A familiar voice, albeit assuming a bloody stupid accent, cut through Giles' deep concentration. "Well lookee who I've finally found. Guess they'll make a detectoring man of Mama Harris' lil' boy after all."

Giles looked up from the book he was currently trying to decipher to see a grinning Xander standing in the doorway. At his feet sat Gwydion wearing the canine equivalent of Xander's expression.

"Interesting penthouse suite, Giles." Xander nodded as he looked around the old nursery. "I can see why you wanted to keep it a secret. We might all want one."

"Is there something I can do for you, Xander?" Giles asked, carefully masking his irritation at being interrupted. He needed to be researching. He needed to find an alternative to sacrificing Dawn.

"Yep. You can put that pen down for a start." Xander ambled over towards Giles' desk.

"Why?"

"Oh, I don't know. Seen yourself in a mirror lately?"

So the task was starting to take a toll on his appearance. Considering what was at stake, that wasn't something Giles could afford to worry about. "I really am very busy, Xander."

"Yeah? Hadn't noticed." Xander's smile was a little exasperated. "It's time to take a break, Giles. Or maybe, just maybe, it's time to ask for help."

Some burdens shouldn't have to be shared, Giles thought, not wanting to lay this one on Xander unless there was no choice. On the other hand, how much of what he'd read in the last hour had really penetrated?

"All right," he finally said. "Perhaps a small break."

Xander grinned encouragingly. "That's the spirit. Come down to one of the lounges or studies or sitting rooms or whatever else you Brits call the room with the comfy chairs."

"The chairs in here are quite comfortable."

"Not to want to seem un-real-manly or anything, but it smells funny in here, Giles." Xander looked around the nursery, his gaze very obviously falling on plates of old uneaten food, and the ashtrays and empty bottles by the sofa.

The place was perhaps looking more rundown than usual, but nothing that would have made it smell. Except... "Yes, perhaps you're right," Giles said standing quickly. "A little fresh air can't hurt." He hustled Xander towards the door, hopefully before the young man figured out that what he was smelling was mostly the residue of the excellent weed that Ian had plied them with not that long ago.

Xander let himself be hustled, but he was frowning. "So you're not even eating the food Ethan brings up to you? But you are big with the drinking, if those bottles don't lie. The last time I saw you acting like this, Giles, I found myself having to think about orgies, and you and Ethan, in the same sentence. Now agreed, that doesn't have the same sting now as it had then, but if there's some old demon pal of yours about to come a-calling, I'd kinda like to know."

Ignoring just how close Xander had come to guessing part of the truth of what had been going on in the nursery, Giles said mildly, "Those bottles aren't all mine. And they aren't all recent additions."

"Good to hear it. And the likelihood of demon callers?"

"While not ruling anything out the way Chaos is going, I'm not expecting any callers from mine and Ethan's mutual past." No. If it came down to it, they would be the ones having to play the monster.

"Also good to hear." They made their way into the more inhabited areas of the house, Gwydion loping along behind them. Xander poked his head though a doorway, and having apparently ascertained the room was empty, encouraged Giles inside. "Come on. No one here to witness your Lost Weekender costume."

Giles looked down at his outfit of old jumper and comfortable pair of jeans. "Really now, I don't think it's quite that bad."

There was a mirror over the mantelpiece. Xander gestured to it expressively. "Judge for yourself. Notice, won't you, the several days of stubble, the red-rimmed eyes, the haunted look... and just what is haunting you, Giles?"

Staring at his reflection, Giles had to admit he did look like a man living with ghosts. "Believe me, Xander, you don't want to know."

"How about you let me be the judge of that? You and Ethan have been hiding yourselves away – in separate rooms far as we can tell, which is weird in and of itself. Ethan's looking like a man with a price on his head, twitching if one of us even talks to him. And you? You, we don't even get to see at all. At Christmas, you gave me a damn good speech about how much you trusted me and wanted me to share your burdens or whatever. So how about that?"

Giles met Xander's gaze in the mirror. "This is the kind of burden I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy."

Xander nodded seriously. "I get that, but you're going to tell me anyway. Share the load, boss-man."

"Xander–" Giles tried one more time to decline.

He felt Xander's hand on his arm. "Giles, I'm not backing down. You'd never let any of us get away with the way you're acting. Maybe when we were kids, it was okay to have one rule for you, another for the rest of us, but now, boss or not, you get to play with the same set of rules as the rest of us. And the rule 3a, section 23, paragraph 27 of the Scooby-Adult code says – 'Tell Xander!'"

Giles sighed, giving in. He moved over and collapsed onto the couch. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

"I'm well and truly warned." Xander came over and sat beside him. He said nothing more, just looked at Giles with a sympathetic gaze.

"We have found," Giles said, directing his own gaze down at his hands as he spoke, "information that suggests that to do whatever it is Ethan and I must do, we will need the Key. In its original form."

Xander did not react. The reason why quickly became apparent. "Huh?"

"Part of the prophecy seems to involve turning Dawn back to the Key's original form."

Xander shook his head. "No, you must have that wrong. That was a Glory thing, and Glory's dead. Isn't she?"

"As far as I know, but she was only using Dawn for her own ends. From what we've been able to glean so far, it seems that this might have been part of Dawn's original purpose." Giles sighed. "And she can't do it in human form."

Xander's expression was showing the first signs of taking Giles seriously. "What might have been? She can't do what?"

"The exact words were, 'they will battle with the Great Bear for dominion over the "word of God", using it to free the "Prisoner in the Void".' Word of God in this case is one of the names given to the Key."

"Not seen those words in any version of the Prophecy you've let us see." Xander was looking mulish. "And I didn't hear where it says that Dawn... can't be Dawn anymore."

"No, I haven't let you see this particular prophecy," Giles agreed. "Because it's not something I want getting back to Dawn unless there's no other choice. It's real, from some writings at the Vatican that my grandmother managed to get a look at once. We've managed to double-check almost every component of it."

Xander combed his fingers back through his hair, a deep frown now creasing his forehead. "But... but we turn her back again afterwards, right? Oh wait, you said 'choice'. There's a choice?"

"That's what I've been trying to find," Giles said, the weariness that had settled into his bones making even his voice seem heavy. "Another choice."

"And the Ray Milland impression is because you can't find one." Xander nodded grimly.

Giles pressed his lips together in a thin line. "I'm still looking," he said stubbornly.

"Then we all look," Xander said determinedly. "The more eyes the better. I'll work twice as hard to make up for my shortfall." He made an attempt at a grin; it wasn't very convincing.

"I will appreciate any help you could give us, Xander," Giles said, heartfelt, "but as to telling the others, do you really want Dawn to find out about this?"

"I..." Xander looked uncertain. "I'm not sure. I mean, she'll have to know if... Giles, if there's no other choice, and this has to be done to save the world again, we can change her back after, can't we? Tell me we can change her back."

Giles couldn't bring himself to say anything, but his silence seemed answer enough.

"No." Xander shook his head vigorously. "There has to be another way."

"That's what I've been searching for," Giles pointed out again.

"No wonder you look like something left in Giddy's breakfast bowl." The words weren't encouraging, but Xander's expression was sympathetic. "You're sure this extra prophecy is genuine?"

Giles nodded. "My grandmother spent years researching all she could about the Guardians and what they're to do. And we have, as I said, found ratifying sources."

Xander nodded and stood up again, apparently in order to pace. "So what's Ethan doing then? Why are you two all segregated?"

"Ethan," Giles began, his insides tightening as they did whenever he thought about it, "is researching what we will need to do if I can't find another choice."

Xander stopped pacing, his expression hardening. "Turning Dawn... Making Dawn what she..." He rolled his eye. "Killing her. It is killing, isn't it? 'Cause whatever the Key is, it's not alive in the way we are, is it?"

"It... would end her existence as a human, yes."

"No wonder he looks so fucking guilty." Xander had said it more or less under his breath.

"You think he wants to be doing this?" Giles asked, his voice sharpening as he defended Ethan. "Do you think he doesn't know what this will cost him, cost us, if it has to be done? Not only losing Dawn, but the rest of you as well. Because he's convinced that none of you would be able to forgive him."

Xander immediately looked ashamed. "No, I don't think that. I... sorry. Kinda in shock here, Giles."

Giles nodded, accepting the apology. "I can understand that. I'm perhaps more on edge than is healthy at the moment myself." He watched Xander pace for a minute then softly admitted what he couldn't to Ethan. "And Ethan isn't completely alone in his fears."

Xander stared at him then opened his mouth to speak, but succeeded only in making fish faces before sighing and coming back to sit beside Giles. "So this is what it really means to be a Watcher, eh?"

Giles nodded. "Now you know why I went out of my way to try and escape it."

Xander ran his fingers through his hair again, pulling at it. "Giles, I don't know if I... she's my friend. If she's unwilling, if we have to do this, and she says no, even if the world's about to end, I don't know if I... No, I'm hedging. I know just fine. I know I can't. I remember, back when Glory was the threat, I remember you were prepared to kill Dawn if you had to. I can't be that man. I can't kill her any more than I could kill Willow, or Buffy... or you." He looked helplessly at Giles. "I'm the heart, remember? You and Buffy, head and hand, you're the ones who could..."

Giles put a hand on Xander's shoulder and squeezing. "No one expects you to. This, if it comes to it, and I am still very far from admitting that it will, is mine and Ethan's burden to shoulder. Not yours."

Xander stared at him, his pain writ clearly across his face. "I... hope to all things bright and beautiful it doesn't come to that. So... let me help? Even if all I'm doing is making sure you eat and sleep and all those things that without them, your ability to find solutions won't be up to much."

"I will be very glad to have you," Giles said, heartfelt.

"Right." Xander rubbed his face, digging his fingers under his eye patch as if the socket was bothering him. "Uh, I'm sure I'll have lots of questions just as soon as the merry-go-round in my head stops spinning, but in the meantime, how about we get some food actually into you, rather than sitting on plates growing things that would make my old Biology teacher orgasmic. Um, that would be Mr Hodgson, and not Miss French, 'cause she only got orgasmic when there was a nice juicy boy-head to bite off right in front of her–"

"Xander," Giles interrupted, not unkindly. "You're babbling."

"Easier than thinking," Xander admitted with a weak smile. "Food? Come on, your body's human even if your brain's bigger and better than most." He urged Giles from the sofa.

"I do seem to have developed the bad habit of having someone go out for assorted junk food during marathon research sections," Giles admitted, letting Xander pull him up.

They made their way to the kitchens where Mrs B. was busy at work preparing the evening meal. She took one look at Giles and snorted. "Your dear mother would've had my spleen as a footwarmer for letting you walk around looking like one of them zombies from the films. Go and sit down next door and mind you eat everything I bring you." She wiped her hands on her apron and patted Xander on the back. "Well done, lad. I'll bring you in something special too."

"Why am I feeling like the object of a conspiracy?" Giles asked bemusedly, as he obediently headed for the dining room.

"Ah, what could I say, Giles?" Xander grinned as they sat down at the long table. "She offered me a slice of something that had whipped cream and homemade blackberry jelly inside it. Not to mention the dark chocolate spirals."

"I should have known it. Sold out for patisserie goods."

Xander looked at him more seriously. "Did you really think people wouldn't notice?"

"I hadn't really given it much thought," Giles admitted.

"Everyone's worried sick about you both." Xander looked down at the table surface, tracing his finger around the grain. "Guess they're gonna worry about me now too. It's like a Bodysnatcher thing. One by one, we'll turn into silent, rarely seen wraiths of our former selves."

"Hopefully, it won't come to that. We'll find the solution we need and be able to rejoin the land of the living."

"What's the timetable on this?"

Giles sighed. "We haven't discovered that either, but it doesn't feel like very long. Ethan might be able to provide a more concrete answer with his reading of the patterns."

"But you've set yourself a schedule, right? I mean, things are getting majorly Book of Revelations out there in the big blue yonder, and unless I've not so much gotten the wrong end of the stick as a different stick altogether, that's what you and Ethan are supposed to be stopping. So how long do we have to find the alternative 'til we have to turn up at Dawn's side looking like pall-bearers?"

"I don't know." It had been a question he'd avoided asking himself. "We should probably include Ethan in this discussion. He probably has thought about some of the things that I've been too busy to consider."

Xander nodded. He had, Giles noticed, already started to look a little haunted, but nonetheless, Xander seemed to be thinking things through in a sensible, intelligent fashion. "If you tell me where he's taken to lurking, I could go and find him. He could probably do with some food too."

"I can't think of any time that Ethan couldn't do with some food," Giles said with a fond smile. "But I can get him without you having to miss the delivery of your bribe." He reached out for Ethan's mind...

And couldn't find it.

Xander seemed to notice Giles' confusion. "Problem?"

At that moment, the door opened, and Mrs B. came in with Giddy dancing around her legs. She was carrying a stacked tray. "I'm not sure," Giles replied distractedly as he did a more conscious search for Ethan's presence. Maybe Ethan was just shutting everything out while he concentrated on his research?

Mrs B. put a plate in front of him of cold meats, hot cauliflower cheese and some bubble and squeak. Giles couldn't afford to pay it any more attention than that currently, but his stomach had other ideas, contracting painfully in hunger. "You make sure he eats it, young man," Mrs B. said, apparently to Xander.

Giles still couldn't find Ethan, and that was starting to alarm him. "It looks quite excellent, Mrs. Bobbrick, really. So much so that I would feel terribly guilty if I ate it without Ethan." He stood. "So if you can just keep it warm for me, I'll go get him, and we'll both enjoy your excellent cooking."

She put her hands on her hips. "Rupert Alfred Benedict Giles, if you think–"

"Mrs B," Xander interrupted quickly. "Don't. I think something might really be wrong here."

"I'm sure it's nothing," Giles said, hoping that it was the truth. "But I just need..." Ethan. He needed Ethan. "Gwydion!" He called his dog to his side as he headed out of the dining room and down to where he knew Ethan had ensconced himself.

He heard running footsteps behind him, and Xander caught up. "This ever happened before?" he asked.

"No," he replied tersely. "Although granted, it's only been a few months that we've been able to talk this way..."

"There's no answer?" Xander checked. "I mean, I thought that was what seemed to be happening. Couldn't he just have fallen asleep at the desk?"

Giles shook his head. "Usually, I'd be at least able to sense that he was asleep."

They were walking fast, Giles' anxiety about Ethan growing. No matter how loud his mental shout, there was no answer. Xander looked around the damp basement corridor as they emerged from the stairwell. "Hmm, this isn't the first place I would've thought to look for him. Why does he want to hide himself down here?"

"Consider what he's researching," Giles replied as he quickened their pace yet again. "Of course he wants to hide away while he's doing it."

"Point," Xander acknowledged grimly and said no more.

The door to Ethan's hideaway was shut, but Giles could already feel he wasn't in there. Nonetheless, he opened the door and took in the closed books on the desk, the papers put into folders but not hidden away. Anxiety was quickly ratcheting up towards full-blown panic. Closing his eyes, Giles tried one more time to reach Ethan, all but mentally screaming his name. Then he listened with everything he had.

Silence.

But in the quiet, Giles did recognise that he still had that old sense of Ethan's location that he'd had since Devon, and he grabbed onto it tightly. Without a word, he stalked out of the room at near full speed, following that tiny mental tug.

"Giles!" Xander called, trotting behind him. "Hold up. What's going on?" Gwydion wuffed loudly as well, in a way that sounded almost as if he were asking the same question.

"Tracking Ethan," Giles muttered curtly, too much of his awareness on doing just that to offer any greater explanation.

Xander apparently had the sense to shut up after that, and when Giles opened the front door and began to jog across the gravel to the fields, Xander delayed briefly and then caught up, carrying coats. He thrust Giles' at him. "At least get your arms in it."

Not wanting to expend the energy to argue, Giles shrugged into the coat, even as his Ethan sense was leading him down into the trees that surrounded the field. The sky was darkening as the sun sank low in the sky and behind a rising cloud cover.

Maybe Ethan had gone to their cottage, not that that would explain the radio silence. Giles couldn't think of anything good that could have resulted in this deadening of contact. His directional sense of Ethan, which seemed such a dull thing without their mental link, told him he was getting close now and memories of searching out fox-Ethan on the Heath returned to haunt him.

Giles rushed through the trees and suddenly found himself on his hands and knees, having tripped over a root. Xander's hand appeared at his elbow, helping him up. "Careful there. Maybe try the headfirst charge thing a little slower?"

At that moment, Gwydion seemed to catch a scent and barked loudly before taking off through the undergrowth. The sense of Ethan was in the same direction so Giles headed after his dog as quickly as he could. Brambles caught at his clothes and ripped at his hands, and judging by the swearing, Xander was faring similarly behind him. Feeling desperate, haunted by memories of a time he didn't want to revisit, Giles pushed his way through regardless and into a clearing... where what he saw stopped him dead.

The clearing had a look of something from Peter Pan; the foliage and undergrowth was lush and hued with unrealistic brightness. There was what looked for all the world like a miniature whirlwind buzzing away in one corner, where Skunk was repeatedly pouncing on it and then backing away, sneezing. And Ethan...

Ethan was lying with his head in Ian's lap and a silver flask raised in his hand. The faces of both men were covered in what looked like war paint made of mud and leaf-sap, and there were twigs and other less recognisable objects apparently deliberately woven into their hair. Both were gaping at Giles and Xander like guilty schoolboys caught behind the bikesheds together.

Giles stared for a long moment before asking, "What the bloody hell are you doing?" the fear he'd been dealing with making his voice sharp.

Ethan sat up and wriggled around to face Giles, making a half-hearted attempt to comb the Lord of the Flies decoration from his hair. "Er, relaxing?" he said weakly, looking, at least under the war paint, almost comically dismayed.

"Yup. Sure look 'relaxed' to me all right," Xander agreed from behind Giles.

The fear was slowly draining away now that Giles saw that Ethan was all right, if well on his way to being several full riggings to the wind. In its place, a shaky relief was left. "I couldn't reach you."

Ian seemed to be doing his best to become one with the tree that he leant on, but Ethan frowned and staggered to his feet. "Couldn't reach me? But..." His frown deepened, and Giles thought he saw a slight echo of his own panic pass across Ethan's face. "Rupert?"

Giles closed the distance between them and wrapped Ethan in his arms. "I'm right here."

Ethan smelled of strong alcohol and greenery, but Giles didn't care. "But why...?" Ethan started. "Where...?" There was a pause during which Ethan's arms tightened around Giles, and then suddenly Ethan exclaimed, "Fuck!" He pulled back from Giles, looking obviously alarmed. "We're being blocked. Rupert, there's nothing wrong with us. Something external's blocking us, and it's also blocking my awareness of the wards!"

Behind them, Ian surged to his feet, eyes simultaneously blazing and distant. "Found it," he muttered. "Ethan, take a look at the pattern in the north-eastern corner."

Ethan's eyes unfocused and then he muttered, "fuck," again under his breath. "Someone or something's trying to break through the wards. We have to get there, stop them..."

"Right." Giles slid his thoughts over into combat mode. "Xander, go back to the house and warn the others. We may need the Slayers. Take the dogs to guide you back to us afterwards." He looked at Ian and Ethan. "Can you pinpoint where it is?"

As Xander and the dogs ran off, Ethan nodded and pulled on Giles' hand. "I'll lead you. Ian, are you going to fly or run with us?"

"I'll fly ahead, see what I can scout out," Ian replied, already stripping off his clothes.

Ethan bundled the garments up as they were handed to him and then tucked them under his arm. They parted without another word, Ian fluttering into the increasingly darkened sky, and Ethan pulling Giles through the trees and undergrowth at a speed that would have been dangerous for Giles alone. "I hate," Ethan said between breaths, "not being able... to hear you."

Giles squeezed Ethan's hand as they continued to run. "So do I. When I couldn't reach you, I..."

Ethan gave him a quick, worried glance as they ran. "God, I'm sorry... you must have been... bugger."

"Yes, that about sums it up."

They quickly grew too breathless to converse further. Had their mental link been working, it would have been different. Ethan led him downhill to the river, thankfully to one of the stepping stone crossings, and then up the meadow on the other side to another area of woodland. He paused them before they went in, and after catching his breath for a few moments, wheezed, "Well?" and Giles realised Ethan was talking to the crow who had fluttered down from a nearby branch.

The crow shimmered and changed into a naked and serious Ian. "Quite a little party happening beyond the wards," he imparted quickly. "A whole passel of conjured demons, a couple of mages controlling them, and..." He glanced at Giles specifically. "Two Slayers."

"Bugger," Ethan softly swore, handing Ian his clothes. "They're not through yet though. The wards are holding; I'd know now if they weren't. Can the three of us...?" It was obvious what he was asking.

"We have to," Giles said, tight-lipped. "Least until Xander and the others get here."

"I guess this is where we discover if we're all we're cracked up to be," Ethan said darkly, but he squeezed Giles' hand, sending magic into him. To Ian, who was finishing a hurried re-garbing, Ethan said, "We could do with the mental link back if you spot the opportunity."

Ian nodded. "I will make it a priority. It shouldn't be too difficult to unravel the blocking spell's pattern. I'll wait until we attack, however; if I do it now they'll know we're here."

"Right." Ethan turned back to Giles. "Are we going for the charge-in-like-heroes, or the sneak-around-and-assassinate approach? I vote for the latter. Although I suppose that might be difficult with the hand holding... I don't think we should stop though, do you?" He frowned. "Remember the attack in our house?"

Giles squeezed Ethan's hand tightly, sensing how nervous Ethan was from the near-babble and wishing most fervently he could speak directly to his mind. "I do. And we got out of that one with nary a scratch. We'll be fine now too. All we have to do is hold them off until reinforcements arrive, but I'm quite sure we'll be able to do far more than that. We're working together, after all."

Ethan closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them again, he seemed calmer, more centred. "Love you," he said, regardless of Ian hearing. "Lead on, Captain, my Captain."

Nodding, Giles turned his mind to strategy. "I doubt we can pick them off one by one without them noticing, but if we can strike from concealment at first, we may be able to do significant damage before they can precisely locate us."

With a grim smile, Ethan said, "The others are on their way back to us, or at least Skunk is. Ian, do you want to go around behind them? Rupert and I can be the main target from the front once our cover is broken." He tugged at Giles' hand. "This way, dearheart. I'll take us as close as I dare."

Before they started moving again, Giles pulled Ethan to him and kissed him hard. "For luck," he murmured as he let him go again. Ethan looked for a few seconds as if he was going to crumple; he leant heavily on Giles. Then he took a deep breath and without another word spoken, the three of them made their way into the trees.

***

It was almost pitch black now under the cover of the trees, any moon or starlight blocked by the dense cloud. It was raining too, although quite gently; Ethan could hear the slow, heavy drops landing in the leaf mulch around him. He had half a mind to try to call up a storm, but that wouldn't be fair on Xander and their Slayers, who would have no protection from it.

Ethan kept a tight hold on Rupert's hand, trying to give him some limited pattern awareness – not enough to overwhelm him, but sufficient to sense the location of their enemies. Whether Ethan was successful or not was hard to tell without the telepathic link. Bugger it, he'd be nervous enough facing this even without the link sabotaged.

He was attempting to block the awareness of their presence from the would-be invaders, twisting the patterns of demon nose and Slayer sight, but he didn't dare try to twist the senses of the mages; they'd know immediately if he tried. It would help if Ethan wasn't so bloody drunk. He was having to expend too much power just keeping his head clear.

So much for relaxing.

The wards were still unbroken, which meant they, the good guys, and wasn't that still an amusing thought, could move through them, but the demons and mages couldn't. That was no small blessing. The Slayers, however, seemed to have no problem and moved back and forth through the anti-Chaos barrier as the mages worked on breaking the wards. If Ethan and Rupert didn't act soon, the wards would fall, and all the bastards would be through.

Ethan had known it wouldn't take long for their enemies to find them here. Now they had, even if this lot were effectively repelled, the home team could consider themselves besieged. The fox in him really didn't like that. Being faster than hounds and horses over rough and wooded terrain, foxes normally ran from the hunt; if they found themselves earthed, it was all over for them.

He squeezed Rupert's hand again, trying somehow to impart urgency, and Rupert squeezed back tightly, almost to the point of pain. Distantly, Ethan could feel Rupert gathering his magic and then felt him release it as, with an almost silent murmur of Latin, Rupert threw a wall of fire at the closest mage.

The bloke staggered back under a large ball of flame, flailing his arms about and screaming in a way that chilled Ethan to his marrow. The fire lit up the night, revealing the shocked faces of Frannie's brainwashed Slayers. The gaze of the other, female, Chaos mage, however, immediately turned towards where Ethan and Rupert were hiding.

Their cover obviously broken, Ethan promptly extended his pattern senses to this woman, looking for vulnerabilities. She was casting something, presumably a spell meant to protect her from another fireball, but she was also pointing right at them, and the Slayers broke into a run through the barrier. At least the demons were still trapped on the other side.

Rupert concentrated on the Slayers. "Concresce!" he uttered, throwing impressively large amounts of magic at the two girls. Ethan felt Rupert using his loaned pattern sense to direct his power to the weakest parts of the auras surrounding the girls, thickening the air and holding the Slayers fast.

Well, briefly anyway, but they were already starting to break free. Christ. They were both so young; they looked barely fifteen, but they fought with a ferocity that was alarming. One wore a Muslim headscarf, the other seemed a typical western bottle-blonde teen, but they were clearly very used to working as a partnership.

Frowning, Ethan rapidly decided the Slayers had to be the priority. While the remaining mage could potentially reach through with non-Chaotic spells, Ethan would hopefully have some warning of that first. Which all sounded like it was good reasoning, but it was hard to tell really as Ethan was twisting his own patterns wildly to quell both drunkenness and panic.

So he strengthened Rupert's binding, weaving through it, trying to ensure that it stretched with the girls' punches and kicks, but didn't give way. At that moment, something gave way inside them, however, and he could suddenly hear Rupert in his head again, swearing; Ian had broken the dampening spell.

Oh, the wonderful old crow; Ethan filled with relief and gratitude. His and Rupert's magic immediately seemed to meld more smoothly, and in the middle of the melee, Ethan found a moment to close his eyes and relish the return of their full connection.

'Try not to hurt them if possible,' Rupert sent as they continued to struggle to hold back the two Slayers. 'They're not to blame.'

'I'm only working with your spell, dearheart. I hope Ian's all right. I think he was behind them, on the bad side of the wards, and I'm not sure where the big demon with the horn has gone.' And he couldn't spare the attention to try to look, not with the Slayers putting all their supernatural strength into trying to break free and the mage quite clearly in the process of spell casting.

It was a strange fight, he and Rupert just standing there as if watching the young girls engaging in some peculiar form of performance art.

The sound of a crow cawing let them know exactly how Ian had managed to get close enough to the attackers to break the spell without being seen. 'He seems to be providing aerial support,' Rupert observed with a bit of dry humour, grunting aloud as the two Slayers hit the same point in his spell. 'I like it much better when they're on our side.'

'As do I, but I've probably had more experience at being on the wrong side of their strength than you have. Bugger!' Ethan winced as one of the Slayers managed briefly to get a foot through Rupert's spell. 'They've worked out far too fast that they need to concentrate their energies in one place.' It was becoming quite a strain holding the Slayers within their makeshift cage, and it was at best a stalemate. Ethan could only hope their own Chosen Ones got here soon.

'Any good Slayer has an instinct for finding the weakest point,' Rupert replied, the strain showing in his thoughts. 'I'd rather these two weren't quite that good.'

The girls' shouts and curses were echoing into the night, and it was so obvious from them that these were just normal teenage girls aside from their Slayer abilities, not really enemies at all. Ethan cursed Francesca Travers for doing this; it would hurt Rupert at a deep level if he were forced to harm a Slayer.

Ethan was concentrating so hard on maintaining the pattern of Rupert's binding, that were it not for Ian's loud cawed warning from above, he would undoubtedly have fallen foul of the large, scaled demon dressed in some sort of uniform that was suddenly beside him and swinging a bloody great sword at his head.

With a yell of surprise, Ethan sprang backwards, pulling Rupert with him. The remaining mage must have dredged up a non-chaotic summoning spell from somewhere and cast it through the wards. Maybe.

His and Rupert's concentration well and truly buggered by the sudden appearance of the demon, Ethan felt a sense of released pressure as the binding around the Slayers ruptured. but he couldn't worry about that for the moment as the sodding demon was swinging again.

It was Rupert who pulled him out of the demon's way this time, just as the welcome sound of familiar barking heralded the arrival of the dogs, and thank God, Kat and Megan.

Their Slayers immediately went to take on the other two, but not before Kat had yelled out, "Giles!" and tossed Rupert a sword.

Okay. Now the tide was turning. Ethan released Rupert's hand so that his husband could fight the uniformed demon, and not a moment too soon. Metal clashed on metal. Knowing Rupert had needed the connection their hands had provided, Ethan improvised wildly and wove a host of connecting nodes between their patterns, much as he often did during sex, but connecting a great deal more this time. Something new for them, but it seemed to work.

With magic and swordplay combined, Rupert immediately began to show the demon it had picked the wrong pair to be summoned against. The four Slayers in the meantime seemed to be balancing each other out nicely. That left the non-crispy-fried mage and the other demons, all on the other side of the wards. But that hadn't stopped the mage, at least, being a problem.

'Take whatever you need from me,' Ethan sent to Rupert, standing back to back with him. In the meantime, he sent his awareness out to the other side of the wards. He still couldn't spot Ian, but he certainly could spy his actions as there was a complicated pattern being woven around the mage that, when finished, would act like a type of tangle net.

The Chaos mage was, of course, trying to stop Ian's weaving, but at least it was keeping the bitch occupied.

All right, he wasn't needed there currently. Seeing Skunk noisily tormenting the demons from, uncannily, just inside the safety of the wards, Ethan remembered her hijinks from earlier. He was just attempting to use what Ian had taught him in the glade to create a miniature tornado, when he felt a heavy blow to the back of his shoulder, followed by a burning pain.

He fell forward onto his knees and couldn't keep back an instinctive call of, "Rupert!"

Bugger, it hurt. He rolled around as quickly as he could to defend himself from further blows. Then Rupert was there in front of him, shining brightly with magic and righteous wrath. His sword flashed in a deadly arc, and the demon that had just clipped Ethan's shoulder fell dead, body in one direction, head in the other.

Even as Ethan struggled up and tentatively felt at his shoulder with the hand of his uninjured arm, he was staring at Rupert in admiration. "You're magnificent, dear-to-my-heart."

"Bloody thing got past me," Rupert all but growled. He stepped closer to Ethan, reaching out the hand not holding his sword to check Ethan's shoulder. "How badly are you hurt?"

Ethan's hand had come away bloody. His pattern senses told him it was a wide gash but not too deep, however. "Oh, a near mortal wound for sure," he replied, with what he hoped was a reassuring grin, but was probably a little too shaky for that. "But I'll fight bravely on like the hero I am." Mentally, he sent, 'And later, I'll show you just how bloody impressive you were...'

Brave talk was easy when he was repressing his body's every fear response.

There was a yell of outrage from the Slayers, and Ethan whirled around to find that Kat and Megan had managed to get the girl with a headscarf down and apparently out. The remaining Slayer was backing off hurriedly. At that moment, Xander arrived with Matthew and Dawn, but on the wrong side of the sodding wards.

Hell! Matthew should have been able to tell where they were. The bitch mage saw the three of them and turned to face them, raising her hands to cast a spell...

Then Ethan felt as much as saw Ian's pattern trap snap shut around the mage. There was a bright flash visible only to those who could see magic, and she staggered. Pattern sight showed that every thread of her spells and her power had been severed, cut off and contained by Ian's weaving.

Christ, the old bastard was good. Ethan wouldn't have had a clue how to do something like that. The remaining Slayer turned tail and ran for it.

Feeling increasingly useless in comparison to just about everyone else, Ethan held back as Rupert ran through the wards to help their friends against the demons that the idiots had inadvertently run into. Not that they seemed to need much help seeing as Matthew, of all people, had just apparently blasted the head off one with a very loud shotgun blast.

Beheading demons was clearly a Gilesian trait.

Shaking his own head a little, Ethan knelt by the fallen Muslim girl and began to tie her up the old-fashioned way using her clothes and his belt; even with Slayer-strength, it would at least hold her up a bit. "Go!" he said to Megan and Kat, "help against the demons!"

The girls did as they were told, but there wasn't much left to do. The cutting of the mage's power had also cut off her control of the demons, and their first action was to turn on the mage that had mastered them. She disappeared underneath a demonic scrum, and her screams quickly turned to noises Ethan didn't want to think about too much.

After they had finished, the demons seemed more interested in getting away than carrying on the fight, making them easy targets to pick off as they ran.