Ethan sat on the coffee table in their bedroom, holding Skunk in his arms and ruffling her long fur. "I think," he said very reluctantly, "we should take them with us."

Rupert looked up from sorting and checking various weapons. "Something in the patterns?"

"In London yesterday, looking for the crystal, I began to feel very strongly that the dogs should have been there. As it turned out, we didn't need them, but I think that feeling may well have been to do with today. I think they have come to us in much the same way as your hidey-hole came to you, dear. They're part of this, whether we want them to be or not." Ethan wrinkled his nose. He really didn't want to take Skunk anywhere near London currently.

Rupert glanced down at Gwydion, who was sitting beside him watching quietly. "Yes," he finally said. "I do believe you're right."

There were noises, bangs and clanks, coming from all over the house. Matthew and the Bobbricks were closing the building up, shuttering windows, switching things off, and generally getting ready to leave the place empty. Matthew didn't want the Bobbricks here alone whilst everyone else was fighting God knows what in London, and so the house was going to have to stand by itself.

Personally, Ethan thought the old couple would be safer here behind the wards than almost anywhere else, but he did understand Matthew's concern. "I hope the M4 is still open."

"If it's not, we'll find another way in. As a last resort, there's always teleportation."

"One hell of a lot of power to use up just before a big fight. And that reminds me, why aren't the Coven here, or rather, heading for London?"

Rupert shrugged. "All I've been able to get out of Ian is that they're fighting their own battles. And Lucy's not answering her phone."

Ah, Ian. Ethan looked down, staring with pattern sight into Skunk's fur as the dog wriggled ecstatically under the attention he was giving her. "I wouldn't rely on Ian's help too much longer, if I were you."

"What?" There was a pause as Rupert figured out the meaning of what Ethan was saying. "He thinks..."

"Today, or at least, during whatever battle we start today."

"Bugger."

Ethan didn't answer. His guts hurt – stress, of course. Or maybe... Well, that was only to be expected, he supposed. He was breaking several laws of nature, after all. He stood abruptly, putting Skunk on the floor, and headed over to the drawers wherein he kept his smaller belongings.

Rupert moved over to him, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Maybe he could be wrong, have misinterpreted–"

Shaking his head, Ethan raised his hand to squeeze Rupert's. "Ian doesn't tend to make mistakes like that. He has some of Keri's ability, you know. Far more than I have."

"No one's infallible. Not even Keri."

Ethan turned and gave Rupert a wry look. "That's why we're following her words to the letter then, is it?"

"My point is you shouldn't give up on Ian just yet, and Ian shouldn't give up on himself."

"I don't think Ian's all that upset, dear. Not really. I think 'keen' might be the word, actually. Oh, ignore me. I'm being a selfish child wanting to keep my ... whatever he is with me longer than he's got." Ethan sighed and rested his forehead on Rupert's shoulder. "I'm tired, Ripper, and we've barely even started."

"I know." Rupert wrapped his arms around Ethan, pulling him tightly against him. "So am I, but we have to keep going."

Ethan closed his eyes and tried to relax in the haven of Rupert's embrace. "How are the others – the girls? Xander? I haven't really spoken to anyone bar you and Ian for days."

Rupert's hand came up and stroked through Ethan's hair soothingly. "The girls are a bit... nervous isn't quite the right word. Skittish, perhaps? It's their first apocalypse, after all. Xander's Xander. He likes this about as much as we do, but he's been through enough that he knows how to persevere. It's not his first apocalypse." Ethan could hear the smile in Rupert's voice with the last.

Ethan nodded against Rupert. "Last time I saw Pammy, she was on the phone arranging a small army of Slayers for us. I guess this is exactly the sort of thing the girls have been training for."

"It is. It's the sort of thing for which they were created. And I have to say, there is a great deal of comfort knowing we have that kind of power on our side, even while they're more people to worry about."

"Yes, an army of Slayers at hand is not something to be sniffed at." Ethan pulled back. "I suppose getting a move on would be the right idea here." After a brief kiss, he turned back to the drawer.

As Rupert moved back to his own preparations, Ethan heard him mutter, "At least I didn't spend last night playing a dwarf with the strength of a doily."

Ethan thought about asking, but decided he was better off not knowing. His fingers rested on the wooden box that had been his gift from Harriet. His instincts told him to take it, although it was hard to imagine taking time to get tarted up before the maybe-probably battle. He slipped it into his small bag just in case. Underneath where the box had been was the star-chart from the office he'd broken into with Xander, together with the coin the lad had also found there.

He slipped the coin into his pocket and the chart into his bag. "Take the pen I gave you," he told Rupert.

"Already in my pocket," Rupert replied, checking the firing mechanism of a crossbow before laying it aside.

Ethan's collection of magical bits and bobs was a sadly depleted selection compared to pre-Chaos withdrawal days, but nonetheless, he still had a few things that could come in useful. There was, for instance, all that was left of the coil of rope from which he'd cut the length he'd used to bind Buffy's hands while he tattooed her. He put it into his bag, but something made him change his mind. He took it out ready to add to the contents of his jacket pockets.

His collection of enchanted dusts and powders were probably way past their use-by date, but he took them all anyway. If all else failed, he could simply chuck them in an enemy's eyes. The loaded dice wouldn't take up much room and occasionally had helpful effects, and his tarot cards... Well, maybe there'd be long inactive moments to fill between skirmishes. In the end, Ethan pretty much emptied the drawer, shutting it with a determined bang. "Right. I'm ready."

Rupert was just fastening the large weapons bag he was bringing. He set it on the floor and then turned to Ethan. "As am I."

They stared at each other across the bedroom. "Whatever happens, Ripper," Ethan said quietly, "however things go, what we've had since you rescued me makes it worth it." Rupert didn't answer with words, but the way he crossed the room and kissed Ethan fiercely was answer enough.

***

So once again, Giles and Ethan were heading for London, but this time they weren't alone; Megan and the dogs were with them in Giles' Rover.

Megan had been a quiet presence in the back so far, perhaps subdued by the silence from her two Watchers in the front, but as they passed Slough, she suddenly piped up. "I think Madiha would fight with us if you gave her a chance. On our side, I mean."

"Oh no, dear," Ethan said immediately. "I don't think she's ready for that. Nowhere near."

Their captive Slayer was travelling in Xander's car, safely watched by both Kat and Ian. While it was true that she was coming round a bit and they'd stopped drugging her, what Megan was suggesting seemed unlikely to Giles.

"I think you're wrong," Megan said stubbornly. "Since you and Ian spoke to her, and since she's been watching the news, knowing Ms Travers is one of the people behind what she's seeing, she's changed her mind about a lot of things. Kat and I have been talking to her."

"I'm sure you have," Giles put in, trying to smooth things over, "but regardless of how much she's come around to the truth, asking her to go up so soon against those she trusted would be unfair to her."

Megan was silent for a while. "Couldn't we at least drop her off at her parents' house? She shouldn't be a prisoner anymore, and she's really worried about them."

Giles sighed. "The truth is, we don't have the time," he said bluntly. "That is, if her parents' house is even still accessible." Seeing the worried expression Megan was wearing in the rear-view mirror, he offered a compromise. "We'll see if we can't put her in a support position. I'll talk to Pamela about it."

"Thank you, Giles." How well did he recognise the deceptively meek tones of a Slayer who'd got her own way, more or less.

Ethan shifted in his seat. 'She's angry with me,' he sent to Giles.

'I wouldn't say that,' Giles replied, glancing over.

'She's wondering when I'll sacrifice her for the greater good.' Ethan had a coin in his hands and was walking it between his fingers like a street magician.

Giles couldn't deny that; he was sure that thought passed through every Slayer's mind eventually. 'Talk to her,' he suggested, knowing he was giving advice that he had never really managed to take with Buffy, not fully and not over this particular issue at least.

'And say what? Hi, sweetheart, betcha wondering what I did to your friend, aren't you? Well, don't fret, she's in a much nicer place now. Much like you soon will be...'

'I was thinking something a bit less confrontational and biting actually.'

'You do surprise me.' Ethan looked away, out of the window.

Taking matters into his own hands, Giles asked aloud, "How are you dealing with all of this, Megan?"

She leant forward, her hand on the back of Ethan's chair. "Oh, you know, fine. Ish. I won't say I'm not nervous, but this is what it's all about for us, isn't it? I think a good fight might help... ease tensions."

"The way things are going, we'll probably be able to bring you one." Giles paused and then asked a bit awkwardly, "And what's happened? Is there anything you want to say about that?"

Megan was silent for a few moments then said quietly, "You mean Dawn, don't you?" Ethan twisted even more in his seat, as if trying to get away from both of them.

Giles nodded, keeping his voice even, although he carried his own guilt about it. "Yes."

"It was her decision," Megan said, and then added in a pained voice, almost as if she didn't want to say it at all, "What would you have done if she'd said no?"

That was a question that Giles still didn't want to contemplate. "Frankly? I don't know," he finally replied softly.

"Then I would have done it anyway," Ethan said harshly, without turning. Megan was silent. She let go of the chair and leant back into her seat again. There was a whine from one of the dogs; Skunk, Giles rather thought.

Mutely, Giles reached over and briefly squeezed Ethan's hand. He was only a little surprised when Ethan's hand turned and squeezed his own tightly back before he could withdraw it. Ethan's grip was painful. 'Love?' Giles sent, taking his eyes off the road long enough to glance over.

Ethan let Giles have his hand back. 'Sorry. I... Sorry.' He sighed and said aloud, "Megan, without Dawn's sacrifice, we'd all be facing death. Death or a Chaos-nightmare, which would certainly destroy who we are if not quite what we are. Everyone, Megan –the whole world. Can't you–"

Giles felt Megan shift in the back, leaning forward again. "It's all right, Ethan. I get it. I'm just glad it wasn't me who had to do it to her." She added more quietly, "And that it wasn't me you had to do it to."

Ethan twisted the other way in his chair, to look over at Megan. "It's hard enough to let you go into this battle today."

"It's never easy having to make these decisions," Giles put in. "Easier when it's only yourself you have to put on the line. When it's others, loved ones..."

"We're lucky we have you to make those decisions," Megan said resolutely. "Dawn..." She sighed sadly. "Dawn understood."

"She did," Giles agreed, thinking of the conversation they'd had the night before. "We're not giving up on her either. When this is over, we'll find some way of bringing her back. The monks made her human once, and what has been done once can be repeated. We just need to find out how."

Ethan laughed, and it wasn't a nice laugh, but before Giles had a chance to question him, Megan gasped. They were approaching Heathrow again, and it was worse than ever. The black morass had extended far beyond where it had covered yesterday; it was close enough now to the road for them to be able to make out detail in the writhing cloud.

"Welcome to the Hotel California," Ethan said, rather obliquely.

***

Ethan was feeling a little odd. He was surrounded by Slayers and junior Watchers, all of them looking at him as if he were some kind of authority. "So," he said, with a touch of strained humour, "time to go over the top into no man's land and shout 'here I am, boys, come and get me'?"

They stared blankly back at him, all bar a couple of the older Watchers who frowned in obvious disapproval. He sighed and looked around for a friendlier face.

They were gathered in the street outside Shuttlecock and Hazel's, the ex-department store and location of Mysterious Door #1. Beyond their little troop was a cordon manned by soldiers and armed police in what was undoubtedly an uneasy alliance, and beyond them, a few resolute citizens, determined to see the excitement no matter how dangerous. They were probably all journalists. Ethan had long ago decided that the continued existence of derring-do reporters was a reasonable refutation of Darwinism.

Rupert was a few feet away, talking to Phelps, the Watcher who'd been in charge of the Council types guarding this place. Rupert's expression was serious, almost grim, but confident too, the mask of Head Watcher firmly in place. Gwydion stood to attention at his side, looking every inch the professional working hound.

In contrast, Skunk was running around, darting between legs and yapping in a state of total over excitement; Ethan sternly told her off – mentally, as not everyone needed to hear it. His dog came to heel, her head hanging.

Ethan turned his head to the right where he could see Ian leaning against the wall of the building, seemingly completely at ease as he looked over their amassed troops with an air of amusement. Ethan supposed that knowing for sure you were about to die could bring with it a strange kind of calm, especially knowing what –or rather, who– awaited you beyond. It was hard to suppress a childish reaction to Ian's apparent eagerness to leave him however. Shaking his head, trying to clear it, Ethan caught sight of Kat and waved to her. "Come here a jiffy, sweetheart?"

Kat, who'd been listening in as Xander talked to another of the Watchers, walked over. "What's up?"

Ethan gestured at the large gathering of super-powered ducklings he'd somehow managed to collect. "These lovely young ladies need organising somehow. I believe they're already in functional groups, two or three to a Watcher, but I haven't a clue where to allocate them or even if it's time yet to do so. Perhaps you could entertain them somehow while we wait? Drill them or give them some rousing Churchillian rhetoric. Anything really, so long as they stop looking at me as if I'm expected to give them a worm or crunchy mouse or something."

To her credit, Kat tried to hide her smile, even if she didn't do a very good job of it. "You're a figure of authority to them and maybe shading just a bit towards a legend. Or at least, the lead in some of the stories they tell, you and Giles."

"Yes, well. I'd love to debunk some of those urban myths, but perhaps now is not the time. Please, Kat? Maybe a quick lesson in field surgery or something. I'm sure Adkins here" –he waved at one of the two Watchers who had frowned at his joke– "would be happy to play the part of your victim."

Luckily, Rupert finished with the Watcher-in-charge and headed over to join Ethan while Phelps started barking orders to the throng. "Phelps will keep things in line out here while we're inside," Rupert told them. "We're taking Elliot, Simpkins, Passet, and their Slayers with us for backup."

"We're going in now?" Ethan asked. He picked up his canvas attaché bag that had been resting against his leg. Inside it were his various magical bits and pieces, and more importantly, the re-casketed glass case that contained the Bachian Matrix.

Rupert nodded as the Watchers he'd just named came forward with a bevy of weapon-wielding girls, and the others took up defensive positions around the building. "Ready or not..."

Once everybody was together, they started inside, stepping through the main doors and then heading off to the side to find the emergency stairs down into the basement. Silence reigned as they descended; the only sounds were those of their footsteps on the stairs. It was a bit eerie, such a large group moving with so little noise.

The basement was not open as Ethan had for some reason been expecting. They were led along a dim corridor and through a door into a largish empty room – recently emptied, if the long scrapes in the dust on the floor were anything to go by. There was, of course, the freestanding door in the centre, which was hard to ignore. There was a doorframe around it, but nothing held the frame up. There was a Watcher/Slayers cadre already installed down here, as well as quite a lot of equipment and the technicians to operate it, which meant the room became quickly crowded.

"Has anyone actually opened it yet?" Ethan asked, pushing forward to examine the door more closely.

"No, sir," one of the technicians replied, with a deference that was rather horrifying. "All attempts at unlocking it have proven unsuccessful."

Xander moved forward until he was standing beside Ethan in front of the door. "Mellon!" he said dramatically. "Open Sesame!" Everybody paused and stared at the door, which remained firmly shut. Xander shrugged. "Hey, worth a try. Sometimes the absurd and obvious works."

Ethan rolled his eyes, reached out his free hand and tried the handle. It wouldn't give, apparently locked tight. Hmm. The door was made of wood, solid, not panelled. The only mark on it was a small circular indentation at about head height in the centre. He ran his fingers over that thoughtfully. It was as if something had once sat in that spot and fallen out, something about the size of...

Laughing to himself, Ethan handed Xander his bag. He felt in his pocket and drew out the coin Xander had found during their ill-fated spot of espionage. Looking at it now, Ethan realised with a small shock of recognition, that the symbol on the 'heads' side was a composite of the three that were on the Pilantine casket holding the Matrix. He really should have realised that before. That meant, of course, that the third and unidentified symbol probably did not mean 'crystal' as he'd initially guessed.

He showed the coin to Xander with a wink and then placed it into the indentation in the door. It fitted perfectly, and there was a 'clunk' of a lock drawing back within the door. Ethan put his hand back to the handle and turned. The door opened.

Feeling the ludicrousness of the situation, Ethan turned and stage-bowed at the assembled ranks. "Thank you. And for my next trick..."

"Well, that's the first barrier conquered," Rupert murmured, stepping forward to get a good look through the door, but all there was to see was the basement on the other side.

One of the technicians pushed between them with some kind of beeping instrument with a sensor rod attached to it on a spiral cord. Ethan stepped back and let the man wave his wand around the doorframe, pressing buttons and taking readings.

Skunk whined at his feet, and he picked her up. She was getting to be a little heavy for this sort of thing now, but he found holding her often helped him to think. 'All line up and march through two by two?' he asked Rupert mentally.

'Basically,' Rupert replied. 'We'll send a couple of Slayers through first as they're best equipped to deal with sudden surprises.' He turned and said aloud, "Megan? Kat? Would you like to take point?" Ethan's immediate response was to wonder why Rupert couldn't send two of the other girls first into potential danger, but he had sense enough not to voice it as their two Slayers stepped up to stand in front of the door, weapons readied.

The technician bloke withdrew and was quickly deep in discussion with the other white-coated types. Ethan shivered. He doubted he'd ever be comfortable again around people clothed that way.

Pamela was with them too, and she moved forward now to converse with Rupert. Ethan moved closer to listen in. "...some kind of potential dimensional vortex in effect," she was saying. "By which they mean, I think, that there's nothing much there currently, but something can possibly be triggered."

Rupert nodded. "That's generally how portals work, although usually they don't come complete with their own freestanding door."

"Shall we...?" Megan asked, shooting a questioning look at Rupert and Ethan. Ethan gestured with his hand to Giles, giving the floor to the Head Watcher. Rupert nodded, and Kat and Megan exchanged looks then stepped through...

Only to appear on the other side of the doorway, still firmly in the basement. He couldn't help it; Ethan laughed.

"Rather anti-climatic, isn't it?" Ian asked with humour, grinning at Ethan in perfect understanding.

"It appears there's another lock we have to get through," Rupert said, stepping closer to the door and running a hand along the frame.

"Let me," Ethan said, following him. "Maybe with pattern sight, I can–"

"There's something on the inside of the jamb here." Rupert was peering more closely at the wood. "Let me see if–" As he spoke, Rupert moved in an effort to get a better look and inadvertently stepped through the doorway.

And vanished.

Ethan didn't just see Rupert go, he felt him. A shock ran through their bond that made him want to scream. Without thought, moving at a speed born from a rush of adrenaline, he sprinted through the door...

Only to slam into Rupert's back, knocking them both over.

Rupert made a sound something like "oof!" as he hit the floor with Ethan's full weight on top of him, getting the wind knocked out of him.

To start with, Ethan was so relieved to be back with Rupert that he didn't even question where they were, but as he rolled from Rupert to allow him to breathe, he looked around in a little confusion. They were in a room identical to the one they'd come from, only completely empty of other people, and indeed, magic doorways.

Rupert rolled over and looked up. "Wha–" he began, having to pause for breath that was still coming back. "What happened?"

"You went day-tripping without me," Ethan told him, standing and holding his hand out. "I think we –or at least, you– were the trigger."

"Ah." Rupert took Ethan's hand and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. "I hadn't realised. From my point of view, it was all of you who had suddenly disappeared." He didn't relinquish his grip on Ethan's hand.

"No one else seems to be appearing. How... reassuring," Ethan said sardonically. "Not even the dogs." He hoped Skunk hadn't hurt herself when she fell.

Rupert seemed thoughtful, and so Ethan waited patiently, knowing something important was coming. "All is a maze, and only those who have touched its substance will be able to find the end." Rupert was quoting from the prophecy Keri had given them. He glanced at Ethan. "I suppose that could make this the maze then."

"Looks more like an old storeroom to me." Ethan thought about the prophecy line. "What substance anyway?"

Rupert gave a half shrug. "Destiny? Magic?" His gaze sharpened. "Or Chaos."

Ethan frowned. "No, it can't be Chaos because..." As he spoke, there was a bright flash from the middle of the room, where they had just been sprawled on the floor together. When it dissipated, Ian was standing there. "–Ian would be here," Ethan finished, chuckling. "Well, there are three of us at least."

"I think I am going to be all the reinforcements you can expect," Ian said. "Unless one of those Watchers is holding a secret misspent past with Chaos." He'd obviously worked it out too.

"You mean other than me?" Rupert asked dryly.

It made sense; Ethan nodded. "Others tried and failed to come through before you?" he asked Ian, who also nodded.

"A number of Slayers as well as young Xander. Quite a few people I had to dodge around to get to the doorway myself."

It was a shame about the lack of musclepower, but Ethan was glad to have Ian where he could keep an eye on him. "Well, if Rupert's right, it looks like we have a maze to–" He stopped abruptly. "Bugger."

"What?" Rupert asked, frowning at him.

"The Key," Ethan said. "It's in my bag... which Xander was looking after."

"Bugger," Rupert echoed with a scowl. "Some Guardians we are, can't even manage to bring the Key with us."

Ian grinned smugly. "You wouldn't happen to be talking about this Key would you?" he asked, pulling the softly glowing crystal key from his pocket with a flourish and a smirk.

"Crow, I love you," Ethan told him with heartfelt feeling. "Um, no side effects from touching outside of its case?" The reason he'd left the Matrix in its case rather than slip it into his pocket was worries about the pure Order of the crystal.

Ian shook his head. "Not for us."

Ethan couldn't help coming over and putting his fingers to the Key himself, but he winced as soon as he touched the crystal's smooth surface and drew his hand back in a hurry. Somewhere high in his belly, his secret cache of pattern had roiled and complained in response to the contact. He gave Ian an alarmed look, thanking his stars that he was facing away from Rupert.

"Why don't I hang onto this for now?" Ian said with a casual air as he pocketed the Key again, his sharp eyes meeting Ethan's full of warning and worry.

Time to distract Rupert quickly. "So captain, my captain, do we explore?" Ethan asked, turning.

Rupert nodded, appearing not to have noticed anything wrong. "We're not going to get anything done just standing here."

Ethan looked at the door, open to the shadowy corridor beyond. "No Slayers to send first," he commented.

"We'll just have to do our own scouting," Rupert replied, giving Ethan a smile that was very Ripperesque and then stepping out into darkness with something that seemed very much like relish.

Ethan hurried after him after flashing a look of concern at Ian. The corridor was empty as far as he could tell, and it seemed to be longer than he remembered it being on the other side of the magic door. Far longer. "Done with mirrors, you think?"

"There are all kinds of ways of warping the senses," Ian said from behind him. "We'll need to keep our wits about us here."

"So this is the maze then? Not just a carbon copy of where we were?" Ethan reached out with his pattern senses, but there really wasn't much here to sense, which was odd in and of itself of course. "Ian, there's..." Ethan frowned. "Most of this is illusion; it has to be. Real to our minds and body, but without pattern, without true reality."

Ian nodded. "It's a place of Chaos; the only patterns here would have to be illusion."

"An illusion that nonetheless we have to find our way free from," Rupert said, frowning down the corridor.

"Do we follow the rules, walk as we're channelled, or do we break them?" Ethan looked thoughtfully at the wall, reaching out a hand to tap it.

Rupert reached out and caught his hand before he could do so. "We follow for now, until we can find out more about this place." He smiled slightly at Ethan. "The breaking will come later."

"I do wish you wouldn't say things like that, dearheart," Ethan said as they started to walk. "There's altogether too much fate around us currently. The air fairly crackles with destiny, and I don't want to give it any ideas."

"I rather fear it's going to do as it will regardless of what we say or don't say," Rupert observed, "but perhaps we should talk about peaceful resolutions just in case."

"Please." The walls of the corridor were plain and featureless and no exits were obvious. It came as no surprise to Ethan when he glanced back and saw that the door of the room they'd come from had vanished. "Rats, meet trap," he muttered.

"Squeak, squeak," Ian pronounced solemnly.

Ethan felt a stab of mild annoyance at Ian's flippancy and what it probably meant. Instead of saying anything, however, he twisted his own patterns, aiming for a state of calm alertness. Self-twisting was getting to be a bit of a habit just recently; it was better for Rupert if Ethan avoided giving his emotions free reign, and anyway, it wasn't as if anything he could be feeling at the moment would be fun.

As if to confirm that, the muscles of his gut twinged. His body, it was turning out, was really not fond of being used as a receptacle for someone else's complete blueprint. Frowning, he concentrated his senses, not really looking where he was going as he worked on improving the membrane between his own flesh and the treasury he'd created.

His concentration was so deep that he walked right into Rupert's back. "You stopped walking," Ethan pointed out redundantly.

"And you didn't," Rupert pointed out just as obviously.

Ian chuckled. After a quick glance at him, Ethan moved back a few steps from Rupert and looked around the still uniformly featureless corridor. "Why did you stop walking?"

"I was going to ask if either of you could do a spell, or if you know of some other way we could sense hidden openings. Otherwise, we're going to have to check the walls as we go."

"If here was real, if it had pattern..." Ethan shrugged. "I'm still in favour of breaking the rules. Lend me your pen, and I'll draw a door, see what happens."

"I suppose that's not any more absurd than any of the rest of this." Rupert dug out the pen that Ethan had given him for Christmas and handed it over.

Ethan took off the lid a little nervously, remembering what the pen was capable of and not completely certain it would obey its own rules in this place. Nothing happened, however, and he set about no doubt ruining the gold nib, drawing the outline of a door on the wall beside him. "What do you think, crow?" he asked, as he drew a circle for the handle.

Ian studied it for a minute. "Add some hinges," he suggested. "And channel a bit of power through the pen as you do so."

Nodding, Ethan did so, then adding rough panelling to the door in a sudden inspiration. "Saw a Jackanory once, at least I think it was a Jackanory. About a sick girl with a magic pencil and a boy paralysed by polio. She met him in this dream world, and whatever she drew became real there. Whatever you do, don't let me draw eyes on anything."

Rupert was giving Ethan's drawing an assessing look. "So far all it seems to be is graffiti."

Ethan was forced to agree. He put his finger onto one of his wobbly lines and sent a surge of power around the whole drawing, willing it to become 'real', but it made no difference. "Was worth a try," he said with a shrug.

"I don't think we're through trying yet," Ian said, staring at the drawn door in a way that made it clear to Ethan he was using pattern sense. "I think what we need might be a bit of Order, to solidify the possibility of a door." He glanced at Rupert. "If you would be so kind...?"

Raising an eyebrow, Rupert stepped forward and ran a finger along the lines of the drawing; Ethan could sense magic pouring into the picture.

It wasn't that the scrawled illustration suddenly took on the three-dimensional form and colour of a real door, but something happened. Certain lines moved forward, out from the wall, others moved in. Ethan placed his hand over the circle he had drawn for the handle and found it was now protruding. With a laugh, he turned it, and the 'door' opened.

"So, did you have any place in mind that the door is supposed to lead to?" Rupert asked, wearing a whimsical smile.

"Certainly not this," Ethan answered, moving through into a grey, featureless room much like the one they'd first appeared in, only smaller. "I could never imagine anything as dull as this." There were no other obvious exits from the room, or indeed anything but walls, floor and ceiling.

"So shall we go back or draw our way forward?" Ian asked after a moment.

"Why don't I draw us a chainsaw?" Ethan asked, grinning at the other two.

"It wouldn't be the first time I've used one as a key," Rupert put in.

"Really?" Ethan raised an eyebrow. "Playing at horror movie villains, were we?"

"I was having problems with disappearing doors. Also, it was at a time when it was quite... satisfying to just cut directly through to the centre of a problem." He glanced at Ethan. "It was the Halloween just before you came back to Sunnydale that last time."

It was hard to explain, even to himself, but there was something strangely erotic about the idea of Rupert wielding a chainsaw. Ethan folded his arms and smirked at him.

"What?" Rupert asked.

"You, wielding large and powerful tools." Ethan didn't try all that hard to suppress his snigger.

Rupert didn't quite roll his eyes. "Perhaps it's for the best we don't have a chainsaw then. Wouldn't want you to be overcome with hilarity."

"Oh, I can assure you, hilarity wouldn't be the pertinent... emotion."

Ian coughed discretely. "Shall I go find a chainsaw and then leave you two alone with it?"

"Stay where you are, m'lord crow, and tell me you wouldn't like to see Rupert manhandling large, throbbing machines." He should, Ethan knew, be taking things a lot more seriously than this, but the situation was a little ridiculous.

"Shouldn't we be getting our minds back on the problem at hand?" Rupert put in, a touch of a blush staining his cheeks.

Ethan sighed. "Just tell me what to draw."

"Another door?" Rupert pointed at the wall opposite the one they'd already drawn. "Keep going in a straight line?"

As Ethan obliged, he pointed out, "The ink reservoir will only create so many doors before it's gone."

Rupert nodded acknowledgement. "Best hope we pick the right direction then."

Three rather skimpily drawn doors later, they were walking down a featureless corridor again. "Whatever the rules are here," Ethan said tetchily, "we're not breaking the right ones."

"Maybe we're not close enough to... whatever it is we're supposed to find here for breaking the rules to help yet," Rupert suggested.

"There is," Ethan said very reluctantly, "the possibility that, within a Chaos-maze, the only way to 'win' is to behave in an orderly fashion – obey the rules, I mean."

"Yes," Ian confirmed, dropping a companionable hand onto Ethan's shoulder. "However much that drives us crazy."

"And it will," Ethan confirmed. "But obeying the rules here just has us wandering forever down an endless corridor, doesn't it?"

"For now," Rupert acknowledged.

"Have patience, my boy," Ian put in. "Sometimes you have to keep going in spite of apparent lack of progress."

"Oh, I'm known for my patience. We shouldn't have any problems then." Ethan snorted.

But onward they walked nonetheless for what felt like hours to Ethan; maybe it actually was. Conversation grew sparse as they slogged through the sensory desert. Being channelled like this was akin to wearing blinkers, and Ethan hated it. They might as well have been walking a sodding treadmill for all the progress they'd made. He was starting to feel claustrophobic. Well, 'starting' wasn't accurate at all.

"We could try going up," he suggested hopefully.

Rupert raised an eyebrow. "Standing on each other's shoulders like some kind of circus act?"

The ceilings were quite low actually. "I could draw a ladder."

"I thought you were the one who wanted to save ink."

Ethan made an inarticulate noise of frustration. "Rupert, this corridor is excruciating, like sensory deprivation torture. I spent four years locked in a place ten foot by five; it didn't do much to improve my tolerance for tedium."

Rupert stopped and reached out for Ethan's hand, sending a stream of his magic through their joined fingers. "I know this is difficult for you, love."

Feeling his cheek twitch, Ethan looked down in chagrin. "I'll try to resist the urge to burn the entire place down."

"At least while we're still in it," Rupert said with a smile, pulling Ethan into his arms.

That felt good. Ethan closed his eyes and allowed himself a few moments just to be with Rupert. 'I'm ok,' he sent. 'I can cope so long as you're with me.'

'Always,' Rupert sent back.

'I'd blame it on the lack of pattern; it unnerves me, but Ian seems to be coping.' Ethan nuzzled Rupert's neck. 'I'll just concentrate on your lovely patterns, and all will be fine.'

He glanced up and saw Ian watching them with his customary little smile, although for the first time in a while, Ethan also saw the old wistfulness back in his mentor's eyes. It was enough to make Ethan pull back and start them moving again.

"Right. Enough time wasting," he said. "We should distract ourselves with diverting conversation while we walk our exercise wheel. Ian, you start."

Ian took the request in his stride. "What kind of diverting conversation did you have in mind?"

"Well, you never did explain how the oil tanker ca–" Ethan started, and then stopped as suddenly there was something in the corridor not them. It was small and furry, about the size of Skunk, but standing on two squat legs. It had a big mouth, almost cartoonishly large, which appeared to be smiling.

"This certainly seems to be a diversion," Ian commented as they all stared at the small creature.

It had large ears, which swivelled to listen to them, and round dark eyes. "It's not un-cute," Ethan said and reached out with his pattern senses. "Oh, I see. It's not anything at all. Apart from the stuff of Chaos. Rupert, get back."

Rupert turned to look at Ethan. Then his gaze seemed drawn to over Ethan's shoulder. "Whatever it is, it's not alone."

Ethan glanced behind. Sure enough, there was another of the creatures there. Bugger. "Ian, we need to sandwich Rupert." Ethan moved in front of Rupert to protect him from one side.

"I'm not exactly a helpless victim here," Rupert reminded him, stepping out from his protected position.

"It's Chaos," Ethan said, his eyes not leaving the, um, gremlin thing as he moved back in front of Rupert. "Active Chaos, not like this illusionary building. I'm not letting it touch you." The creature shuffled forward a little, as if curious.

"I wasn't exactly planning on petting it and taking it home as a playmate for Gwydion." There was a grumbling tone to Rupert's words; clearly, he was beginning to get annoyed. He moved out from behind Ethan's protection again.

"You don't even have a weapon! Rupert, please"

Rupert just pulled out his pen and said, "Auram," transforming it into a dagger; a dagger which promptly became a sword after a palpable surge of Rupert's magic.

Ian chuckled from where he stood, facing the creature behind them. "Best give in, boy. I think your Rupert has won this argument."

As Ethan glowered, the creature in front of them put its furry head to one side and whined softly at the sight of the sword. The one behind them repeated the noise. Despite his sulk, Ethan began to hurriedly knit his pattern to Rupert's as he had in the battle at the Estate.

'That's the way,' Rupert sent to him, even as he moved into a defensive position, holding his blade ready in front of him. 'We're supposed to be fighting together.'

Ethan didn't deny this, but, 'I hate you being anywhere near Chaos, and you'd be the bloody same, Ripper, were things the other way round.'

Rupert didn't get the chance to answer, however, as the creature opened its mouth and something, a very long tongue, shot out of it towards them both. Only to be met by Rupert's blade and a bright flash of Rupert's magic, leaving the tongue twitching on the ground.

The creature wailed, the stump of its severed tongue waggling angrily in its wide-open mouth, before it rolled itself up into a ball. Something was happening behind them, but Ethan didn't have time to check on Ian before their gremlin was rolling towards them at speed. "It's like being attacked by a kid's cartoon," he grumbled, building up a shield around them.

"I once thought my life couldn't get any more absurd," Rupert said, shifting to use his sword as a bat, swatting at the gremlin, sending it flying backward. "I stand corrected."

"Howzat!" Ethan said, not completely appropriately, but a cricket metaphor seemed called for. Their fuzzball hit the wall, unrolled, snarled at them and launched itself again, this time leaping with teeth and claws ready. "It's like the anti-Skunk."

Rupert swatted it away again. "Do you think you could come up with some way of getting rid of it? Or shall I just keep hitting it until it's in little pieces?"

"Er." Ethan improvised quickly. "May I have a smidgen of your magic?" He held out his hand to Rupert. Taking it, Rupert poured a steady stream of his magic into Ethan. "Enough!" Ethan withdrew his hand and tried something he'd never done before, but his recent secret activities had given him the basic method. Using a shell of his own magic, he created a capsule containing Rupert's condensed power. He then spoke encouragingly to the gremlin. "Hello, boy! Good boy! Got a treat for you here. Want a choccie?"

The creature growled and jumped, snatching the capsule out of Ethan's fingers and nearly taking his fingers with it.

Ethan watched it swallow and then saw it develop an almost comical expression as the capsule dissolved, releasing the Order magic. The creature had enough time to give Ethan a very reproachful glare before it disintegrated into a black cloud of particles, which swept away to nowhere in a non-existent wind.

They turned quickly to see to the other creature behind them, only to find a similarly dispersing cloud swirling around a rather smug looking Ian. "Well, that was... rather neo-Disney, actually," Ethan commented, wondering ever so slightly if he'd been knocked on the head and was actually dreaming.

"Never know what you're going to get with Chaos," Ian said. "You two did quite well, fighting together, merging your magics. You've both come a long way."

"I think the main threat there was laughing too hard to see the furball." Ethan shook his head. "I wonder if they have a mummy somewhere."

"Dear lord, I hope not," Rupert said, muttering "Aquam," under his breath and returning his blade to its pen shape. "This was disturbing enough."

"Chaos-bunnies," Ethan announced, feeling out with his senses to make sure there truly wasn't a mummy-bunny near by. "Well, at least they broke the tedium. That makes me feel positively warm towards them."

"Glad you were entertained." Rupert's tone was full of dry humour.