Thunder rolled across the hills, filling the large stone building with its tremor. A flash of lightning lit up the sky, streaking down to the ground. Muffled curses could be heard throughout the house as the power flickered then disappeared.

It didn't matter to the man sitting on the window seat in his darkened room. Nothing mattered. Randall was dead.

Rupert Giles stared out at the night, not seeing anything in front of him. He didn't have anything in front of him. All he had was the great weight of his recent past weighing on his shoulders. What had started out as harmless fun had ended in disaster.

Sighing softly, he ran his hand through his newly shorn hair. The shaggy length of it had been the first thing to go after his guitar. After that he'd tossed the leather jacket in the incinerator followed by every pair of jeans he owned. He looked down at the brown slacks he now wore. Brown slacks, white shirt, brown tie, tweed jacket. He looked like his father.

Which was only fitting. Wasn't that who he was supposed to become? Wasn't being his father a hell of a lot safer than being what he'd turned into?

He turned back to the window, not wanting to think. He stared out into the night, wishing he were anywhere else. Anyone else. The rock, when it hit the glass, scared him to death.

He looked down, through the pouring rain, to the ground below. He shook his head in disbelief. This was not happening. He opened the window. "Go away."

"No."

"I'm not to see you anymore. I don't want to see you anymore. Go away."

"Damn it, I came all the way from London. We need to talk about this."

"There's nothing to talk about Ethan. Go away."

"If you don't come down and sneak me in, I'm going up to the front door and announcing myself in the most embarrassing way possible, Ripper." His determination was visible even through the sheets of rain. "I don't have any standing to lose with these people. You do."

"Fine. I'll be right down. Go to the door on your left." He shut the window and took a deep breath. Ethan. A warm surge of feeling coursed through him and he cursed himself. Ethan was like a drug - like magic - hell on your mind, body and soul but once tasted, impossible to get from your system.

He made his way through the compound, dodging down deserted hallways whenever he saw the flickering candles of other Watchers and trainees. Finally, he arrived at the old servant's entrance and opened the door. Ethan stood there, looking for all the world like a drowned cat. "What do you want?"

"To come in? To get warm? To talk?" He didn't smile, not even the mocking smile Giles had grown so used to. "What answer will get you to let me come in so I don't suffer my death from pneumonia?"

He stepped back and let him enter. "This way, and stay behind me. I don't need anyone seeing you and asking questions. It's bad enough as it is."

Ethan nodded and followed, taking in the very different appearance of the man in front of him. He walked like an old man now, not a man barely out of his teens. He walked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. "You get a Slayer?"

"No. Shut up."

"I was just…"

"Shut up." Giles looked back at him, barely making him out in the darkness. "I don't talk to people here, so if they hear me, they'll be suspicious. Now quiet." He continued walking, not really caring if Ethan were following. He just wanted to be back in the safety of his room.

Ethan did as he said, his eyes straining to make sure he was still behind him. The dark was almost complete, only the faint light from distant candles and sconces casting a faint glow. Finally Giles stopped and opened a door. The room inside was illuminated with firelight. He walked inside and waited for Ethan to join him before shutting and locking the door.

Ethan went straight for the fire and shed his coat and shoes. Kneeling down in front of the blaze, he shivered as the warmth crept along his skin. "It's not a fit night out for man nor beast," he quoted.

"How appropriate then that you were out in it." Giles walked back to the window, intent on ignoring his new guest.

"I know you're angry, Ripper…"

He whirled around, his eyes flashing, "Don't ever call me that again."

Ethan nodded. "All right, Rupert." He paused, waiting to be sure he could go on. "I know you're angry…"

"I'm not angry Ethan. I'm scared. I'm horrified. We helped kill Randall less than two weeks ago. How can you seem so fucking nonchalant about it?" He lay his forehead against the window pane. "Our friend is dead because of something we did."

Ethan got to his feet and walked to Giles' side. "We didn't do it, Ri…Rupert. Eyghon did."

"And who summoned him? Us. You and me. We're the one's what had the idiotic idea in the first place. We're the ones so bloody intent on getting the perfect buzz that we summoned up a creature from HELL for shits and giggles!"

He lay a tentative hand on Giles' shoulder. "We didn't mean any harm."

"Does that lessen the harm we ended up causing any less painful?" He turned to him, tears glistening in his eyes. "What of his parents, Ethan? What are they to do without their son?" The sob escaped him and the threatening tears made their way down his cheeks. He brushed them away angrily. "Can you answer that?"

Ethan shook his head and pulled Giles into his arms. He held him tightly, letting the younger man cry. He'd suspected that, as much power as he had - as strong as he seemed, Giles was really just a frightened child trying very hard to grow up.

Rubbing his back, he whispered soothing words, trying to calm him. "Rupert, don't cry. It's going to be all right. Ssh."

The head lying on his shoulder shook. "No, no Ethan, it's not." He had stopped crying but still stood there in his embrace. "It's never going to be okay again."

Against his better judgement, Ethan raised his hand to Giles' head and let his fingers tangle in his hair. He held him steady, all the while stroking the soft, brown locks. "It will."

"No. Because I know there are horrible things in the world out there. I've always known. And it didn't stop me." He pulled back from his shoulder, but not so far that Ethan had to let him go. "I could have stopped us. I could have stopped myself from becoming the thing I'm supposed to despise."

"Rupert, you're not a monster. You're a young man who got into a situation that got out of hand. That's what we both are. Of course we should have known the possible consequences. But we looked away. And yes, we'll both have to live with what happened." His brown eyes sought out his green ones and held them in a piercing stare. "But we don't have to live alone with the burden. We both share it."

Giles wanted to believe him, wanted to lose himself in the dark eyes the way he had so many times. He wanted to trust Ethan more than he'd ever wanted anything. "I know you're trying to help…"

Ethan watched the emotions in Giles' eyes, seeing his thought process as he tried to sort out his conflicted feelings. He thought briefly of the carefree men they'd both been a few short weeks before. "I'm trying to help us both."

Giles watched as Ethan's tongue darted out to wet his lips before he spoke. They'd played at so many things in London, neither of them quite deciding what was between them. What would always be between them, if the blood bond they'd forged in an effort to raise Eyghon held true. Ethan was in his blood. And he was in Ethan's. "Ethan, I…" he shook his head. "No."

"No?" He tightened his grip on Giles' hair instinctively. "No what?"

Giles moved forward, his lips finding Ethan's with ease. He didn't question, he didn't think. He simply acted, trusting his senses. Trusting himself.

Ethan responded after a short moment, surprised by Giles' forwardness. He slipped his tongue in his mouth. Giles opened eagerly to his exploration and Ethan pulled him closer, his hand tangling further in his short hair.

A roll of thunder finally split them apart. The stood opposite each other, both breathing hard. Giles wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stared at Ethan. "I didn't plan on that happening."

"Neither did I." Ethan moved away from him, back to the fire. He sat on the edge of the chair for a second, before sinking to the floor in front of it. The warmth felt good against his still damp clothes. Giles watched him, settling in front of the fire like a cat. "So you've decided to make up Randall's death by subjecting yourself to your own?"

The seductive spell was broken with his words. Giles moved over to the other chair and looked down at him. "Pardon?"

"This, Rupert." Ethan waved his hand around the room. "The Watcher's Council. Subjecting yourself to a life of service and subservience. Killing yourself slowly won't make it any easier to deal with Randall's death."

"This is my destiny."

"If you believe that, then you should believe it was Rand's destiny to die." Ethan turned away from him to look at the dancing flames. "I don't believe in destiny, Rupert. I believe we make our own lives, our own luck. Do you think it was destiny that we'd meet? Do you think what we feel is destiny?"

Giles slipped down to the floor, almost against his own will. "What we feel?" He tried to sound disinterested, but instead he sound intrigued. "What exactly do we feel, Ethan?"

He laughed. "I see, I'm going to have to say it, am I?" He shrugged. "We burn hotter than this fire, Ripper, and you know it. You felt it the minute we met, like a surge of electricity between us. You felt it when I watched you with Deirdre and you were more concerned with my reactions than hers. You know it like you know your own blood."

"Our blood."

Ethan smirked. "Well, that made it worse, didn't it?" He watched Giles' eyes as he lay in front of the fire. His hand rested on his stomach where his shirt had come untucked and Giles' eyes followed it, caressing the skin along with his hand. "Come here, Ripper."

"I thought I told you…"

"Come here." Ethan's tone brooked no argument.

Giles moved over, lying down beside him. His mind was running havoc, unsure of what he was doing. He'd stopped thinking the moment he'd seen Ethan's hand slide along his skin. Once he was settled, Ethan took his hand and placed it on the warm skin of his stomach. Giles rubbed the soft, yet rough, hair there, watching his own movements in fascination.

"It's not so different, is it?"

"Deirdre was a lot softer." He laughed nervously. "And less hairy."

Leaning forward, Ethan kissed him softly before pulling back. Giles' eyes were closed now. "But not so different?"

"No," he whispered. With his hand, he pushed Ethan's T-shirt up higher and began playing with the hard tips of his nipples. When he heard Ethan's sharp hiss of air, he chuckled softly. "Not so different at all."

Ethan let out a low-throated growl and pushed Giles onto his back. Straddling him, he slowly loosened his tie and slipped it out of his collar. Ripper's eyes sparkled like emeralds in the firelight as Ethan's hands tossed the silk tie aside before moving back to the buttons of his shirt.

Giles lifted his hips, grinding them lightly against Ethan. His body was throbbing as he pressed his cock to the other man's. He raised his hands to Ethan's hips to hold him still as he moved beneath him. He smiled up at him, closing his eyes as he lost himself in the sensation.

Struggling to breathe, Ethan loosened all the buttons on his shirt and parted the material. The dark hairs on his chest glinted golden in the firelight. He ran his fingers down his chest before moving his hands to his hips and pushing Giles away. Sliding further down his legs, he unfastened his belt and fly. Giles arched off the floor, allowing him space to tug the pants down.

Giles refused to think. He'd shut off his brain and given himself over to the warm sensations Ethan was stirring in his groin. His silk boxers - he'd refused to wear the Watcher's mandated briefs - peaked, stretched tight around his prominent erection.

He sat up and shrugged is shirt off his shoulders. Once Ethan had removed his pants from his legs, Giles got to his knees and knelt in front of him. Grabbing hold of the bottom of Ethan's shirt, he tugged it over his head. Ethan arched his back and Giles couldn't help but smile as he ran his hands from Ethan's shoulders to his waist. "You're like a bloody cat."

"Wanna make me purr?" Ethan pushed Giles back to the floor. His lips found the earlobe, sans earring, and began nuzzling the heated flesh. Giles groaned beneath him, his hands between them, struggling to get Ethan out of his pants.

Ethan rolled away, shedding his clothes easily before moving back into Giles' embrace. The heat of the fire only added to the passion that seemed to burn between them.

He paused, hovering over Giles. "Done this before, Ripper?"

The younger man shook his head reluctantly. "No."

"Good thing you're a quick study." He pulled away, moving to kneel at Giles' side. Stretching out beside him, he lowered his head and licked the tip of Giles' cock. "Try not to scream, Ripper. Unless you want to be very popular with your new watcher friends." With that, he bent his head and took the engorged flesh into his mouth.

Giles arched off the floor, driving his cock deeper in the warm recess of Ethan's mouth. Biting his lip to keep from making noise, he dropped one hand onto the back of Ethan's head. He stroked the silky, dark hair with gentle hands as Ethan's head rose and fell with each stroke of his mouth.

Ethan's talented tongue seemed to search out his most sensitive spots. It traced the vein along the back of his shaft before wrapping around the sensitive tip and tugging lightly at the skin. He pulled away so that only the tip was bathed in his saliva, sucking hard until Giles moaned softly.

He stopped biting his lip at the first taste of blood. The sensations Ethan was awakening were far more intense than any he'd experienced with Deirdre or the nameless woman from the pub he'd lost his virginity to. Ethan knew what he desired. Their blood bond told him exactly what he wanted, what he needed and allowed Ethan to give it to him willingly and eagerly.

Ethan moved his hand up Giles' thigh and fondled the tender flesh beneath his cock. Giles was squirming on the floor, thrusting and wriggling, begging Ethan for his release. Raising his eyebrows and acquiescing, Ethan pressed his finger alongside Giles' cock and bathed them both with a firm downward stroke of his mouth. Moving his finger, he pressed it to the tight puckering of Ripper's anus, sliding it in as his mouth sped up.

Giles' hips bucked off the floor and his hand tightened at Ethan's neck, holding him to his cock as he orgasmed. His body shook as, stroke after stroke, he emptied himself in Ethan's greedy mouth. When he collapsed back on the floor completely spent, Ethan pulled away, disengaging himself carefully.

"Ethan?" Giles asked softly.

"Yes, Ripper?"

"Why?"

The sadness in the question reminded Ethan that, despite what was between them, their story was very likely not to have a happy ending. "Because you needed it. You need me. And in a bit, I fully expect you to return the favor." He moved up beside him and gazed at him in the dying firelight. "We own each other Ripper."

"Paid in full?" he asked with a small grin.

Ethan nodded, glad to see his smile however reluctant or wary it might be. "We will be by morning." He narrowed his eyes into a lustful leer. "Unless you'd rather go with an installment plan?"

END