Title: Certain Dark Things 1/?
Author: Miss Edith
Email: metonymy@hotmail.com
Feedback: I hunt for it hungrily. Like a vulture, looking for rabbit entrails. Only less disgusting.
Pairing: Ripper/Olivia/Ethan
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Characters sprung whole from Joss and everyone at ME, like Athena from Zeus. Really, that's how it happened.
Summary: Ethan and Ripper are drifting under the sway of their newest obsession.
Essential Viewing: A New Man
Nods to: The Dark Age, Hush, Restless
Notes: Some liberties taken with the Dark Age background. I also cheated a little on the age difference between Liv and the rest of them, because I can. Where I come from time has no meaning. Opening sequences from Hush.

~~~

Sonnet XVII

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

-- by Pablo Neruda, trans. by Stephen Tapscott

~~~

// "They need to take seven," Rupert Giles repeated, staring hard at the paper before him. "Take seven what?" He glanced up, but received no answer from the empty room or the rows of neatly-shelved volumes. The soft knock at the door broke his concentration and he gratefully put his papers aside. Though he knew it would be her, long habit kept him from simply inviting her in.

If she thought it anything other than gentlemanliness she gave no indication. Since his boyhood he had slowly learned other ways of inviting people in, to both his home and his carefully-guarded heart. As the door swung open he met her dazzling grin with one of his own.

"Olivia," he said, and she was as always strangely touched by this greeting, his naming of her. With the single word and the lingering softness of his eyes he pierced straight into her, saw and owned her.

The relief of seeing her on the doorstep made Rupert realize suddenly that it had not been Buffy's nursery rhyme making him restless and uneasy all evening. He had been worried about Olivia traveling after dark, of course, but beyond that in the nearly nine weeks since he had last seen her a keen craving had grown inside him. She had always been this, a slow, strong wave folding over him, something powerful that caught him up unprepared. He had forgotten this feeling, but that too was Olivia: unpredictable, wholly unaware of her hold over him, ignorant of her impossible allure. //

* * * * *

London, 1978

His companion was talking, but Ripper Giles' world had narrowed briefly to the pair of slim ankles moving in front of him, a pair of ankles which led to beautiful calves, and higher yet to long, smooth thighs and a skirt stretching delightfully over -

"Rip," Ethan hissed, his elbow connecting lightly with the distracted boy's side. Ripper blinked, letting his slow grin linger as he inclined his head ever so slightly toward the young woman walking in front of them. Ethan caught the glint in his eyes, the change in his walk, and he was instantly praying. If there were higher powers (and the sorcerer knew there were; he'd failed to communicate with a number of them) the girl would turn into the train station.

Someone was smiling on them, and Ripper was quietly ecstatic as they followed their mark at a discrete distance toward her train. No one else would have seen Ripper's delight, of course - no, they would see the coolness in his eyes, the casualness his open hands spoke, the delicious and subtle thrum of sex in his loose walk. But it prickled all along Ethan's skin, the heady delight of prowling with Ripper, the promise of a wild evening with or without the newest conquest.

If the seats were right, Ripper would be next to her and Ethan across. That was how it always worked, because while Ethan was prettiest (slim, dark but innocent) Ripper had the base physical magnetism, and he was better at reading people's bodies. When he was truly on his game he could pull anyone with a three-second meeting of eyes and the glancing of his fingers over their thigh.

The three filed into the last compartment, but when she turned to sit she caught sight of them and hesitated. Ripper slowed immediately, smiling, reserved. She wore a short skirt and a low-cut shirt, but there was an innocence in her face that surpassed even Ethan's artifice. That and she was gorgeous, from her high sculpted forehead and painfully full mouth to her delicate anklebone and the elegant curve of her instep, and the stakes of the game had suddenly risen. Her eyes narrowed slightly, the question plain as she regarded them with her head tilted.

"Ethan?" she hazarded after that long, silent moment of contemplation. Ripper's hand dropped casually to the nearest seatback as he half pivoted, shooting a glance over his shoulder at the man in question. Shock registered on Ethan's face and he stared openly.

"Uhh," he managed. "Yeah?"

"Olivia," the woman prompted, reaching up to push her hair behind her ear. It was set in what Ripper imagined was thousands of small braids, the dark fall of them reaching past her shoulders. "Olivia Collins. We were in primary together?"

"Oh! Oh god, yeah!" Ethan laughed aloud, shaking his head. "I remember now. The year before I moved. You've changed," he observed, his eyes shifting blatantly.

"That tends to happen," she replied, a trace of amusement in the quirk of her mouth and the slight lift of one eyebrow. "Would you like to sit?" she offered, her growing smile including both men in the invitation. As the train doors rattled shut they slid in on either side of one of the compartment's tables, though Ripper shot Ethan a glare as the younger sorcerer took the seat next to the girl.

"Olivia, this is Ripper. Rip, Olivia," Ethan said. Ripper leaned forward, offering his hand, his gaze direct. If the change in the rules of the game had thrown him off, he wasn't showing it.

"Where are you headed?" he asked once they'd shaken hands, moving back out of her space but still leaning toward her.

"Going to join some mates downtown," she explained, shifting in her seat. Ethan watched as she crossed her legs, one of her hands smoothing reflexively over her skirt to keep it from slipping up. "You should come," she said impulsively, turning toward him, her fingers resting imploringly on his arm. "Bit of drinking and dancing, catch up on old times? Both of you." She flashed the man across from her a hopeful grin.

"Never one to refuse a lady," Ripper said, exchanging a glance with Ethan.

"Sounds brilliant," he agreed, grinning.

* * *

Peter was surprised by the strong hand that descended suddenly on his shoulder. He stumbled as he was moved aside, the drink he was urging on his friend plucked from his grasp and set down, hard, on the bar.

"I think she said no," Ripper growled. Peter regarded him militantly, but after a moment his eyes dropped. Though the men were roughly the same size and shared the same rugby player builds, there was a fierceness in the stranger's eyes that Peter did not fancy pitting himself against. He muttered and shuffled off, leaving Ripper to turn his full attention to Olivia.

"You okay, luv?" he asked, his hand gentle on her arm, his eyes searching hers.

"Yes," she answered decisively, her mouth breaking into a grin. "But I'm also a bit pissed, and I do not need another. I need...dancing. Come on." Her hand slid warmly into his and she ducked into the crowd, tugging him along. As they moved onto the floor, he caught Ethan's eyes across the sea of dancers. The sorcerer, who was hip-to- hip with a tall blonde, flashed him a grin.

Olivia turned to face Ripper, her arms lifting as her body caught the music's beat, spinning it out from her hips. He stepped closer, his hands drifting down her sides as her arms settled around him and her mouth hovered deliciously near his ear.

"Cheers," she said, her eyes drifting slowly shut as her fingers slid up into his tousled hair. At his little noise of question she laughed. "For rescuing me," she clarified. "Peter's - you know, Peter."

"Mhm," he offered, the hand that had wandered up her back pulling her hair aside. He let the braids fall between his fingers, reveling in the texture as he leaned closer. Though he meant to begin at her neck, she shifted and pressed her mouth unexpectedly to his.

It was while they were thus engaged that Ethan joined them, stepping up behind Olivia and resting a casual hand on her hip. She broke her mouth from Ripper's, glancing over her shoulder and grinning.

"Wondered where you'd gone," she said, reaching back to touch his face.

"Enjoying yourself?" he asked, his eyes flicking from her to Ripper, who grinned.

"I am now," she said, giggling as someone's fingers teased her side, enjoying the sudden intensity of the music translated through both of their bodies.

"You ever been with two blokes, Livvie luv?" Ripper asked, one of his eyebrows lifting above shining green eyes.

"I do believe that's a proposition."

"Smart girl."

"Let's go, then." Olivia smirked, shifting out from between the two. She caught the nearest hand and led them through the crowd.

Ethan hailed the cab, but when it pulled up to the curb outside of a small house ten minutes later it was Olivia who paid the fare and thanked the driver sweetly. They kept her from lingering overlong on the sidewalk, though she paused to look at the house. It was typical of the sort of place bachelors would rent, the lawn short and unkempt, the bricks worn, one of the windows boarded.

She was swept inside, through a small entranceway into the living room, where she got a good look at the pale beige paint as she was backing Ripper up against the wall. Ethan was behind her a moment later, easing her coat off, his mouth tracing her shoulder and neck, his teeth grazing lightly over their sensitive join.

By the time Ripper pulled back from Olivia's alcohol-sweet mouth they were both breathing hard, and there was no mistaking the brightness in Ethan's eyes. Ripper's hands slid down, catching on the backs of Olivia's thighs and urging her up. Her legs folded over his hips as effortlessly as her arms had around his shoulders, and he suppressed a groan at the thought of how easily flexible she was, the suppleness of the bare skin beneath his hands.

"I've never done this before," she confessed suddenly as he pushed forward off the wall, one hand cupped beneath her bottom to support her as he started toward the hallway, his other arm firm across her back. He laughed, stopping for a moment to glance into her eyes, which were sparkling with amusement. "I'll need instructions."

"I think we can handle that, can't we Eth?"

"Oh yes," Ethan replied, his hand smoothing over Ripper's back as he moved around them. "First, we go to the bedroom. This way."

The room proved to be at the end of the short hallway. The bed was large and the floor clear, though one wall was lined with bookshelves spilling over with a curious mix of volumes. A generous, silvering wash of moonlight fell in from the windows on the adjacent wall; the shabby curtains were pulled open, affording a view of the small back yard, which was enclosed by a privacy fence.

"And then, sex," Ethan said succinctly, pulling the bedcovers back as his companions laughed.

"Things are always simple with you, Eth," Ripper commented, dropping forward onto the bed, bracing himself to keep his weight off of Olivia. Then he rolled aside, kicking his shoes off and sitting up, his arms crossed to grasp the bottom hem of his shirt. "Let me," Olivia said, crawling into his lap and moving his hands aside. Her skirt slid back up as she straddled him, her fingers catching the edge of his shirt, her nails skimming lightly across his skin as she drew the garment up. While she pulled it over his head, Ethan moved up behind her, drawing her shirt up as well. Underneath she wore a small, flimsy-looking arrangement of lace which he traced with his fingertips, finding the hint of her hardening nipples beneath. She arched at the pressure, the tease of his nails across the sensitive skin. Ripper's soft groan as her hips ground slowly against him brought her back to awareness. She slid off his lap with a grin, turning an expectant look on the two men.

After a glance at her, Ripper turned his attention to Ethan. He reached up, catching the waist of the younger man's trousers and tugging him forward until his legs met the bed. As Olivia wriggled out of her skirt, her eyes fixed all the while on them, Ripper got to his knees and pushed Ethan's shirt slowly up. His mouth descended first to the sorcerer's navel then shifted higher, raining kisses across his stomach and stopping at his newly-exposed nipples. Ethan's eyes slid shut and he yanked his own shirt the rest of the way off, keeping Ripper still with the fingers tangling into his tousled hair.

"That is so sexy," Olivia murmured, her hands moving around to the front of Ripper's trousers as she kissed his shoulders and, when he tilted just right, his neck. He moved back from Ethan with a low groan as she worked the remainder of his clothing down his hips.

"Take those off and get in here," he demanded of Ethan. He tossed his shed clothing on the floor and turned to Olivia, pushing her gently down on the bed. "God, you're beautiful," he said, his hands climbing her body, peeling her bra away.

He stretched out beside her, taking one of her nipples between his teeth and rolling his tongue over it. She moaned, her palm snaking down her stomach, her fingers slipping beneath the slim lace band of her underwear.

"I want to watch," Ethan said, staring at the shift of her hand beneath the filmy lace. Ripper glanced back at the now-naked sorcerer, then let his gaze roam up Olivia's thighs. The play of moon and shadow made Ethan into a statue, white marble come to life, his skin paler and his hair nearly black. It darkened Olivia's skin, enhancing the rich bronze hue until she gleamed, otherworldly, a goddess.

"Going on without us?" Ripper asked, grinning broadly as she smirked and pushed up to her knees.

"Depends on if you two just sit there staring all night or not," she said, hooking her thumbs over the top of her underwear and pulling it down. She swayed slightly, her laughter easy, drunken.

"Minx, isn't she Rip?" Ethan said.

"I like it," said Ripper, his eyes bright, starkly green in the slanting light. "What say we stop staring and give Ethan a little early birthday present, Livvie luv?"

"A birthday spanking?" Ethan asked, eyeing the firm curve of Olivia's bottom.

"I think you're confusing the custom," she said after a moment of thought. She prowled toward him across the big bed, sinuous and animal, then drew herself up his body. "This way, birthday boy," she purred in his ear, her fingers slipping down his stomach and closing around him.

"Oh Jesus," he moaned. He found himself pushed flat on his back in the center of the bed. Olivia straddled his thighs, looking down at him with undisguised delight as she stroked him slowly, teasingly.

"Ethan's a lecherous bastard," Ripper murmured as he pressed himself behind Olivia, kneading her back for a moment. "He likes to watch." His hands slid around her sides, one cupping her full breast and the other moving between her legs. Her breath caught and Ethan reached down, slipping two fingers inside of her. She rocked forward against the hands, reaching back to grasp Ripper's erection.

They stroked one another with increasing urgency, caught up in the rhythm building between them, until Olivia shifted forward, rubbing herself slowly against Ethan, teasing and at last sinking down on his straining erection. Her nails raked down his chest as she moved atop him, teasing at his nipples, leaving faint red marks over his taut stomach. She ached, her skin burning where Ripper's hot hands touched her, his teeth and tongue savage at her neck, drawing up bruises on her shoulder.

The noise and heat and need built until finally she thrust down roughly on Ethan one last time, her hips jerking, her body trembling as they came. She had reached back and quickly grabbed Ripper's hand, though, stilling his frantic motion and eliciting a low growl from him.

"Wait," she panted, pressing tightly against Ethan, shivering out the last of her orgasm. When she had regained some of her breath she lifted herself from him, bending for a kiss. Then she rolled fully off of him, turning so she could see Ripper. His eyes were a furious green, his body tense with need.

"He is the birthday boy," she said, one of her eyebrows lifting expectantly, her breath still heaving in her chest. Ethan looked uncertainly from her to Ripper and back.

"You want to watch?" Ripper asked, a slow grin lessening the intensity on his face.

"Oh yes," she said.

* * *

False dawn was beginning to lighten the sky when Ripper woke. He moved one of Olivia's arms carefully aside, rolling out of the bed. He stumbled to the bathroom, waking only at the shock of cold water against his hands as he washed them. Inwardly he grumbled, splashing his face and scrubbing it with the hand towel before weaving back to the bedroom. Though he had intended to crawl right back in and drop off to sleep again, something arrested him and he stood next to the bed for a full minute, staring.

He had thrown the covers back when he rose, and though both Olivia and Ethan were exposed to the slightly cool air of the room, they were still fast asleep. The sorcerer was spooned behind her and she turned toward the vague, rumpled depression Ripper had left in the sheets. Even curled up, asleep, Ethan had a positively catlike ability to take up three times the space his slim body seemed capable of. He was loose, expansive, wholly selfish. Olivia, on the other hand, got smaller while she slept. She was a simple little curve in the center of the bed, self-contained. One of her hands bent beneath the pillow where her head rested, and against the blank canvas of the pillowcase she looked peaceful, innocent, and quite young. Ripper frowned, running his hands furiously back through his hair.

"Ethan," he hissed. When the sorcerer didn't stir, Ripper rounded the bed and reached down to touch his shoulder. "Ethan. Wake up." Finally he gave Ethan a good shake and a hard pinch. Ethan jerked awake, his scowl dull with confusion. Though he had pulled suddenly away from Olivia, she showed no signs of having noticed the change.

"What in fucking hell do you want?" Ethan demanded, though he had the presence of mind to keep his voice low. He rolled to his back, peering up at Ripper.

"How old is she?"

"What?"

"Olivia. How old is she?"

"You woke me up to ask me this?" Ethan stared at him, incredulous.

"Yes," Ripper snapped. Ethan stretched, covering a yawn, his whole body shifting in a lazy shrug.

"Dunno."

"Think, you fucker."

"You're crazy, you know that? We were in primary together," he said, pausing to yawn again. "She was the other class. Michael and I would mix their paints together when they weren't looking, in art." He giggled suddenly, his eyes glazing as he remembered.

"So?" Ripper nudged him, none too gently. "Nineteen?"

"No," he said, frowning in annoyance. "They were younger. And I did my first year twice. So...seventeen, I guess?"

Ripper grunted, his eyes flicking restively to the sleeping girl.

"Happy?" Ethan didn't wait for the answer before curling up behind Olivia again, his eyes closing.

She didn't move at all until Ripper climbed back into the opposite side of the bed. One of her arms stole across him as he drew the sheets up, and he turned toward her, settling down to sleep again.

* * *

Ethan woke shortly after ten, staring fuzzily at the closed curtains before he finally associated them with the pleasant dimness of the room. He swung his feet to the floor and pushed up into a long, luxurious stretch, ignoring the vague muttering of the man behind him. Ripper, his forehead knit and his hair tousled, rolled out of bed with considerably less good cheer.

"G'morning," the sorcerer said, humor lingering in his words.

"Piss off."

Ethan chuckled, grabbing his robe on the way out of the room and shrugging into it. His intended meander to the bathroom was cut short by the smell of frying sausage, and he hurried to the kitchen after a quick stop. Olivia, who was turning one of the dials on the mysterious stove, did not see him at once, and he lingered in the doorway, savoring the barrage of breakfast smells.

"You really are a goddess," he said at last, shuffling up behind her and peering over her shoulder. She laughed, and when she glanced up at him he nuzzled a kiss to her cheek, his arms winding around her in a quick embrace.

"It's just sausages and eggs," she said.

"I didn't even know we had sausage." Ethan grinned, glancing at the table, which she'd already set.

"You're cooking?" Ripper stopped in the doorway, staring disbelievingly at the stove.

"Don't sound so surprised," Olivia said, grinning. "People cook. It happens."

"Not usually to us," he said, pulling out one of the chairs at the small table and plopping down in it. She shook her head, bringing two steaming mugs of tea to the table and setting them in front of the seated men.

She finished eating before them, carrying her dishes to the sink and stacking them carefully with the rest. She stood there for a moment, one hand resting lightly on the edge of the counter, her back to them.

"I left my tea in the other room," she said at last, her hand falling as she turned toward the door, her face hidden by the dark wing of her hair. The boys mumbled an acknowledgement, yet absorbed in their food.

She pushed the bathroom door shut behind her, leaning against it and groping blindly after the knob. After working the lock she moved to the toilet, sitting on the closed lid and letting her forehead fall gently forward into her hands. The heels of her palms rested neatly against her eyes and she breathed tightly and carefully in the self- imposed darkness, swallowing past the knot in her throat.

By the time she had washed her face and wandered into the living room, Ethan and Ripper were tossing their dishes into the sink. They found her seated on the edge of the couch, cupping the mug of lukewarm tea between her hands. They stopped uncertainly a few feet into the room, recognizing the general air of upset she could not quite conceal even if they could not work out the specifics.

Ripper wanted to be annoyed. He was annoyed, he decided; they had never worried about age or circumstance before. More often than not the girl (or guy) was already gone by the time they woke. It was a ruthlessly no-strings arrangement. Yet there was a curious pang in his stomach, and it did not feel like annoyance. He frowned, nudging Ethan and tipping his head toward Olivia. Ethan scowled, but finally shuffled into the room, edging into the armchair nearest the girl.

"Hey, Liv," he said awkwardly, slanting a glance at her. "You okay? About last night and all?" She blinked, looking up from the pale, still surface of her tea.

"Last night? God, no, it's not that, it's not - last night was great, thank you, I - last night was good. It's not you," she said earnestly, setting her mug on the low table in front of the couch. "Don't worry about it, really."

"Uh-huh." Ethan frowned, leaning forward and searching her eyes. "What is it, then?"

"I'm just being stupid." She sighed, pushing a hand back through her hair. "I had a bad breakup, et cetera et cetera. Thank you, really, but don't worry about it. It's just one of those things."

When Ethan didn't immediately push the issue, Ripper shoved off the wall and strode into the room. He was fae, his eyes fierce, his fingers scrubbing through his hair, his hand making and unmaking a fist.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice surprisingly gentle as he stopped in front of the couch, sitting abruptly.

"He cheated," she said. Her chin dipped down, her mouth trembling a moment before she took a deep, steadying breath, her fingers knotting together in her lap.

"And?" Ethan prompted quietly.

"He was my first boyfriend. I found out last week, and I just..." She winced, cutting herself off with a shake of her head. "I should go. I'm sorry."

"No," Ethan protested, rising as she did but falling silent, unable to think of something with which to ply her, unable to fathom why he so badly wanted her to stay but wanting it all the same. "Listen," he said instead, "at least call us. Or give us your number."

"I have to go," she said, giving him an apologetic little smile as she wrestled her second shoe on, fastening the buckle with an expert tug. "Thank you, both." And with that she was gone, leaving the two staring silently at the closing door, wrestling suddenly with a very unfamiliar feeling: guilt.

Ripper broke just before lunch. It was Ethan's turn to cook; he had discovered a hunk of roast beef in the back of the fridge, slapped it on the counter, and was working industriously to cut the funny white fuzz off the outside.

"She was really young," Ripper said into the silence. Ethan's knife stilled only for a moment, and he reset the angle to mask the hesitation.

"We've had younger," he replied.

"Yeah," Ripper said dubiously.

* * *

Later, Ethan looked up suddenly from where he had pressed his face to the floor, trying to see beneath the couch.

"She just broke up with him," he said.

"She knew what she was doing." Ripper frowned, dropping the seat cushion back into place. "Just wear the other pair."

* * *

"We can substitute frogskin," Ethan said, bending closer to the cracked, leather-bound volume resting open on the floor. "It's easier to find."

"Yeah, and it smells bloody awful," said Ripper.

"But look, lemongrass!" Ethan's finger stilled beneath the last spell ingredient, though his companion was staring at the front door.

"She's a really nice person," Ripper said. Ethan shifted uncomfortably, shrugging.

"We've never cared before."

* * *

Ethan watched the gentle rise and fall of the beer bottle propped upright on his stomach, the television having lost its appeal some time ago. The volume was low enough that the program was a soothing white noise in the room.

"She's probably never done it with anyone but him," he said, his eyes slowly shifting their focus to Ripper, who was slouched in one of the shabby armchairs. The man took a quick drink from his bottle, then grimaced as though the beer had gone suddenly sour.

"We've had virgins."

"True," Ethan said, pausing a moment. "You remember Thomas?"

* * *

Ripper waited impatiently as Ethan yanked his round of darts out of the board. The sorcerer had barely stepped back before Ripper hurled his first dart at the target.

"Jesus, Rip, watch it," Ethan complained.

"My aim's not that bad."

"Famous last words."

There was a long minute of silence, punctuated only by the satisfying thud of darts burying themselves in cork. Finally Ripper finished his round, stepping aside.

"She made us breakfast," he said casually. Ethan's mouth twitched, something between a grin and a grimace, and he drew back to throw.

"People cook."

* * *

Ripper settled the top carefully over the record player, wandering back toward the center of the room as the slow, easy brass vibration of Cream's electric guitar thrummed from the speakers. Ethan had resumed his sprawl on the couch, one of his hands trailing near the floor, his eyes glassy in the failing light. Ripper stretched out on the carpet, folding his hands behind his head.

"He cheated on her," said Ethan. Ripper considered the words for a moment, a very small smile touching his mouth.

"His willy will probably rot off before he's thirty," he said evenly.

* * *

"We could just go naked." Ripper considered the heap of laundry spilling out of the hamper, into the pile tangled at the bottom of the closet.

"I prefer to make getting naked part of the spectacle. Makes being arrested more fun," Ethan said. He kicked through the pile, stooping to wrestle a shirt free. "Looks clean, smells okay."

Ripper caught the garment, inspecting it a moment before pulling it over his head. Ethan fished another shirt from the pile, then they both stood staring at the bed for a long moment.

"We're not nice," Ripper said quietly.

"I know."

* * *

They spent three tense, furious days not talking about her anymore. The first evening they shared a listless boy so far gone on heroin that when Ripper pushed him angrily out of bed halfway through he did not seem to notice, and the night continued without him. Then they had no one, sleeping uneasily in their separate beds, drifting in a haze of alcohol and magic. The remainder of the week they spent lurking about the district where they'd first met her, prowling restlessly through the sorts of clubs and bars they imagined she'd like. They stalked and accosted her friends, and though Peter quailed at the naked fury in the men's eyes he would not give them her number.

Very early Sunday morning Ethan woke suddenly. He sat up straight, blinking, then leapt to his feet and hurried into the other bedroom, where Ripper slept slantwise across the bigger bed. Ethan jumped onto it, yanking the covers aside and pressing his cold hands to Ripper's shoulders and chest.

"Rip! Wake up," he said. "Rip, I - ow, Jesus!" He grunted, curling around his stomach for a moment. One of Ripper's eyes cracked open and he managed to look both annoyed at the disturbance and entirely pleased with the blow he'd just landed. Ethan sulked, and the older boy sighed and rolled his eyes.

"What is it now?" he asked. It was concession enough that Ethan rolled his chilled body up against him, shivering close and pulling the covers back up.

"I have an idea," the sorcerer declared.

"It better be good," Ripper said, trying to push the other man's cold hands away.

"A locating spell." Ethan's grin was smug, cattish. "They're so simple and we have loads of stuff we could use for the focus."

"Why the fuck didn't we think of that sooner?" Ripper asked, shaking his head. "Your hands are bloody cold, stop - Jesus, Eth, you're going to freeze it off."

"Poor sensitive Rip," lamented Ethan. Ripper's eyes flashed and his hand thrust up into the other boy's hair.

"You want it, use something warmer," he said. Ethan grinned, pressing the other man to his back and slithering obligingly down his body.

* * *

Ripper wanted to go to her flat the second they'd located it; Ethan wanted to piss around a while. By the time they got over there, Olivia had gone out for the day.

"Shopping," her flatmate Abbie had explained succinctly. Then she had fixed them both with an openly searching look, leaning the flare of her hip against the doorframe. She was unconventionally lovely, a full half head shorter than Ethan with fair skin and black hair and dark laughing eyes. "You're those guys, right? Ethan and Ripper?"

"Ah, yeah," Ethan said, rubbing the back of his neck. "She expecting us?"

"No," said Abbie.

"We'll wait," Ripper said, his eyes meeting Abbie's, his resolve as clear as hers.

Then, unexpectedly, she laughed.

"Well, if you're going to be like that, you might as well come in. She'll be a while." Abbie stepped back, letting the door swing open.

The men followed her into the small flat, taking in the front rooms at a glance. The living room was separated from the kitchen by a little dining area, and it was what they discovered sitting at the table that made them begin to regret their rash decision.

"I'm Abbie; this is Samantha," the dark-haired woman continued, stopping behind one of the kitchen chairs and ruffling the hair of the tiny girl seated there. The girl, no more than two and a half, stared soberly at the men with wide, dark eyes. She was a tiny version of Abbie, down to the take-charge intensity of her gaze, though her seriousness she must have inherited from her father.

"Ethan, and this is Ripper." The sorcerer exchanged a glance with his companion. It was going to be a long day.

"You can wait in the living room," Abbie said, nodding in the appropriate direction. Ethan sat in the armchair and Ripper took the couch, slouching down in it.

>From the dining room came the faint creak of a chair, then the plunk of two little feet hitting the ground. Samantha rounded the corner, a piece of paper clutched in one of her little fists and a blue crayon in the other. Much to Ethan's relief, she spared him not a glance, instead stopping several feet in front of Ripper and fixing him once again with that disquieting stare.

To his credit, Ripper stared back for several minutes until the two year old beat him. He shifted uncomfortably and she immediately produced her drawing, laying it on his knees with great ceremony, then crawling up on the couch to sit next to him. He stared at the incomprehensible mess of color while she waited expectantly, watching his face. When he didn't say anything she sighed, patting his hand reassuringly.

He guessed what she was after a moment before she got up, and he lifted his arm to block her small body. She pressed herself against it, trying to fold over its top. At the last moment she ducked, slipping under his elbow and worming her way onto his lap. She settled triumphantly with the drawing over her crossed legs, then flipped the paper over and began scrupulously applying the blue crayon to the blank side.

Ripper scowled and sighed, convinced it couldn't get worse.

Samantha began to sing, matching her own unintelligible words to a spontaneous and out of tune melody.

Then Abbie popped out of nowhere with the camera.

* * *

The front door slammed and from the hallway came the rustle of numerous packages being shifted.

"Abs?" Olivia called. She didn't wait for an answer before plowing on. "God, I ran into Bruce at the market, and he was with her. I just wanted to smack that smug look off her face. So we have no bread, but I can - oh." She stopped abruptly after one step into the living room, the packages sliding slowly out of her grip as her eyes darted from one man to the next. Ethan, who had been browsing through one of Abbie's magazines, offered her an awkward smile. Ripper's greeting was much the same, though his came with a hint of exasperation due to the fact that Samantha had not only refused to be moved from his lap, but she had dropped off to sleep there, her head pillowed in the crook of his arm, one of her thumbs hanging loosely from her mouth.

"Ah, I wasn't expecting you," Olivia said, glancing to Abbie as she appeared from the kitchen. Abbie offered her unsettled flatmate a little grin, rescuing the bags from her loosening hands.

"They're cute," she whispered as she passed, too low for either of the men to pick up. Then she vanished down the hallway leading to the bedrooms.

Samantha stirred, her mouth gaping in a yawn and her hands rubbing over her scrunched eyes. Then she blinked, her gaze focusing on Olivia, and her entire face transformed. She grinned hugely, spilling out of Ripper's lap and launching herself toward the woman.

"Ibby Ibby Ibby!" she crowed, and Olivia caught her up, lifting her high before settling her against one hip.

"Hullo Sammy. Did you have a nice nap?" she asked, glad to have something to focus her attention on while still watching the two men. Ethan had risen almost immediately, and Ripper as soon as he was freed from the child. They stood there looking slightly bewildered, though they seemed unaccustomed to the emotion. Sammy prattled on until Abbie resurfaced, taking her daughter with a grin.

"Snack time, luv," she said, drawing the child's attention away from Olivia and her visitors as they headed for the semi-privacy of the kitchen.

"So," Olivia said, pushing her hair back before folding her arms loosely over her chest.

"Peter gave us your address," Ethan said, by way of explanation. Ripper glanced at him, a little smile twitching the corner of his mouth. "We just wanted to make sure you were okay, and all," he continued, shoving his hands down into his pockets and lifting his shoulders in a little shrug.

"Yeah," she said, revealing nothing but watchfulness in her eyes and pose. That she had not decided which way to fall on the issue of their presence rankled Ripper; or, rather, that he cared what the outcome would be. Coupled with Olivia's mention of Bruce as she was coming in, his temper was getting shorter by the moment. Ethan cast him a nervous glance.

"I am, thank you," Olivia continued on after a moment. There was something almost amusing about letting them hang, something healing about having that power again. Her afternoon was starting to look up, and she at last offered them a genuine smile.

"Do you want to take me out tonight, then?" she asked.

"We can do," Ethan said at once, grinning.

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