TITLE: The Plant of the Soul (4/10)
AUTHOR: dermawoman (smkwandr@rcn.com)
PAIRING/S: This chapter, n/p; W/K, ?!/?!, B/G, and ?!/?!/?!.
RATING/S: This chapter, R/NC-17 for profanity and graphic sexuality.
SUMMARY: May 2004: Buffy and Giles will marry in Rome soon; Buffy tells Giles to make Ethan happy any way he can--and she demonstrates.
DISCLAIMER/S: The characters belong to Joss, the production companies, and the horde of studios. I'm changing the format of my source document in WordPerfect to eliminate a few kinks when it posts. Underlining and italics haven't been posting, so I'll mark _underlines_ like this and <italics> like that. Sorry for the delay in getting this to you; I rewrote the G/E scenes so they'd sound more natural, and the B/E (!) scene so it'd flow more unnaturally. Now tell me what you think and what you think will end up happening. DermaWoman.

The law in Massachusetts is effective as of 5/17/04 (when this idea popped into my head), unless the Supreme Judicial Court (MA) delivers a stay on the issuing of marriage licenses, which as of 6/10/04, they have not. A constitutional amendment passed by the commonwealth's legislature, defining marriage as the union between only one man and one woman, must be voted upon in 2006.

"Have you seen this?" Willow asked, showing Buffy the newspaper.

"Whoa, you'd think it would've happened in San Francisco first," Buffy said, reading the front page about the Supreme Judicial Court's ruling on same-sex marriages.

"It did, but a court order is preventing any more licenses from being issued. Kennedy and I want to get married while this is still legal," Willow said. "Do you think Giles will be upset if we have the happies while he's worrying about Ethan?"

"I think he'll understand your feelings," Buffy replied.

"Good, because I want to call Xander; I'd like him to be my best person."

"Are you going to make him wear a bridesmaid's dress?" Buffy asked, trying not to laugh.

"No, a suit." But they both laughed at the image. "I want you and Dawn to be my attendants, too, and no bridesmaids' dresses, pantsuits or dresses. We want a Wiccan hand-fasting ceremony." Suddenly, Willow looked doubtful. "Do you--do you think if I asked Giles to give me away, he would?"

"Oh, God, Will, he'll cry harder than the rest of us!" Buffy replied, getting teary-eyed and hugging her best friend.

"We want to get married as soon after the seventeenth as we can, if Ethan's condition has improved," Willow said.

"Will, can I read the rest of this article and the others?" Buffy asked.

"Sure," Willow replied, giving her the newspaper.

Ethan noticed the absence of soldiers in the new clinical setting. As the drugs were flushed from his body, he remembered waking in never-ending solitary confinement, after the last painful interrogation. He was interrogated by the military sorcerers, after being caught by the Slayer and the soldiers. He had turned Rupert into a demon, after getting drunk with him. Instead of offering to stay or consoling Rupert in bed--now _that_ would have brought the Slayer to Ripper's doorstep!--he had made things worse by changing his only love into a demon, and he had been caught by the Slayer. He remembered sensing how useless Rupert had felt with his Slayer in college and dating a secret soldier; he remembered wanting to admit to Rupert how useless and hollow his life of Chaos had become.

He concluded that things were different where he was now. The witches chanted over him for hours at a time; they chanted in English, mostly, with some excursions into Sumerian and Ancient Egyptian. He wondered why--who was he, that people he didn't know would waste their breath and psychic energy on him, when he had nothing of magickal or mundane value with which to pay them. He felt the psychic energy they poured into him like waterfalls of light, felt the pulse of every changed molecule, every repaired muscle fiber, every rebuilt cell.

Perhaps a week later, Ethan was semi-conscious in the hospital bed, trying to understand what the doctor was telling him. It was something about bone marrow to replace his, which wasn't producing red blood cells any longer. He wanted to say that it would make him less tasty to vampires, when he saw the file folder the doctor held. It was at his eye level, and he could read the label clearly: <S01191981EA/OO+; Summers, Eliz. A.>. He looked up to see a plastic blood bag on a pole with the same code, an intravenous line trailing down to the needle in his arm.

The only Summers he knew was Buffy, the Slayer, and her bone marrow was flowing into him. He wondered why she would waste her energy to save him. She must want something; everyone with whom he ever did business wanted something from him; he had nothing now, so he knew he had to ask her what she wanted as soon as possible. The sedative he had been given kicked in, and he settled into oblivion like sinking into the warm, clear water of a drowning pool.

The sedative wore off gradually, and Ethan faded back into awareness. With the magick-inhibiting drugs completely flushed from his body, his memory regained its sharpness. He remembered that the bone marrow bag's identity code was the same as the code on the donor file named <Summers, Eliz. A.>, as in Buffy Summers, better known as the Slayer--Rupert's Slayer. He had to speak to her, to find out what she wanted for this second-greatest of favors, because teleporting him out of The Initiative's prison was perhaps the greatest favor given him since meeting Rupert.

He contemplated offering himself into slavery to the coven that chanted over him. He knew it was an American white magick coven, and they would not consider slavery. But he had nothing, no skills, no spells, no talents they would want in payment; and he was certain that his sexual skills would not be appreciated. He still wondered why people who didn't know him would waste their breath and energy when he had nothing of any value for them.

He steadied his breathing, keeping his limbs limp and relaxed as he regained complete consciousness. He survived performing Chaos magick for nearly thirty years only by having complete control of his senses and basic magickal skills to get him out of confrontations. He could perceive Rupert in the room, holding his ugly hand; it took all his physical and emotional strength not to open his eyes, grip those hands, and beg Rupert for forgiveness. He expanded his awareness; Rupert's distressed psyche was so tormented that he did not sense Ethan's projection; his pain was so great that Ethan wanted to apologize for lying, even before he had. As he projected outward, he could sense the Slayer's sharp aural brightness, a psychic weapon if she but knew her strength. He had to speak with her without Rupert in the room, and he thought of a plan.

Ethan indicated the sedative wearing off by subtly changing his breathing. Rupert was sitting by his bed, holding his thin, worn hand in his. "Ethan, please, Ethan, can you hear me?"

Ethan opened his eyes, looking at Rupert, who looked contented, fit, and relaxed, except for the anguish in his eyes that made Ethan want to apologize again. He unfocused his eyes, and his hand stayed limp in Rupert's grasp. "I'm dead," he whispered faintly, "so you cannot be real."

"Ethan, you are not dead," Rupert said, a sob in his voice. Ethan's heart ached when he heard it.

Remembering the Book of the Dead prayers chanted over him, he gasped, whispering, "My name is--"

"--Ethan, your name is Ethan--"

"--My name is spoken aloud--" His hand twitched slightly in Rupert's, and he began panting weakly, focusing his eyes. "Your name is Rupert, and I loved you," he whispered softly, "Ripper, I love you; I'm sorry, I can't cry, I'm sorry--"

"Ethan, rest now--" Rupert said, tears in his throat; Ethan's heart grieved.

"Where's the Slayer? She'd never let you find me without coming; where is she?"

"Ethan, you're very ill--" Rupert said, tears trickling down his face.

"--Let me speak to her, please, Ripper, let me apologize--" he mumbled, and Rupert's tortured look made him want to stop. Rupert released his hand long enough to call for Buffy.

"Ethan, I'm here," Buffy said gently, "why do you want to see me?" He looked up at her and nearly fainted for real. She was grown up, a young woman in her twenties, and breathtakingly beautiful. Little wonder why Rupert's heart fell when he moved to Sunnydale; ugly Ethan had no chance when compared to a radiant Slayer Princess.

"Buffy, watch over him for me," he mumbled, "I'm sorry I hurt you and Ripper so much in the past, you have no idea how much I love him--"

"--Ethan, you need to rest, you're very ill--" Rupert said, crying openly now.

"Buffy, get him out of here, I can't do this with him here, it hurts too much," he whispered weakly. Buffy took Rupert from the room; he could hear their friends comforting him.

"Ethan, you are _such_ a ham," Buffy said when she returned alone. "What do you really want to tell me?"

"Do you realize that all sorts of nasty people, and things, will come here looking for me, for what I owe them that I've never paid?" he asked hoarsely.

"No, but surprisingly, it hasn't been a problem, and you've been here two weeks," she replied. "Maybe they don't want to tangle with the Slayers."

"Slayers?" He caught her use of the plural. "How did you do that?"

"An ancient Slayer weapon and a very powerful witch activated all the Potentials," she replied. He sighed, closing his eyes; it was a long while before he opened them and spoke again.

"Why did you do it, for me of all people?" He asked, looking for any trace of insincerity.

She was surprised by the question. "Why'd I do what?"

"Why did you donate your bone marrow to save my life?"

"Didn't you answer that earlier?" she replied, grasping his frail hand in her delicate ones. "Who do you love more than anything? Who do you think _I_ love more than anything?"

The realization dawned in his eyes and voice. "Rupert."

"I did it for you, too. If I don't help, then who will? It seems the world is playing its usual perverse joke on us, again," Buffy said, warming his cold hand with her warm ones.

"No one has ever done anything for me without a catch," Ethan said; "and you probably have one, also, but at least I know yours will be more amusing and engaging than the usual duress with which I've dealt in the past. What do you want?"

"What would you do to make Rupert happy," Buffy asked, "even for a short time, because you're very ill, and even my Slayer-genes may not be able to get you out of this mess?"

"Anything," he said sadly; "But Rupert won't fancy an ugly sorcerer when he loves a beautiful Slayer princess," he froze; had he said that aloud? Buffy's shocked expression indicated that he must have.

"Ethan, do you mean ugly as in repellent behavior, or appearance?" Buffy asked. He avoided replying by closing his eyes, turning his face from her as if he'd fallen asleep, letting the hand she held go limp; he'd said the wrong thing again and ruined his chance. He wondered how long she would wait before becoming angry and telling him what she wanted.

She held his hand in hers for some minutes before moving. Her warm, slender fingers brushed his brow and angular cheekbone; he stayed completely still, confused and surprised. "Ethan, you are not ugly," she whispered, releasing his hand. Her arms slid around his frail shoulders; her smooth face gentle against his bony cheek, her boiling-hot body enveloping him in a warm embrace. He was so frightened that he trembled in her arms. Buffy slowly tightened the hug, tenderly cupping his face in her hand. "Ethan, don't be afraid, please," she murmured.

That she inadvertently echoed the Book of the Dead settled him slightly, and he inhaled deeply, his lungs filling with her floral perfume. "Everyone wants something," he mumbled, his teeth rattling with fear, "what do you want?"

"What would you do to make Rupert happy," Buffy asked, "even for a short time?"

"Anything, you know that," he replied.

"Will you give up Chaos magick for the rest of your life, however short or long that may be?"

"After what I've just been through? Of course, yes, if it makes Rupert happy."

"Will you let yourself be guided by Rupert and me, and live with us, wherever we decide to live?"

"Yes, and whatever else you ask," he said eagerly. "What else are you asking for?"

Buffy told him everything she had planned. The intensive care telemetry went wild, and the crash team responded, reviving Ethan. Giles was frantic with grief and anguish in the hallway; Willow, Dawn, and Joseph held him back when Buffy came out of Ethan's room.

"Where can I talk to Rupert privately?" Buffy asked a nurse. She was directed to a small meditation room down the hall. She took a dazed Giles, put the `do not disturb, counseling in progress' sign on the door and closed it. She sat him in a pew, knelt in the aisle, and kissed him tenderly. "Giles, how much do you love Ethan?"

"How--how can you ask me that when you know--"

"Ethan's heart has been through a painful ordeal," Buffy said; "he's weak; it will be a month before the doctors know if the infusion took and red blood cells are being produced."

"Buffy--"

"You told me it bothered you that you didn't try harder to move Ethan away from a life of Chaos sooner," she added, pressing her point. "Do you know how much he loves you, how hurt he was when you left him, how sorry he is that he hurt me because he knows you love me? Do you know how heartsick he is, that I think the psychological pain he endured apologizing to me caused his heart attack?"

Grief-stricken, Giles sank to his knees in the pew. "Buffy, what do you want me to do?"

"Rupert, love him the way you did when the two of you were young in London, before Eyghon ruined it all," Buffy pleaded. "You say you love me, but can't you spare the kindness, the mercy, to love Ethan and to make him happy?" <In the time he has left>, she didn't say, but Giles heard the inference. "You have the chance now in Massachusetts to make sure Ethan is protected and provided for, financially, legally, medically." He was so wrapped up in his anguish over Ethan that Giles had not read a newspaper since leaving Rome.

The medical staff told Giles that Ethan was adapting again to the idea of passing time, being awakened at specific intervals to eat, be medicated, be washed, and be prayed over by the visiting witches. The doctors were uncomfortable letting a large group of unusual people sit with a patient, unsupervised, but the results could not be denied--Ethan's condition was improving, faster than most bone marrow infusion patients.

The day after Ethan's apparent heart attack, Giles rode in with Joseph, Tavvy, and a few other witches to spend the day at Ethan's side. He asked for some time alone with Ethan, and Tavvy told him he and Ethan needed that quality time together. An ICU nurse announced Giles's presence in the curtained enclosure around Ethan's bed, "Mr. Rayne, you have a visitor," alarming Ethan.

Giles strode to Ethan's bedside and asked, "Ethan, how do you feel today?" clasping Ethan's thin hand in his strong one.

"Rupert, Ripper--but if Ripper is holding me, then it means my beloved is dead also," Ethan murmured, his eyes closed, "and I don't want that to be true, especially after all the trouble I gave Ripper and his beautiful Slayer princess before."

"Please, Ethan, forgive me for abandoning you a second time," Giles said, "when you needed me most. Ethan, look at me; say something, please."

Ethan opened his eyes and looked up at Giles, torment filling his eyes. "I'm dead," he whispered, "you are not real."

"How do I convince you that you're alive and I'm real?" Giles asked sadly.

"Love me, fuck me until I bleed and moan," Ethan murmured; "the doctors say I can't cry yet; hurt me with your love until I sob for relief. Prove that it's you with your touch."

Giles was aghast. "Ethan, you're severely injured and deathly ill; I can't do that do you--"

"If you have any love for him, you will," a woman's voice behind Giles startled them both, and Buffy stepped into view.

"Buffy, have you lost your mind?" Giles asked, appalled by her statement.

"No, I'm being sensible," she replied; "Love him, tell him you love him, because he may not live long enough for you to tell him later." He was about to protest, but she stopped him with a look. "You'll always regret it if you don't and he dies, and I won't let you blame me. Ethan needs this, you need this--accept him, forgive him, love him." Ethan looked from Buffy to Giles and back, looking at her as if she had two heads--when had she grown up and become compassionate?

"I can't do what he asks," Giles hissed, "certainly not in a hospital; what he's asking for could kill him if I did--"

"Improvise, you taught me how," Buffy said, kissing him. She faced Ethan, and he paled under her gaze. She took his hand from Giles and leaned over him. "You taught him everything he knows, you kinky bugger," she whispered into his ear, "and I _so_ appreciate the results." Her free hand trailed down the sheet covering him, slipping beneath it, sliding over his thigh.

"Buffy!" Giles exclaimed, quietly, though, so he wouldn't attract the nurses.

Buffy's hot, delicate fingertips softly caressed Ethan's cock; it instantly stiffened, thrusting up. He pushed his head back into the pillow, his eyes wide, rolled back in their sockets, his mouth open in a soundless moan. She released his hand, slid hers around his neck, lowered her mouth to his, and her energy pushed into him as forcefully as Ripper's cock used to push into his arse. And he came; his cock was catheterized, fortunately, or the bed would have been drenched. She lifted her lips, released his neck, and brought her other hand out.

"Oh. My. God." Ethan murmured each word distinctly, his eyes wide and staring at the ceiling.

Buffy softly kissed Ethan's cheek and his scarred eyebrow. "Top _that_," she murmured to Giles, kissing him again, leaving them within the curtained enclosure.

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