Some short while later, Ethan pulled away from his sleeping lovers and moved off the bed of air in order to rummage around in what was left of their summoned food. He considered clothes, but there seemed no urgency. One of the many strange things about this non-place they'd found themselves stuck in was that they were never too hot, nor too cold.

He looked back at the two men he'd left curled together on the 'bed' and felt a surge of warmth from a different source, however. Love, he supposed. Whoever knew he'd had so much in him?

Given time, he could see Ian becoming a true third to his partnership with Rupert, although things being what they were, Ethan supposed Ian would never really be an equal in the relationship. His mystic bond was to someone else, after all. And anyway, Ethan wasn't all that keen on sharing Rupert as a long-term prospect, although if he had to, Ian was the only person he'd ever consider for the role. It was, after all, hard to keep his hands off Ian at the best of times, but...

He sighed. Yes, but. These rather circular ponderings were pointless, considering what Ian believed awaited him in this barren place.

Sighing softly again, Ethan bit off some more turkey to chew. It was a good job he was used to seeing with more than just his eyes, otherwise sleeping on an invisible mattress and eating increasingly dry meat that looked like floorboard would be unnerving.

He became aware that he could feel a gaze upon him, and he turned around to see Ian propped up on one elbow watching him with an affectionate smile. "Worked up an appetite?"

"I'm somewhat peckish," Ethan admitted quietly, not wanting to disturb Rupert who actually seemed to be sleeping well for once. "Want anything? There's still a squishy banana left and some of the cheese."

Ian didn't seem impressed with the menu. "I, ahh, had my fill earlier when I ate the last of the chocolate."

"Ah yes, along with our whisky. Bad old bird, you are." He couldn't face the banana, but Ethan took the cheese and moved to sit on the floor on Ian's side of the bed.

"Alcohol, chocolate, dope and sex – it's certainly been a day for indulging in vices," Ian observed with humour, resting a hand briefly on Ethan's shoulder.

"Least you shared the sex." Ethan grinned down at Ian, who was still propped on his elbow. "Some superior shagging, no?"

"It was indeed. A veritable highwater mark of shagging," Ian said expansively.

"Something to tell Derek about when you see him." It seemed easier to say that and believe it was true tonight; Ethan wasn't sure why. "Will he be okay about it, you think?"

Ian seemed to consider this question before answering. "Most likely he'll be jealous he missed out. Derek was always quite... passionate in everything he did."

Ethan pondered that. "Can you imagine him getting along with Rupert, the way we get on, or would they have locked horns?"

"I think there would have been a great deal of posturing at first, but they would have come to an accord eventually." Ian chuckled. "Probably based on exasperation with us."

That made Ethan laugh as he could easily imagine it. "And me? Would Derek have liked me?"

Ian smiled. "I think he would have liked you very much in spite of himself. Much the same way he liked me."

"You're hard not to like," Ethan said, twisting to thread his fingers through Ian's hair and kiss him softly, suddenly feeling a little sad.

Ian smiled at him, touching Ethan's face. "You didn't know me back in the days when I was young and obnoxious."

Ethan gave him a wicked smile in return. "No, but I wish I had." Or maybe not, remembering what he'd got up to even without a friend as sensation-seeking as himself.

"Maybe next lifetime."

His grin faded. "You better keep your promise," Ethan said, looking down, his hand dropping.

"I always keep my promises," Ian said softly, touching Ethan's face again.

"At least send me a postcard?"

Ian smiled. "I'll see what I can do."

Ethan rearranged himself a little lower, so that he was leaning on the airbed and more on a level with Ian. "Have you noticed how we're not really talking about what we're doing here, what might await us?"

"Do you want to?" Ian asked.

"Not particularly," he admitted. "I'm just wondering if Rupert wasn't entirely wrong with his desire to talk strategy."

"We've been managing so far. It's difficult to prepare when you don't know what exactly you are preparing for."

"Well, we know what prophecy tells us... which is precious little when it comes down to it." Ethan sighed.

Ian shrugged philosophically. "Do prophecies ever do more than hint at the pattern? Our best bet is to keep all our senses alert and be prepared for anything."

"Like getting involved in an intense threesome, you mean?" Ethan chuckled and nuzzled against Ian.

"After-effects of an over-abundance of Chaotic nature," Ian deadpanned.

"Of course, of course." Ethan nodded sagely, but then felt himself become more serious. "Do you even have an idea what it is we're meant to be doing here?"

"Face the enemy and vanquish him. Beyond that... Well, life is always a surprise." Ian ran a hand lightly down Ethan's chest to his belly. "And then there's the little addendum you've added to the prophecy..."

Ethan looked uneasily down his own body. The heat and swelling so obvious to his pattern senses were really not visible to the naked eye. Not yet, anyway. It was already clear that his little cache was a time-limited tenancy for Dawn. "It hurts a lot at times," he mentioned, lowering his voice still further.

Ian's hand came to rest directly over the spot in question, and Ethan felt his mentor's magic adding more shielding around the cache. "You're doing something that was never meant to be done. That you've managed to get this far with it is in itself amazing."

"Stupid too, I'm sure, but... oh bugger it. You know." Ethan put his hand over the top of Ian's and let himself feel the ridiculousness of the situation. "Well now, are you feeling like the proud father? You did help considerably with the entire process as I recall."

"I wasn't about to sit back and watch you dive into unknown waters without offering so much as a life preserver."

Ethan squeezed Ian's hand appreciatively. "I should have told him, you know. Still should. In attempting to keep the third promise, I'm breaking the second. I can't say that feels good."

"Why didn't you tell him?" Ian asked curiously.

"Because I'm scared I'll fail. I don't want to raise his hopes up only to crush them."

"Do you think he'd hold it against you if you did?" The question was asked in a soft version of what Ethan had dubbed Ian's teaching voice.

Ethan's brain became rather stuck on that question. "It... she means a great deal to him."

"Yes, she does, but you didn't answer the question."

"He knows I intend to try to bring her back. It's only this" –he squeezed Ian's hand again where it lay above the cache– "that I haven't told him about." He wanted to stop talking about this now.

"Why?" Ian asked again. "Do you really think he wouldn't understand?"

"Of course he'd understand, you stubborn old bird, and that would change nothing!" Ethan's voice was getting rather too loud, so he reduced its volume before adding, "I'd still have failed him. All of them, in fact."

"I think," Ian said slowly, "that there's two different issues here, your worry about not succeeding, and your fear of telling Rupert."

"He'll be angry," Ethan finally admitted. "And no doubt blame himself somehow. Don't ask me how, but he'll find a way."

"And how will he feel when he finds out you're afraid to talk to him?"

This was starting to become irritating. "Afraid really isn't the right word, Ian. I just feel he's got enough to worry about and feel overly responsible for currently without adding me to the list." Ian just raised an eyebrow at him, so Ethan demanded, "What's that meant to mean?"

"There's not the least bit of projection happening?"

Ethan tried to work that out. "You think I'm feeling worried and overly responsible for him?"

"For him and for Dawn both," Ian said gently.

"Maybe." Ethan shrugged, feeling despondent. "Rupert worries about the whole bloody world though."

"He does have a rather highly developed sense of responsibility," Ian agreed, glancing over at the sleeping man in question.

An unpleasant twinge of paranoia made Ethan reach out with his pattern senses then to check that Rupert was still sleeping soundly. He quickly discovered, spirits plunging, that had been more instinct than paranoia. "Bugger." He sat up and rubbed his face in his hands. "How much have you heard?"

Rupert opened his eyes, giving up the pretence of sleep. "Enough to know you're not telling me something that you're worried about failing at."

Ethan stared at the floor, desperately trying to think of a way out of this. It had been bloody stupid discussing it so close to Rupert... or maybe it hadn't. Maybe he'd wanted Rupert to know really. Bugger, what a mess.

Ian was a supportive presence, but he remained silent. When neither of them said anything, Rupert sat up, reaching over Ian to rub Ethan's shoulder. "Talk to me, love?"

Christ, he wished he'd told all before he had to tell all. Ethan turned, gave Rupert a weak smile, and crawled carefully over Ian to squeeze in between the two men. "I'd rather show you."

"Show me what?"

Ethan lay on his back and took Rupert's hand... and then hesitated. His reasons for not telling Rupert still seemed rather compelling; he couldn't see what possible good could come from Rupert fretting himself stupid about this too. It was too late now, though. Sighing, he granted Rupert pattern sight, waiting for him to adjust to that before going further.

Rupert remained silent, just gave Ethan a questioning glance.

"Here, dearheart. Look here." Ethan briefly moved his free hand over the heated skin below his left ribs and then let it drop, so Rupert could see.

"That's..." Rupert frowned. "What is that? It's not you."

"It's Dawn. Well, sort of."

Rupert shook his head. "I don't..."

"It's her pattern. Everything that was the girl, not the Key. I, er, saved it." Ethan looked worriedly at Rupert.

"You can do that?" Rupert asked, then shook his head. "I mean, obviously you can, but–"

"For a while," Ethan said, really not wanting to elaborate on the risks of what he was doing, at least not the risks to him. "The big question is – can I undo it once the Key has done its mysterious preordained task?"

"I wouldn't bet against you," Ian said, speaking up for the first time since Rupert had awakened. "You're quite gifted with shapeshifting as you once told me yourself."

Ethan reached out with his free hand to gratefully squeeze Ian's. "You have every right to be angry with me," he told Rupert, quite simply.

"This, what you're doing, it's dangerous, isn't it?" Rupert asked softly.

Bugger yet again. "You don't need to worry about me, dearheart. Really, you don't."

Rupert gave him a faint smile. "I notice you're not denying it."

"I... I'm trying my best for her, Rupert. For you. I just... I may fail." There, it was said. "And then she would really be gone."

Rupert tugged on Ethan's hand pulling him into an embrace. "No one can ask for more than your best, and I feel like I'm only getting the faintest of impressions of what you're actually risking to attempt this."

Ethan accepted the cuddle with relief. "I'll be all right. I've not changed all that much, Ripper. Still a selfish bugger at heart."

There was a snort of disbelief behind him, which wasn't at all helpful. Ethan refrained from kicking Ian. Just. Anyway, the fact was that he was still a selfish bugger. He was doing this as Rupert in pain hurt more than any pain of his own.

"You could have told me," Rupert said, softly, but as reprimands went this was quite mild.

"Yes." Well, what else could he say? "I'm sorry. Sorry we woke you up too as you need some good sleep. Will you let me relax you?"

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Yes, very much so – don't worry. Don't think about it. Concentrate on the big things like the maze and the enemy, and let me worry about this." Ethan held Rupert's face and looked into his eyes. "Not wanting you to worry was the main reason I didn't tell you. Well, one of the most important ones anyway."

Rupert looked back at him searchingly. "Worrying about you," he finally said, "is rather second nature, I fear, but I'll do my best not to let it get out of control."

Ethan laid his head on Rupert's shoulder. He'd have to be satisfied with that promise; any more wouldn't be realistic. "Thank you for not being angry."

"Thank you for telling me. Or," humour laced Rupert's voice, "at least talking about telling me where I could hear you."

"I'm glad you know," Ethan mumbled, letting himself relax and his eyes close. "Really."

***

"Strangely, Rupert," Ethan said as he stalked from the room in which they'd spent the night, "I am not at my best after two days ceaseless route marching, no coffee, and only dried up cheese for breakfast. I do not have morning sickness."

"All I asked was if the... if Dawn was causing you any problems," Giles replied mildly. The question had been prompted by Ethan's appearance when they'd woken up, the man had looked anything but healthy.

"Dawn is a well-mannered guest and the least of my problems," Ethan said, looking from side to side in the corridor. "Which way today?"

Giles looked between both directions himself. "Logic isn't much use in here," he admitted. "Perhaps you two can try a more instinctive way of making a choice?"

Ethan appeared for a moment as if he were about to be grumpy and unhelpful about that, but then he seemed to change his mind and turned to Ian, holding out his hand. "Shall we see which way has the prettiest patterns, old crow?"

"Certainly, young fox," Ian said with that slight smile of his and took Ethan's hand.

There was a short pause as they both just stood there, but then Ethan released Ian's hand, announced, "This way," and set off to the left.

Giles willingly fell into step beside him. "Prettier pattern this way?"

"There are more possibilities this way." Ethan said.

"Whether that's a good or a bad thing," Ian added, "is debatable."

They walked on in silence for a while in which Giles' mind kept worrying at the problem of the maze, but coming up with nothing new. "Feels like we've been doing this forever," he finally said just to break the silence.

"I think we're getting closer," Ian said encouragingly.

"That's a spot of good news. This has already taken longer than we really could afford," Giles said, thinking of what the situation had been in and around London when they had first stumbled into this maze.

"I'm not sure time here has any relevance to real world time," Ethan put in dourly.

"That's quite likely true," Ian confirmed almost cheerfully. "Like fairyland."

"So we may have been gone no time at all," Ethan continued, "but on the other hand..."

"Seven years in one night," Giles quoted softly. "Yes, well, let's hope for the 'no time at all', shall we?"

"I don't know," Ethan said thoughtfully. "It might give Buffy enough time to get over her most murderous impulses."

"I shudder at what else could have happened though," Giles said, thinking about the sort of thing that had happened in the past whenever he'd been elsewhere.

"Nothing we can do about it, either way, so rather a waste of time to fret, no?" Ethan glanced across at Giles.

"Hard to stop sometimes," Giles said, but dropped the subject even if he couldn't quite stop thinking about the rather appalling possibilities.

"You have an unlimited fretting capacity, don't you, dear?"

He supposed it would seem that way; it had been trained into him since childhood, after all. Trying to shake it off as much as he could, Giles reached for Ethan's hand and quipped, "We all have our own natural talents. Perhaps that's not the one I would have chosen for myself, but..."

"What would you have chosen?" Ian asked. "Given the choice."

Glad of the distraction, Giles gave the question some thought before answering. "Freedom," he finally settled on. It wasn't exactly a talent, but it was the thing he'd yearned for pretty much all his life.

Ethan gave him a sharp look. "Really?"

Giles nodded. "Freedom to make my own choices about what I want to do and who I want to do it with." He paused. "Which, incidentally, would be you."

Ethan squeezed Giles' hand; his expression seemed thoughtful. "Even when I talk you into catastrophic decisions?"

"Yes. I'd also be free to deal with the outcome and make reparations as I see fit if it came to that."

"But," Ethan hesitated, "Would you still... leave?"

Giles caught and held Ethan's gaze as he answered, "I'd have the freedom to stay."

Ethan looked as if he wanted to ask more, but instead he just smiled slightly and walked on, at least until Ian asked him, "What about you, m'boy? Any talents or opportunities you would have liked to have had?"

"Nothing not tediously obvious," Ethan answered with a shrug.

"Answer anyway," Giles bade, curious as to what exactly Ethan would say.

Ethan shot him a pained look. "I'd really rather not. I'm bored of my personal sob story even if you two aren't. I've got everything I need now. Nothing else matters." Giles slid an arm around Ethan's waist and pulled him close as they walked. "Well, apart from the blisters," Ethan added after a moment's thought. "I could do without them. Maybe I can swap them for some coffee."

"There, you see?" Ian quipped. "You wish for a talent for procuring caffeine."

"I normally have that talent," Ethan replied. "Foxes are consummate scroungers, after all. Crows too, for that matter. Carrion or fresh, we don't care overly."

"What about you, Ian?" Giles asked. "What talent would you have asked for?"

Ian gave a small sad smile. "Foresight."

Ah. Yes, if Giles had not managed to get Ethan back in his life, he could see how that would have been something he'd have wished for as well, to have avoided losing him in the first place. So how much worse was it for Ian since Derek had been killed?

Ethan reached out and took Ian's hand briefly. "We could all do with some more of that, I think. We'd all find the ability to see around corners handy."

"Like this one we're now approaching?" Ian asked. "Ah, it does feel like there's something around there."

"As you said earlier, it's difficult to decide if that's good or bad news," Giles said. "Should we be going around with guns a-blazing? Well, swords at least."

"I don't think so," Ethan said slowly as they paused. "I can't sense any bunnies or anything else animate."

"Well, there's only one sure way of discovering what's there." With that, Giles stepped around the corner.

The corridor, having turned, widened and ended quickly in a T-junction, and in the middle of the junction stood a grey stone pedestal with a wide top on which stood a crystal ball on a gold stand. At least it looked liked a ball, but as the three of them stepped cautiously closer, Giles could see that what had at first glance had seemed a smooth sphere was actually a poly-faceted crystal. It glittered and caught the eye almost mesmerisingly.

"Interesting," Giles mused as he moved to take a closer look, being careful not to touch. Whatever it was, he was sure it was no good.

"Don't stare into it," Ethan warned, also coming closer to investigate.

"Yes, you might see the 'Trap (tm)' engraved in its base if you look too closely," Ian said dryly.

"The enemy are not exactly subtle, are they?" Giles asked, circling around the object. "I wonder what it's supposed to do."

"We should probably just choose a direction and ignore it," Ethan said. He nonetheless moved closer, his head tipped to the side, apparently trying to get a good look at the base.

"Yes, you're probably quite right," Giles agreed, but couldn't make himself move away either. The crystal was a mystery, and mysteries had always been damned hard for Giles to resist.

"I'd raise those 'probablies' to a 'definitely'," Ian said, placing a hand briefly on both their backs. "Come on, left or right?"

"Just a sec," Ethan said distractedly, peering closer still, "I recognise this symbol." He leant forward further and put his hand on the edge of the grey pedestal, well away from the crystal ball and its stand, to help himself balance. At least, that's what Giles worked out later must have happened. All he actually saw was Ethan suddenly collapse limply to the floor, twisting as he fell, his hand still rigidly grasping the pedestal above.

"Ethan!" Giles knelt by him, urgently reaching out to check his vital signs. Before he could do so, Ian's hand fell on Giles' shoulder, dragging him forcibly back.

"Don't. Don't touch until we know what's going on."

Giles opened his mouth to argue, but a bright flash of light suddenly illuminated the space they were in. They both looked around to view the crystal ball floating above its base and glowing. A picture was beginning to form within it, a picture that was as unsettling as it was impossible.

Within the ball, Giles could see Ethan, naked and far too thin, his head shaven and covered with electrodes, as was his torso. There were large tubes attached to his flanks, imbedded in his flesh, and he was strapped to a gurney. Scientists in white coats were taking readings from the various devices to which the electrodes connected. Ethan was awake and wide-eyed, but his mouth was covered with breathing apparatus, which seemed to serve no purpose beyond gagging him.

As Giles watched in horror, one of the scientists flicked a switch and turned a dial. Suddenly Ethan's body bucked in the straps and began to spasm convulsively. Small tendrils of smoke arose from where the electrodes touched his skin.

As the Ethan in the crystal ball convulsed, so did the real Ethan, still stuck by his hand to the pedestal. Small circular burns appeared on his face and hands.

"Dear God," Giles muttered, feeling sick with horror. He knew exactly what he was seeing; Ethan had told him enough about his time in captivity that he recognised it, although neither of them had wanted to go into the details. This was Ethan's worst nightmare made true, finding himself back in that horrible place, and Giles couldn't just stand here and watch it.

He tried to go to Ethan again only to once more be restrained by Ian, who said, "We need to separate him from the pedestal. Think Rupert!" Which was when Ethan began to scream.

Giles stopped thinking entirely. Acting only on the instinctual need to help Ethan, Giles broke free of Ian and grabbed Ethan's wrist, intending to pull his hand away from the pedestal. But the second that Giles' hand touched Ethan, there was a rush of air and reality spun away dizzily until only black remained...

***

"...Giles? Come on, Giles, I couldn't have hit you that hard."

Giles blinked and opened his eyes to find his Slayer looking down at him worriedly. When Buffy saw him looking back at her, she gave him a relieved smile. "Oh thank goodness. For a second I thought I might've broken you."

"I..." he began, but trailed off confused. He was lying on the floor of the library, still wearing the padding that indicated he'd been in a training session with Buffy, although he couldn't quite remember exactly what it was they had been working on... which probably had something to do with the way his head was throbbing rather badly right now. He tried again. "I think that we're done here for today," he said, quite unnecessarily since he was still lying on the floor.

Buffy had the grace to look chagrined. "Sorry. That was a bit... You mentioned Angel, and I got a bit... Oops?" She offered her hand to help him up.

Giles let her pull him to his feet, wincing as that set his head to pounding all the more. "Oops would be a succinct summary, I believe, yes."

"You don't need to go to the ER or anything, do you?" Buffy asked, looking at him worriedly as Giles slowly began to divest himself of the padding he was wearing in order to prevent accidents like the one that had apparently just happened. What was it with him and being hit on the head?

"I'm fine, Buffy," he reassured her. "Although I think I will pass on accompanying you on patrol tonight. An early night, enough sleep, and I assure you I will be as right as rain tomorrow."

"You're sure?"

"I am," he said with as much dignity as he could muster.

Buffy seemed to give in at that. "All right, but you let me clean up in here. It's the least I can do after..." She gestured at his head.

"Knocking me halfway back to England?"

"Yeah. That."

Giles didn't have it in him to argue with her right then. Instead, he gathered up his jacket and satchel and headed for the door. He paused just as he got to it, feeling like he was forgetting something important, but nothing jumped to mind.

Oh well, he decided, continuing on. It would come back to him if it were that important.