It was the first day back in his actual office for Giles, and he was finding it hard to concentrate in spite of knowing that Ethan was in the joined office next door. Or maybe that was the problem – knowing Ethan was so close, but not close enough.

Still, he knew he would have been equally distracted if Ethan had stayed at home; at least this way he wasn't worrying that he was going to be needed when he wasn't there. Giles sighed audibly, causing Gwydion to lift his head and look at him. "Damned if I do and damned if I don't," he murmured, addressing his dog in lieu of just talking to himself.

He was saved from further fretting only by a loud and abrupt knock on the door, which immediately opened, but only a crack. "Safe to come in, boss man?" called Xander's voice. "I'd've asked via Pamela's intercom, but I was worried I'd find myself patched into the PA system if I started pressing buttons at random."

"Please come in," Giles bade him, trying not to sound too eager to have the distraction from his thoughts.

Xander did so, closing the door behind him. He was, Giles immediately noticed, wearing a tartan eye patch. "Pamela's AWOL. I told Higgins to look in the stationery cupboard when he asked; I saw Matthew heading that way earlier."

"I wonder if I'll receive a recommendation to put a security camera in the stationery cupboard now," Giles mused idly, staring at Xander's new accoutrement. "That's an... interesting fashion statement."

Xander grinned and half-shrugged. "Just doing my bit for the war effort. It's a magic patch, you see. Makes unhappy, stressed people smile and laugh."

"Ah good. I rather feared that a kilt would be added next to your ensemble."

"Whatever it takes," Xander said with another grin. He perched on the edge of Giles' desk. "So, want to exchange news?"

"Yes, I know I've been a bit... distracted the last few days–"

"Everyone understood. Where's the distraction currently? Next door?"

Giles' gaze drifted to the door between the offices, but he didn't, for some reason, reach out with his senses. "If he's not off terrorising whoever is trying to use the coffeemaker."

"That'll give whoever it is a welcome sense of normality." Xander chuckled. "I sure hope you've got more to report than I have. Madiha reached Devon safely with her mom, so all's well there... At least until Mrs something-very-long-beginning-with-p understands what we meant by 'coven' anyway."

"I'm sure Lucy will be up to conveying such information in a non-threatening way." Giles allowed himself a small smile at the thought.

"At the moment, the family's just relieved to have escaped London." Picking up Giles' desk calendar, Xander absent-mindedly flicked through the pages, looking at the images. It was a Lord of the Rings one, sent from America – a Christmas gift from Andrew of all people. "Aww, not Grima! I always get the suck up creep on my birthday page. Enough with the Igor-imagery already!"

"You can commiserate with Ethan; he was pouting because he got the eye of Sauron on his birthday."

"Better the Biggest of the Bad than a bug-eyed lackey of the not-quite-so-big bad!" Xander looked indignant. "I suppose you got Gandalf at his most shining white."

"Gimli actually," Giles replied, long accustomed to these kind of surreal conversations and rather proud that he was getting better at following them now.

"Ah, the Jarjar Binks of the Fellowship. Nice." Xander grinned. "I was in the West End this morning. London seems to be getting back to normal after licking her wounds for a few days. The Underground was brimming with lots of sweating commutery goodness again. I'm told the schools in most places have reopened too."

Giles was quietly pleased to hear that. "Not the first time this city has had to pick up the pieces and make an effort to reclaim the daily grind."

"People have a vested interest in getting back to what passes for 'normal' ASAP. It's that old Sunnydale 'give a little whistle' thing, I guess."

"Normal would be... nice." More and more, Giles was noticing a yearning for such a state in himself, but really, given what he knew and what he did –who he in fact was– normal was never going to be something possible for him.

"You'd be bored in a matter of days," Xander told him, smiling. He shifted on the desk. "Well, that's about it for my news. Hopefully Pamela and her Chaos beast hunting crew will come up with something more thrilling soon."

"I have every faith in Pamela's abilities and that of her team. She'll have something for us shortly." Giles sighed. "And then the difficult bit will start. Again."

"You won against him in the maze," Xander pointed out.

Giles shook his head. "Not completely. If we had, we wouldn't be dealing with this now."

"Anything we should be doing to prepare that we're not?"

"Oh, quite probably. There always seems to be something."

Xander stared steadily at Giles. "That was the wrong question to ask you, wasn't it? Let me rephrase. What can I be doing to help the ongoing war effort?"

"Ah..." Giles tried to kickstart his brain. "Aside from wearing tartan eye patches? Training the Slayers. Getting them ready to fight."

"Faith's kinda already seeing to that. Rona's here too now. They're toughening the girls up with campfire tales of the First Evil. And not that I mind watching the training," Xander paused to give a sheepish grin, "but I can't help feeling kinda redundant."

"Did you have something else in mind?"

Xander shrugged. "Maybe you've got a table that needs fixing?"

"You're far more than that, Xander," Giles replied, surprised that Xander could still reduce himself to only what he could do with his hands. "You have a knack of seeing to the heart of people and understanding what they need. It's a rare talent, and one you utilise far better than almost anyone else I've ever met."

"Yeah, that's me, the Heart." He didn't sound very encouraged, although the smile he gave Giles seemed appreciative. "Sometimes I think it'd be easier to be just a carpenter, to follow the grain, smoothing and working... Though I guess that's what I do with people too." He straightened up and changed his tone of voice to an altogether brighter one. "Enough about my morale, how's yours?"

Giles blinked. "Mine?"

Xander scratched his head. "Yeah, yours. Why not yours?"

Giles didn't really know how to answer that. "I'm... maintaining." Xander just looked at him. "You know that really is disconcerting with the..." he gestured towards the patch.

"Think of the plaid as a good luck charm," Xander quipped. "As you know, dead men don't wear..." He held his hands up in an 'altogether now' gesture.

Giles smiled very faintly. "I'm unsure of the wisdom of basing good luck charms on Steve Martin movies, but if it works..."

"What works for you?" Xander asked a little bluntly, clearly not ready to give up his line of questioning just yet.

"Ethan." The answer slipped out before Giles gave it any thought.

Xander nodded, his expression serious. "So I ask again, how's your morale? You know, having almost lost your, erm, plaid eye patch."

"How is my morale?" Giles echoed, deciding to give in and answer honestly. "I'm tired, emotionally as well as physically."

Xander nodded again. "Think the enemy'll be counting on that, don't you?"

"It wouldn't surprise me." Giles sighed wearily. "Although there's not much I can do about it except carry on in spite of it all."

"Maybe you should work towards something more than just 'kill the bad guy'," Xander suggested. "You know, like promise yourself a luxury vacation with Ethan somewhere once this is over. A Scooby snack!" He grinned.

A holiday, just as Ethan himself had been dreaming of. The thought of time alone with Ethan somewhere where they wouldn't have to worry about, well, anything engendered a strong yearning in Giles. "That would be... nice," he understated.

"Plan it out then. Spend a little while working out the wheres and hows of it. Now would be a good time to start, what with us all being in waiting mode."

The problem was that even thinking of doing so felt irresponsible somehow. It was one thing to daydream with Ethan about what they could do if there weren't these duties and commitments; it was another to actively plan leaving them behind. But Giles was clear-eyed enough to realise that guilt wasn't a rational reaction in this case and so he pushed those qualms to the side. "I'm sure Ethan would be more than happy to do so."

"Ethan's not the one I'm worried about here. One thing you gotta say for the man, he knows how to chill." Xander stood up from the desk. "Think of me as a concerned first officer here, telling the captain he needs to take a small dose of selfish while he can, for the sake of the ship."

"It's convincing myself that I can afford to take a small dose of selfish right now that's the difficult part."

"Like you ever find it easy," Xander said wryly. "Maybe I'll just mosey next door and set Ethan onto this. He always likes an excuse to distract you."

"Ethan generally doesn't need an excuse to distract me," Giles said with a faint smile.

"True. Well, with my entire lack of authority, I am ordering you to go to him now and discuss sun, sea and palm trees." Xander winked and then immediately frowned. "You'd think I'd have learned not to do that by now, but no, a little voice in my head is still crying 'why's everything so dark?' every time I do." He gave Giles a salute and turned to walk towards the door.

"Xander?" When Xander looked back, Giles said simply, "Thank you."

***

Ethan was busy building an impressive wall with his tarot cards on his desk, but when Rupert entered his office unexpectedly, Ethan gave a not-all-that-guilty start, and the structure collapsed, cards wafting down onto the carpet around him. He pouted hard at the cause of the destruction .

"I can leave again if you prefer," Rupert offered in the face of that pout.

"No!" That wouldn't do at all. Ethan got up in a hurry and crossed the room to put his hands on Rupert's hips. "Stay. Please."

"If you're sure," Rupert said, his arms going automatically around Ethan. "I don't want to interrupt any important... card construction."

"There was method in my apparent madness. Well, some." Ethan smiled ruefully. "I was playing with ideas of patterns and random chance. Not as if I had anything better to do. They chucked me out of the ritual room when I tried to help them. No one believes I'm better now." He caught the slight petulant whine in his own tone and made sure it was gone before he continued. "Which I am. Truly."

Rupert began to send magic into Ethan as he did practically every time he was touching Ethan now. "Better, yes, but not fully recovered. Not yet. No one wants you to suffer a setback because you became too... enthusiastic about helping before you were ready."

"I'm bored." The whine was back already. Ethan decided he didn't care.

Rupert kissed him. "What can I do to help?"

"We could go home..." Rupert seemed to be feeling agreeable; maybe it was worth a try.

It earned him a long weary sigh. "I would like nothing better, love, but–"

"But what? If you had something important to do, you wouldn't be in here with me now." Ethan pressed closer. "Let's go home and do a scrying."

"Checking on you is important," Rupert remonstrated gently. He seemed to be considering something and finally nodded, more to himself than to Ethan. "Right. I've been working out of home up to now; I can manage to do it again today. If you want to go home, we'll go home."

"Really?" But the big grin that had instantly blossomed on Ethan's face slowly faded. "I'm being selfish, am I not?"

Rupert smiled wryly. "I've been informed that I'm to take the time to be selfish when I can. Truth be told, I'd rather be there than here as well. With you."

Ethan bit his lip. Well, it was that or say something unbearably soppy. He cupped Rupert's face in his hands and smiled as best he could with his lower lip firmly trapped between his teeth.

Rupert ran a finger along Ethan's mouth, gently freeing and smoothing his lower lip. "Is that so difficult to believe?"

Ethan closed his eyes. "I believe you. It just... means a lot."

"Come on," Rupert said, kissing him. "Let's get out of here before someone comes up with a reason for me to stay."

Ethan didn't need any more incentive than that. He grabbed his coat from the hook by the door and whistled Skunk to his side. "Shall I cloak us on the way out?" It was only half a joke.

"I don't think we need to go quite that far," Rupert said as he led the way back into his office. "Gwydion," he said, calling his dog to him as he collected his coat and satchel.

With the dogs trotting happily along behind, they made their way through the corridors towards the exit to the carpark. The wood-panelled walls and endless identical doors had been feeling almost as oppressive today as they had the first time Ethan had ever come here, and he was glad to be fleeing them. "I never quite thought I'd say this, but I rather miss the Estate," he commented as they left the building. "Not the bedroom, I'm much happier back at Mountbatten, but the outdoors. The grass, the trees, the river... the rabbits." He sniggered.

"And I always thought of you as such a city boy," Rupert teased.

Ethan paused as Rupert found the keys and pressed the button to unlock the doors. "I am... was. Not sure what I am anymore. Nana coming back has me rather confused, I'm afraid."

"I know one thing you are," Rupert said as he held open the back door for the dogs to get in. "Mine."

Ethan wondered if, when he was pushing one hundred, he'd still get the same heart-clenching, groin-tightening reaction every time Rupert said that. "Yes," he agreed quietly. "It's nice to have something certain in life."

Rupert smiled at him, reaching over and briefly squeezing his hand before slipping down into the driver's seat.

London wasn't, Ethan thought as they drove out of Whitehall, quite back to normal just yet. While city centre traffic had been reduced anyway since Ken Livingstone had brought in his infamous traffic control scheme, that couldn't explain the substantially depopulated pavements and pedestrian streets. There were threats of further riots in certain areas apparently, but not here. People just wanted to stay indoors perhaps.

They were both quiet to start with as they drove. Ethan turned slightly sideways to watch Rupert's profile; it was a lot more interesting than the road. Rupert glanced over and smiled when he caught Ethan watching him. "What?" he asked, still smiling.

"Admiring my good taste," Ethan replied smugly.

"Even when I get lost in my work?"

Ethan's eyebrows pulled together. "What's that got to do with anything? You're still the best catch out there."

"I'm lucky you think so," Rupert said softly.

"Always have. Hardly going to stop now. What's bothering you, dearheart? You're acting as if you have something on your mind." Ethan snorted. "Beyond the Vaurtain/ Francesca Travers/ end of the world mess, I mean." Beyond the loss of Ian too, he thought to himself, although he knew that Rupert had to be feeling the bereavement almost as strongly as he was.

He had been finding it best to ignore the fact of Ian's death during this wait for what surely had to be the final battle of the war. He tried to maintain a casual, unquestioning illusion that Ian was just in the next room or back at the Estate. That way, Ethan could get on with things, do what needed to be done. It wasn't always possible to keep it up, however. He'd felt Ian die, after all, and knew at a profound level that his friend had gone... But then, Ian had come back to help with remaking Dawn, hadn't he?

It was hard to give up hope for a miracle, but most miracles, Ethan knew, were pipe dreams and mirages. Ian was gone and better off for being gone, no doubt.

Rupert shook his head. "It's nothing. I'm just tired." He smiled faintly. "It's making me maudlin."

Yes, Ethan knew that one. "We need a holiday."

Rupert's smile became less faint. "So Xander was telling me."

"Yes, well, an excuse to never again see that eye patch he's been wearing would be good too."

"That is rather.... startling, isn't it?"

"Well, it's certainly distracting, which he claims is its purpose. I told him I could think of several better ways to distract people... Well, me, at least. He wasn't impressed." Ethan chuckled.

"I doubt Kat would have been either," Rupert replied wryly, but he seemed a little more relaxed with the banter.

What could he do to help Rupert relax further? The strain of the last few weeks was showing more every day in Rupert's face, and that hurt to see. If it were Ethan, some good hard shagging would sort him out, but Rupert was different. "What one thing that you don't currently have would you most like to have at this moment?"

It took Rupert a long moment to answer. "Freedom," he finally said.

Hmm. "That's what you said when Ian asked you a similar question, isn't it? It worried me then."

"Not from you, not that kind of freedom," Rupert was quick to reassure him, letting go of the gearstick and briefly clasping Ethan's hand.

"Freedom from feeling the entire weight of the world on your shoulders, I imagine. It would be nice," Ethan said wistfully.

"This is what comes of me pulling you into my world," Rupert said ruefully. "You get to share the burden."

"As payments go, it's a pittance for what I've gained in return, and anyway, you are hardly to blame for the prophecy." They were just entering Mountbatten. The dogs could always tell somehow, becoming restless in the back. "How shall we spend the afternoon, my dear? What would best take your mind off that weight?"

"Xander suggested planning a holiday to take when this is over."

Interesting. "Serious planning or never never land planning?"

"I think he had in mind serious planning. As in 'actually follow through on said planning when this is over'."

"And do you intend to oblige?"

"I was thinking of doing so, yes," Rupert replied, sliding the car into their usual parking spot in front of their house.

"Oh, this is good." Ethan must remember to thank Xander. "Where were you thinking of then?"

"I don't know." Rupert turned off the engine and looked at Ethan. "Anywhere you want to go, I would imagine."

"Surely you have a preference." Ethan used the opportunity to slip his hand over Rupert's thigh.

Rupert shook his head, dropping a hand to cover Ethan's. "Not really."

"Then why do this? Why plan out something you have no interest in?"

"I never said I had no interest in it." He lifted Ethan's hand up to drop a kiss in the palm. "My interest lies in going away with you. The destination doesn't matter so much as the company."

"So we could camp out in your gamekeeper's cottage, and you'd be just as happy as if we were sunning ourselves on the sands of a tropical island?" Ethan laughed. "Don't you ever miss California?"

Rupert seemed to think about that. "I miss the people who didn't make it out," he finally said. "But not the place."

"I remember Xander saying something similar once. Sunnydale just wasn't popular with those not supping on Hellmouth spa waters. Let's get inside now. I'm getting chilly."

"Right." They got out of the car and followed the dogs who rushed ahead to the door, tails wagging. "It seems someone else is glad to be home as well," Rupert observed.

"Can't be much fun for them – sitting around in a boring office, stressed people all around them and nobody with the time to play with them." Ethan told himself very firmly that he was only talking about the dogs.

Nevertheless, Rupert seemed to hear what Ethan was trying very hard not to say because he winced at that and opened his mouth, Ethan was sure, to apologise.

"Stop it!" he warned quickly. "If my needs are worrying you, then bear in mind that one of my greatest needs is for a happy, fret-free Rupert. Now are you going to open the door, or will I have to admit that I came out without my keys this morning?"

Rupert opened and closed his mouth before managing, "That's never stopped you before," as he turned back to the door and unlocked it.

"If I were intending a spot of breaking and entry, I'd have hidden us from view first."

They went inside. Both dogs went immediately to their food bowls in the kitchen and barked hopefully, but Ethan had something he wanted to do first. As they entered the front room, he turned and wrapped his arms around Rupert, gently but firmly pushing him back against the wall by the low bookshelf. "Thank you," he said with a slight smile, before pressing hard against him for a kiss.

Rupert's arms went tightly around him in return. "You really hate it at the office, don't you?" he asked softly.

Between kisses, Ethan snorted softly. "I imagine it's much like how you feel within a storm. It's an experience you're prepared to undergo for me, but not one you'll ever be able to revel in."

"I revel in you," was the simple answer Rupert gave him.

Ethan smiled gently and moved against Rupert. "I'd revel in you too, given half the chance. Not much opportunity for that while we're in separate rooms however, especially when you're studiously avoiding talking to me through the bond, despite the fact that I am better now."

"Your reserves are still far lower than they should be though," Rupert reminded him.

Not wanting to have that discussion yet again, Ethan just smirked and said, "Shut up and kiss me." Rupert shook his head with a small smile and leant in to obey.

It was, as kisses went, a particularly fine one, and Ethan decided it should last a good long time. The hungry dogs, however, had other ideas. They were suddenly milling around behind his legs and one –Skunk, no doubt– had the audacity to nip at his trouser leg and tug.

Laughing, Rupert pulled back. "It seems your presence is being requested elsewhere."

Ethan pouted. "Someone is getting a bowl of dried kibble and no meat." Skunk looked up at him with the saddest wide eyes a half-grown dog could manage.

Rupert chuckled as he moved away, going to feed Gwydion. "You two are definitely a matched set."

"Huh. It's Giddy who puts her up to it, I'd swear." Ethan walked carefully into the kitchen, trying to avoid stepping on his recalcitrant hound.

"I think she learned by watching you," Rupert countered. Gwydion was sitting patiently and well behaved at his master's feet as Rupert got his food ready.

"No, I'd swear it's Giddy. Look at him sitting good as fool's gold there. He winds her up and sets her going then reaps the benefit without the censure."

"She doesn't need to be wound up. She just acts up until she gets the attention she craves." Rupert put Gwydion's dish down on the floor for him and glanced up at Ethan with a grin. "Like someone else I could name."

Ethan bit his lower lip; he seemed to be doing that a lot today. Then he unbit it and said with an evil smile, "I'll just be popping next door to see Nana now, shall I? I suspect she's bought me a little treat or two she'd like me to have..."

Rupert lifted an eyebrow. "Considering I left work to spend time with you, I don't think you need to resort to such ruses to get my attention."

Bugger. Ethan leant back against the wall and rubbed his face with his hands, relishing hiding behind them for a few moments. "That wasn't actually a plea for attention, but it was an underhanded jibe. I'm sorry."

"It's all right," Rupert assured him breezily then paused. "Isn't it?"

"Well," Ethan said, straightening and mooching towards Rupert, "it was ungrateful of me. I shouldn't object to the truth, should I? I suppose I'd like to think better of my dog than I do of myself though." He kissed Rupert's cheek then turned to see about feeding Skunk.

Rupert came up behind him, sliding his arms around Ethan's waist. "I like you with all of your... quirks and foibles firmly in place."

He rubbed his hand over Rupert's before opening the unpleasant smelling 'meaty chunks' – being the top brand improved neither look nor stink, but Skunk seemed to like it well enough. She barked excitedly. "I smell this stuff in my nightmares," Ethan commented.

"It is rather... pungent, isn't it?"

"It's horrid, and I truly hate to imagine what's in it. Can't we feed them proper food? We can afford it, surely." He added a layer of the 'vet approved' dog biscuit and bent to put the bowl down. Skunk's muzzle was buried in it before it touched the floor.

"These are supposed to be the best thing to feed dogs, nutritionally speaking," Rupert pointed out unnecessarily, watching both animals dig in as if they hadn't been fed in weeks. "And they do seem to like it."

"Yes, that's the addictive chemicals they obviously add to the 'optimised' mix," Ethan said a little sourly as he filled the kettle. "They have to ensure brand loyalty somehow, don't they?"

Rupert kissed Ethan on the cheek before moving away. He began to put together the makings of sandwiches. "You have a suspicious mind, love."

"I'm merely a realist." Ethan paused after getting out a couple of mugs. "Rupert?"

"Yes?"

Keeping his back to Rupert, Ethan asked, "What are we going to do with Nana? Now that she's back, I mean. Where's she going to live?"

"I guess that depends on where she would like to live." Ethan could feel Rupert's eyes on him. "Is there some arrangement in particular you have in mind?" Ethan didn't answer, not because he didn't want to, but because his mind seemed to freeze on the question. Rupert's hand came to rest on his shoulder. "Love?"

He turned and gave Rupert a rueful look. "I'm rather confused," he admitted.

"About where you want your grandmother to live?"

Playing his finger absently down Rupert's waistcoat, Ethan tried to find words to express what he didn't understand himself. "I... Well, she's been alone forty plus years in a Chaos dimension..."

"Yes." Rupert ran his hands along Ethan's arms soothingly. "She's adjusted remarkably well." Ethan retreated back to silence, resting his head on Rupert's shoulder. "She seems to be doing just fine," Rupert reassured him. "But whatever she needs, we'll make sure she gets it."

Giving up, even though he was finally starting to understand just what he was wrestling with, Ethan turned back to the mugs and put a tea bag in each. "Have we any of that pate left for the sandwiches?" he asked, deliberately defying the part of him craving strawberry jam.

Rupert gave him a brief squeeze before moving away again. "I think we just might," he said, going back to preparing lunch for them.

Hmm, he'd been expecting some typical Rupert pressure to be applied after that subject change. Not getting it was simultaneously a relief and a little worrying. Ethan turned to watch his husband while the teabags stewed. "Barbados then?"

"If that's where you want to go," Rupert said, glancing up at him with a smile.

"Or a luxury hotel in Monte Carlo... or two weeks in that private resort I was reading about in Australia, or–"

Rupert laughed. "You've been giving this some thought I see."

Ethan smiled at Rupert's back. "I just want you and as much luxury as we can afford. I really don't care where we go as long as it's far enough away from the Council HQ for them not to be able to call you in for an emergency that isn't."

"I'll leave my mobile at home. Promise."

"If you do that, and don't leave a number where you can be reached, we can even stay in this country. That way we could take the dogs more easily." Ethan stalked over and wrapped his arms around Rupert from behind. "How do you fancy some time in an expensive Highlands hotel? One attached to a four or five star restaurant and with fantastic views from our windows?"

"And a nearby cliff for you should any storms brew up?" Rupert asked, taking one hand from his food preparation to cover Ethan's hands.

"Sounds perfect." Ethan kissed the side of Rupert's neck. "Really."

"It does, doesn't it?" He could hear the smile in Rupert's voice.

"We deserve it. Or, at least, you do. My hero husband." Ethan snuck his hand forward to the counter and stole a sandwich from the plate Rupert was putting together.

Rupert let him. "I'm not the one who almost died bringing Dawn back," he reminded. "You have to face it, love. You deserve that title as much as I ever did."

"Effectively, yes. But I'm not the one with the heroic heart. If not for you, I would have ridden our little crisis here out in deepest Katmandu. Good sandwich." Ethan turned back to sort the now slightly over-stewed tea. Ah well. They both liked it strong.

"No, you wouldn't have," Rupert said with confidence.

"Well, no, as I'd still be stuck in deepest Nevada instead."

He could practically hear Rupert's wince at that. "What I mean," Rupert began, picking up the plate of sandwiches and stopping beside Ethan on his way to the kitchen door, "is that your instincts and your heart are far more heroic than you like to admit to."

And there he was biting his lip again. Ethan knew it wasn't true, knew he had merely extended outwards the circle of his selfish concerns, but it seemed to do Rupert good to believe what he was saying, so what was the harm? He smiled at Rupert and didn't argue any further.

Rupert smiled back. "And you think that's pure malarkey," he said good-naturedly. "That's all right. I'm still going to know the truth."

Ethan was just carrying the tea into the living room when Rupert's hated mobile began to ring. He groaned. "Well, we had half an hour. I suppose I should be grateful." Rupert picked it up, but didn't answer it, staring at the phone instead. "Going to wait for it to go to voicemail?" Ethan asked, putting one of the mugs down in front of Rupert and sitting back with the other.

Shaking himself, Rupert hit the answer button and held the handset to his ear. "Yes?" Ethan took another sandwich from the plate and listened to Rupert's side of the conversation as he ate. "You have? Are you sure?" Rupert began pacing.

It was clear from the tension immediately present in Rupert's stance and expression that this was something big. Ethan's stomach clenched as he made an astute guess as to what.

"Arrange for everyone to come in immediately for a briefing. Say three o'clock? I think we can make it back in time." Rupert paused. "Right. And Pamela? Excellent work." He disconnected and turned off his phone.

"Found her, haven't they." Ethan said. It wasn't a question.

"Yes," Rupert replied, seeming distracted.

"Where is she, and what's the complication?" Ethan asked, as it was clear there was one.

"Saffron Waldon, of all places. The complication is the number of Slayers she seems to have collected." He turned to look at Ethan, eyes bleak. "We're looking at quite a battle just to get to her."

"Slayer versus Slayer," Ethan murmured, understanding the bleakness.

"Slayer versus Slayer," Rupert confirmed solemnly.

The relaxed man, the one who had seemed to want to concentrate on cosseting Ethan and domestic trivialities, was gone. Back was the controlled Watcher, the leader of men... and young girls. Ethan puffed out his cheeks and sighed heavily. "One way or another, this battle against Vaurtain will be the last time we meet him. I'm not going through this for a third time. We have to destroy him, Rupert."

"We will," Rupert said firmly. Then more softly, he added, "Whatever the cost."