slight magic present. I think they may have scarpered."

"Well, that's rude on their part. After we went to all the bother of tracking them down, the least they could do is be here when we find them."

"Yes, scandalous," Ethan agreed, cautiously trying the door handle. "But possibly good for us, as we couldn't have ventured inside without back up had they been here." It was locked. He reached out again with his pattern sense. "It's a straightforward mechanical lock," he told Xander. "The opening of which would have been as easy as a Mr Kipling's apple using my old style of magic. Now however, unless I want to rust away near pristine hinges, I can't magic my way through." And the rusting would take too long to not attract attention.

He looked around the corridor thoughtfully. There were people in the other offices; he could sense them moving about, and anyway it was unlikely there'd be a way through between one business and the next. Then his eye caught the square shape of the air conditioning grill in the ceiling a little further down the corridor.

Xander was still staring at the door. "Too bad we didn't bring Buffy or Megan along. Slayer strength can be better than a skeleton key."

"It can also be very loud," Ethan said distractedly. He tugged gently at Xander's sleeve and pulled him a little way down the corridor. A man in a suit talking on a mobile phone entered through the door at the stair end of the corridor and walked past them, completely ignoring their presence. Once he had vanished into one of the offices, Ethan directed Xander's attentions with a gesture up at the vent.

Xander looked at the grill covering the duct, then pointedly looked at Ethan and down at himself. "I haven't been small enough to fit through a place that size since I was nine, and I doubt you've been either."

"Not necessarily a problem," Ethan said confidently, although inside he was quailing a little at what he was considering. "We need to move quickly. Give me a leg up so I can remove the vent?" Although dubious would be an understatement for the look Xander shot him, he quickly moved to give Ethan the boost up he asked for.

Ethan did his best to cloak them both, but it was, ironically, much harder to do so successfully in an empty corridor than in a crowded street or nightclub. The reason for this was that there were no patterns of frenetic human movement here that he could play with.

Moving rapidly therefore, as they really couldn't afford to be spotted in an obvious act of breaking and entering, Ethan put his shoe in Xander's hands and stepped up. The vent was held on only with clips, thank God, so Ethan undid them and slid the cover inside.

He then hopped down. "Now I'm assured by your own words that you have seen many strange things and are therefore not going to panic when I do what I'm about to do." He took his jacket off and handed it to Xander, who just blinked.

"You're taking off your jacket? I think I can control my impulse to run screaming away from apparel-- What are you doing?" he finished, eye widening as Ethan began to unbutton his shirt.

"Stripping," Ethan answered, knowing full well that explained nothing. He laid his shirt over Xander's arms and quickly pulled off his undershirt to go with it. Shoes followed and then he began to unbutton his trousers.

If anything, Xander's eye grew wider and his mouth hung open a little as he stared. Then abruptly Xander shut his mouth and his eye and spun to face the other way. "I like you Ethan, really. But there's some things I *really* don't need to know in detail."

"Move your eyepatch to the other eye," Ethan suggested helpfully, not bothering to hide his snigger despite the rush in which he was trying to do things. "It wasn't actually my naked body I was worried about your reaction to, you know." He put his trousers, boxers and socks on top on his other clothes, reaching round Xander to do so.

"I know I'm probably going to regret asking this, but what were you worried about? Other than catching a cold?"

"Just don't panic, get me safely into the air duct, then try your best to look inconspicuous until I can let you in." And with that, crushing firmly down the fear that was building inside of him, Ethan changed. It was so very easy. It was like pulling a thread, which unravelled everything he was physically and recreated him as something that was, somehow, just as much him as the human body had been.

From a fox-eye viewpoint, Xander seemed huge and intimidating. Ethan nonetheless bit the lad's leg to try to stir him into action. His animal ears could hear someone coming up the stairs.

"Ow!" Xander complained, opening his eye and looking around, then almost comically looking down. He stared, then blinked, then grinned. "Is that all?" he asked, even as he shifted the clothes he carried and bent to pick Ethan up. "I had a classmate that spent three years as a rat. Animal transformations are old hat."

Ethan didn't answer, mainly because he couldn't, but also because there wasn't time to try to communicate. He scrabbled into the duct and out of sight. He could only hope Xander would find some way to avoid attention, despite carrying a complete set of clothes in his mitts.

Being a fox again felt different than before. Last time, he had very deliberately tried to lose himself in the animal consciousness, a form of suicide really. This time his thoughts were his own, although invaded by the perceptions and instincts of the animal. If he'd had more time he would have analysed the experience in detail and further quelled the fear that he was going to lose himself, lose Rupert, which he knew was what he was feeling.

And which was silly, as Ian changed into a crow all the time without losing himself. It was just that the one and only previous occasion that Ethan had been a fox had been traumatic to say the least.

He padded quietly through the ducts, taking the first left and stopping when he was pretty certain that he was over the office space he was after. He peered through the grill, smelling the air and using his pattern sense to confirm there was nobody below.

Undoing the clips was not easy in this form, and it took a couple of minutes of careful work with tooth and claw to undo the grill, which then fell to the floor beneath with an alarming loud clatter. After waiting another minute or so to see if there was any reaction to that, he jumped down from the hole onto a desk below.

A few seconds later, human-shaped Ethan was unbolting the door to let Xander in.

Xander grinned at him as he stepped inside, then seemed to realise that Ethan was still naked and squeezed his eye shut. "Want to do something about the draft?" he asked, holding out the clothes in Ethan's general direction.

Ethan shut the door before taking the bundle. He got dressed quickly, taking pity on his friend. "Truly, I'm not that hideous to look at, am I?"

"It's not that," Xander hastened to assure him. "I just don't need to have actual visuals when I'm trying not to imagine... things. Stuff. With Giles. That you do. That I by no means have been thinking about."

Ethan smiled at the back of Xander's head. "You'll find life becomes a lot more comfortable if you just let your mind go where it wants to." He felt his smile becoming just a little bit cruel. "And there's certainly nothing to be ashamed of in having a kink for older men."

Xander's answer was more serious than Ethan expected. "There's some paternal type feelings that really *really* make me not want to go there. Giles is... well, I don't want to picture him naked. Or doing... whatever it is you do together. Not because he's repulsive or anything, but because he's my... He's *Giles.*"

Well, that certainly depleted the wind quota in Ethan's sails. "I really had no idea quite how many stepchildren I was taking on when I accepted this ring," he said dryly, and started to explore the office.

"If you want, I can go over your Christmas list and make sure you haven't left any of us off," Xander joked, moving to help.

The office was plain and utilitarian. Two desks, one telephone, three filing cabinets, trays, paper and pens, but no plants and no ornamentation on the walls or surfaces apart from a poster of a star chart.

"Hmm, I rather think you should all be considering what to get *me* for Christmas," Ethan said, as he extended his senses. There *was* magic in here; not a great deal, but it was setting the tips of his fingers tingling. Ethan moved towards a filing cabinet in the corner.

"What makes you think we haven't?" Xander asked, then noticed Ethan's purposeful movements. "Got something?"

"Chaos," he muttered, and pulled open a drawer.

It hit like a train crash, slamming into him and blasting him back into the table behind him. Chaos -- deep red, sticky and oh so sweet, covering him, filling every cell. So very much stronger and more deliciously dangerous than the slight hint he'd detected had indicated.

And even as he went down under, crying out as he felt himself mind, body and soul reacting to his old dependency, he realised that it was a trap set only for him, that no one else would have his vulnerabilities to this magic. They had known he was coming, and they wanted him back on their side.

Distantly, he heard Xander call out his name in alarm, a second later he felt Xander's hands on his body, running over him obviously checking for wounds.

He had none of course, at least none Xander would ever be able to detect. The Chaos felt so wrong, yet so bloody good. Ethan was as high as Mary Poppins' kite and heading for the moon. He was vaguely aware that he was rolling around on the floor in something approaching ecstasy, but his awareness of his body was slight; all of his senses were consumed by the treacly Chaos bathing him.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Xander babbled in panic, trying to hold Ethan still. "This is so not good. Bad even, very, very bad. Giles is going to kill me if-- Bad. Very, very bad."

"No," Ethan said with a predatory smile, coming back to himself somewhat, to his *old* self, that was. Still so high, but able to think. "I have to disagree. This is very, very good." He sat up, pushing Xander back, and then just because he felt like it, he pulled the muscular young man in for a fierce kiss.

Xander made a sound very much like a mouse's squeak, then pushed Ethan away. "Wha-- That's just-- It's wrong. No kissing!"

"Bad, wrong... you're just packed full of condemnatory terms, aren't you?" Ethan stroked his hand down Xander's chest, feeling the muscles tensed beneath the double layer of cloth and scraping his nail over the nipple he could feel despite the material. "Admit it to yourself, Xander. You want a man; your curiosity is palpable. You're just dying to know what it feels like." He let his hand slide lower, over the thick belt, and rested it on the zipper of the lad's jeans. "You want to try some cock."

Xander brushed Ethan's hand away and straightened up, stepping back. "Even if I did," he said seriously, coldly, "I wouldn't do that to Giles."

That made Ethan twitch. Giles. Rupert. His Ripper. He looked uneasily at his hand that a few seconds before had rested on Xander's crotch, but was now supporting him on the floor. The gold wedding ring seemed to almost burn in his vision. What the hell was he doing?

But the Chaos rallied in him, surging through his cells, arousing and filling him with a kind of quiet frenzy wherein the consequences of his actions were irrelevant. What mattered was the now, and what he wanted in this now was... "I could make you, you know."

No, that *was* wrong. He'd never been a rapist even at his worst... only he had, hadn't he? Perhaps not sexually, but hadn't he repeatedly removed people's ability to choose? And hadn't it been fun? Just last night hadn't part of him exulted in the wonderfully apt revenge he'd taken against Jade?

He shook his head like a dog trying to get dry.

"You could," Xander said, "but that's not what you really want to do. Not the real you."

Ethan pulled himself to his feet, felt himself waver, and held onto the edge of the nearest desk. "*This* is the real me, sweet boy. I've had Chaos in me since I was eight years old. They forced it out of me in Devon this summer, but it's back now. I'm back." He grinned hungrily and stalked towards Xander. "Volantatis tuum est meus. Cogitatus t--"

Xander looked sad more than frightened, but either way held his ground. He spoke forcefully. "You made a choice between Chaos and Giles. You chose Giles. Are you going to throw that away now -- throw him away?"

Ethan stopped, swaying on the spot, the end of the spell left unspoken. "He... he... I'll bring him with me. He used to enjoy this sort of thing..."

"He doesn't anymore. You going to force Giles too?"

Bad memories of the spare room, Chaos in him like now, forcing Giles down on the bed, taking him, making him helpless... so hard and hot. But wrong. Really, truly wrong. God, was he going to be sick? "Shut up," he spat at Xander. "Just shut up."

But Xander continued implacably. "What do you think Giles would say if he saw you now? How do you think he'd look at you?"

Oh God. Fuck. Jesus Christ fuck. He was in trouble. He was in so much trouble. Every muscle in Ethan's body tensed as he fought with the urges inside of him. He stared helplessly, desperately, at Xander and clasped his hand to his mouth to restrain the urge to vomit. Then immediately removed it again to beg, "Running water. *Please*."

Xander immediately started looking around the office suite, quickly disappearing through an inner door. A second later, Ethan heard the distant sound of a tap running. Xander reappeared in the doorway and looked at Ethan questioningly. "Do you need...?"

"Don't come close to me," Ethan said immediately. If Xander were near enough to touch, the tiny level of control he'd manage to wrestle would be lost. Christ, he needed to get to that water. Stumbling and hitting clumsily into things on the way, he ran into the restroom, shoving roughly past Xander to get through.

There was a small sink, the tap running. Ethan stuffed his hands into the freezing water. He opened his mouth in a silent scream as he began to try to force the Chaos out of himself. Rupert, Rupert, Rupert -- he was doing this for Rupert. He had to. There could be no surrender, no inadequacy to the task. Rupert would be hurt if he didn't succeed.

He was aware of Xander hovering in the doorway watching anxiously, but the younger man remained silent, and Ethan couldn't spare any of his attention to speak to him anyway.

The Chaos was stuck to him, stuck inside him, like sodding superglue. Whoever had set the trap had known their craft. With Rupert's magic to cleanse him, they could have managed well enough, although even then it would have been a prolonged process. But on his own with no wild weather to help him, it was proving tricky. Agonisingly so.

In the end, Ethan did the only thing he could that would not, hopefully, harm others. He tapped into the building's electricity supply with his magic and administered what boiled down to a badly controlled series of small cascading shocks to his body. The lights in the office flickered on and off as the electricity jolted through his body again and again, to be carried away by the water. It took with it the Chaos, which lost its tenacity under the current.

When finally the Chaos was all gone, curled down the plughole and carried far away, safely diffused, Ethan collapsed to the floor. He was propped against the wall, his arms hanging limply. He forced his mouth shut, but otherwise felt too weak to move.

After a moment, Xander moved over to the sink and wet a cloth, then knelt beside Ethan and ran it gently over Ethan's face. "You okay?" he asked softly.

Slowly, Ethan turned his head to face Xander and managed just about to make his eyes focus. "'M so... very... sorry."

Xander waved the apology away. "Not the first time I've dealt with a friend under the influence of bad magic."

He really wanted little more than to go to sleep currently. "Still sorry. Really. Can't move... yet. Wanna search the office... f'clues? While I... r'cover?"

"You'll be okay if I go do that? I can wait here with you if you want."

Alone sounded good at this moment. "Be fine. Take care... Don't thin' there'll be more traps. But... care."

Xander nodded. "Call if you need... anything." He patted Ethan's shoulder, then stood up.

Ethan watched, slack-jawed and useless, as the young man left the room, then muttered again, "So v'ry sorry."

NEXT