The drive back towards Buckham Hall was as subdued as the drive into London had been, the roadblocks insuring that the traffic jams of that morning had passed. The one moment of excitement, flushed with victory at finding the object they'd come after, had quickly vanished under the weight of what they would have to do with it having found it. And most immediately, what Giles would now have to tell Dawn.

Giles tried not to look at the growing black stain of what had once been Heathrow as they passed it, but he was aware of Ethan staring out of the window as if drawn to the Chaos, something Giles didn't care to think about. Neither of them said anything.

In fact, they both remained silent until they were on the slip-road leaving the M4 and nearly home, when Ethan asked, "Do we have a plan for this?"

Giles took a deep breath. If he hadn't been driving, he'd probably have closed his eyes and taken off his glasses to clean in an effort to keep his emotions under control. "I take Dawn aside and tell her everything."

"Well, you've got that wrong to start with." Ethan's tone suggested a mix of concern and affection.

Taking his eyes off the road for a few seconds, Giles glanced over at Ethan. "We have to tell her. We can't just..."

"Ah, that's better. This time you said 'we'. Well done." Ethan patted Giles' leg in congratulations.

Oh. "You don't have to," Giles finally said. "You've got enough you have to do. I can do this part alone."

"Rupert." The hand on Giles' leg clenched claws into his thigh, and he could feel Ethan glaring at him. "Don't you dare play the solo-martyr here. You agreed, we do this together. It will be easier on me than you anyway."

Giles doubted that last; it may have been true once, but Ethan had changed. And regardless, that was beside the point here. "I don't know if it would be easier on Dawn that way. If– if it were me, I think I might prefer to not have more of an audience than absolutely necessary."

The hand withdrew from Giles' leg. "So," Ethan said, and the sarcasm was back, "exactly which one of us are you trying to protect here? And don't tell me 'Dawn'."

"Yes, because I can't possibly care about trying to make this as easy as possible for the person who will be forced to sacrifice the most. Fine," Giles snapped, the tension reducing his patience to nothing. "We'll tell her together. Let's bring Xander and Ian in as well while we're at it. We can all loom around her while she finds out that we have to kill her. I'm sure that'll make her feel much better."

He heard movement from Ethan, and when he glanced across, he saw Ethan had his arms wrapped around himself and was staring silently out of the side window. It wasn't until they were driving through Buckham village that Ethan released a sharp bark of laughter. "We're going to fail. If we can't even work in partnership talking to the Key –you know, the thing we're meant to be the sodding guardians of– then Vaurtain's won without..." He broke off and returned his gaze to the side.

Giles couldn't have this conversation whilst driving. He found a place to pull off the road as they left the village proper, stopped the car, and turned to Ethan, reaching out a hand to touch his shoulder. Ethan shivered under the touch, but didn't turn. Tugging lightly, Giles tried to pull Ethan around and to him. They both needed the contact now, especially if they were going to be discussing... this.

With a tiny sigh, Ethan turned, but his jaw was clenched, and his eyes wouldn't meet Giles'. He leant his forehead against Giles' shoulder, and his whole body felt tense to the point of vibrating in Giles' arms.

Giles nonetheless held Ethan tightly for several long moments before he spoke. "I'm not trying to make this harder," he finally said, speaking softly, but unable to keep the pain from his voice. "Lord knows, that's the last thing I want to do. It's almost impossible as it is."

"Then let me be there." Ethan pulled back enough to meet Giles' eyes. "I won't crowd her or bully her. I won't say a word if that's what you want, will stay at the back of the room, being a good and meek little boy. I have to be there though, Rupert. The patterns... the three of us... can't you see?"

There wasn't much Giles could say to deny that plea, especially with Ethan looking at him like that. "All right," he finally said, sighing heavily.

It still didn't feel right to him, but then none of this did. How could it?

"She understands more than she lets on, you know," Ethan said, voice gentle now he had his own way. He stroked Giles' cheek. "She's studied Keri's prophecy more even than we have. She knows she's the 'nothing' mentioned, and there's all that talk of selflessness... I think that she's waiting for this, that maybe she's been waiting for this ever since, well, Glory."

"That doesn't make it any easier." Giles sighed again, moving so he could rest his head on Ethan's shoulder, allowing himself a moment of weakness. "I'm so tired of sending children to their death."

"Everybody dies, and Dawn's of hero-stock." Ethan sounded like he was trying to convince himself. Giles felt Ethan's hands moving restlessly over his back as he continued. "Better to die doing something huge than as a non-entity, achieving nothing... Or so I've always believed, anyway. Rupert, please don't do this."

"Do what? Care?" He laughed, the sound coming out brittle and strange even to his own ears. "Would that I could stop."

"It's not the caring; it's the taking it all on yourself. The responsibility, the guilt, the burden – this is what you did with Randal, and it's... Well, it's selfish in a way. Greedy." Ethan held on tightly to Giles as he finished talking as if afraid Giles would pull away.

"It is my responsibility," Giles said stubbornly. "In this case, as much because I failed to find an alternative as because it's our place in that damned prophecy."

"It's our responsibility, not just yours, Stop denying me, Rupert. I don't believe there was a way to be found, anyhow; you can't fail if a thing wasn't possible in the first place."

Giles laughed again, bitter and sharp. "We're the Guardians of Balance, of the Key, but to be so, we're the ones who have to kill her. I could do without that kind of irony."

Ethan pulled back, dragging a hand through his hair and wearing an expression of what looked like pain. "No. No, you won't."

Giles gave him a look. "You're not trying to take the responsibility all on yourself after just chastising me for the same thing, are you?"

Ethan snorted. "The ritual to transform her, it's pattern magic. So, no choice about that. Sorry." He gave Giles one of those chirpy smiles that went nowhere near his eyes. The smile dropped, and he sighed. "I know you believe you can fight prophecy, dearheart, but I've always preferred manipulation to head-on confrontation. The Vatican prophecy says that we need Dawn in her innate form, and I don't believe there's anything we can do about that, not really, but..." He raised his eyes again and looked intensely into Giles' as if searching for something.

"But..?" Giles reached out and caressed Ethan's cheek in an instinctive gesture, trying to give Ethan whatever it was he was searching for.

"I'll get her back for you, Rupert. I don't know how exactly, but where there's no prophecy to block me changing things, that's where and when I can act freely. So once we've done it, saved the world and got our heroes' laurels, I'll get her back. I'll make the Key Dawn again. I– I can do this, Rupert, somehow. I promise you. If it's–" Ethan suddenly stopped talking and swallowed hard, looking scared.

Giles pulled Ethan close, wrapping his arms around him tightly. That Ethan would say such a thing, promise such a thing... And he was right, of course. There was nothing stopping them from trying to find a way to reverse the transformation afterwards. He didn't dwell on the odds of them actually succeeding in finding a way because, even if it were one in a billion, there remained that single chance.

Ethan relaxed in Giles' arms at last, although he still seemed very quiet, and when Giles pulled back to start up the car again, he thought Ethan looked rather pale, but then, he suspected he was a little peaky himself.

In a very short time, they were driving through the wards around the Estate. As Rupert drove Matthew's Range Rover around to the garages at the back, Ethan took a long, deep breath and stretched. In the dark interior of the large garage, they sat as the engine noise died away and then Ethan reached out and took Giles' hand from where it was still resting on the handbrake. "Together?" he checked.

"Together," Giles confirmed, squeezing Ethan's hand.

***

"Well, that was a little anti-climatic," Ethan said, sitting down on the edge of their bed. There had been no one in the front of the house to meet them bar Mrs B., not even the dogs. He tapped his fingers restlessly on top of the crystal's casket, currently sat beside him on the covers.

"It's wrong, perhaps, but I can't say I mind the momentary reprieve," Rupert replied, pacing restlessly around their room.

Xander and Kat were patrolling, the dogs with them, and Megan was with their captive, according to Mrs B. Matthew and Pamela were riding, she'd gone on to tell them, this time with a knowing smile. She didn't know where Ian and Dawn were, however, but that Mr Woodson was an odd sort, liked his own company and was quite possibly one of them nudists they had the special beaches for. Had a good appetite though. She liked a man with a good appetite.

Rupert had elicited these gossipy comments whilst Ethan had risked censure by raiding the larder; it had seemed a long time since breakfast. Surprisingly, Mrs B. hadn't told him off when he'd reappeared in the kitchen with a selection of easily portable goodies, just commented that dinner would be in an hour. It was Ethan's guess that the old woman was scared by the news, as who wouldn't be, but hiding it well bar the loose tongue.

Now Ethan was eating a sticky Bath bun as he watched Rupert pace. It was funny, but now they'd finally reached this point, he felt very calm. "Come and sit down with me, dear," he said gently.

Rupert stopped moving, gave him a rueful look, then moved to do as Ethan had bade. "Too much pacing?"

"Yes." Ethan gave Rupert a sugary kiss on the cheek. "You looked like one of those polar bears at London Zoo." Rupert gave a surprisingly good imitation of a bear growl, and Ethan wriggled on the bed slightly. "Mmm, sexy."

That drew a chuckle from Rupert and a return of the kiss on the cheek.

There. That was better. "We're going to survive this, dearheart. We're going to get through."

"It's not us I'm worried about," Rupert said with a sigh, although he also took Ethan's free hand within his own. "Not really. We've been through so much to get to this point; not making it isn't an option. But..."

"I promised you, didn't I? I'll get her back." Ethan grimaced, knowing he didn't sound as confident as he would like to for Rupert's sake, but it wasn't as if he had a choice about this anymore, anyhow. Neatly trapped himself, he had. He'd once asked Rupert if he were the Fool or the Magician. He'd answered that question for himself now. But confident sounding or not, his words seemed to have the hoped for effect on Rupert, who closed his eyes briefly, took a deep breath, and nodded. "You did," he said. "And we will." Some of the heavy weight of responsibility that had been crushing Rupert seemed to have lifted, which was the most that Ethan could hope for really. Pity that that weight was now trying to crush him.

He'd known there was a third promise just waiting for him to make it, but Rupert had looked so... helpless. It was wrong, that. Rupert, of all people, should never look vulnerable in that way. So Ethan had made the promise without thinking, just wanting to make Rupert feel better... and he'd felt the snap of destiny the moment he'd said it, like a mantrap around his leg. Or like a fool suddenly finding no ground beneath his feet, the impact now inevitable.

Without any warning, their bedroom door suddenly slammed open. Finely tuned battle reflexes had Rupert on his feet and bracing for attack before they saw who it was.

Dawn.

Ethan stood slowly, as if not wanting to startle her, which was stupid really.

She knew; that much was obvious. Her face was... Well, it flickered through intense emotions the way only a teenager's could. She paid Ethan almost no attention, just staring at Rupert, somewhere between anger and tears. When she spoke however, Ethan felt proud for her. She straightened her back and spoke calmly, and if there was a quaver in her voice, he refused for her sake to notice it.

"How long?"

Rupert, when he replied, did so in an equally calm manner, although Ethan knew the turmoil he must be feeling. "We've known for about three weeks. I've been searching for an alternative. We didn't want to tell you until we were sure there was no other way."

"Ian told me; he sees me as a person. You know, someone who can make her own decisions?" Dawn's intense gaze flickered to Ethan, and he gave her a small, uneasy smile before she looked back to Rupert. "You shouldn't have kept this from me, Giles." Her voice cracked on Rupert's name, but she didn't drop her eyes.

"Maybe not," Rupert admitted, still in that calm voice. "But telling you..." He lowered his eyes and some of the pain that Ethan knew he was feeling began to show through the cracks. "It would have felt like admitting that this was the only choice."

"There didn't seem much point in traumatising you with this until we knew it was a surety," Ethan put in gently.

She glared between them both. "And all those people? All the people in those places the Chaos has gotten hold of?" Her brave facade was starting to crack and a loud sob escaped her. "What about them? Could I..." Biting off another sob, she turned away.

Rupert took a few steps towards her, but stopped. "We've had to research how to do... the other as well. Even if we'd told you, we couldn't have done anything any sooner."

"I'm nothing but a... a thing to be protected to you, am I?" She wheeled back around, her hands on her hips. "Well, it just so happens I'm a darn good researcher, Mr. Head Watcher, and if you'd told me –and you'd told the others since all this secrecy crap was just to protect me, wasn't it?– then maybe we could've all got it done in a week instead of three!"

"There are things we have to do, no matter how much they hurt, but asking you to help research how to..." Rupert trailed off, seeming unable to say the words to Dawn's face. "That would have been unnecessarily cruel."

"You're wrong!" She threw the words at him like plates or books. "You're so wrong. This is my life; I get to make the decisions about it. Not you!"

"Dawn." Ethan stepped forward a small way. "It's not that simple. We –none of us in this room at least– have a lot of manoeuvring space here. The prophecy..." She glared at him, her cheeks shining with tears, and he shut up, stepping back again. He had no idea how to deal with this and didn't even know how to react to the knowledge that Ian had spilled the deeply manky beans.

"Am I or am I not human?" Dawn demanded, stepping closer to Rupert. "What am I, Giles? What do you think I am?"

"I think," Rupert said, once again stepping towards her, "that you are a very brilliant, very talented young woman whom I care deeply for and would do almost anything to ensure you have the full long life you deserve."

As Rupert drew closer to the girl, Ethan watched the anger leave her face, leaving obvious fear and perhaps hurt behind. "But I don't get to make my own decisions? Is that it? Buffy was way younger than me the first time she died."

"Yes, well, Buffy enforced her decision by knocking me out so I couldn't exactly stop her," Rupert pointed out wryly.

"Better watch out then," Dawn said with a touch of brave humour... at least, Ethan hoped it was humour. "Ask Xander if I'd do it or not!"

The ghost of a smile touched Rupert's lips. "I remember."

The pair were standing close to each other now, Guardian and Key, or substitute-father and daughter; Ethan supposed he could take his pick. He backed off further, silently.

"You should've told me," Dawn said again, but much more gently.

Rupert gave a helpless half-shrug. "I didn't want it to be real," he replied with raw honesty.

"Neither do I," Dawn said, and with that, finally, she burst into tears.

Rupert didn't say anything else, just pulled her into a hug and let her cry on him.

Time for Ethan to go; he wasn't needed here, and he knew Rupert well enough to know that looking after Dawn would do Rupert a world of good currently. Grabbing the casket from the bed, he snuck to the door, sending, 'I'm off to find a bad blackbird. Call me if you need me, dearheart.' He got a wordless acknowledgement back, but most of Rupert's attention remained focused on Dawn.

Outside in the corridor, the door safely shut behind him, Ethan paused. He clasped his free hand over his face and consciously released some of the tension that had built up within him. All things considered, that had gone very well. Oh, not that they were out of the woods yet. It was one thing Dawn accepting the facts as they were, another thing all together for her to submit to Ethan's magic when the time came, as it would within the next 24-hours unless something changed drastically. But one thing at a time, and that had gone well.

Far better, he suspected, than if they'd broken the news to her themselves.

Right then. If he were a naughty man-crow, where would he be? Ethan decided to start with Ian's usual haunts before getting too creative.

Things were going his way for once as, first place he looked, the study that Ian had all but claimed as his own, he found Ian sitting contemplating the empty fireplace, a large glass of what looked to be whisky in his hand. Shutting the door behind him, Ethan leant on it, just looking at Ian.

"Dawn found you, I take it." Ian didn't look up.

"I don't know whether to thank you or rage at you. Truly."

"Well, if you're looking for my vote..." Ian gave Ethan a brief smile then waved towards the sideboard where the bottles of spirits stood, "I'd say join me for a drink. Or five."

Ethan stared for a little longer and then shrugged. Sod it. Ian had taken a risk, but it had paid off and potentially saved Rupert a lot of angst, and anyway, trying to be angry with Ian was like trying to hold a live eel with buttered hands. He walked over and grabbed a bottle and a glass with his free hand. "We found the crystal."

"I was rather expecting you would." Ian took a large drink of his scotch. "We're running out of time."

"We've run out. We saw Heathrow, Ian." Ethan sat down on the arm of his mentor's chair. "It was pure, raw Chaos – masses of it. Not even in my cruellest dreams..."

Ian held his glass up to watch the light shine through it. "I know. Even here, if I concentrate very hard, I can sense it. It's like... a bad aftertaste that you can't get rid of. Or a sheen of oil sticking to everything, and it's only going to get stronger."

Ethan stared into the unlit hearth. "I haven't really discussed this with Rupert yet, but we have to do the ritual tomorrow. Dawn... Well, quick can be a kindness. We can't wait any longer. After food, I'm going to spend what's left of today preparing. I'd welcome help. With all of it, if you're willing."

"Of course. Anything you need, I'm at your disposal."

Ethan put the bottle and glass on the floor, not wanting to drink now for some reason. Well, he needed his head clear for the preparations, he supposed. He wondered how Rupert and Dawn were getting on, but felt very unwilling to interrupt. "Fancy looking at the crystal with me? We haven't opened this box yet, so we can coo and ahh together."

Ian gave a half-shrug and drained his glass, laying it aside. "Let's see what all the fuss is about then, shall we?"

Standing again, Ethan looked down at Ian. "Floor," he said with a small grin, indicating the surface in question with his head. "Unless you want me to sit on your lap."

Ian looked at him then stood up and moved the chair's cushion to the floor. "This, I think, provides less chance of getting distracted, don't you?"

"What's so terrible about distraction?" Ethan asked, raising an eyebrow as he settled down beside Ian. "Rupert and I got ourselves nicely distracted earlier, and it led in a rather, hmm, undulating line, straight to finding the crystal."

"I had been wondering what was taking you two so long," Ian remarked, raising an eyebrow.

Ethan played with the lid of the box, not opening it. "You and Derek, did you, um... Well, did you tend to stick to same roles during sex?"

"For the most part. Derek had never even considered the idea of shagging another bloke before he met me, and he was always more comfortable topping. I was up for pretty much anything, top, bottom, or sideways, but I was happy to stick with what he liked." Ian looked at Ethan shrewdly. "Is there a reason for this sudden curiosity?"

Ethan gave Ian what he suspected was a sheepish look. "With Rupert, I've always been the bottom. Almost always."

"I'd ask if you both enjoy it that way, but I think the answer is fairly obvious."

"Rupert likes to be in the driving seat, and I like, well, I like to be in his control. I've had to be self-sufficient most of my life, never able to trust anyone... except my Ripper, of course." Ethan smiled fondly. "I like being able to just let go. but things are changing now, a little. Rupert is learning to be vulnerable with me, and I, it seems, am learning to take control and enjoy it." That went for more than just sex, obviously.

"Doesn't sound like it's a bad thing," Ian observed.

"It's a good thing." Ethan grinned at him. "If new and with far too little time currently to explore, but what happened earlier is quite a big mercy to be grateful for right now." He slid the catch from the box. "All right then, one dynamic crystalline matrix coming up."

"You do realise, my dear boy, that if we weren't so pressed for time, I'd be asking for more details."

Ethan grinned, licking his lower lip. "Strange, that. And I'd be happy to provide them."

Inside the box were coarse curls of wood shavings. Ethan carefully scooped some out until his fingers hit something hard. It felt like a square block of glass. Hmm. Wrapping his fingers over the top of the object, Ethan carefully tipped the box upside down. Wood shavings went everywhere, and when he lifted the box away, Ethan was holding a small wood and glass display case, inside which a carved, flawless, and perfectly clear crystal was held on narrow stalks.

It was in the shape of an ornate key.

"Well now," Ian said wryly. "That's rather blatant symbolism." He reached out to touch the display case. "Pretty little thing, though."

"Suitably enough," Ethan said a little sardonically. "Hard to imagine it's the equivalent of a many, many times to the power of many multi-terabyte hard drive, isn't it?"

"Made to contain the most powerful force in the universe." Ian shook his head. "If we ever needed an example of you can't judge by appearance..."

"It's a thing of Order," Ethan said, reaching out with his pattern senses and finding only sterility and perfect geometric symmetry. "Can't say I like it much."

"Not made of our stuff, that's for sure," Ian agreed. "But that's why we need it. It's not something we'd be able to jury-rig on our own."

"Oh, I don't know." Ethan laughed. "Give me a large enough anthill..."