Title: Curtain's Fall 18/?
Section: II Dress Rehearsal (7/10)
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.

Ethan groaned.

He didn't want to get up. It couldn't be morning yet. The sun shining through the curtains was a rude and presumptive guest, unwanted and most definitely a liar. Since morning, as far as Ethan was concerned, had not broken.

"Get back into bed," he grumbled at Rupert, who he could hear moving quietly about the room.

That brought Rupert over to kiss him lightly, but not to actually come back to bed. "Go back to sleep, love," he encouraged.

"You know what happens if I sleep without you." Especially when Ethan was feeling stressed.

Christ, he didn't want to get up. He didn't want to go down to that dark ghetto of a room and work on his one-person murder plot. He groaned again, which brought Skunk to his side of the bed, whimpering quietly in concern. He reached his hand out to stroke her head reassuringly, and his third groan had a different timbre. "My shoulder hurts."

"Kat sent up something that should help with that." Rupert moved away again, back a few seconds later, handing Ethan a small bottle.

He peered at it, blinked a few times and then peered again. "A tincture. Yummy. This research is wrecking my eyes, dearheart. All these years, I've avoided glasses..."

"I'm afraid a little eye strain is one of the hazards of the job." Rupert settled on the edge of the bed beside him and studied Ethan's face thoughtfully. "Although a pair of wire-rims might look quite fetching on you."

"Hmph." Ethan gave Rupert a sour look and sat up, his expression softening as he took in the legacy of the recent days' strain on his husband's face. Stroking a finger over Rupert's cheekbone, Ethan said, "Are you going to remember to take breaks today?"

"Truthfully? Probably not," Rupert admitted wryly. "But I don't know when I'll get to the research today to begin with. There's our to-be-repatriated Slayer to deal with first."

"Oh. I forgot her. Bugger." Much though he didn't want to go to his little room, he wanted to mix with the others even less.

"Xander and our Slayers are going to help me deal with her. You don't need to be there."

Ethan hoped his relief didn't show too strongly on his face. "Keep in touch during the day? I think we should, in case they try that telepathy-dampening spell again."

"A reasonable precaution."

Ethan kissed him softly, holding on for a little longer than he probably should have, but then sighed and sat back against the headboard. "I'll go down and get on with my own work then. Joy of joys."

Rupert reached out and caressed his cheek. "Take it easy on yourself today," he advised. "You're injured; no one will blame you if you let up for a bit and rest."

Ethan snorted. "Look where resting got me yesterday. I'm done really, anyway. All I'm researching now are ways to locate unique and irreplaceable mystical batteries." He got out of bed and started to stretch, but immediately regretted it. "Will you take the dogs down to the kitchen as you're heading that way?"

"Of course. You know though that Skunk will be seeking you out as soon as she's had her run and breakfast. She's very much your dog; won't stay with anybody else if you're in the vicinity."

"Yes, and I'll be glad to see her. She stops me going quite mad in that horrid little room." Ethan wandered disconsolately off towards the bathroom.

"You could always take your books and research somewhere else," Rupert said, raising his voice a little as Ethan reached the bathroom. "Bring them up to the nursery perhaps?"

That stopped Ethan, and he looked around to study Rupert carefully. "Are you *sure* you'd be ok with that?" Rupert had shown obvious signs of not wanting to be anywhere near the research Ethan was working on.

Rupert nodded. "I'm sure. I've missed having you around. Plus..." He glanced down for a second before meeting Ethan's gaze squarely, "I don't like the idea of you feeling as if you've been banished to the dungeon or some such rot just because... Well. I want you with me."

"Thank you," Ethan told him, simple and sincere. "I promise I won't try to look after you an excessive amount. I'll fetch my stuff and carry it up there then." As he prepared to push open the door of the bathroom, he sent, 'We should still talk like this occasionally though, just to make sure.'

'Of course.' Rupert crossed over to him and kissed him, resting his forehead against Ethan's for a brief moment before pulling back. 'Hopefully this business with the Slayer won't take me too long; I'll keep you posted.'

Ethan nodded. 'I know she's only a teenage girl, alone and afraid, but she's also a superhumanly strong teenage girl who currently hates us. Don't take chances, eh?'

Rupert smiled. 'That's why Kat and Megan are going to be there.'

'Good.' Ethan headed into the bathroom to empty his bladder and wash his face, feeling slightly more positive about the day. He didn't shower; he was too keen to get his stuff upstairs, and anyway, he didn't want to get his bandage wet. But he did quickly do his teeth, as his mouth, after Ian's rotgut yesterday, tasted quite foul.

After dressing quickly, he left the room and made his way to the left wing and his basement room; he'd be heartily glad to see the back of it. Being with Rupert would make everything more bearable.

Ethan knew there was a problem as soon as he saw the door was simply pushed to, but not shut. He felt inside with his pattern senses, but he already knew whom he'd find in there.

Ethan slammed his hand flat down on the door's face so it swung open abruptly, and he scowled at Ian. "There is such a thing as respecting privacy. Perhaps you need to look it up. There's a computer upstairs. Try the internet."

Ian was sitting in Ethan's chair with his feet up on the desk, flipping through Ethan's notes. He looked up at Ethan, completely at his ease. "I thought you could use some help and decided to offer my services."

Ethan could feel his mouth making fish 'O's, so he shut it. The man was unbelievable! He strode over to his desk and yanked his notes from Ian's hands, whacking the crossed feet off his desk while he was at it. "No. Just no. You don't recognise any bloody barriers, do you? Not even with friends?"

"That's a rather strange question coming from you, don't you think?" Ian's manner remained calm and easy, and he even gave Ethan the ghost of a smile.

Ethan knew exactly what Ian meant, of course, but this *was* different. It was. "I -- I told you Rupert didn't want... Ian, I thought..." He'd thought he could trust him. "How much have you read?" He asked the question sullenly, backing off a little way and looking through his own notes to see what Ian might have seen.

"Not much that I was able to decipher. You, m'boy, have some of the worst penmanship I've ever seen." Ian smiled at him. "Almost bad enough to be a doctor."

The man seemed determined to act as if he'd done nothing wrong. "Please get out of my chair," Ethan said stiffly. "You know I would tell you if I could, so the fact that I haven't should inform you that quite obviously I don't want you going through my things." Then he wilted, could feel it happening; he didn't want to be angry with Ian. "I'm sorry I can't tell you. Truly."

Ian relinquished the chair willingly enough, but didn't seem ready to back down more than that. "I think," he began, holding Ethan's gaze, his own eyes full of compassion, "that you need to take a look at what you're doing and decide if it's working. Doesn't seem to me that it is. You're too smart to not realise that means you need to try something new. Like asking for help."

Ethan wanted to; he really wanted to. The memory of Rupert's haunted eyes, which seemed to get more shadowed with every passing day, was heavy in his mind. The possibility that Ian could provide something to ease Rupert's pain, even a little, was tantalising.

He averted his eyes. "It's not me that needs the help. Not really. I'm done here bar achieving the impossible."

"You'll forgive me for saying so, but that's not what it looks like. There's needing help for more than the practical as well."

Ethan sat down and put his notes back on the table. He stared at them, feeling a sense of hopelessness. "You could," he said slowly, "help me work on a way to summon, or at the very least locate, an object I have no focus for... not even a detailed description."

"I could," Ian agreed, sitting on the edge of the table. He gave Ethan an encouraging smile. "Remember your lessons, my boy. Nothing is impossible. You just need to look at the patterns the right way."

Ethan gave him a weak smile in return. "It's the Bachian Matrix crystal."

"Ah, which would explain you asking me about it yesterday."

"Quite. Have you heard of it? I hadn't, but McDonally's refers to it, and from there I was able to trace a little of its origins and properties."

Ian shook his head. "It's new to me. Show me what you've been able to track down so far, and we'll see what we can piece together in the way of some kind of locator spell."

Ah, and here was where it got tricky because Ian was far too intelligent not to put everything together once he knew the crystal's function. "It's a battery," Ethan hedged. "Sort of. It was created by a sect of Pilantine demons in Argentina about two centuries ago, using material obtained from another dimension and compressed in the heart of Ojos del Saldo -- a volcano -- during a suicide ritual."

"Never understood the whole suicide ritual fetish," Ian said, shaking his head. "Especially not when it's just to make a pretty bauble."

"They were part of a cult, as I said. It seems to have been a great honour to have been including in the number who offed themselves. The crystal was a sacred object of significant veneration to the cult, until the whole lot of the bastards seemed to vanish from the world in 1947 or thereabouts. If they've taken the crystal dimension hopping with them somewhere, we're buggered."

"If they have, it may have left a rather large disturbance in the patterns. Items of Power often do in their passing."

Ethan nodded. "There's no suitable disturbance that I can discover recorded at that time, so I have hope. A little of it, anyway."

"That's something then," Ian said encouragingly. "Gives us a place to start."

"Starting hasn't ever been a problem," Ethan said sourly. "Getting anywhere, on the other hand..." He dug out his notes on locating and summoning spells; they should be innocent enough. "It doesn't help that all the technical books insist on formal rote and ritual, and our magic... well, you know. I've tried improvising, going into deep trances and searching, but without knowing the crystal's pattern, I don't know where to start."

It felt so very good to be finally talking to someone about even a little of this. He couldn't discuss it with Rupert, not even now he'd been invited back up into the light, because the subject hurt Rupert too much.

"This might be one of those times where there's no replacement for experience," Ian said, as he looked over the notes that Ethan showed him. "Certain types of things have similar patterns. Sometimes, if you know the rough shape, history, and function of an item, you can guesstimate its pattern."

"I'm in your hands then." Ethan attempted a rakish smile.

"This is where you get to show off all of your progress through research," Ian teased. "Tell me everything there is to know about the Bachian Matrix."

"It's a battery. Well, maybe more like a hard drive, but one of infinite capacity; that's what the Pilantine claimed. Something about the mathematical arrangement of the molecular structure permits an extension into dimensional space, and therefore, an unlimited amount of... data can be stored."

Ethan looked at the table. He was getting far too close to dangerous subjects. Rupert was expecting him upstairs, although he was probably still with the captured Slayer himself, so Ethan had a little time to waste with Ian, but... Christ, he didn't have the kind of brain that could make this type of decision.

On the one hand, he'd promised Rupert that he wouldn't reveal the truth about the extended prophecy regarding Dawn. On the other, Ian could have the exact knowledge needed to save Dawn and therefore save Rupert from this burden. In which case, why was he wasting time trying to get help in finding mystical crystal matrixes, when he should be asking about what really mattered?

"Ian...?" he began miserably. "Do you really want to help?"

Ian's expression grew grave. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't."

Ethan felt his eyes unfocus as guilt burnt within him, but nonetheless said, "Then help us find a way not to kill Dawn."

Ian stared at him for a long moment. "I think you better start at the beginning."

Ethan looked up at him. "You know some of it; I know you do -- what you said to me when you arrived in London with her."

"I know that Dawn's mixed up in this somehow and is most likely going to be, if you pardon the pun, the key to finding a solution." Ian frowned. "But I wasn't anticipating that involving killing her."

Ethan brought his hands to his face, covering his eyes and rubbing. "We need the Key as the Key, and that is death to the girl."

"Ah. Yes, I can see the problem now." Ian fell silent then, but Ethan could sense him turning it over in his mind.

Talking to Ian about this allowed Ethan to feel quite how desperate things truly were. He let his hand fall onto Ian's leg. "Help us? Rupert is... well, you've seen him; you know how much he's not looking after himself. He's spending every waking moment trying to find a way to avoid using her this way, knowing that for every day he fails to find it, England heaves and writhes in the grip of Chaos." He looked down again and added in a low voice, "Whereas I am working on the murder plan."

Ian covered Ethan's hand with his own, the touch comforting even if the words weren't precisely. "There's no way of accessing the Key's abilities without the change, I take it?"

"Harriet found a prophecy in the Vatican. We've checked every aspect of it. Rupert and I are..." Ethan sighed, wanting to laugh at what he was about to reveal, but not quite being able to. "We're the 'Archguardians of the Third Millennium', which sounds like something from a comic book, I know. And our duty seems to be to maintain the balance between Order and Chaos. And the Key... the Key is our tool. It's the control, the dial that we get to turn to adjust the balance."

"And the turning can only be done with the Key in her original form." It was more statement than question.

"Yes."

Ian grimaced. "Granted, I doubt it was ever expected the Key would be given a human life..."

Ethan nodded. "Harriet's prophecy knew that the Key had been hidden, but not how. The monks who made her were wiped out by Glory's minions. Everyone at the time assumed your, er, that is, the 'Doc' demon to be one of her followers..." He squeezed Ian's leg sympathetically at the mention. "But I think it more likely he realised what Dawn was after she'd visited him and attempted to open dimensions with her to help his master, Vaurtain." Ethan shrugged. "It's a theory, anyway."

"I've no doubt you've hit on the truth of that, and for more than one reason." Ian sighed, and ran a hand over his face. "Right. So thanks to the Powers' lack of foresight, we are faced with a rather horrific necessity." He paused. "Has anyone spoken to Dawn about this?"

"No." Ethan squeezed Ian's leg harder. "It's very important to Rupert that she doesn't know until we're sure there's no other choice... " He took a deep breath. "And soon now, I'm going to have to force him to admit defeat. I'm going to have to take my poor husband and sit him in front of the Sky News channel until he makes one of the worst decisions of his life."

Ian shook his head. "That shouldn't be something laid on the two of you."

"But it has been." Ethan shrugged. "And that's that, really. So, can you help us?"

"I'm not sure, but," Ian held his gaze steadily, "I will do everything it is within my power to do. I promise."

Ethan took a shaky breath, the relief he felt easily enough to outweigh the guilt. He'd tell Rupert, of course. He wouldn't try to hide. He'd made the promise not to keep secrets from Rupert and intended to keep it. But Ian could be the thing that tipped the balance their way. The enemy was expecting a bonded pair of mages; Ian was, in more than one sense, the wild card. "Thank you."

Ian gave him a tiny smile and nodded. Changing the subject, he asked, "So tell me about this crystal..."

***

"Point me at a book, boss man," Xander said, as they walked into the nursery. "I'm ready and something kinda approaching able to do the big R."

Giles smiled faintly as he gestured towards the small table piled high with books he hadn't had a chance to fully look through yet. "You can start with any of those." Having Xander helping really did bring a wave of nostalgia for the days back in Sunnydale, which brought with it a stubborn sense of hope.

No matter how bad things had become during those days, they had always managed to find an answer. Xander's assistance helped strengthen Giles' belief that they would this time as well.

"Right." Xander's one eye widened in obvious dismay as he looked at the book pile. "A clue about what I'm looking for?"

Sorting through his own notes, Giles pulled out a paper with the prophecy and other key words and phrases for which he'd been scanning. "Anything you feel could relate to any of these things," he said, handing it to Xander.

"Right," Xander repeated. He took the piece of paper and the first two books from the pile and sat down on the sofa. "Hmm, not wanting to give up my slob credentials just yet, but would you mind if I cleared some of the debris first?"

"Ah. Yes." Giles looked around the room, seeing the detritus cluttering it with fresh eyes. "I suppose I have been rather..."

As Xander collected together the empty whisky bottles, ashtrays and plates, he quietly asked, "Does it strike you as, you know, ironic or something? We're so concerned about that poor confused Slayer downstairs, and at the same time, we... well, we know what we know. About Dawn, I mean."

"I've found that type of juxtaposition quite distressingly common in my years as a Watcher," Giles confided. "In the past, every Watcher who was assigned a Slayer went into it knowing it wasn't a question of if he would be called upon to sacrifice his charge, but when." He sighed heavily. "I had truly believed that we'd managed to change that. I suppose we have -- it's not my Slayer I'm being called on to sacrifice after all."

He could feel Xander's gaze boring into his back, but after a pause, all Xander said was, "We going to contact the girl's parents?"

"Not right away," Giles said after giving it some thought. "When she's been at Devon for a while and the Coven's helped undo what Francesca did to her mind, then she can contact them herself."

"Least she'll be safe down there." Xander sat down again and cracked open a book with enough gusto to worry the librarian in Giles. "Life-or-death research time. It's enough to make me feel nostalgic."

"Indeed." Giles settled down in his usual seat and reached for the book he'd been going through yesterday when he'd stopped. "I was just thinking that myself. All we need is a box of doughnuts and assorted customers or students and school officials wandering in to interrupt us at random intervals."

"When my one eye tries to cross all by its ownsome, I'll head down to Mrs B. and get some cake in lieu of doughnuts. Maybe get Ethan up here for the break? Before he went missing yesterday, we were going to talk scheduling with him."

"Oh, Ethan's going to be joining us," Giles said, flipping through the book's pages, already beginning to get lost in the act of research. "He should be coming up any time now."

"Oh. Good. Can't have been nice down in that damp basement. I mean, not like he's a vamp we need to chain up or anything." There was the sound of Xander turning pages. "He, um, knows I know now, doesn't he?"

"Of cour--" Giles began automatically, but then realised that, no, he'd never got around to bringing that up. "Actually, I haven't had a chance to tell him," he finished a bit sheepishly.

Xander made a grunting noise and shifted on the sofa. "Lots happened yesterday. Not really surprised you forgot."

There was quiet for a while as they both read their books. Giles made the occasional note. Xander got up eventually and grabbed another book, but no progress was made really.

Eventually, Xander yawned noisily and stretched before standing up. "Gonna go get some munchies for lunch -- anything strike your fancy?"

Giles blinked and glanced over at the small clock he'd brought up to keep track of the time that so often seemed to disappear when he got lost in his research. He frowned at what he saw. "Ethan should've come up by now."

"You think he...?" Xander paused. "Could your link thing have dropped again?"

"I don't know." He checked now, mentally calling out, 'Ethan, love? Did you decide not to come up after all?'

There was only the shortest of pauses, then, 'Er, time certainly flies when you're having fun, doesn't it? Sorry, dearheart. We'll be right up.'

Giles closed his eyes briefly in relief, only then acknowledging that he'd been genuinely worried. "The link's fine. He's on his way up now."

"That's a relief. I'll get food for him too then." Xander left the room just as Ethan started to talk in Giles' head again.

'Um. Try not to be too angry with me?' Giles could virtually see his lover cringing. 'I've... well, it was for the best. You'll see. Focus on the fact that I've actually got somewhere today, and we'll be fine.'

'What is it that you think I'm going to be angry about?' Giles asked, trying to keep his mind from running through a list of increasingly absurd possibilities.

'I did something I said I wouldn't,' Ethan admitted simply. 'I just couldn't stay silent any more, Rupert. Really, I couldn't. Not when he might've had the answers we're seeking. And he *has* helped a great deal already.'

'He who?' But as soon as he asked it, Giles realised that there was only one person it could have been. 'Ian.'

'Yes. I've let you down.'

'What?'

'I've told him, well, everything. I'm sorry, Rupert. Truly. He was so persistent, and... and I needed to. How angry are you?'

'I'm not angry at all. Actually... I've had a bit of assistance myself this morning.'

The door opened at this point, and Skunk padded in, quickly followed by Ethan, and more sedately, by Ian. Both men had armfuls of books. Ethan quickly looked around the room, an unreadable expression on his face. "Who?"

"Xander." Giles got up and moved to help, taking some of the books from Ethan. "He's gone to get us some provisions."

"So... you told him? What, after the Slayer...? You didn't..." Ethan stared at Giles.

"It was yesterday," Giles said. "Right before I discovered I couldn't reach you. It rather slipped my mind amidst everything else that was happening." He wasn't quite able to decipher Ethan's expression, so he added tentatively as well as silently, 'Are you angry with me?'

Ethan gave him a very pointed look. 'Oh no. I've only been going through an agony of indecision, desperation and guilt this morning. Why would I be the least bit miffed with you?'

'I'm sorry. I really had intended to tell you; it just slipped my mind.'

Ethan sighed and rubbed his face. "I'm not in trouble, old crow," he said aloud, and he moved closer to Giles, an uneasy expression on his face that seemed to be attempting to be a smile, but wasn't quite managing it.

Giles shifted the books he was holding enough to be able to lean in and kiss Ethan. Sometimes actions spoke more clearly than words. The way Ethan, his eyes closed, tried to follow Giles' lips back when the kiss ended also spoke volumes.

'Love you,' Giles sent, giving in enough to kiss Ethan again briefly.

This time Ethan let him pull back. "Ian and I have planned out a pattern ritual that should, maybe, allow us to find that one vital component."

"Ethan had already done all of the hard research part," Ian said, speaking for the first time. "I just took what he found and fit it to a technique I knew."

"I would have been stuck for weeks if not months longer without him. We're going to try it this afternoon if that suits." Ethan reached out to rub his hand over the top of Giles' where it rested on a book.

"Yes, of course," Giles said instantly. "What do you need from me?"

"We could do with you there, although it won't be a very exciting role for you, I'm afraid." Ethan squeezed Giles' hand. "With the two of us pattern mages working together, there may be a tendency to get lost in our own webs. We need you to... to stay on the ground and hold the rope, metaphorically speaking."

"I'll be happy to help in whatever capacity you need," Giles assured him, turning his hand to squeeze Ethan's in return. Being Ethan's anchor, after all, was something that came as easily as breathing.

And that finally got him a proper Ethan smile. "What we did, the three of us the other night, should make it easier. Help you ground Ian too." He held his other hand out behind him and seemed to be waggling it at Ian.

"Not that that had any reason to do with why the other night happened," Ian said, closing the distance between them and briefly clasping Ethan's hand. "It is a nice fringe benefit however."

"So, you and Xander," Ethan started. "Dare I ask?"

"I suppose that all depends on what you're thinking of asking," Giles said, disturbing images of what Ethan could mean -- in jest, he was certain -- flashing through his mind.

Ethan looked carefully at Giles. "I was asking if you'd made any progress, dear. With the *research*."

Oh. Of course he was. Giles wondered if maybe he had perhaps been researching a bit too hard. "No, not that you would notice," he answered. "Other than to eliminate more texts as locations of a possible solution."

Ethan put a hand on Giles' shoulder. "How about a rest until after lunch then? Come and sit down with me?"

"I was actually planning on taking a break in order to look for you before you finally showed up here," Giles said, moving the books he'd taken from Ethan to a mostly clear section of his makeshift workspace before letting Ethan lead him over to the sofa.

Ian had put his books down as well and was now leaning against the windowsill.

Ethan sat down close to Giles, leaning against him and rubbing his hand down Giles' leg, and Giles slid his arm around Ethan's shoulders, settling back into the sofa's cushions with a sigh. Having Ethan here did make a difference; he could feel some of the tension in his body easing just a bit at his lover's touch. There was stillness then in the room, a comfortable quiet that felt soothing to Giles. Ethan was feeding him magic through the hand on his leg, and that too was the stuff of comfort.

It didn't last nearly long enough. Everyone straightened and looked alert as Xander returned to the room. He had a heavy tray in his hands, but he wasn't paying it much attention. Rice spilled from the large central bowl, and he placed the tray hurriedly on Giles' desk. Looking worriedly around the three of them, he said, "Uh, the news. I just saw it."

His stomach clenching, Giles said, "Tell me."

"The government's introducing quarantining. Stevenage, Wandsworth and, um, some other places with freaky British names I can't remember, have been declared no-go areas for all but special teams who are in charge of the evacuations. But it's worse than that," Xander stared earnestly at Giles. "There's a place in the east of London, um, Barking? It's cut off all together. No one's coming out or going in. There's like this cloud over it. They showed footage of it from afar; it was all writhing and stuff. There was this woman being interviewed who'd been on a subway train that kinda got cut in half when the cloud came down. The front part of the train... well, no one knows what's happened to it, since you can't get through the cloud."

"So," Ian said softly. "It begins. The stuff of raw chaos pouring into this reality. Probably broke through there because some poor git had an altar and was messing around with things he didn't understand."

"It's spreading," Xander said bleakly. "Least that's what the news guy seemed to think. No official word on it at all."

"There'll be a news blackout any minute now," Ethan said with dark cynicism. "Just wait."

"Should we worry about why Pamela hasn't called?" Xander asked Giles.

"Not overly so," Giles said, grateful to have a smaller problem to focus on for a brief moment. The large problem was too much to concentrate on all at once. "This kind of disturbance is going to cause difficulties with communications -- if not affecting it directly, then by overloading as everyone tries to contact their families and friends."

"Point." Xander nodded then screwed up his face in a grimace. "Buffy and Willow are gonna be going nuts worrying about us all."

Ethan's hand was clenching Giles' leg uncomfortably hard, although he was showing little other outward sign of disturbance. "Did the others see the news too, Xander?" he asked, almost casually.

"Kat and Dawn did. Megan's with our captive, and Matthew went to town today."

"No one riding shotgun?" Ethan frowned. "I'm not entirely sure that was wise. They know where we are now, remember."

"I doubt you would have been able to talk Matthew into taking along a bodyguard even if you tried," Giles said, knowing stubbornness was a trait his cousin shared with him.

"Want me to do a round robin kinda thing?" Xander asked. "Call up everyone who needs calling?"

"Might be an idea," Ethan agreed. He looked down as he added, "Think we may need to get a move on with that ritual."

"Ritual?" Xander asked.

"It's more or less a locating spell," Ian put in. "To find a specific artefact needed to contain the Key's energy when..."

Xander glanced quickly at Giles. "So Ian... uh, too?"

"You're not the only one who was persistent in seeking information about what Ethan and I have been doing," Giles said, giving Xander a wry glance. Again, he was glad of these little details to focus on. As long as he kept focusing on them, he could ignore the horror of what was happening and what was looking increasingly like the only way they could stop it.

"Gotcha. So you wisely want non-magical me away from the scene. Phone calls it is then. Any specific instructions? You know those in America are gonna want to drop everything and come help."

As Xander said that, Ethan's fingers started to dig into Giles' thigh painfully.

"Tell them that it's quite likely that the situation is unstable and that travel to England would be far too risky at this point," Giles said, thinking quickly. He covered Ethan's hand with his own, trying to get him to relax his grip a little.

Xander winced, but then nodded and left without another word. As soon as the door closed, Ethan slipped his arm behind Giles and tugged him close. A surge of magic was pulsed into Giles' skin.

Giles closed his eyes and sent a pulse back, losing track of who was comforting whom.

"We should eat," Ethan said by Giles' ear, with little enthusiasm. "We'll need our stamina."

"Take a bit of time with each other," Ian advised, heading for the door. "I'll go get everything set up, and when you're ready, Ethan, you'll know where to find me." Giles saw the two share a wan smile before Ian walked out the door, shutting it again behind him.

"My poor Rupert," Ethan murmured sadly, kissing the side of Giles' face.

Giles let out a shaky sigh and closed his eyes again as he pulled Ethan closer still. "We're running out of time."

"Yes," Ethan agreed after a short pause. "I'm sorry."

Giles shook his head. "Not your fault."

"Still sorry," Ethan told him with a soft, wry chuckle. He sighed. "Let me get the food. We'll need the calories." He sighed again and didn't move.

"I think we need this more," Giles said, sliding a hand down Ethan's spine.

In response, Ethan looked up at him with an expression of utter need, before he caught himself anyway and schooled his face into a resigned little smile. He looked down again. "Rupert, when the... *if* the time comes, you should let me tell her. Let me play the villain; it's my calling, after all."

"No." Giles reached out and touched Ethan's face gently. "I appreciate the offer, love, but no. You're not the villain in this, any more than I am. If we have to do this, we do it together."

"Your pain actually hurts me a great deal more than my own, dear. Strange, no?" Ethan played restlessly with the buttons of Giles' shirt. "That's not an excuse to start hiding things from me. You couldn't anyway. We're too close now. I'd know."

There was comfort in being known that well, being that tied to someone, a comfort that Giles could never have predicted. "I know you would," he said, catching Ethan's hand and bringing it to his mouth to kiss.

There was a short silence as Ethan snuggled even closer, but then he said, "I used to know a bloke who lived in Barking. Psychic. Wonder if the cards warned him to get his family out in time."

"I wonder what the cards would say about us right now."

"Oh, Judgement, the Lovers -- as in, the choice -- Death, the Devil, a good sprinkling of the more unpleasant Sword cards, and the Falling Tower, crowning it all. See, I really don't need to go and get my pack."

"Everything so dire," Giles murmured. "There wouldn't be even a smidgen of hope in your reading?"

Ethan shut his eyes and actually seemed to be considering it, unlike his first flippant answer. "The Two of Cups, of course. Hmm, the Magician, several upright courts, and the Seven of Swords. Good card, that seven. For a fox, anyway."

Giles chuckled. "Lucky I have one of those then."

"When the hounds have your scent, you have to hope to whatever you believe in that your cunning is greater than their power and sheer numbers."

"That always seems to be the situation we find ourselves in," Giles observed softly.

Ethan looked up and actually gave Giles a little grin. "Good job I've got sly written in my DNA then, isn't it?"

"A very good thing," Giles agreed, returning the smile with a small one of his own.

Ethan pressed a kiss onto him, but then stirred. "We are going to eat," he said stubbornly, as he stood. "We can do the other thing at the same time."

"All right," Giles said, already missing Ethan's warm weight in his arms.

Ethan looked down at the tray Xander had left, shrugged and carried only the big bowl of what looked like some kind of paella or kedgeree back with him, together with a single fork. "We'll eat some of this and talk only about pleasant things. Then we'll spend a few minutes doing more pleasant things with our mouths before going to find Ian." Ethan looked pointedly down at Giles' lap.

Giles followed his gaze then looked back up at Ethan with a raised eyebrow. "Something you want, love?"

"May I?" Ethan asked, a little sardonically. "Sit?"

"When have you ever needed to ask?" Nonetheless, he shifted to make it easier for Ethan to sit.

Ethan folded himself down onto Giles' lap, wriggling until they were both comfortable. "Now remember, only happy subjects until we've finished eating." He raised a forkful of rice towards Giles' mouth.

"This is becoming a habit," Giles said, but still opened his mouth to let Ethan feed him.

"A good habit," Ethan insisted, taking the fork back and feeding himself a mouthful.

"You like feeding me."

Ethan didn't deny it, just smiled and lifted the fork once more to Giles' lips. "Let's talk about our pub. You know, the one we're going to buy."

Giles smiled as he let Ethan feed him this second mouthful. "What about it?"

"Well..." Ethan thought for a moment as he ate. "Where should it be?"

"Some quaint village somewhere," Giles mused. "Although perhaps not near a river, given your penchant for falling in."

"Near the sea," Ethan said, smiling. "Or somewhere else wild. Somewhere I can go lose myself in patterns for an afternoon every once in a while."

"Just as long as you don't get any ideas about bringing an oil tanker or somesuch home from any of those little excursions."

A slow beaming smile appeared on Ethan's face.

"I said don't get any ideas," Giles reminded him.

"I would never plan to do something like that, dearheart," Ethan told him, with a little too much emphasis on 'plan' for Giles' comfort. "Promise."

"Right. I'll just have to go with you on these little communes with the wild then, won't I?" If anything, Ethan's grin grew even broader, and he kissed Giles before feeding him another forkful. "It would be nice to have some land for the dogs to be able to get a good run in," Giles mused, after chewing and swallowing.

"Yes." Ethan glanced over at the two dogs who were lying peacefully together. "But we'd have to be within driving distance of a good sized town as well."

"Can take the boy out of the city..." Giles teased.

Ethan chuckled, but then his face fell. He looked down at the bowl in his lap; they'd hardly made a dent in its contents. "Had enough of this?"

And reality, which they'd been able to escape for a few precious minutes, surged up and tried to crush Giles under its weight again. He sighed and rested his forehead against Ethan's. "Ian's probably waiting for us by now."

Without a word, Ethan slipped from Giles' lap, deposited the bowl on the tray, and set about gathering some of his notes together. Then he gazed at Giles. "Promise me?"

"Promise you what?"

Ethan snorted, his expression wry. "That we'll have our little pub one day, of course. Come what bloody well may."

Giles looked at him for a long moment, then got up and crossed over to where Ethan was standing. They needed something to hold onto -- a future to look for beyond all of this.

"I promise," Giles vowed in a quiet, sure voice.

NEXT