Giles had no clear idea what the time was when the door creaked open and Ethan slunk into the room, as quiet and sneaky as his animal form. Certainly, the nursery was considerably darker than the last time Giles had looked up, which might explain why his eyes were aching so much.

Gwydion didn't even stir from where he was stretched out by the fireplace as Ethan slipped across to Giles, an expression half-frown, half-smile creasing his face. He didn't say anything, but he put his hand on Giles' shoulder and squeezed.

"Found me," Giles said a bit ruefully, raising a hand to cover Ethan's.

"Wasn't hard. It's late, dearheart. You were missed at our evening meal; I only managed to make it for the dessert myself, and I had to fend off too many questions. They're starting to worry about us."

It had been just four days since they'd made a start on his grandmother's journals and discovered so very much that they had rather not have known. In that time, the unravelling predicted by Keri had begun in earnest, the events in Stevenage just a start. The news was now full of reports of further strange and inexplicable incidents, and learned and official people trying to explain them nonetheless. They couldn't, of course, and stumbled-over theories about a form of widespread ergot poisoning or biochemical terrorism were doing nothing to calm a population that was already on the edge of panic.

At least, so far, it hadn't spread much further than the south of England, but it would inevitably do so. And already there had been deaths, each one weighing heavily on Giles' conscience. He closed his eyes briefly as he remembered them again.

Finding corroborating evidence for the prophecy his gran had found in the Vatican –multiple incidences thereof, in fact, which although vague as hell individually, when put together formed a body of prophecy that could hardly have been clearer– had only made matters worse. The various writings, Keri's words, Dawn's dream, even their own instincts, all said that the Key was needed for them to defeat Vaurtain and save, well, just about everything from raw Chaos.

This wasn't the Chaos of Ethan's old fun and games. As the events in Stevenage and elsewhere showed clearly, this was what happened when Chaos overwhelmed Order completely, when no form or structure could maintain itself, and everything became perpetually mutable and fluctuating. When reality as defined by the human mind no longer had meaning.

While it was conceivably possible that Ethan could find a way to convert Dawn back to what was, after all, her natural form, after that her personality and memories would be gone and even if they could, somehow, squeeze the Key back into a human shape, it would be a totally different human from the one they'd known. The knowledge of the monks who had made her had died with them, but perhaps not even they could have brought her back again.

Ethan stirred restlessly at Giles' side. "You need to eat, Rupert. Rest too."

"In a little while." Giles couldn't see himself doing either easily right then.

Ethan looked glumly at the open books and papers covering the small desk Giles had carried into the room for himself. "You'll make mistakes if you try to work without taking care of your physical needs. Miss something important."

"I won't," Giles insisted stubbornly. This was what he'd been trained for, his life's work. He'd researched equally dire things for longer periods without breaks.

Ethan moved around behind Giles, gently massaging his shoulders. "If I brought you up some food, would you eat it?"

Giles' eyes closed briefly as Ethan's hands showed him just how tense his muscles had become. "Would you give me a choice?"

He felt Ethan's body shake slightly behind him as he chuckled softly. "An illusion of one."

Tilting his head back so he could look up at Ethan's face, Giles gave in gracefully. "In that case, the answer is yes."

"A wise choice." Ethan smiled down at him and slipped a hand under the neckline of Giles' top to stroke his upper chest. There was a slight and comforting touch of magic in Ethan's fingertips.

"You're trying to distract me."

"No, I'm trying to look after you." Ethan sounded mildly exasperated. "There's a difference. However, if you want a distraction..." The warm hand disappeared from Giles' chest as Ethan moved back around to his side and then knelt down. The same hand, now emitting a stronger pulse of magic, stroked firmly up Giles' thigh. "I can provide a good one."

Certain portions of Giles' anatomy were in total agreement. "I've never disputed that," he replied, reaching out a hand to touch Ethan's cheek.

Ethan smiled as he ran his hand up further and moved it confidently over the crotch of Giles' trousers. "Doesn't have to take long, and it'll do you good. Do me good too, actually."

And that last, of course, undercut any arguments Giles could make against taking a break and letting Ethan... distract him. "You know me too well."

The smile turned into a grin. "I do, don't I? It's true though, it will." Ethan's hand moved in small circles, stroking firmly for a few seconds, and then he moved it up to quickly unfasten Giles' button and fly. "I've missed you badly all this long, long day."

"Laying it on a bit thick now, aren't you?" Giles asked, even as he slid down in the chair slightly and spread his legs to give Ethan better access.

Ethan moved around to kneel between them. "Do you think I'm lying then?" he asked without rancour as he spread the two sides of Giles' trousers and then slipped his hand without hesitation into the slit of the boxers. Warmth enveloped Giles' cock, which Ethan tugged gently out. All movement briefly paused before Ethan added very softly, "I'm not, you know."

Giles reached down and touched Ethan's cheek. "You know I'll always be here when you need me." Ethan took a deep slow breath, smiled and nodded, and then bent his head down.

If Ethan had a flaw in matters sexual, it was impatience, but tonight Ethan seemed happy to set a gentle pace, licking and kissing Giles into full hardness and then keeping him hard with slow, indulgent explorations of tongue and lips.

It was exactly what Giles needed, something slow and soothing, that relaxed him as much as it aroused. His head was so full of his grandmother's words, and the dire things they laid out, that anything else would have been too much stimulation.

Ethan seemed to slip into something close to a trance as he sucked and moved in his steady rhythm. His eyes were shut, and he seemed to be savouring Giles' cock, enjoying giving the pleasure as much as Giles' enjoyed receiving it. The build-up of sensation was deceptive. Ethan had started so slowly and increased in speed and intensity so evenly and gradually, that it took Giles almost by surprise when he realised he was panting softly and close to coming.

"Ethan," he said softly, reaching out to touch his lover's face again, letting a little of his magic flow through his fingers. He wanted to feel him, to meet Ethan's eyes as he came.

Dark eyes opened and met his, and Ethan made a questioning noise. He didn't stop what he was doing however. All of the things that Giles felt for Ethan seemed to surge along with the physical sensations, but all he could manage to say was, "Love you," as his climax washed over him.

Ethan kept Giles in his mouth, ever so gently sucking, for a short while. Then he lifted his head, smiling dotingly and looking a little out of it. "Love you too."

Giles reached down and took hold of Ethan's hand, tugging gently, pulling him up and into his lap so he could kiss him. Ethan went willingly and the kiss was sweet and deep.

After it finished, Ethan sighed contentedly and closed his eyes, bending his head to rest his forehead on Giles'. "I suppose an early night is out of the question?"

"I think it's already too late for an early night," Giles replied wryly. He ran his hands lightly along Ethan's back. "But I suppose we could call it a night."

"Good." Ethan kissed Giles' forehead. "And food for you. I'll fetch it, but let's get you to the bedroom and away from these books first. My own eyes couldn't focus on words by the time I gave up and decided to find you, so I hate to think how yours must be feeling."

Ethan had been doing his own lonely research over the last few days in a room he'd claimed for himself deep in the untenanted left wing of the Hall. His rather horrible task was to discover a method for reverting Dawn back to her Key form, effectively killing her. Giles hadn't asked, he now realised, how Ethan's studies were progressing. He wasn't certain he wanted to know.

Giles' own task was to come up with the information that would make such a radical and horrible step unnecessary. He wasn't having much luck so far which was one of the reasons he was being so dogged in his attempts. He refused to believe there wasn't another way. He just had to find it.

Giles called Gwydion to him, and they left the nursery, Giles locking it with a quick non-verbal spell behind them. He didn't even try to take any books with him; he knew Ethan too well to think he'd be allowed to get away with that. When they reached the bedroom door, Ethan paused. "I'm going to take Giddy down, and he and Skunk can run round out the back while I put some food for you together. Do you think you can stay awake long enough to eat it?"

He nodded. He was tired but the last thing he wanted to do was sleep. With sleep came dreams, and Giles wasn't sure he could face what might be in his dreams right now.

Ethan frowned in obvious concern, but then scratched his head and turned, walking off down the corridor without saying anything beyond, "Giddy, you're with me." Gwydion hesitated, looking back at Giles as if he wasn't sure about leaving him. Ethan just kept walking.

"Go on," Giles told his dog, nodding towards Ethan. Gwydion whined, but finally turned and trotted off the way Ethan had gone.

Which left Giles alone with his thoughts, not the most comfortable place for him to be right now. He crossed the room and sat in the window seat, staring out at the night and doing his best not to think at all.

He must have succeeded as Ethan seemed to return very quickly, both dogs gambolling around his legs. He was carrying a tray with what seemed to be rather a lot of stuff on it. "Want to eat in bed, dear?" he asked as he pushed the door shut by leaning on it.

Giles shrugged then nodded, getting up and heading over to the bed. It was easier to agree than actually think about it.

Ethan put the tray down carefully in the middle of the bedspread, removing two large mugs of tea from it and handing one to Giles to put on the bedside table on his side. He then grabbed Skunk from the covers before she could stick her noise in the plate of food and put her on the floor with a firm, "No. Under no circumstances." He sat on the covers next to Giles and looked at him with a deep frown. "Oh dear. Am I going to have to feed you?"

Giles shook himself and reached for a fork. "No, I can–"

Ethan took the fork from him. "You can what? Eat two listless mouthfuls and say you've had enough?" He poked around on the plate, which seemed to hold a range of cold food, and speared a slice of tomato and some ham, raising them to Giles' mouth. "You need nutrients."

Giles obediently opened his mouth, some amusement making it through the morass that his emotions had sunk into in the time he'd been alone. "You're going to insist on this, I see."

The salt of the ham went well with the sweetly sour tomato and refreshed his mouth; he began to feel the first stirrings of real hunger. Ethan fed him a slice of Mrs B's best quiche next, filched undoubtedly without permission. As Giles ate his way through it in a few bites, Ethan asked, "What did you do at times like these when I wasn't here to take care of you? Survive on old books and whisky, I suppose."

"More or less," Giles admitted between bites. "There were often doughnuts and pizza as well in Sunnydale."

"Very healthy. Excellent stress food. Not at all a recipe for heart disease." Ethan's tone was more fondly amused than waspish. "Don't forget your tea," he added, as he prodded the fork at the plate again. "I had to wrestle the kettle from Kat to make that and endure another ten minutes inquisition from her and Xander too."

"That must have been... uncomfortable," Giles ventured as he reached for his mug.

Ethan didn't face him as he admitted, "I can't talk to any of them, Rupert. Not even Ian really, because I know he knows there's something up from the way he keeps looking at me. I have to force myself to look any of them in the eye, and when Dawn spoke to me over dessert, I..." He stopped talking abruptly as he speared with rather too much vigour a pickled onion from within the dollop of piccalilli. "I couldn't look at her at all."

For a moment, despite how good it felt to not be doing this alone, Giles regretted pulling Ethan into his world. "I'm sorry," he murmured, reaching over to take Ethan's free hand.

"It's not your fault. Come now, you have to let me be able to talk about this without adding to your guilt. There's no one else I can talk to, after all, but if I'm just going to add to your burden..." Ethan sighed, and lifted a fork of sliced meat and pickle to Giles' mouth.

"And if I say I'm sorry for that?" Giles asked wryly before taking the food.

"I'll spank you." There was something about Ethan's tone that suggested he actually would. Or would try, at least.

Giles managed the ghost of a smile. "Oh no, anything but that," he said in his most deadpan tone.

"Right. So no more sorrys or thefts of guilt. And eat this." It was a baby beetroot.

He frowned. "You know I don't like those."

"No, you just think you don't. This isn't one of those nasty packaged in artificial vinegar supermarket jobs. This is fresh, cooked by Mrs B herself earlier, and seasoned only with salt and black pepper. They're delicious. Open your mouth."

Giles kept his mouth stubbornly closed. Well, except to say, "Mrs. B cooked them when I was young. I didn't like them then, and I don't like them now."

Ethan glared for a few moments, but then shrugged and ate the purple thing himself with obvious relish. He handed Giles a celery stick with his fingers. "Crunch on this then. That white stuff on the plate is Boursin. I thought you could use it as a dip."

"You've become quite the mother hen," Giles observed fondly as he dipped his celery in the cheese and took a bite.

"That's hardly news anymore, is it?" Apparently happy that Giles was eating, Ethan turned to pick up his own mug of tea and then leant back against the headboard. "I'm assuming that if your work today had got anywhere that you'd tell me without me having to ask."

"It hasn't. Not in the direction I'm trying to go at least." Even thinking about it threatened to steal Giles' appetite again; if Ethan hadn't been sitting right there, Giles would have stopped eating and pushed the plate away.

"Then I will gladly say nothing more on the subject." Ethan sighed heavily and drew his legs up to lean on them. They sat in silence for a while as Giles nibbled and Ethan sipped. Then almost as if he couldn't help himself, Ethan said, "I really couldn't tell you whether it's a good or a bad thing that I too am meeting problems with my research."

"Oh?" Giles said neutrally, not sure exactly what would be the best way to react. Not sure how he wanted to react either. He was fairly certain however that they wouldn't be the same.

"Yes, oh. Quite." Ethan sighed. "The method is easy enough. I had the bare bones of that by the end of the first day, but I need to find a way to do it without requiring unique and impossible to recover –if indeed they still exist– mystical items."

He didn't want to. He really didn't want to. But responsibility made Giles offer, "I might be able to help suggest substitutes."

"I've still got a few more depressingly fat tomes from Pamela to force-feed my overfed eyes, but if they don't bring enlightenment, I may have to take you up on it. Thing is, it's not really something we can afford to take chances on substitutes with, is it?"

Giles leaned back against the headboard and closed his eyes wearily. "Sometimes you have to make do."

"No, not in this case. If I have to do this... thing, I'm going to do it properly. I... she deserves that respect."

Giles didn't think he'd ever heard that particular tone in Ethan's voice before. Opening his eyes again, he looked over at Ethan then reached over and tugged on his arm, pulling him over to lie against him. Ethan settled uneasily, putting his mug down on the tray and then stroking restless fingers over Giles' chest.

"We'll find another way," Giles said, renewing his vow. His hand rubbed Ethan's shoulder gently. "We'll find another way, and you won't have to do it."

Ethan's fingers tensed into claws resting on the top of Giles' shirt. "You're doing it again, dearheart, and I love you all the more for it, but don't. Don't do this to yourself."

"I'm not committing a theft of guilt or apologising." Giles wrapped his arms around Ethan, holding him close. "I'm merely stating what is going to happen."

"And if it doesn't? If there isn't actually an alternative for you to find, and I have to do it? You're going to blame yourself, aren't you? Not just for her pain, but for mine, and for Buffy's and Xander's, and everyone else's."

He couldn't deny that he would, but... "That won't change no matter what I say or don't say. Or do or don't do."

There was a long silence. Eventually Ethan sat up and moved the tray to the floor. "Going to do my teeth," he mumbled as he headed for the bathroom.

Giles sighed, leaning back and closing his eyes again. He wanted to be able to reassure Ethan, wanted to be able to let this go like he was urged, but he knew himself well enough to know that he couldn't. If they were forced to go through with this and end Dawn's human existence, Giles knew he'd carry the responsibility for that for the rest of his life.

Ethan returned after a few minutes, naked and smelling of toothpaste. He looked at Giles still sitting on top of the covers and shook his head. "Come on," he said, walking to Giles' side of the bed and taking his hand. "Let's get you ready for an attempt at sleep at least."

Giles let Ethan pull him to his feet as he mentally shook himself. Getting ready for bed was not something that he should need Ethan nursemaiding him through; he was losing himself too much in his own thoughts and his attempts at not thinking, and that was just not acceptable. Doing his best to push all of it to the part of his mind where he'd always submerged the uncomfortable knowledge he held, Giles concentrated on undressing himself like the grown and competent man he was supposed to be.

Ethan stepped back as Giles stripped. "Bathroom?" he enquired as Giles folded his clothes.

Giles considered for a moment then shook his head. It suddenly seemed a very long distance to walk, especially when the bed was right there. Besides the bathroom had mirrors, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to look himself in the eye just then. "Bed's good enough for now."

Ethan didn't argue. Instead, he pulled back the covers and waited for Giles to slip between them before pulling them back up and effectively tucking Giles in, just a hint of his old smirk hovering around his lips as his bent to kiss Giles' forehead.

Trying to shake the sudden feeling that he'd regressed to age four, Giles said, "You will be joining me, I trust."

Letting the smirk widen into a proper smile, Ethan nodded. "Although I fully expect to see words typed on the inside of my eyelids." He walked over to the door and turned the light off. Giles heard a quiet noise from Gwydion as the dogs settled down in their baskets, and then Ethan slipped under the covers and wrapped himself around Giles.

Giles shifted enough to hold Ethan to him, letting the briefest bit of his magic slide against Ethan's skin, more a gesture of comfort than the normal effort to arouse.

Ethan responded, snuggling closer and stroking his own magic over Giles' chest in a gesture that spoke equally of comfort. "Whatever else, Rupert, we still have each other. Always have that now. Couldn't do this without that knowledge." He snorted, Giles feeling the warm air against his shoulder. "Wouldn't do this if it were just me. Never been a hero."

"As career choices go, it's not the wisest one you can make," Giles said, thinking of all the pain and suffering he'd witnessed over the last decade. "That's probably why any hero worthy of the name never chose the role. It chose them."

"This 'heroism' is hardly going to get us garlanded with flowers and paraded through the streets on people's shoulders." Ethan moved slightly, tipping his head up to stare unfocusedly at Giles. "Does it make me as selfish as my reputation that I feel I can cope with all and any of this so long as I still have you?"

Giles tightened the grip he had on Ethan. "No more than my feeling the same way about you makes me." Oh, he would do what he had to do regardless; a lifetime of responsibility would keep him going through to the end. But having Ethan with him, he might just be able to do so and keep his soul intact.