Title: Curtain's Fall 1/?
Section: I Casting Call (1/11)
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 Charades
Summary: The roles have all been filled and the players move into place.

Author Notes: This is the last story of the Old Mystics Series, sequel to Charades. We expect this to be rather long -- long enough that we've developed it into subsections: I Casting Call, II Dress Rehearsal, III Opening Night, IV Grand Finale, and V Encore. Many thanks to Mad Poetess and Wesleysgirl for betaing :) Previous stories in the series can be found
http://www.myarseisnotpansy.co.uk/piedm/mystics.html. Thanks to all the people who have sent us feedback.

"Is there anyone living around here who *isn't* either at least tinged with blue in their blood or loaded with crass new money?" Ethan was looking around the country road they were driving down; the houses on either side were large, with substantial gardens and expensive cars double-parked in the driveways.

"The houses aren't *that* huge," Megan said from the back.

"This is England, dear, and one of the most expensive areas of the Home Counties at that. That five-bedder there--" he pointed out of the window at a typical house for this road, "is the equivalent of a small mansion in the States."

It was not long past a rather dreary sunrise, although the sky seemed to be brightening a little now. Rupert was driving because Ethan's hands hurt too much. Well, that and the fact Ethan really didn't want to be behind the driving wheel currently. Rupert was the captain of the boat, as he'd declared just a few hours ago during their scrying.

So very much had happened since.

"We never worried about starving, that much is true," Rupert put into the conversation. "But we aren't exactly related to royalty or anything." He paused. "Not for a number of centuries at least, and that was a suspect connection at best."

Ethan gave his husband a hard look.

God, he was tired. It had been a night of intense magical activity and stress. Leaving 17, Mountbatten had been strangely unsettling. Not just because of the haste in which they'd had to vacate; that would surely unsettle anyone, but because the house had been home to some of the best times of Ethan's life.

He hadn't had a home for so long -- his prison cell most assuredly did not count -- and he'd grown rather more fond of their little terraced townhouse than he'd expected. Before finally strolling out of the door, Ethan had walked around the place one last time, in case anything vital had been forgotten. He'd paused by the bedroom window, playing his fingers around the hole in the curtains they now would never replace.

There were good memories there, and Ethan didn't yet have enough of those that he could easily say goodbye to any of them.

Bags, boxes and cases filled the Rover's boot to brimming, and the boot of Ian's smaller car as well; he and Dawn were following in convoy. The dogs were sharing the back seat of the Rover with Megan, and being very good, all things considered. They were nearly there now, nearly at the 'Giles Estate', and Ethan didn't really know what he thought about that.

"My hands hurt," he grumbled. "Must be all the common as muck red blood in my veins."

Rupert moved his hand from the gearstick to cover Ethan's, sending a tiny surge of magic through his fingers, which immediately eased the pain. "No matter your lineage, one thing you've never been and never will be is 'common'."

The words helped as much as the touch, and Ethan smiled softly at Rupert. "So, Cousin Matthew," he began leadingly.

"What do you want to know?" Rupert answered willingly enough.

"Well, to start with, does he know you're married now?"

"I don't believe so, no." Rupert's voice was suspiciously bland.

Ethan frowned. "Rupert, if he's a raving homophobe, I hope you don't expect me to behave."

"Kinda with Ethan on this one," Megan said worriedly from the back.

"Relax," Rupert told them both. "Matthew is far too easygoing to be a raving anything."

"So what aren't you telling me?" Ethan knew there was something.

"Nothing," Rupert insisted. "It's just that he's not very used to the... outrageous."

"I'm flabbergasted," Ethan declared, pretending to look over his clothing. "Megan, do you see the sequins? They're clearly here somewhere. The feathers too." He pulled down the passenger's seat visor and looked in the mirror. "Oh, it looks like all my glitter has fallen off somewhere."

Rupert just waited until he stopped then asked wearily, "Are you through?"

"Truly, dearheart, am I *that* outrageous?" Rupert didn't answer, just glanced over with a raised eyebrow. Ethan frowned and looked at his hands. In the past, yes, in their youth, then Ethan had been liable to cause outrage. But now? He dressed in a stylish but subdued fashion; there was no make-up, no over-the-top attention-seeking behaviour... "Megan? Am I outrageous?" he asked a little pathetically.

"Pretty much, yeah," Megan said, reluctantly. "Sorry."

"Oh," he said quietly and stared out of the windscreen ahead.

"But it's a good outrageous," Megan hastened to assure him.

He thought about asking how, and in what way, but decided he wouldn't want to hear the answers. "So staid old Matthew of the Manor won't like me then?"

"I never said that," Rupert said immediately. "I'm sure he'll like you well enough once he gets to know you." He hit the indicator to turn left.

Ethan looked at where they were heading and saw a long tree-lined driveway by a gatehouse and a sign saying 'Buckham Hall - Private'. "Hall? Just how many acres are we talking about, husband, dear?"

"Oh, about twenty or so," Rupert replied, his entire manner casual. "It has a name and everything?" Megan asked, sounding impressed. "That's so cool."

"Are you aware that your accent's getting posher for every foot or so we drive down this private avenue?" Ethan asked Rupert waspishly.

He got an exasperated look as a reward. "I'm talking the way I always talk."

"Of course you are," Ethan replied agreeably. "So what else can we expect here?"

"Do you have horses?" Megan asked, leaning forward. Ethan turned and saw her eyes bright with excitement. Rupert replied, "Matthew does keep a small stable, yes."

"Easier to flog the peasants from horseback," Ethan added helpfully.

They were coming to the end of the driveway and entering into a wide gravel forecourt in front of the house. It wasn't as big as Ethan had been letting himself imagine; it was far from being the sort of grand country house that the National Trust would love to get their fingers on. But it wasn't exactly small either. There was a main house with two slightly run down looking wings, and several out buildings, all constructed from the deep red brick native to the area.

Ethan sighed. "So this is what homesickness feels like. I've often wondered."

Rupert pulled the car to a stop in front of the house and reached over for Ethan's hand. "All the important things are here," he said. "And I'm not talking about the horses."

There was a crunch of gravel as Ian's Renault pulled in beside them. Ethan looked at Rupert and offered him a crooked smile. "This will be good for the dogs, I imagine. Unless Squire Matthew keeps a kennel of puppy-eating pitbulls anyway."

"No pitbulls, I promise," Rupert replied, returning the smile and squeezing Ethan's hand.

Knowing they were being talked about, and no doubt impatient to get out and run around, their two puppies began to whine and scrabble in the back. "Let them out, Megan," Ethan said. "But behave yourselves, you two, and come when you're called."

Megan opened the door and immediately both dogs took off, barking happily as they ran across the lawn. Rupert opened his own door to get out. "Ready?"

Ethan shrugged. "As I'll ever be," he said, but he finally heard the unpleasant tone in his own voice and modified it when he added, "I bet you have good storms here."

"Not quite as good as Devon, but the weather can make you sit up and take notice, yes." Rupert pulled Ethan's hand to his lips to drop a kiss in the unbandaged portion of his palm -- thankfully free from wounds due to the way he'd been holding his beloved mirror when it had shattered. Then Rupert let go and stepped out of the car.

Ethan sat still for another few moments, studying the house Rupert had grown up in. Rupert might not be royalty, but he was certainly landed gentry, and it was a good thing for Ethan that so few of the Gileses were still around. As Rupert had definitely married beneath him. Feeling like the hapless heroine of some torrid regency romance, Ethan opened the door and got out into the crisp winter air.

Dawn and Ian walked over from the other car and joined them, Dawn looking at the house with the same impressed look that Megan was wearing. Ian just seemed amused. "A fancy den, you've found for yourself, young fox," he said to Ethan as he joined him.

"It's as much my den as it is your rookery... or whatever it is crows have," Ethan said, rejecting the idea. He looked at the house with his pattern sense and sighed. It might as well have been built with tradition and history than with red brick... although there was something of the unorthodox about it too -- the odd turreted chimneys, the general asymmetry of the place. That gave him some hope.

Turning to Ian, he asked quietly, "You see as I see, yes?"

Ian raised an eyebrow. "My vision lies in the same direction, yes."

Ethan watched Rupert stride across to the front door. Clearly, they were meant to wait where they were. "The bond between Rupert and I is a lot stronger now; is it strong enough?"

His mentor sighed and for a brief moment looked every bit as old as he probably was. "I can't answer that. No one can. Only time will tell."

The front door opened, and Rupert spoke to someone inside. Ethan said even more quietly, "Ian, are you going to tell me what the matter is? Because I know there's something. Beyond the obvious, that is."

Ian gave him a crooked smile and clasped his shoulder. "We all have our ghosts to deal with. No matter how prepared you are, they still can knock you about a bit. Although I've become very good at keeping them at bay."

"So that's a no then, is it?" Ethan said dryly. Rupert had disappeared inside the house. The two girls were playing with the dogs and taking in the scenery.

"You have enough on your plate without adding my problems to it."

Ethan snorted. "I'm not going to let you get away with that, you know." But Rupert was coming back now, another man striding beside him. "Although I might let it drop for a little while."

As they drew closer, Ethan could see a decided family resemblance between the stranger and Rupert. The man, presumably Matthew, seemed in his thirties. He had coarse brown hair and a slightly reddened face that suggested either an outdoor life or too much booze; maybe both. He was wearing typical country lordling gear; Francesca would have probably loved him on sight -- moleskin shooting jacket, tweed breeks, checked cap -- the whole caboodle. He was laughing with Rupert about something, and they were heading over to where Ethan and Ian were standing. Ethan folded his arms and waited for the inevitable introductions to take place.

"This is my cousin Matthew," Rupert said when they got close enough. "Matthew, this is Ian Woodson and my... partner. Ethan Rayne."

"Partners in crime, eh? Nice to meet you." Matthew held out a large hand to Ethan. "This is a bit of a to-do, isn't it?"

"Quite," Ethan said tactfully, but he couldn't help a significant look at Rupert before taking Matthew's hand and shaking it. "Thank you for letting us take refuge here."

"I'm not sure you fully grasped what I meant when I said 'partner'," Rupert told his cousin, reaching for Ethan's hand. Ethan moved closer to Rupert, squeezing his hand appreciatively.

Matthew blinked at them both. "Well, there's a turn up for the books." He laughed as if someone had said something very funny. "I guess it's up to me to sire the future generations then."

"Indeed," Rupert agreed. "I've enough on my plate with the Slayers and the dogs anyway."

Matthew patted Rupert on the back heartily. "Good show. You keep up the family heritage, and I'll do my best for the genes. You lot going to come inside then? I've got Mrs B making a slap up breakfast worthy of an Ivory Merchant film." He winked at Ethan, of all people. "Got to keep up the illusion, you know." He turned his back and started striding back to the house. "Come along, one and all," he called. "You too, girls. Bring the hounds."

Ethan stared at Rupert. "*That* is the man who is going to find *me* over-the-top?"

Rupert was staring after his cousin bemusedly. "It seems I'm not the only Giles who's loosened up these past few years."

Megan came over. "Would you like me to work on getting the bags inside?"

"They can wait until after breakfast, sweetheart," Ethan told her, putting his hand on her back. "Let's go inside and see what the sideboard has to offer."

"Yes," Ian agreed, rubbing his hands together. "Never turn down a meal -- a rule to live by."

"Eyes and entrails, Ian?" Ethan asked, grinning, as they walked to the door. For some reason he was suddenly feeling a lot happier.

"Only if you plan on chasing down a plump rabbit or two."

"Even then my feast sounds preferable to yours." Ethan sniggered. As his eyes met Ian's in mock-confrontation, he frowned; they both did. Although Ethan at least wasn't sure why. They looked intently at each other for a few seconds until Ethan felt Rupert tug at his hand. They all went inside, shutting the door behind them.

***

"So this is where that sweet little blond boy slept his nights, is it?" Ethan asked, standing in the centre of the bedroom and turning slowly.

"It was," Giles confirmed as he sat down on the edge of the bed, watching his lover look around. It felt... surreal to be back here now, of all times, and with Ethan, of all people. "Decorated a bit differently back then of course."

The large rectangular room had once been divided in two by a partitioning wall, but the ceiling high doors had now been folded back, opening the two spaces, once his bedroom and study, into one large space. Sometime since Giles' last visit here, Matthew seemed to have decided to move one of the huge canopied beds from the guest wing into here, probably because the lesser used parts of the house were becoming a little dilapidated.

There were still a few signs of his childhood left however. The dark wooden shelving and cupboards contained an odd mixture of his old books and toys, and adult fiction, presumably read once by Matthew and then discarded here.

The window seat was still here, of course, cushioned with the same padded cloth, complete with ancient ink stains. It made Giles smile to see it. Many a time he had sat there, staring out into the branches of the old crab apple tree outside, composing essays or simply reading.

Predictably, Ethan was staring at the bed. "*That* is where you slept? Did they have to send in search parties?"

Giles chuckled. "The bed, actually, is a new addition. I think it's from one of the older wings. I had something a bit more modest as a boy." He smiled at Ethan. "This will be far more comfortable for sharing." Not to mention it would be less discomfiting to do what he and Ethan usually did in a bed if it wasn't the bed he used to wear footie pyjamas within.

Ethan investigated the heavy tan curtains hanging from the canopy frame. "A touch medieval, no? Does it come with a chamber pot?" Then his face seemed to light up. "Or chains?"

"Five minutes for you to make a suggestive comment," Giles teased, making a show of checking his watch.

"That long? I must be out of sorts." Ethan prowled across the room and put his hands on Giles' hips. "Shall we unpack?" For some reason, Ethan asked the question like a seduction.

"Unpack and settle in, yes," Giles replied, thinking that would help both of them regain their equilibrium.

"Okay, I'll unpack," Ethan said, his hands going to Giles' belt. "Then you can settle in."

Giles chuckled and covered Ethan's hands with his own, stilling his actions. "That's rather getting to the point a bit quickly, isn't it?"

Ethan pouted. "No better way I know of to make me feel at home in a place... but all right, if you want to draw it out, we could unpack the luggage in the nude."

"Or you could come sit with me for a few minutes," Giles said, heading for the window seat and pulling Ethan with him.

Sitting in the sunlight together, Giles could see how tired Ethan looked, and he imagined he appeared much the same himself. It had been a strenuous twenty-four hours. Ethan sat still and looked at his hands, picking at the bandaging, which was looking decidedly grubby by now. "I just wanted to make the bed, the room, feel like ours," he admitted. "That's all."

Giles leant back against the side of the window alcove, pulling Ethan against him, resting his chin on Ethan's shoulder and speaking directly into his ear. "We will. We are."

Ethan rested back against Giles. "Not that it's not nice here, it's just..."

"It's not our house." Giles turned his head enough to press a kiss against Ethan's skin. "I know."

"It's not just that either." Ethan sighed. "It feels a smidgen like the Council here. So much tradition and order... it's in the woodwork."

"You might want to take a closer look at the woodwork," Giles said, pointing out where he had carved his name when he was nine. "More than just tradition and order there."

Ethan stroked his fingers over the carving. "You must have been very lonely," he said thoughtfully.

"Sometimes," Giles acknowledged, thinking back to the boy he used to be. "More so after I was informed of my destiny."

"When you went and hid in the attic." Ethan was remembering one of their shared dreams.

"Yes," Giles said with a smile. That dream took on additional significance for him now, the memory of it melding with his childhood memories and somehow adding Ethan's presence to them.

"Must be nice," Ethan mused, "having a place that feels like... like roots." He didn't sound particularly self-pitying, more curious really.

Giles considered that statement and how it matched up to his feelings before answering. "It's been a very long time since this felt like home, but there's something to be said about having a sense of family history all around you growing up." He smiled wryly. "Of course that made familial responsibilities loom even larger."

Ethan nodded then said, "You're *my* roots. I suppose that makes you my responsibility too then."

"Am I now?" That knowledge was still new and unused to, but there was a comfort to it that Giles thought he could grow accustomed to.

Turning in Giles' arms, Ethan smiled. "How can that possibly be a surprise to you?"

Giles gave a half-shrug, reaching up to caress Ethan's face. "It's not so much of a surprise as it is a... novelty. But it's a good one."

Ethan played his fingers over Giles' chest, a slightly evil smile quirking his lips. "So I'm not too outrageous for you then?"

"Your outrageousness has rather grown on me," Giles admitted with a small smile.

"One of these days, I'll really act outrageously, and then you'll all be able to see how grievously you've misjudged me."

"More outrageous than flying a car over the Thames?"

"Ah, but that was then. I don't do that sort of thing anymore. And anyway, you were behind the wheel, you know." Ethan laughed. "But you and Megan seem to believe my behaviour still scandalous now. When I was of the impression myself that I was immersed in the depths of conventionality." Giles couldn't hold back a snort of disbelief at that. Frowning, Ethan shook his head. "Clearly I sleepwalk or something, and this supposed outré behaviour takes place then."

"Ethan, you've been known to take showers with your dog."

Ethan hesitated, but then insisted, "Mildly eccentric, if that."

"Is that what we're calling it now?" Giles asked with a teasing smile.

"You're not attracted to dull people," Ethan pointed out; it was true enough. "You like me to push at your boundaries."

And that was true as well. "You help keep me from getting too stuffy," he agreed.

"So therefore," Ethan started, as if coming to some great Holmesian deduction, "I have a responsibility to be outrageous. Right, where's that black leather dress..."

Giles chuckled and pulled Ethan tighter against him for a kiss. "I really do love you, you know," he murmured, knowing his affection for his lover, outrageousness and all, had to be visible in his expression.

***

"So, Head of the Council now, Rupert?" Matthew asked over the backs of Shadowlight Ramses III and Artemis Windplover-Songstar... otherwise known as Shadow the old blue roan stallion and Artie, a young bay filly. Both of them were good solid hunters judging by their build.

"Yes, well it seemed like a good idea at the time..." Giles replied wryly. He ran his curry brush over Shadow's back as he spoke; he hadn't minded living in the city -- be it London or Sunnydale -- but he had missed having horses. There was something almost meditative about grooming the animals that had drawn Giles even as a young boy.

"Your father would have been pleased, I'm sure. Not about the tragedy that led to your new position, of course, but that you've risen to the occasion. Now--" Matthew rested his arms on Artie's back and looked seriously over at Giles. "You're welcome, of course, to stay as long as you like; it's your place as much as mine, after all. But tell me, what should I expect? What should I know about whatever has caused your retreat here, and the rather odd collection of people that you've brought along with you?"

It was a testament into how odd his life had become during the last decade, Giles mused, that he considered the people he'd arrived with fairly normal. Still, he wasn't so far gone that he couldn't see how things could appear to others. Luckily, Matthew at least understood the basics.

"It all starts, as most of these things do, with a prophecy."

"And it shall come to pass that there shall be seen in the sky a bright light?" Matthew chuckled dryly, as he began to tease Artie's mane. "A comet on collision course?"

"There's no comet," Giles assured his cousin. "At least none that they've told me about. This does deal with some very primal forces however. Chaos."

Matthew's expression didn't seem enlightened. "You say that as if it comes ready loaded with a capital letter... are we talking physics here or something else?"

"Magic. Which, I suppose, is related to physics if you look at it the right way. It's just another way of approaching and performing spells, different from how we were taught. But as with every aspect of magic, there's a dark side. And it's Dark Chaos that we're dealing with here."

"Ah. Magic. Always was somewhat of a dunce in that area. So the minions of Dark Chaos are after you?"

Giles nodded. "Quite doggedly, actually. They clipped me a couple of months back; did some nasty damage to my leg."

Matthew looked up, frowning. "The wards will need seeing to. Can't do them myself. Uncle Toby used to come over every spring and see to it, like the fine old chap he was. But since he passed on, well, like a lot of this place, they must have gone to seed somewhat. Things aren't how they were in your parents' days, I'm afraid." He pushed his fingers through his thick brown hair and smiled ruefully at Giles.

"Not much is. I remember the spells used; between Ethan and I, we should be able to bring them back up to full strength." The wards weren't in as poor condition as Matthew thought; Giles had felt their reassuring presence from the moment they'd turned down the driveway. Still, it certainly would be prudent to make sure they were at full power.

"What else do I need to know?" Matthew asked, putting the brush back on the shelf and putting a quilted blanket over Artie.

"Do you remember Francesca Travers?"

"I should say so. She was in my year at the Academy, you know. Asked her out once; never made that mistake again. Chewed boys' balls for breakfast, that one." Matthew walked round to stand by Giles, patting Gwydion's head as he passed. "She causing trouble up in London?"

"Oh, she's gone beyond just causing trouble," Giles said, moving over to put his own brush away. "She's allied with our Dark Chaos adversaries. And she's stealing Slayers."

Matthew stared. "Erm...?"

"We've been going to recruit newly discovered Slayers only to find that they've already been taken -- by someone claiming to be the Head of the Council." Giles scowled. "It almost makes me wish I followed her father's policies."

"Must be strange," Matthew said thoughtfully, "there being so many now. What's she doing with the gals? And is she definitely aligned with this Chaos threat? Her father was a bit of a hardliner, but I can't imagine he'd support such an action."

"He wouldn't. Quentin and I rarely saw eye to eye, but there were lines he knew not to cross. His daughter, however... Ethan and I did a scrying to try and track Francesca; it led directly to a Chaos infestation." Was that really only the night before? So much had happened in the intervening time that it already felt like old knowledge.

Matthew grimaced. "Ah, Rupert, old man. This is all beyond me. Just tell me what you need me to do, and I'll see that it gets done. Not sure what else I can offer, but you know I'm pulling for your team. All I ask is you don't keep me in the dark about the dangers my staff may be facing, so that I can let them go, if necessary. Animals too."

Giles ran a hand down Shadow's neck. "We won't put any innocents in harm's way, Matthew, I promise. If it comes to that, we'll leave. But I assure you, I do believe that this place is as safe as any can be in England right now. And when Ethan and I finish re-energising the wards, it'll be even safer."

Nodding, Matthew reached out and patted his shoulder. "I trust you," he said simply. "Now," he continued, as he headed to the tubs of feed, "seems I have congratulations to offer."

"Thank you," Giles said with a genuine smile. He glanced down at his hands and the ring he wore. "It's been a very long time coming."

After filling a large bucket with what looked like an oat-based feed, Matthew came back to the two horses they'd been working on. "Won't say I wasn't surprised, but live and let live has always been my motto, and he seems a decent chap. Good sense of humour. Clever. Must be good not to be alone." While there was nothing whatsoever of self-pity in Matthew's tone, Giles couldn't help but wonder if the man was lonely himself. It was a large house and grounds to share only with his elderly housekeeper and groundsman.

"I was as surprised as anyone, I think," Giles said, thinking back to when he first began to believe that Ethan would want to stay with him this time, when a hope he'd thought long dead had sparked back to life again. "Ethan and I... it took us far more years than I'd like to admit to come to an accord."

There was a pause in the conversation as Matthew scooped the feed into bags and fitted the straps over horses' heads, talking to them in a low rumble as he did so. Then as he hung new bales of hay from the wall, he asked, "And the others? Anything I should know about them? Gather there's more to come as well."

"Ian's from the coven at Devon; he's more than able to hold his own. He also has the common coven habit of being frustratingly cryptic. Megan's a sweet girl who's really beginning to come into her own as a Slayer. Dawn..." Giles paused, wondering how much he should reveal about Dawn's origins. He was still reluctant to spread the information that Dawn was the Key. "Dawn's the younger sister of my original Slayer, Buffy Summers. She's been at the frontlines of several apocalypses and has a great deal of poise for someone her age. Also... she seems to have something to do with the prophecy we're dealing with as well."

"Quite a motley band of heroes," Matthew remarked with a smile. "I've asked Mrs B to get a couple of the village girls in to help with the household arrangements. I, um..." He paused, looking uncomfortable. "This by any chance an 'official' Council retreat here?"

"It's not officially official; the whole point is to disappear under the radar as it were." Giles then answered the question that Matthew hadn't -- quite -- asked. "You can submit any expenses to my assistant Pamela; she should be arriving tomorrow. She'll make sure they're all taken care of."

Matthew's grin was unabashedly grateful. "Not that I wouldn't push the boat out without any extra funding, you understand. It's just that the boat is rather old and prone to woodworm as is."

"I'll be happy to provide the necessary materials for any repairs needed," Giles replied with a smile.

"Decent of you, Rupert." Matthew moved down the stables to feed the remaining horses. "Fancy a hack across the estate tomorrow morning? Your partner too, of course. We can take a look at the wards and take in the lay of the land. You can ride Shadow if you like. Still plenty of life in the old boy, and he needs a practised hand."

"The same could be said about Ethan." Some mischievous impulse made the words slip out before Giles could stop them.

Matthew widened his eyes at Giles over the back of a black gelding, then he laughed. "I'll leave the Ethan-handling to the expert then, shall I?"

***

Ethan trotted across the field after Ian. He'd seen the older man slip away while the others were greeting Xander and Kat, and decided to accompany him, welcome or not. "Heading somewhere to watch the sunset?" he asked as he caught up.

Ian glanced sideways at him, and for a moment, Ethan wondered if he was even going to answer. But then finally he sighed and said, "Something of the sort. I suppose you're tagging along?"

"Looks that way," Ethan agreed amiably. "You've been alone too long."

"That's what happens when there's no one around," Ian replied with a shrug.

Ethan found it so very easy to imagine Ian's pain that he ached for his mentor. "I know I'm not much, but you're not alone currently. We could talk."

Ian gave him a quick but genuine smile. "You're a great deal more than not much. I'd say you're very much indeed."

Ethan had no idea what to say to that, unsure whether it was a compliment or a simple statement of fact based on his significance in the prophecy. He squeezed Ian's shoulder, and they walked in silence for a little way until they entered a wooded area. "Ah, deja vu. I wonder how many ant bites I'll get this time."

Ian snorted. "I'd be gobsmacked if you get even one. You've come a long way, my boy."

"I certainly couldn't have done it without you." Ethan saw an opportunity and took it. "So are you going to let me repay a little of what I owe you?"

Ian stopped and turned to look at him. "Has anyone ever told you that you're a persistent bugger?"

"Rupert has," Ethan answered easily. "Frequently. So you might as well spit it out now as not, eh? I know something's wrong. Something personal, above and beyond this war we find ourselves fighting."

There was silence for a long moment, and then Ian said softly, "I find myself thinking of old casualties."

"Derek," Ethan breathed, hardly saying the name aloud at all. "Is it Rupert and I reminding you of what you could have had?"

"What?" Ian sounded startled. He shook his head. "No, it's not that at all. I don't begrudge you your Rupert; on the contrary it is... satisfying to see someone get it right."

It was cold in the shade of the bare-branched trees, damp too. Ethan wrapped his arms around himself and prompted, "Then...?"

Ian stopped and leant against a trunk of a nearby beech, looking in Ethan's direction but not meeting his eyes. "I've had reason to be revisiting the worst day of my life."

Taking the risk of contact, as much because not doing so was agony than any other reason, Ethan moved close to Ian and placed a hand on his arm. "Tell me?" he asked, as gently as he knew how.

Ian let out a sigh and closed his eyes, his head falling back against the bark behind him. "What went after Dawn -- he calls himself Doc -- that's what killed Derek."

"Oh." Bugger. "Oh, Ian. Christ, you must feel murderous." Ethan squeezed Ian's arm and only resisted trying to draw him into a hug by an effort of will.

"That would be one word for it, yes." Ian's smile was tight.

There was nothing Ethan could say or offer which could help with Ian's pain, so instead he attempted a more practical discussion. "Rupert told me a little about this 'Doc' in the car. Very little really, as they never discovered much. Doc's interest in Dawn seems to have continued."

"Yes, Dawn spoke of their previous meeting. It doesn't surprise me at all that he would have been involved in such a thing, although more for the Chaos that the breakdown of the dimensional barriers would have caused than any true allegiance to the Hellgod."

"Was he part of your... group?"

"Oh no." Ian's features twisted in distaste. "There wasn't really a group. Just me and Derek against the world."

Ethan felt rather like he was walking a tightrope blindfolded, and that there was only one correct place to tread next, and he couldn't see it. He supposed conversations must have patterns too, but if they did, he wasn't clever enough to see them. "Tell me about Derek?" he said, after the pause had become painfully long.

Ian's eyes became distant and a touch of a melancholy smile hovered on his lips. "His natural inclination was to be serious. All the time. I was the wild one, dragging him into all sorts of misadventures. He'd protest, but usually I could talk him into whatever it was." His gaze grew even more distant and full of memories. "He had the most beautiful smile -- I used to go out of my way, do anything I had to, to make him smile. Cliché as it may sound, it lit up his entire face."

Ethan knew smiles like that. "How old were you both?"

"Old enough to know better, young enough that that only made it all more exciting."

"To know better about what?" Ethan prompted in a quiet voice. The sounds of the winter forest around them -- the cracks and crunches, the drips, and the odd birdcall -- seemed to be getting louder.

"To do all sorts of naughty, illegal and immoral things." Ian's smile took on a hint of wickedness, and Ethan caught a glimpse of the boy that Ian must once have been.

It was like looking into a mirror.

Ethan knew he should ask more about this Doc, who undoubtedly now threatened all of them, but he didn't want to. He wanted instead to see more of that smile on Ian's face. He moved his hand from Ian's shoulder and put it flat on the tree beside Ian, leaning on it. "What sort of things did you get up to then?"

"Nothing that would shock you, I suspect -- fighting, petty pilfering, magic, drugs, sex. Lots of sex, in all kinds of risky places. It became rather a game, you see."

"A game it's rather hard for some of us to stop playing," Ethan murmured. He sighed and forced himself to ask, "Are you up to talking about what happened?" Just like that, the smile disappeared from Ian's face, his expression becoming almost masklike. Ethan grimaced and turned away. With a sigh, he leant his back against the tree beside Ian. "I'm sorry. I was just... ah, I'm sorry."

Ian sighed heavily and reached over to lay a hand on Ethan's shoulder. "I know. I know why you're asking, my boy, but I just... can't." His voice took on a harder edge. "But I promise you, you won't have to worry about Doc. I'll take care of him."

"I'd much rather you asked for help when and if you need it."

Ian smiled and squeezed his shoulder. "I appreciate the concern," he said quietly, before launching suddenly into an animated and extravagant tone. "Have I ever told you about the time Derek and I visited the Tower of London?"

Responding with a grateful grin, Ethan turned to face him again, "You've told me almost nothing, old crow, and I'd love to hear it all."

***

It was dark and very cold by the time Ethan returned to the house, carrying a pile of Ian's clothing. His mentor had decided he wanted to flap around the estate for a while before bed. Ethan took the clothes to Ian's room and left them there, opening the window wide enough for a crow to get inside.

Then he followed his sense of Rupert, finding him with the others in a large comfortable living room with a roaring fire. It looked very homely and welcoming, but for some reason Ethan didn't want to go in. He leant against the wall of the corridor and sent, 'It's been a very long twenty-four hours, dearheart.'

He saw Rupert glance unerringly toward the doorway, then watched him stand up and make his excuses to the others before walking out to join Ethan. The two dogs followed at Rupert's heels.

Smiling wearily, Ethan held out his grubbily bandaged hand. Rupert took it, then tugged lightly, pulling Ethan into a brief hug. "You all right? You feel..."

"Tired. I'm very tired," Ethan murmured, trying to encourage Rupert further away from the open door; he didn't want to be noticed. "And I need you." Rupert looked hard at him for a moment, then nodded and began heading down the hall, sliding an arm around Ethan's waist as they walked.

They headed without further consultation upstairs to the third floor and their bedroom. As Rupert closed the door behind them, Ethan went to the bed and sat on the edge, in the gap between the curtains. "I hope I'm not expected to get up before midday tomorrow."

"Matthew's invited us to go riding tomorrow morning, but I'm sure there'll be another chance for that." Rupert opened the curtains further and sat beside him, moving his hands to massage Ethan's shoulders.

"Hmm, that's nice." Ethan closed his eyes, turning into the touch. "Would feel even nicer without clothes."

Rupert chuckled. "Yes, it probably would."

Opening his lids again, Ethan looked at the two dogs. They were investigating the bedroom, having not been here before. Gwydion quickly found where Rupert had put his basket and flopped down into it, but Skunk kept hunting for dust bunnies. "I'm assuming they've been fed and walked, as if I have to leave this room again before morning, I won't be a happy man."

"They've already charmed Matthew's housekeeper and have been quite royally fed as a result. I think she misses Matthew's old Labrador, who died recently, apparently. The walking has been taken care of as well. Barring any new catastrophes, we won't have to move from here until morning."

"We even have our pokey en-suite bathroom. Ah, heaven." Ethan sighed, smiling, and collapsed back on the heavy bedspread. But his smile faded as he looked up at his husband. "We're so sodding lucky, Ripper. For every moment that we have like this."

"Yes, we are," Rupert replied seriously, stretching out beside him, one hand coming to rest over Ethan's heart. "What's bothering you, love?"

"I've been talking to Ian."

"Ah."

Ethan turned his head to look at Rupert. "It was a good conversation; he opened up more than he ever has before. I just... his pain... He could be my twin, Rupert, separated by time somehow. What he had and lost..." It was no good; he couldn't talk about it any more easily than Ian could.

Rupert shifted, pulling Ethan against him and wrapping him up in a tight embrace. He didn't say anything, just held Ethan close, letting his presence make unspoken promises. That felt so very good. Ethan just let himself relax into Rupert's arms, finding himself drifting down towards sleep, despite his legs still being half off the bed.

"Ethan?" Rupert's voice roused him before he could drift off entirely.

"Mmm?" He snuggled a little closer.

"This would feel even nicer without clothes and under the blankets."

"Haven't done my teeth," Ethan muttered, making no attempt to move.

"How about we just work on getting undressed and in bed?" Rupert suggested. "You can do your teeth in the morning."

"'kay."

Without opening his eyes, Ethan rolled onto his back and began to lazily undo his buttons. Even without his sense of sight, he could feel Rupert's eyes on him, and that made him a little more aware. He made the movements of his fingers more sensual, languorously pulling his shirt open and stroking over his own chest. He heard Rupert chuckle softly, then his husband's hands covered his own, just resting against Ethan's as he moved.

So of course, Ethan couldn't resist taking their hands lower, to his waistband, then lower still. Rupert's fingers tightened around his own. "This would feel nicer without clothes as well," Rupert teased.

His eyes still closed, Ethan grinned. "I married a very wise man."

There was some shifting beside him, and then Rupert's lips were pressed softly against his. Somehow the touch of Rupert's lips changed Ethan's mood entirely. He opened his eyes and lifted his arms to encircle Rupert, pulling him close. Ian didn't get to do this with Derek. Ian had had to spend decades alone and lost, not the way Ethan had been after Rupert left, but utterly without hope.

Rupert's thoughts seemed to be paralleling his own because he murmured, "We are so very lucky," as he trailed his mouth down over Ethan's jaw and throat.

"Yes," Ethan agreed emphatically. "Yes. Rupert?"

"Yes, love?"

Ethan cupped Rupert's face and encouraged him to move up far enough for them to look at each other. He stroked his fingers over Rupert's brow and cheekbones, but found he didn't actually have the words to communicate what he was feeling. But they were close enough now that they didn't always need words to communicate; indeed, sometimes words got in the way. A ghost of a smile touched Rupert's mouth, and he leant forward, resting his forehead against Ethan's.

Closing his eyes again, Ethan let himself get lost in Rupert's comforting presence, breathing him in and feeling very much not alone.

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