It wasn't until late the next morning that Ethan finally found the time alone to sneak back to the attic. He had left Rupert's childhood journal up there and wanted to reclaim it, but that wasn't the only reason he was drawn back up the narrow staircase. Without the dogs or Rupert to guide him, it took him a little while to locate the trunk within the forest of crates and furniture, but with the seal broken, he could now sense the magical items it held, so he was able eventually to find a way through the jumble to get to it.

He knelt and hesitated before lifting the lid; why, he wasn't sure. Taking a deep breath, he then opened the trunk.

The smell of the old books and papers was sensual and exciting; he doubted there were many mystics who didn't respond that way to that particular scent. He ran his hand lightly over the surface of the top items, sensing magic in some, nothing but age in others. It wasn't hard to find what he was looking for. Ever since Rupert had read out his grandmother's letter yesterday, a part of Ethan's mind had been nagging him to find the gift she had bequeathed him.

It was hard to explain, even in the privacy of his own mind, why this meant so much to him, but it had nonetheless touched him deeply that she should have done this. The box was long and flat, rather like a box of chocolates in shape. It was carved from a wood stained dark with some resin. Carved into the top, and inlaid with gold leaf or paint, were the masks of comedy and tragedy, the symbols of the Theatre.

He lifted it from the trunk and let his hand rest on the lid for a long time, his eyes shut. The box contained magic, that much was obvious, and relatively powerful magic at that. And yet Harriet Giles had claimed that this gift was for 'fun'. Hmm.

Deciding to take his treasure back down to the bedroom, Ethan stood, savouring the delay. After collecting Rupert's notebook from where he had left it, he turned the lights off and went back downstairs. Skunk found him briefly as he reached the bedroom door, but he sent her downstairs with a mental command to find Megan and stay with her for a while. He wanted to be on his own for this for some reason.

Shutting the bedroom door behind him, Ethan went, after a moment's indecision, to the window seat. He paused with his hand on the lid for another few seconds, teasing himself as he would a lover. Then he pushed the 'S' catch aside. A waft of oriental perfume hit his nostrils as he lifted the lid, causing them to flare as he breathed in heavily. Inside there was... makeup?

Yes, the inside of the box held many compartments carved apparently into solid wood. Each held compacts of powders and creams -- dark, rich colours, shimmering with metallic overtones, and to his magic sense, glittering like a starfield with enchantment.

Oh, glory be.

Attached to the inside of the lid was a magnifying mirror in an ornate brass frame, and a small metal plaque engraved with the words, 'For Ethan Rayne, in the way of apology and in the spirit of the wild.'

Unable to help himself, Ethan danced a fingertip over a translucent paste the colour of crushed plums and then spread it over his lower lip. He felt an immediate and unmistakable physical response to the touch. Hesitantly, he stuck his tongue out to taste the cosmetic on his lip; it was sweet and spicy. As he moved his tongue in his mouth to investigate the flavour further, he felt another powerful surge of something that he found it hard to believe that Rupert's grandmother had intended.

He painted his top lip; his mouth glistened provocatively at him in the mirror as he pouted. He blew himself a kiss.

'Rupert,' he sent. When last he'd seen his husband, Rupert had been engaged in deep Council-related conversation with Pamela and Xander. Perhaps that had concluded by now.

'Yes?' came Rupert's reply, somewhat distracted.

'What are you up to, dearheart?' Ethan's mental tone was both amused and sultry. He licked his finger clean of the dark purple gloss and dried it on his trousers before smearing across a coppery powder.

'Research. Pamela brought some volumes from Council Headquarters that may have some references to Vaurtain.'

'That can wait, can't it?' He drew lines of red-gold around the outer edges of his eyes. Something happened to his face in the mirror; it seemed to shimmer like a heat haze before settling, and suddenly his eyes were perfectly made up in an Eastern fashion, halfway between Hindu god and Rudolph Valentino in The Sheik. 'Oh yes, I think it can wait.'

'What are you up to, love?' Ethan could sense Rupert's curiosity through their link.

'Come and find me?' Using a different finger, Ethan applied a shimmering bronze to his cheekbones.

Rupert hesitated, and Ethan could tell he was weighing the import of research against his curiosity, but finally, as Ethan had known he would, Rupert sent, 'All right.'

'Good man.' Ethan was somewhat distracted himself, his face having taken on the appearance of an exquisite Oberon-like creature. His cock was rock hard in his trousers and his breathing heavy. 'I'd hurry if I were you' , he sent as he stood and carefully removed his shirt and jumper.

Rupert didn't reply, but as Ethan was just finishing a freehand daubing of his arms and chest, the bedroom door opened, and Rupert walked in.

Ethan turned to face him, knowing he looked quite incredible: half-naked, his cock hard beneath his half-open trousers, all available skin shimmering like peacock feathers. He looked up at Rupert from below his brow and slowly smiled.

Rupert stared. "Ethan, wha–?"

Ethan covered his fingertips in a green-gold powder and put the box down. He stalked towards Rupert. "Like?"

"You look..." Rupert seemed a bit stunned as his eyes followed Ethan's progress across the room.

When he was close enough, Ethan reached out with his hand and smeared antique gold tiger stripes diagonally across Rupert's face, laughing with delight as the glamour took effect and Rupert became something fey and yet unarguably masculine – Herne the Hunter perhaps or Cernunnous. "Taste me," Ethan commanded.

Eyes still staring, Rupert leant in and licked at Ethan's lips gingerly. Ethan just smiled and waited. He heard Rupert's soft gasp, and when he pulled back, Rupert's eyes were even wider, darker. Made all the more wild by the glamour on his face. "What is that?"

"That is my present from your grandmother." He laughed again; he couldn't help it. This was just too good. "Take your shirt off."

"My grandmother gave you..." Rupert trailed off into a disbelieving laugh as he shook his head. "I never would have expected it of her."

"Take your shirt off, my fated lover," Ethan repeated quietly. With a bemused smile, Rupert finally obeyed. Ethan moved forward and smeared the rest of the green across Rupert's chest, moaning softly as the chest hair became golden. He painted around one of Rupert's nipples, gilding it, and watching Rupert's face as he did so. "Remember back in the old bedsit? Remember that birthday of mine?"

Rupert nodded, eyes distant with memory. "We never did make it out of the flat."

Lifting his fingers back to Rupert's face, Ethan pressed them gently to his lips. "Do you want to see yourself, Ripper? See how beautiful you are?"

"I'm sure it couldn't hold a candle to you," Rupert told him, before running his tongue provocatively over and around Ethan's fingers.

Ethan found he was swaying in response, his eyes hooded. "You are a candle," he said in a low voice. "A golden candle, and I'm the moth that can't stay out of your flame."

"So dangerous, am I?"

"Your flame doesn't hurt me. It embraces me, fulfils me... come and see yourself." Ethan tugged at Rupert's arm with his free hand. "Please." Rupert smiled at him and let Ethan pull him along.

Ethan felt lifted up somehow, high, but not distant. Everything was in vivid focus and appeared glorious. He dragged Rupert to the freestanding mirror by the wardrobe and stood him in front of it. He intended to make some smug comment as Rupert was inevitably gobsmacked by the sight of his reflection, but Ethan's own reflection stopped the words before they made it past his painted lips. The two of them were unworldly and exquisite, kings of Arcadia. No one could see them and not fall to their knees.

Ethan whimpered.

"Old men," Rupert murmured thoughtfully, raising a hand towards the glass.

That broke a little way through Ethan's entrancement, and he looked at Rupert with alarm. "Old? What do you see?"

"That's what my grandmother said in her letter, remember? 'Only old men, toughened by life's scars, and with the jaded wisdom that stems from many downfalls, could hope to succeed where so many others had failed'." Rupert shook his head, still staring at their reflections. "I don't see any old men here."

Relieved, and not at all surprised that Rupert could quote so exactly from the letter, Ethan looked back at the mirror, only to be entranced again. "I see immortals."

"I see..." Rupert trailed off thoughtfully. "Beauty as ephemeral as the next breath." He chuckled and ducked his head with a tiny self-effacing laugh. "Listen to me. I sound like a besotted..."

"A besotted what?" Ethan murmured. He turned and put his hands on Rupert's belt. "Let me do all of you?"

"Will you do yourself as well?" Rupert's eyes were bright with anticipation.

A charge of arousal hit Ethan, so sharp it weakened his knees, and he had to briefly clutch at Rupert's shoulder for support. The thought of them both naked and wearing a magical glamour from head to toe was almost too much.

But not actually too much.

"Stay here," he said urgently, turning and making a dash around the bed for the window seat, where he'd left the wooden box of cosmetic delights.

Rupert chuckled, having turned and watched Ethan's dash across the room. "Don't drop anything."

Ethan grabbed the box and hurried back. He held it open for Rupert to read the plaque and noticed that the compartments of colour showed no sign that he'd ever touched them. That, he had to presume, was another part of the substantial magic imbued in his gift; it would never run out. "Doesn't much look like a goose, does it?" he asked with a laugh.

"I'll start to worry then if it produces golden eggs."

"Well, it is, in a way. That's us. Whenever we want for as long as we want." Ethan put the box down on the sill of the small window on this side of the bed and returned his hands to Rupert's belt. "So may I?"

"I put myself completely in your hands," Rupert said formally.

Ethan leant forward to kiss Rupert, noting how the cosmetics somehow tasted different, earthier, from Rupert's skin. As they shared a slow, sensual kiss, he undid Rupert's belt and trousers, letting them fall. He slipped his hands under the waistband of the soft grey boxers and persuaded them to follow the trousers. Rupert reached out and began to return the favour.

The whole of Ethan was buzzing, alive with sensation. He stepped from his fallen clothes and moved against Rupert, confident nothing would smudge. "Christ, I needed this." Something intense, something good, an antidote to the fear and anxiety of the last few days.

Rupert's hands slid around Ethan's waist then down over his buttocks, squeezing them as he devoured Ethan's mouth. He pulled back before Ethan could lose himself entirely. "Finish the makeup?"

Ethan blinked, the words only making sense after a second or so, but then the urgency he'd felt before the kiss reasserted itself. He grinned a little raggedly and stepped back, turning to get the box from the window. "Who first?"

"You," Rupert replied after a moment's thought, adding with a wicked smile, "You tend to get distracted when you make me up. And I want a chance to see the full picture."

Looking around, Ethan's eyes fell on the wooden chair near the bathroom. He handed Rupert the box while he dashed over to fetch it. After a moment's consideration, he placed the chair between the mirror and Rupert, gently pushing Rupert back a couple of steps for a better arrangement. "There. A stage for the show." He winked, before finding himself drifting off into distraction again at the sight of Rupert and his prominent arousal. "My horned god," Ethan murmured; then he giggled.

"Generally when referring to horned gods, the horns are located further up," Rupert teased.

"Looks pretty 'up' to me," Ethan replied automatically, but his gaze was now locked to Rupert's erection, imagining what it would look like with a burnished shimmer. "Can't I just...?" He began to reach out.

Rupert stepped back out of easy reach. "You first."

All right. He could wait. Ethan held his hand out to take the box back and then stood to the side of the chair, lifting a leg onto it. He looked into the box and chose a dark glittering blue that he hadn't yet tried. Pressing his finger upon it, the flat surface crumbled, revealing it to be a soft waxy paste. Leanning down, he began to sculpt his foot with the colour. On skin, it transformed to a midnight indigo studded with twinkling stars.

He heard Rupert make an approving sound. "Ankle deep in the night sky, I see."

"Does that make me the sky god to your earth god?" Ethan continued the night sky to mid-thigh and then moved to a fiery red colour, expecting, and getting, vivid flames and sparkles as he moved to the top of his leg and up his buttock and hip.

"You could be." Rupert tilted his head to the side as he considered the question and Ethan. "More a moon god than a sun god though I think."

"Sin," Ethan said, referring to the Babylonian moon god. He smirked as he started on his other leg. "It seems appropriate."

"Indeed. You've always been a temptation to sin for me."

"Some rules exist only for the fun in breaking them." Ethan worked swiftly; the magic took care of the look, so all he needed to worry about was the colour choice. Soon he had only the area around his groin left to do, partly because he felt the feel of the cosmetics on his very needy cock might be overwhelming, and partly because... "Would you like to do this bit?" He let his eyes beg.

Rupert came forward, his own eyes dark with want. "See, what did I just say? Walking temptation, that's what you are." He looked at the makeup box then back at Ethan. "What colour should I use?"

"Close your eyes and let your fingers choose," Ethan suggested, closing his own in anticipation

"All right, but don't blame me if you end up clashing." There was a brief pause and then Rupert's hand closed around Ethan's length.

Ethan gasped and bucked. It seemed like he could feel the glittering components of the makeup spark against his skin. "Christ. Oh Ripper..." Forcing his eyes open, he looked down. Beneath Rupert's slowly moving hand, his cock was crimson and gold, swirling together in complex patterns.

Rupert's gaze was also focused downward, watching his hand slide slowly up and down Ethan's length. "It's almost hypnotic," he commented.

Ethan didn't answer; couldn't really. He put a hand heavily on Rupert's shoulder to stop himself staggering and tried to drag air in and out of his lungs.

Rupert leant in and kissed him, keeping the touch of his lips and tongue as light and teasing as that of his fingers.

"More?" Ethan asked in a strangled gasp. "Please?"

Turning back to the makeup box, Rupert replenished the makeup on his fingers then once again reached for Ethan's cock. This time however, he continued down to squeeze Ethan's balls gently, spreading the enchanted colour there as well.

Ethan panted and dug his nails into the muscle of Rupert's shoulder. As the fingers moved on, behind his balls, Ethan felt his legs start to give way, and he whimpered. An arm went around his waist to help hold him up, but Rupert's fingers implacably continued their exploring.

Ethan almost sobbed, the sensations were so intense, amplified by both the magic and his own inarguable kink for makeup in general. "Ripper, please. Please"

Rupert kissed him once more then pulled back, moving his hand away, although he kept an arm around Ethan's waist so he wouldn't fall down. "You have to do me now," he reminded.

Biting back a pointless protest, Ethan nodded, but he rested his forehead against Rupert's shoulder for a while before moving, trying to calm down a little. His success was debatable, but he nonetheless eventually stepped back. Taking the makeup box in his hands, he dropped to his knees in front of Rupert.

"So what did you have in mind for me?" Rupert asked as he casually slid his fingers through Ethan's hair as if he were petting Giddy.

"Mmm?" Ethan leant forward to touch his tongue to the inviting cock in front of him.

"With the makeup," Rupert clarified. "Blowjobs are pretty much always on your mind." His voice was still casual, but his grip on Ethan's hair tightened as Ethan licked him.

Makeup. Ah, right. It was so very hard to keep himself on track here.

Ethan looked down, and choosing instinctively, smeared a different colour on each of three fingertips before putting the box on the floor. Sitting on his heels, he began by doing both of Rupert's feet. The makeup was dark: warm browns and deep greens, like an English forest in summer, and it glinted with secrets and magical promise.

"If you're racing through the sky, I see you've got me firmly planted in the soil."

"You're my earth, dearheart," Ethan told him lovingly. "My anchor. You stop me floating away and losing myself. You give me..." He contemplated the right word. "Hmm, you give me substance." He moved his fingers up Rupert's legs, and the forest reached skyward, the colours still dark and intense, but brightened now in places by bright swirls of colour like tropical birds or blossom.

The hand in his hair slid down to caress his cheek. "You've always had substance, Ethan," Rupert told him earnestly. "But if I helped you see that, I'm glad."

Standing up, Ethan began to paint Rupert's back and belly in greens and golds. Hints of deep reds too. The magic did most of the work, but Ethan felt it was allowing him to guide it. It took no time for all of Rupert to be done. That is, bar the part Ethan knew that, once he touched it, there would be no turning back. Not that he wanted to turn back, but it was good not to leave things half-finished.

He bent to renew the colour on his fingertips, then stepped back to admire his almost completed work, moaning quietly at the sight. "Herne, that's who you are. Master of the Wild Hunt. I'll give you the best chase that any fox knows how, but eventually you catch me and fulfil both our destinies." Ethan laughed. "That should perhaps have been in the past tense."

Rupert looked down at himself then up at Ethan, his gaze hot enough to burn. "Then a re-enactment should be in order perhaps."

Ethan shut the box and put it on the sill. He stalked back to Rupert, giving him a crooked smile as he closed in. "Are you ready to sound the chase?" he asked, holding his hand just in front of Rupert's cock.

"As soon as you finish dressing me in the Hunt's colours," Rupert replied, holding Ethan's gaze.

Ethan moved, his hand surging forward and down, not touching Rupert's cock to start with, but dancing over his balls and beyond. He heard Rupert's swift intake of breath and could feel the muscles tensing at his touch, but otherwise Rupert remained still and silent as Ethan worked.

The feel of smoothing the cosmetic over this most intimate area of skin was quite something. "Move your legs apart?" Ethan suggested, his voice quiet and intense; he wanted to explore the phenomenon further. Rupert swallowed hard, but obeyed.

Ethan slipped his fingers further, moving between Rupert's buttocks and tickling oh so lightly over his opening. A groan rumbled up from deep in Rupert's chest and he reached out to brace himself against Ethan's shoulder.

It took every bit of willpower Ethan had left not to sink to his knees again, not to take Rupert into his mouth as his finger pushed inside, not to drive Rupert wild with tongue and one, two, maybe even three fingers... Oh Christ.

Ethan gritted his teeth, looked Rupert squarely in the eye, and brought his hand back, taking Rupert's cock between his fingers and thumb. Rupert's groan this time held more than a little of a growl in it, and the wildness in his eyes made Ethan's heart beat faster. He had to close his own eyes. By touch alone, he painted the warm taut skin beneath his fingers, shuddering as he felt Rupert grip hard into his shoulder. Then he let go and stood back, his eyes still shut.

"Ethan." The growl had made it into Rupert's words as well.

He forced his eyes open and time stopped. Well, it didn't really, but it might as well have done for Ethan was struck dumb and motionless by the sight of his husband. All Rupert needed was a bevy of disreputable maenads around him to become Dionysus incarnate. A tiny noise escaped Ethan's throat.

Rupert smiled at him, the expression seeming even more predatory than usual in his transformed face. "I believe someone mentioned a fox hunt?"

"I don't want to run," Ethan admitted, still staring. "Rupert..." He swallowed. "You're the Piper at the Gates of Dawn." He knew his reference would be understood.

"I guess that would make you the sunrise," Rupert said, still smiling as he took a step towards Ethan. "Or... the wind in the willows?"

"I feel more like a small brown mole wanting to bask at your feet."

"Oh, you're far too brightly plumed to ever pass for a small brown mole," Rupert assured him, taking another step.

"Mirror?" Ethan suggested weakly. "You should see..."

Rupert reached out and took Ethan's hand. "And so should you."

Entranced, Ethan let Rupert pull him back over to the mirror, Rupert moving the chair out of the way. They stood, and both of them stared at the gods in front of them: a green man, potent and dangerous, and a moon-god, mysterious and enticing.

Acting without conscious thought, Ethan lifted their joined hands before them and watched as power sparked out, their magics materialising and merging around the grasped fists. Earth and Moon, primal raw instinctual power...

"Oh, sodding hell, Ripper," Ethan muttered, rather prosaically, he had to admit.

Rupert didn't reply, at least not in words. He did raise a hand to gently turn Ethan's face towards his. They stared at each other for an endless moment, and then Rupert was leaning in to devour his mouth again. Ethan closed his eyes and simply gave himself to the experience. His body, all his skin, felt on fire from the makeup and Rupert's touch, and his mind was even more of an inferno.

"Want you," Rupert growled, his movements bordering on the rough. "Caught you, and I'm going to take you."

Ethan groaned, his legs feeling weak again. "Yours by right of conquest. Please."

Rupert pulled back, and Ethan opened his eyes to see him picking up the chair and placing it in front of the mirror, with the back to them. The look Rupert gave him then made Ethan whimper. Working out easily what Rupert planned, and his head spinning with anticipation, Ethan turned and leant over the chair, his arms taut as his hands gripped the edges of the seat. He stared at himself in the mirror.

In the reflection, Rupert approached behind him, a hunter stalking its prey. He ran a hand possessively down Ethan's spine before gripping his hips and pulling him into a position to be taken. Ethan found himself panting again. All his bodily awareness was behind him, with Rupert, and where Rupert was likely to be touching very soon.

Magic was once again sparking out from where they touched, arcing up even more as Rupert slid into him. The look on Rupert's face as he joined with Ethan, the look on Ethan's own face for that matter, would have been enough to make Ethan gasp, but combined with the feel of Rupert filling him, Ethan could do nothing to stop himself crying out.

Rupert's grip on his hips tightened as he began fucking Ethan with a slow measured rhythm, meeting and holding Ethan's gaze in the mirror as they moved together. In their reflections, Rupert seemed to be actually sporting small horns in his hair, while Ethan's eyes seemed to swirl with spiralling stardust. How much of this was the glamour, and how much the possible hallucinogenic effect of the cosmetic he'd consumed, Ethan wasn't sure.

But the horned god buggering the cosmic man was quite possibly the most erotic tableau he'd ever seen.

As Rupert's thrusts increased in speed and force, the very air around them shimmered and shook with the power of their coupling, sparks and ribbons of light and magic sliding around them as if sentient. Ethan moaned and whimpered, and the noises took form in the mirror as small firework bursts.

"Ripper... Rupert... " he started out loud, then sent, 'Talk to me. I'm flying away.'

'No, you're not,' Rupert sent back, and even his mental voice held that husky growl that always sent shivers through Ethan's nervous system. 'I'll keep you grounded. ' As if to punctuate his point, his next thrust was hard enough to force a sharp cry from Ethan's lips.

'Look at us,' Ethan sent a little desperately, shuddering under the assault. 'Just look at us.'

Rupert grabbed his shoulders and pulled him up until they were plastered together along their full lengths, the chair lifting as Ethan didn't initially let go, and then being discarded to the side. Rupert was still buried in him balls deep, and there was no possible physical way they could get any closer.

Ethan saw his own mouth open to cry again as Rupert's hand surrounded his length, and he hurtled towards his climax. But as his groin muscles pulled tight, and Rupert tensed and shuddered behind him, the image of them both in the mirror wavered and changed. For an endless fraction of a second before orgasm took him, Ethan saw not two bodies in the mirror, but one god. Tall and glowing like the sun, the figure raised its arms up high, and then the room seemed to disappear in blinding white-gold light as Ethan came.

As the aftershocks slowly faded, Rupert stumbled over and stood the chair back up. He collapsed onto it, pulling Ethan down on his lap as he did so. Neither of them spoke just yet; Rupert just held onto Ethan tightly as if loathe to let go.

Ethan slowly became aware that his hands and arms appeared normal again. Hmm, and his legs. He turned to look at Rupert; there was no sign of the make up. "I think the clock struck twelve," he said in what was intended as a dry tone but came out as an old man's palsied stammer.

Rupert didn't answer with words, but leant forward and kissed Ethan, the action borne more out of comfort and connection than the passion and lust that had fuelled earlier kisses.

Ethan took the comfort, but sent, 'Did you see it? Did you see us? Him?' As the post-orgasmic lassitude slowly faded, he was growing excited, intellectually at least, by their experiences.

"I saw," Rupert confirmed quietly, pulling back from the kiss and raising a hand to trace Ethan's features with a finger.

"What did you think? Was it nothing but the glamour?" He knew it wasn't nothing. He knew it was a very definite something.

"I don't know. Somehow I think it's more than that."

"Something your gran intended?" Before Rupert could answer, Ethan shifted on his lap and then stood. "Come on; let's get to a comfy chair or the bed. It's not good for your legs me sitting on you on that hard old thing."

"Window seat?" Rupert suggested.

Ethan nodded as he pulled his trousers back on. "Better open the door for the dogs too. Skunk's not too happy at being made to stay with Megan for so long." He paused before walking to where he'd discarded his shirt and sweater. "Don't ask me how I know that."

Rupert reclaimed his own discarded clothes and put them back on. "Developing mental bonds with your pets now?" he asked as he crossed over to open the door just enough for the dogs to come and go.

"Well, I knew I could give her mental commands, but the empathic knowledge is new and a little disturbing. You're extraordinarily calm, Rupert." Ethan thought it needed pointing out.

"Is there some reason why I shouldn't be?" Rupert crossed the room again and settled in what Ethan had discovered was his favourite spot in the room – the corner of the window seat, where he could see everything both inside and outside.

"Don't you feel like something huge just happened?" Ethan sat down beside him.

"It was an... interesting experience." He reached out and took hold of Ethan's hand.

"But it didn't... inspire you?" At that moment, a rumble of running puppies was heard outside and both their dogs ran in, hurtling across the room towards them. Skunk launched herself at breakneck speed onto Ethan's lap, forcing him to catch her with his free arm so she didn't brain herself on the glass. Even the more sedate Giddy lifted his front paws to Rupert's leg and wuffed meaningfully. "I think they know they've missed out on something important."

With a small gesture, Rupert gave his dog permission to jump up and there was a brief moment taken up with human and large puppy negotiating the sharing of limited space. Once Giddy had settled down, Rupert answered Ethan's question, although he kept his eyes on the hand he was running through Giddy's fur. "It was... affecting, certainly. 'Inspiring' isn't the first word that comes to mind for me."

"Dearheart?" Ethan asked gently. There was something a little worrying about Rupert's tone. Ethan tried to get closer, but was hindered by the dogs.

"To use one of Buffy's favourite phrases, it 'wigged me out'."

Ethan stared at Rupert in concern, holding his hand tight. "Us becoming one briefly?" he checked, just in case they'd seen something different.

"Us merging so closely that our own identities are subsumed into another, new one." Rupert looked up with an ironic half-smile. "I know that's not how you saw it, but..."

Ethan met Rupert's gaze earnestly. "I didn't feel subsumed; I felt... deified."

"It certainly was quite a... heady experience, I can't deny that."

"You're scared of losing you. I can see that. Really, I can, to the extent that I've no idea why I'm not scared. Perhaps..." He paused briefly to contemplate it. "Perhaps it's because I'm so very used to giving up all control to you, to trusting you completely."

"Perhaps," Rupert admitted. "Lord knows, I've spent most of my life keeping rigid control over myself."

"Poor Rupert." Ethan tilted his head, studying him as he thought what best to say. "Perhaps we should talk to Ian... or Lucy even?"

"I doubt either of them have experience with... whatever that was."

"They, or at least Keri, might be able to hint cryptically at what it means for us. I think you're imagining the worst."

"Possibly," Rupert admitted. He petted his dog and watched Ethan for a moment before asking, "What do you think it was?"

He shrugged and offered up, "The ultimate manifestation of our bonded power?"

Rupert sighed. "That's what I'm afraid of," he admitted wryly.

"I didn't mean I thought it would be permanent, and that's what you're afraid of, isn't it? I suppose I was imagining something like, hmm, those power ranger thingies." This was hard. Ethan found that the idea of joining so completely with Rupert was... Well, many things, and all of them good.

Rupert gave him a blank look. "Power ranger things?"

"Superheroey things. You must know what I mean; they were all the rage before my spell of incarceration. They joined together to make one big uber-hero when trouble threatened and split apart again afterwards." It was probably true that Ethan had spent far too many hours in motel rooms with nothing to do.

"Ah." Rupert's tone and expression showed he wasn't much more enlightened than before Ethan's explanation, but he continued gamely on. "The only kind of experience I've had with this sort of thing... There was a spell we used once back in Sunnydale: myself, Xander, Willow, and Buffy. Mind, heart, spirit and hand. Each of us provided our strengths for a greater whole that let Buffy defeat Adam, that would be what was in Room 314 at the Initiative." He tilted his head as he added, "Of course the spirit of the First Slayer then tried to kill us all in our dreams so it wasn't exactly an unqualified success."

Ethan didn't know what to make of all that... Well, apart from a crumbly mix of jealousy anyway. "I don't think our joining will anger any primal spirits, other than perhaps the particular manifestation of Chaos that our enemies might worship. You were the 'mind', I assume."

Rupert nodded. "It was a joining, but only of specific parts. With us though..." He looked down at their clasped hands, "It's far more. Even what we have now is far more."

"Rupert..." Ethan sighed and gently pushed Skunk to the floor. He then bodily lifted Giddy's hindquarters and slipped in under them, so that he could sit tight against Rupert and hold him. "You won't lose your identity, dearheart; how could you? You're joining with me, and I value you more than anything else in this sorry world. I would do nothing but hold and treasure everything that's you."

"It's not just the loss of my own identity that bothers me," Rupert said, wrapping an arm around Ethan and pulling him flush against his side. "I love you, all of you, and I have no more desire to see you subsumed than I do myself."

"It's not like that," Ethan insisted stubbornly, although where his certainty came from, he wasn't sure.

"It could be," Rupert insisted just as stubbornly. "One or both of us could–"

"No!" Ethan cringed at the bluntness of his tone and modified it considerably before he continued. "We're the Guardians of Balance, remember? And that... what we saw? It wasn't a bit of me and a lot of you, or even half of me, half of you. That was all of both of us. It was a giant in size and power. Nothing was lost; I'm sure of it."

"You are, aren't you?" Rupert observed, searching his face intently.

Ethan nodded, holding Rupert's gaze for long enough to show his sincerity; then he laid his forehead down on Rupert's shoulder and closed his eyes.