Giles opened his eyes and found himself staring up at a very non-descript ceiling. That was all he had time to register before Ethan landed on him and seemed to be doing his best to burrow under Giles' clothes. "Rupert, Rupert, Rupert..."

Automatically, Giles wrapped his arms around Ethan while he waited for memory to catch up with events.

"They took you from me. They took you from me and made me believe you were a lie."

And that was when Giles remembered – the illusion trap, and Ethan lost in the hell he'd taken him from the year before; Giles' failed attempt at rescuing Ethan and suddenly finding himself back in Sunnydale, forgetting everything that had happened in the intervening years... Forgetting Ethan and the horror that he was going through.

Giles tightened his embrace, taking comfort from Ethan's presence. "I'm sorry," he said. "I tried to get to you, but–"

"But you did," Ethan muttered, kissing every available part of Giles fervently. "Well, you didn't, but you saved me all the same. They hurt me, dearheart, and worse than that, they made me believe you were only a dream, and that the real Rupert Giles... didn't care. I was ready to die. Eager, really. But then I found the badger on my arm. Their illusion couldn't take that away."

There was a cough, and Ian spoke from close by. "He got himself out, Rupert. You should be proud of him."

"He did more than that – he got me out as well." Giles smiled at Ethan. Pride was an understatement.

"Didn't think I was going to," Ethan admitted, blinking rapidly before looking down and burying his face back in the crook of Giles' neck. "God, you chose me over Buffy."

"That comes as a surprise to you?" Giles asked softly. It didn't to him, not when Ethan so obviously needed him, not when he needed Ethan just as badly.

"Under those circumstances, you in Sunnydale and how we were with each other back then, yes. Rupert, I... I'm not in a very good... I... I don't feel all that strong, right now. I..." Ethan seemed to give up on speech as Giles then heard in his mind. 'Make me feel you? I'm half-broken here.'

Giles kissed him and poured his magic into Ethan as fully as he could, feeling an urgent need to heal the damage that had been done. 'I'm here, love; I've got you.'

Ethan sobbed against his mouth, hungrily drinking all the magic Giles gave him and only slowly sending some of his own back. His thoughts were largely incoherent; Giles made out the occasional 'oh God,' or 'Rupert' with words such as 'need', 'lost' and 'mine'.

'I'm yours,' Giles sent with the magic. 'Just as you're mine. Just like in our rings: love, magic, destiny. Forever. I'm afraid you can't get rid of me now, love.'

"Not com- complaining," Ethan managed aloud, before diving back into the kiss. 'Sometimes I hate that our bodies are separate,' he sent. 'That however linked we are, we remain individual and apart, vulnerable to tricks like those.'

'Tricks can't work,' Giles reassured. 'We'll always win through to each other. Like we did this time.'

'I don't think that I can go through that again. Rupert, they... It wasn't the pain; it was believing that you didn't care. And then in your illusion, I thought you were going to hit me, and I thought I'd never be able to...' Ethan pulled back suddenly. "The brand, you burnt it right into my pattern, you know, so wherever my consciousness is, the brand is there too." He gave Giles a watery smile. "My clever husband."

"I thought with my heart instead of my head," Giles said, returning the smile. "For once."

"Clever, clever man." Ethan stroked Giles' face; he was looking a little better, Giles thought. The shadows were fading from within his eyes. Ethan twisted around a bit, but then froze, looking at the pedestal. They seemed quite far away from it now, and Giles could only assume that Ian had very sensibly moved them. "We should get on from here," Ethan said wearily. "I could do with some sleep though. Water too, if there's the ink. Hell, if there's the ink, whisky and lots of it!"

"That's my boy," Ian chuckled.

"I think we could all use a drink," Giles agreed. "I don't care if it uses up the last drop of ink we have."

***

Ethan shook his head. "The whisky's all I need, truly." Well, the whisky and lots of pampering, but he seemed to be getting the latter without asking, and he intended to wallow in it shamelessly for as long as it lasted.

"I'd feel better if you ate something as well," Rupert told him, looking at him with earnest eyes.

"He's right," Ian put in. "Both of you should eat. You used a great deal of energy breaking free of those illusions. You need to keep your strength up, especially in here."

Ethan grimaced. "I'm not hungry, and I'm fed up with eating floorboards anyway. You should eat though, Rupert. You're feeding me so much magic, and we really can't afford for you to run dry."

"I will if you will," Rupert said promptly.

Groaning, Ethan looked unhappily at the little feast he'd drawn them earlier. "It's not food I'm starving for," he muttered, but he picked up a round item revealed by pattern sense to be an apple.

Rupert picked up an item as well then shifted around so that he was sitting behind Ethan, giving Ethan something to lean back against and smoothing the flow of magic Ethan was still being fed. "What are you hungry for?"

"You," Ethan answered promptly. "My friends, my dog, my life –you know, what passes for normality for us– our bed, things that are exactly what they look like, a nice storm..." He chuckled quietly. "A pub in the west country called the Fox and Badger."

"A pub?" Ian asked, looking interested. "That's something new."

"It's our distant utopia," Ethan told him with a smile, settling more comfortably back against Rupert. "Our 'maybe someday'."

"Not as exciting as we would have imagined while we were young," Rupert observed wryly as he snuck an arm around Ethan's waist in a loose embrace.

"Oh, I don't know," Ethan said, grinning and turning his as yet unbitten apple in his hand. "Dodging the homophobic natives, spending all your money online ordering all those essential luxuries they won't sell in the village, and of course, the constant shagging – seems exciting enough to me. Not to mention the real ale on tap."

"Remind me to hide the credit cards when we finally manage to get our pub."

"Now why would I do a stupid thing like that?" Ethan rubbed his hand along Rupert's thigh. "Most self-defeating, that would be." He winked at Ian.

Ian chuckled into his whisky then asked, "Do I have to point out that eating actually involves putting food in your mouth?"

Ethan resisted throwing his apple at Ian, but only just. Instead, he gave his mentor his best cheeky grin and said, "If you're so keen on things being put in my mouth, why don't you come over here and do just that?"

"Because then you'd never eat." Ian paused for a beat. "Food."

"Come here anyway?" Ethan asked. "I don't like you sitting so apart."

Ian obligingly moved until he was sitting beside Rupert. "All you had to do was ask, young fox."

Ethan let the apple fall to the floor and reached over to squeeze Ian's leg. "If you want me to eat, feed me something unhealthy, m'lord crow."

"You're the one who picked the apple," Rupert pointed out.

"Because I knew it wouldn't be wasted through having been handled." Ethan closed his eyes and leant his head back against Rupert. "I'm tired." He wasn't sure he'd dare sleep however.

Rupert turned his head enough to nuzzle Ethan's forehead. "That would be the adrenaline crash."

That took Ethan's thoughts back to all that he'd been so stubbornly avoiding. "They nearly got us this time. We have to find the –centre? Way out?– whatever it is we're looking for in here before there's a next time for them to get it right."

"I think that is going to be the worst they can throw at us, psychologically speaking," Ian said. "It was horrible, but don't take away from what you did. You overcame it, and I daresay, have come out of it even stronger and more together."

More together, that was amusing. "You did see the display of teenage girldom from me earlier, didn't you? Which is, of course, an insult to teenage girls, who seem in my experience to be a uniformly resolute and heroic bunch."

"Do you doubt now that Rupert would choose you no matter what the other choice?" Ian asked bluntly.

Ethan almost went automatically into denial, but then he paused and really thought about what had happened today. Rupert had, with no good reason to believe Ethan, let alone trust him, chosen Ethan over his Slayer and his duty both.

He felt a lump forming in his throat again and bent his head, keeping his eyes closed and rubbing Rupert's hand where it rested over Ethan's belly. "He'd choose me," he managed.

'Love, magic, destiny, forever,' Rupert sent. Since the illusion trap, the mental link had reverted to just the two of them again. 'Who wouldn't choose that over everything else?'

'Forever,' Ethan echoed. He'd added that word to the original three during the unexpected sex magic in Rupert's office, after Rupert had inadvertently stretched their bond to the point of pain for them both. 'Ripper, will you hold me close while I sleep? I'm a trifle worried about nightmares, but you'll keep them away.'

Rupert dropped a kiss on Ethan's cheek. 'I wasn't planning on letting you go anytime soon regardless.'

Ethan twisted in Rupert's arms, moving his legs over one of Rupert's and into Ian's lap. He buried his face in his favourite place in the crook of Rupert's neck and slipped a hand under his shirt to touch skin. "Goodnight, my two lovers," he said sleepily. 'My life, heart and soul,' he added mentally for Rupert alone.

'Just as you are mine,' Rupert responded with fierce possessiveness.

That possessiveness made Ethan a little giddy, made him smile against Rupert's skin, and holding onto it like a comforter, he let himself slowly relax into soft warm darkness.

***

"And what about you, Rupert?" Ian asked quietly, his voice barely louder than Ethan's gentle snoring just below Giles' ear.

"What about me?" Giles asked, matching the same low volume; Ethan was boneless with sleep and heavy in his arms, and Giles didn't want to wake him.

"These events today, they can't have been easy for you either."

"They weren't," he admitted, staring down at Ethan and relishing his presence, his touch.

"You recognised him, even when your memories were amputated and your intellect blinded. You recognised him for what, for who, he was to you."

"I did. I think..." Giles trailed off, remembering his feelings in the illusion: the confusion, the suspicion that Ethan had just been playing another of his tricks, and underneath it all, a tiny trickle of hope. Not about what Ethan had been saying about them being in an illusion, but that Ethan was reaching out to him. "It wouldn't have mattered when it was. I think I'd spent all of my life waiting to find what I'd lost as a young man."

Ian chuckled wryly. "Yes, that I can recognise."

"I'm sorry." Yes, Ian would certainly understand.

"No need." Ian patted Giles' hand where it rested on Ethan. "So that was Buffy then?"

Giles smiled fondly. "Yes, that was Buffy. She always has had a gift for making an impression."

"I can see her sister in her smile."

"There is definitely a Summers type; their mother had that same spirit as well."

Ian nodded thoughtfully then said, "I've been thinking, Rupert."

"About what?" Giles asked.

"The enemy, his motivations here."

"Oh?" Curiosity piqued, Giles would have leant forward if Ethan hadn't been in his arms.

"Well, he hasn't been making strenuous efforts to kill us, has he? I'm not sure he actually wants you and Ethan dead, at least, not yet. The traps and small fights we've had so far seem designed to weaken and slow us down, and in the case of the illusions, destroy confidence in ourselves and in each other. You outwitted him there quite nicely, of course."

"Indeed." Giles looked down at his lover. "Ethan and I have travelled a long way in the last year. I think the trap just made both of us realise exactly how far we've come."

Ian smiled. "I'm proud of you both. I have no doubts at all about your fitness for this job."

"I don't think it is a job," Giles said thoughtfully. "It's what we are, what we're meant to be. As long as we're being true to ourselves, to who we are at the core, it's very hard for us to misstep." He smiled wryly. "It's when we think too much that we get into trouble."

Ian chuckled softly. "That's very honest of you, Rupert, but still, like everything else between us pairs, balance is necessary. Thoughtlessness would be just as dangerous."

"I don't think that's much of a worry with me."

"No, I don't suppose it is." Ian's hands were now moving slowly over Ethan's legs where they lay in his lap. "Well, put your mind to this then, if the enemy doesn't want you two dead, why not?"

"It needs something from us," Giles said after a moment's thought.

Ian nodded. "Looks that way, doesn't it? He wants you weak, mistrusting each other, but alive and able to provide... something."

Giles nodded, surprised he hadn't seen it himself until nudged by Ian. "The question then becomes what?"

"What indeed."

***

Ethan groaned, clutching his stomach and trying to keep quiet while Rupert yet slept beside him. Maybe it was the stress of yesterday, but certainly, he was in trouble today. The area of his body in which he was storing Dawn's pattern was swollen and angry and causing his whole abdomen to complain vociferously.

He'd checked it last night, of course, and it had been fine. Ian had kept the area healthy while Ethan had been unconscious, and all had been hunky dory. Only now it wasn't.

Wordlessly, Ian approached from where he'd been on watch in the doorway. He crouched and put a hand on Ethan's shoulder. Ethan could feel his pattern being manipulated and gradually, his guts settled somewhat. "Better?" Ian asked.

"Approaching it." Ethan let himself sag against Ian. "Delayed reaction, I suppose." It was obvious he wouldn't be able to keep this up much longer. It was too debilitating at a time when he needed all his resources, but if he let Dawn go now, it would crush Rupert. It would rather crush him too, if he were being honest with himself. Ugh, he should never have even tried.

"You expended a lot of energy yesterday, physical and emotional both," Ian pointed out. "It was bound to weaken you." He smiled. "Luckily, you've got talented friends and lovers to see you over the rough patches."

Ethan felt out with his senses to ensure Rupert was still asleep; he was, which was a blessing at least. "Yes, lucky and stupid; that's me." He pulled himself to his feet and wandered over to where they'd left the food. "Looks like my appetite for floorboard is back."

"Good. You didn't eat at all last night."

Ethan didn't answer; he didn't have a whole lot to say, but after he'd had a drink of tepid water and made himself a rough sandwich, he looked up and said, "Thank you," to Ian. "Couldn't have done this without you, as they say."

"Oh, I have confidence you would have muddled through somehow." Ian nodded at Rupert. "For him, if not for yourself."

Rupert was stirring. Ethan stuck his sandwich in his mouth and crawled back over to be with him. He sat down beside Rupert, chewing slowly and feeding him magic with his free hand. "Hello, dearheart."

Rupert blinked sleepily up at him. "'lo," he replied, yawning.

Suddenly, Ethan felt overwhelmingly tired. He just wanted to lie back down with Rupert, get cuddled, and have a nice long lay in, but there was nowhere to lay in upon; Rupert hadn't summoned them a bed last night, and anyway, time, essence and all that. He bent and kissed Rupert chastely. "Stiff, dear?"

"A little." Rupert wrapped an arm around Ethan and kissed him back. "Unfortunately not in any good way."

"No," Ethan said sadly. "I think that even I can't claim to want sex this morning. May I see if the pen will provide us with liquid stimulant? I think we need it."

Sitting up, Rupert pulled out the pen and handed it over. "Sleep well?" he asked as he did so. "No nightmares?"

"None I remember." He kissed Rupert on the cheek again and set to drawing the largest pot of hot coffee he could manage.

"Good." Rupert watched Ethan work for a moment; then he moved to wrap his arms around Ethan's waist, pressing up against his back.

It felt so good. Again, all Ethan wanted to do was to lay back and close his eyes in the security of Rupert's arms. He whimpered slightly before asking, "Make the coffee real?" Rupert kissed Ethan's cheek before reaching out and pouring his magic into Ethan's rough drawing.

Soon, the smell of fresh brewed coffee was filling the room.

"Have you got yesterday's mugs still?" Ethan asked Ian, not wanting to waste ink on making more.

Ian rummaged and handed over the odd-looking floorboard mugs. "Waste not, want not."

Ethan had hoped Ian would pour the coffee so he could linger in Rupert's arms longer. Ah well, the pampering of last night couldn't last forever. He poured them each a mug. "We should get this down us and get on the way, I suppose."

"That and a bit of breakfast," Rupert said, letting Ethan go long enough for the pouring of the coffee to happen and then resuming his embrace.

About half an hour later, they'd refreshed themselves as much was possible under the circumstances. Ethan was increasingly grateful for Rupert's cleansing spell, since there was no other way to maintain personal hygiene.

It had actually been a nice breakfast. Rupert was being exceptionally touchy feely this morning, and Ethan really couldn't get enough of it, but now they were walking again. The feelings of being trapped in the maze were stronger again today, probably due to the week-in-an-hour he'd spent back in the Initiative prison cell. Without self-twisting, he'd be in a bit of a state currently.

Ethan needed a distraction. "So, old crow, what's the wickedest thing you've ever done?"

Ian chuckled. "Trying to get me to tell naughty stories incriminating myself?"

"Yup, 'fess up. I'll look upon them as cautionary tales."

"The impressive thing is that you say that with a straight face," Rupert observed with dry humour.

As Ethan opened his mouth to refute the accusation that his face was ever straight, they turned a corner... and paused in surprise. Gone was the endless rectangular box corridor; suddenly they were facing a vast cavernous hall. "And me without my favourite ball gown."

"At least we'll be able to see anything coming," Rupert offered, staring into the distance.

"It's getting quite hard to take this seriously, you know. Perhaps the chaos bunnies could play some volleyball here and amuse us. Or maybe put on a play." Ethan tried to reach out with his senses, but the room was too long, too vast. There could be anything hidden in here.

"King Lear and his three daughters, Flopsy, Mopsy and Cottontail?" Ian quipped. "Now that would be quite disturbing."

The idea made Ethan chuckle in spite of his concerns. "Well, they'd have a paying customer in me. I suggest walking around one of the walls."

Rupert nodded. "It's a wise idea to keep in contact with some form of architecture so we don't get any more lost than we already are."

Ethan stared straight ahead, not moving. "We're going to be shadows of our former selves with all this sodding exercise. If I'd wanted to take up endurance walking, I'd have joined a club."

"You did," Rupert told him dryly, starting to move. "It's called the Watchers Council." Ethan grit his teeth and didn't answer that remark with the biting wit it deserved.

They trekked over to the left wall and then began to follow it. Each step seemed to require a small but increasing effort of will, and Ethan was beginning to wonder if his reluctance was more than just physical and emotional fatigue, although God knows, he had enough of them both to explain it.

Rupert seemed to notice that something was amiss and dropped back to walk beside him, reaching for his hand. 'What's wrong?'

'I'm not sure,' Ethan offered him a weak smile. 'I suppose you could say my hackles are rising. I'd rather like to turn back the way we came, only knowing the way this place works, the way we came will no longer be there.'

'That wouldn't surprise me. Still, we should probably take your hackles seriously and be on our utmost guard.'

He was so very tired, but it wouldn't do any good to tell Rupert that. 'I'll do my best.' Rupert squeezed his hand and fed him a bit of his magic, seeming content to continue walking beside him.

After a while, Ethan asked aloud, "Is it just me, or is the ambient light growing dimmer?"

"It's not just you," Ian replied, a frown in his voice.

Straining, Ethan tried to sense what lay ahead, but he felt nothing but a vague sense of sameness. His guts chose that minute to cramp, and he absentmindedly put a hand below his ribs and fed the cache walls magic. "I really don't like this." And, ouch, Dawn didn't seem to like it much either.

"Do you need a break?" Rupert asked, eyeing him worriedly.

"Yes, maybe he should sit down," said a sympathetic male voice, a voice not any of theirs. "He looks all but exhausted, the poor boy." From the shadows ahead of them, a small old man appeared. He had short-cropped grey hair and dark eyes, and he was wearing a dapper little suit and a kind smile.

Ian stepped forward, placing himself between the man and Ethan. "You can just keep your hands and your thoughts off both of them," he ordered in a frightening tone of voice that Ethan had never heard from Ian before, filled with an anger that was as cold and dangerous as a blizzard.

Bugger, this had to be that demon, Doc. No one else could make Ian react like this, surely. The old man, demon, smiled benevolently at Ian. "Why, it's good to see you again too. Although you really shouldn't be here, you know. You weren't invited, but don't worry, I've had a word with Them on your behalf." The demon blinked in a way that seemed particularly reptilian, and suddenly, Ethan remembered the dream he and Rupert had shared just before Doc's attempt to kidnap Dawn.

"You're the snake."

"In the biblical sense, he certainly is," Ian answered, not looking away from Doc as he spoke.

"Oh dear." Doc's kindly old man face assumed an expression of concern. "Don't tell me you're still holding your boyfriend's death against me. He paid his money and made his choice, regrettable though it turned out. Or do you know? I think my memory may be playing a trick on me. Wasn't it you who paid for that particular dose?"

Ethan winced for his friend and mentor and started to move forward without thinking, full of anger of his own. Rupert held him back, calmly responding to Doc with, "I don't recall Dawn paying any money or making any choices when you cut her. Ian's description seems apt to me."

"Ah." Doc nodded sadly. "Such a sweet thing she was, but if I'm the snake for parting her soft flesh, what are you" –he looked directed at Ethan– "for what you've done to her now?"

Ethan wrapped his arms around his waist protectively. 'Why's he not attacking?' he sent to Rupert. 'Is he trying to distract us from something else?' The knowing smile Doc then aimed at Ethan suggested strongly that he could somehow hear their mental speech.

"There is a distinct difference there," Rupert answered Doc, his tone turning icy, "but I doubt you're capable of seeing it. Regardless, you will find us more difficult to deal with than a bound and helpless teenage girl."

A strange-looking tongue flickered out from Doc's mouth, licking around his lips. "Oh believe me, your abilities are well, shall we say, documented? They've been watching you very carefully, I'm afraid, boys. Listening too. Careless whispers in the dark are so unfortunate." He smiled gently at Ian. "It is encouraging to see you've finally found someone, someones, to love again, after all this time. Such a shame you've had so little time to enjoy it."

"Everything comes in its time," Ian replied almost casually then gave Doc a truly vicious smile. "As you are about to find out."

One moment, Doc was looking at Ian, his head tipped sympathetically to one side, the next moment, impossibly fast, he was behind Ethan, his arms wrapped around and a knife pointed at Ethan's belly, directly above the pattern cache. "But you see, I don't need much time. Just enough."

"Let him go," Rupert all but growled; Ethan could feel him gathering his magic for what was sure to be a truly impressive attack.

In the meantime, Ethan himself was reaching out, probing every part of Doc's alien body, trying to find a place of weakness to twist. "Are you really so powerful that you believe you can take all three of us?" he asked, wanting to keep the demon talking and not, if at all possible, stabbing.

"Maybe," Doc said amiably by his ear. "Who knows? Shall we find out? It really doesn't matter much, but it could be an interesting... diversion."

Rupert's eyes narrowed at that, but before he could say anything, Ian was stepping forward, moving until he was just out of arm's reach of Ethan and Doc. "Come now, we both know that's not what you really want. You don't want to waste time with these children. What you want is me."

"Wrong," Doc announced, but then added, "Well, right, but not quite yet." He pushed the tip of the knife hard enough into Ethan for it to hurt; his shirt was precious little protection.

"Why not yet?" Ethan asked through gritted teeth, fearing the answer.

"Why, because this place, this maze, this window of opportunity for you, will soon be closed. All I need to do is keep you here another few minutes, and then any danger you represent to Them will be over."

Bugger it. Bugger bugger bugger. "Who's 'them'?"

"Them, him... pronouns are flexible little nuisances, aren't they? Vaurtain is too big, you see, too... cosmic" –Doc chuckled slightly– "to be singular."

Ian snorted. "More like too pompous, and I'm afraid I can't wait for you to finish with your games before we get down to business." His gaze dropped to the knife Doc held, and a second later, Ethan sensed the handle turn white hot.

Of course, Ethan was a bloody idiot. He should have looked at the pattern of the knife, not the impenetrable demon. As Doc dropped the knife with a muffled curse, Ethan swung back with his elbow into Doc's midriff and then rolled free. Scrabbling backwards, he began to hurriedly strengthen the pattern-interweaving between himself and Rupert.

Doc opened his mouth, but instead of more serpentine words, an iguana-like tongue shot out, crossing the distance to Ian almost instantaneously and smacking him hard across the face, causing him to reel back. "I said, not yet!"

"Incendium!" Rupert intoned, making a throwing motion at the same time; at the apex of it, a ball of fire left his hand, thrown straight at Doc.

But Doc was gone before the ball could hit him, and the fire shot harmlessly by to hit the wall. Ready this time, Ethan reacted fast, pulling magic from Rupert to create a shield of order around himself. There was a hiss of frustration from Doc who was suddenly behind him.

He felt someone play with the pattern of the magic and recognised Ian's touch. Glancing over, Ethan saw his mentor had recovered and was staring intently at Doc. A second later, he felt a massive shift in the pattern of the very air around Doc, solidifying it into a facsimile of the shield Ethan had built around himself with Rupert's magic.

Doc hissed and whirled about. "I've got him," Ian said, his voice tense. "You two go on."

"No way, crow," Ethan said indignantly, pulling himself to his feet and trying to boost the magic in the cage Ian had created. Doc lashed about within it, clearly furious. Ethan reached out for Rupert's hand. "We're not leaving you here."

Within the cage, Doc stopped moving and smiled. "Then you're playing into his hands," Ian snapped back. "His purpose is to keep you here and wear you down. If you stay, he wins. And I'll be damned if I let him win anything ever again."

Ethan felt sick; he knew what this was, what was happening here and what was about to happen... "I'm not leaving you," he said stubbornly, pulling on more of Rupert's magic to bolster the cage, and still Doc smiled.

Ian didn't respond, just looked intently at Rupert before passing him something – the Matrix, glowing softly green with the Key's energy. Rupert slipped it into his pocket.

The next thing Ethan knew, Rupert had grabbed him by the arm and was pulling him away. "No!" Ethan struggled to free his arm. "No, Rupert!"

"He's right," Rupert stated implacably, still pulling Ethan away no matter what Ethan wanted. "If we don't want all of this to be for naught, we have to go."

There was a noise like many windows simultaneously smashing, and Ethan whirled around to see Doc, free of the cage, his prehensile tongue vanishing back into his mouth. He leapt upon Ian.

"No!" Ethan reached out, sending magic to Ian, but he didn't seem to need it as suddenly Doc was flying backwards through the air. How the hell had Ian done that? That wasn't pattern magic. "Rupert, let me go. I won't desert him."

"Will you desert me then? Because I'm going on like Ian asked us to."

Ethan stared at him in horror, still being dragged despite his best efforts to resist. "No. Rupert, stop it. Why... You can't! He's going to die!"

"I know." Rupert's answer was terse and devoid of all emotion.

None of this made sense... only it did. It made a horrid, brick-in-his-guts kind of sense. They had to leave Ian, they had to run, as otherwise their 'window of opportunity' would be gone. "No..." he said weakly yet again, but he wasn't really fighting Rupert anymore, just walking backwards, watching Ian wield magic in a way that should have been frightening, but it just seemed unreal. Ian looked like he was winning, but Ethan could feel destiny around them as a suffocating pressure.

Caught up in the fight, Ian found a second to look up and lock gazes with Ethan; even at this distance, Ethan could see that Ian's face was set with determination and... love.

Feeling like he was every foul name he'd ever been called, Ethan turned away and let Rupert pull him into a sprint.