So Deirdre had been right, and Ripper was back in town.

Apparently the Giles clan was spending this Yuletide with the family matriarch at her posh git townhouse. Ethan pushed back further into the shadows under the tree as he watched. Across the wide road, Ethan's ex, dressed in something cringingly close to tweed, helped his prig of a father carry the Christmas shopping bags in through the open door of the house. The grandmother herself, tall and upright, stood by the wrought iron railings and supervised.

It hurt, seeing him like that. Seeing that boy, so very much a 'Rupert', like a mockery of his lover, his Ripper. Hair trimmed short and neat, respectable clothing, and the only leather Ripper now wore was on his feet in the form of plain loafers. His very posture proclaimed him a good boy, polite and subservient to his father, respectful to the distaff... It was sickening. It wasn't real; it couldn't be.

How could Rupert leave him for this? Yes, there was money obviously, possessions, but what the hell did they matter? Anything Ethan and Ripper had wanted, they'd got, hook or crook style. They'd never lacked. Oh Christ, Ethan missed him so badly it was like shards of glass in his guts.

Ethan felt feverish despite the cold, as if he were burning up with the acid need inside him. He might have guessed it would be Christmas he saw Rupert again; it had been a Christmas, after all, that had seen Ripper make the decision to drop out, come to London permanently and live with Ethan. Bloody fool Ethan had been to think that meant forever.

Randall had died, and Ripper had left, and the anniversary of Randall's death had come and gone. Ethan had lurked in the cold cemetery the whole day hoping to see Ripper, but all that arrived were flowers, delivered by a bloke in a van. A card signed 'R' and no words, but Ethan knew the curl of that 'R', the press of the pen in the cardboard.

He still had it. Wasn't any good to Randall, after all.

Ethan had something else too, something small and silver and wrapped in tissue. It was a... peace offering? A promise? A token? Ethan didn't know, not really, but it was Christmas, and he was looking at Rupert for the first time in over a year, and well, it was a gift of sorts.

His Mum had died last month. No loss there for him or the world, but in her bits and pieces, he'd found a box of his nan's things. Trinkets and charms, Rom treasures of no great value, but he'd seen them around a lot when he'd been a nipper. She'd told him stories of her travelling days. His Dad, ashamed of his 'filthy' gypsy blood, had forbidden any mention of it in the house, but Ethan had gone to Nan's for comfort after the beatings or other mistreatments, and she'd told him the stories then to distract him from his tears.

Soon as he'd seen the silver hoop with the strange markings, he'd thought of Ripper. Course, now he could see that Ripper was gone, and this clean, well brought up boy would never wear an earring. But maybe, just maybe, it would be enough to get them talking in a friendly fashion. If Ethan could only get him away from his bastard family anyway as Rupert's father almost certainly had a shoot to kill policy regarding Ethan, metaphorically anyway.

He would do anything, make any compromise, to get his Ripper back. Because without him, Ethan had nothing, was nothing, and saw nothing in his future.

Ethan watched and cowered further back as, the last bag in his hand, Rupert looked around the road, almost as if sensing something. Ethan knew the look on his ex's face, that alert, strong, almost angry vigilance, and Ethan knew that his Ripper was still in there, almost-tweed or no almost-tweed. He clasped his hand over his mouth and prayed he wouldn't be spotted. He wasn't ready.

Ironically, it was the father who saved Ethan, clapping a hand on Rupert's shoulder and destroying his concentration. There was laughter, yes, laughter, and genuine smiles, and Ethan felt like crying. Rupert wasn't meant to belong; he wasn't meant to have a family, not without Ethan.

Father and son went inside, still laughing, and Ethan prepared to move from his hiding place, but the grandmother was still out there. He realised with a shock that she was staring directly at him. He moved back and almost completely behind the tree, but she continued to stare. Then she started to walk over.

Buggeration.

There seemed no point in running, not now. Might as well brazen it out. After all, she wouldn't know who he was. Ethan stepped out from behind the tree and looked directly at the old woman as she arrived on the pavement. He folded his arms. "Yes? Can I help you?"

She snorted. "You'd be the Bad Influence, I presume. Ethan something. Don't bother lying. I saw the photographs." So much for anonymity, Ethan rolled his eyes. Her accent was plummy, and her attitude typical of formidable Knightsbridge dames.

He sneered. "And you'd be the Watcher. Oh whoops. That would be all of you."

Another snort. "Suppose you're missing him. Are you wanting him back, lad?" He didn't answer. This kind of directness was unexpected, as was, for some reason, the fact that he could see Ripper in her features. "It'd be kinder for the both of you if you'd be a good boy and bugger off. Rupert has moved on. His affections lie elsewhere now, and seeing you will only bring back that most painful of times for him."

Ethan was winded. He truly couldn't breathe. Moved on? Christ, no. Had Ethan really meant so very... little?

The old woman's expression softened, just a bit. "I know it hurts, lad. Life hurts. Sometimes we just have to buckle up tight and keep going no matter what's thrown in our path." She stepped closer, pinning him with a gaze that held all of Ripper's intensity and none of what Ethan had fondly thought of as love. "You have to let him go or you will hurt him irrevocably."

"I won't," he denied sullenly, but he was shaken by her intensity. "I would never..." But hadn't he already? It had been Ethan who had found the Eyghon ritual initially, Ethan who'd persuaded the group to try it out, Ethan who'd been the loudest voice encouraging them to try it again and again. "I..."

She just stared at him, apparently unblinking, until he looked down and away.

Defeated.

"I need him," he mumbled, all pride lost.

"I know," she said softly, stepping back again. "And I'm truly sorry, but he needs to be free of you to survive."

Ethan looked up. "I can change. I have changed – look at me! No glitter, short hair. Please, let me see him. Give me a chance. No more bad magic, I promise." He was pathetic, a begging clown, and it didn't even achieve anything.

Slowly, sadly, the old woman shook her head. "The bad magic is in you, lad. You're... poison to him. I'm sorry. You must go now."

He couldn't hold her gaze; he tried, but his will was weak, and she had grey-green eyes that seemed to see into his sodding soul. All thought of threats or insults was absent; he just wanted to get away from her as quickly as possible. He was broken inside, broken and empty.

Feeling inside his jacket pocket, he found for the silver hoop in its wrapping of tissue and thrust it at her. "It's for him. You can believe me or not, but I'd have done anythi–" He cut off his own words, fearing he would weep, and when the old woman took the tiny package from him, Ethan turned and ran.

***

"Star," Ethan said stubbornly. Giles could see he was becoming tight-lipped.

Megan folded her arms, the offending item sticking up behind them in a ruffle of gold lace and glitter. "I bought this fairy specially. I think she's lovely, and I don't get why you don't."

Giles sat in his chair, ostensibly going over yet more of the seemingly never ending stack of reports that were always on his desk lately, but he had been spending more time watching Megan and Ethan decorate their just purchased tree than actually working.

The two of them had been prettifying in perfect concert, until they'd got to the question of what to put on the top. That was the current topic of conversation, and Giles now gave up all pretence of working to watch the confrontation between his lover and their Slayer.

"It's perfectly hideous, the height of tacky. Put it in the bin like a good girl. The star is much more appropriate to Yuletide anyway."

Megan seemed to be as close to losing her temper as Giles had ever seen her. "She cost me ten pounds, and she is not tacky. And why can't you say 'Christmas' like a normal person anyway?"

"Because I'm not a Christian, sweet child. Now do what your Watcher says and get rid of that monstrosity. Weren't those fairies in Hyde Park enough to put you off the childish Tinkerbell thing?"

Sensing that this particular conversation was very close to degenerating to something that would ruin the afternoon for all of them, Giles stepped in to try to defuse the situation. "Even if real life encounters haven't put you off fairies, Megan, they have some of us. Why don't you use that fairy as the beginning of the decorations in your room and let us old mystics have something on top of the tree that doesn't bring back bad memories?"

"Just what is so Christian about a fairy? It's not an angel. I deliberately got a fairy, not an angel." But she was clearly submitting to inevitability despite her continued argument, since she placed the doll a few steps up the stairs.

Ethan, arms folded, remained thankfully silent, but he directed a grateful little smile towards Giles while Megan's back was turned. Ethan had always disliked such ornaments, fairies and angels both, and his hatred seemed just as strong and apparently unreasonable now.

"It has nothing to do with religion, Megan," Giles said, "so much as it does with situations like you encountered in Hyde Park." He smiled at her. "Humour a pair of old men."

Privately, he suspected the excuse of bad memories that he was giving Megan was the truth when it came to Ethan's antipathy, but Ethan had never shared the exact reason. Giles made a mental note to ask about it sometime.

Megan smiled, obviously relaxing. "How many times do I have to tell you both that you're not old. Anyone would think you were pushing ninety."

That made Ethan smile again, and he relaxed his arms, lifting a hand to lightly stroke Megan's hair, currently in a long tight plait. "Thank you," he murmured.

Every time Giles witnessed the open affection Ethan had for Megan, he was touched and a little awed. He had always suspected that Ethan had that capacity for caring, if given a chance with someone who didn't prejudge or dismiss him. Seeing it demonstrated always made Giles fall that little bit more in love with him. It also, in the back of his mind, made Giles feel just the slightest bit jealous. The same kind of closeness Ethan had with Megan existed between Giles and Buffy, but neither of them had ever really been good at expressing it with the same ease.

Megan hugged Ethan then bounded over to hug Giles too. "I'm in too good a mood to sulk. This is going to be the best Christmas ever."

As he laughed and patted the girl's back, Giles caught a glimpse of Ethan's face over Megan's shoulder. Ethan seemed almost upset, but when he noticed Giles looking at him, he smiled, sending mentally, 'I'm being a sentimental old fool.'

'Nothing wrong with being sentimental,' Giles sent back.

'That's debatable,' Ethan replied, his lips quirked.

Megan looked suspiciously between them. "You're doing it now, aren't you?" Ethan spluttered and turned away.

Giles raised an eyebrow. "Is that a problem?"

"It's rude," Megan said, showing a touch of Kat's cheekiness, although her eyes dipped uncertainly after she'd said it.

Ethan's back was still turned; his voice was rich with humour as he said, "You just want to hear the porn, don't you, dear."

"There are some things that are meant to remain private," Giles put in. "This way at least, we don't have to get up and leave the room."

"No, I don't want to hear the porn," Megan said archly, all signs of hesitancy gone. She walked over to the study door behind which Giddy was trapped and scratching. "I hear the porn most mornings and many evenings, after all."

Smothering an embarrassed cough, Giles glanced at Ethan and sent, 'Soundproofing. As soon as the holidays are over, we're putting in soundproofing.'

Ethan snorted as repressed giggles escaped. Turning around, he looked over at Megan. "If you're about to let the monster back in I want him controlled, at least until Rupert can have a few words with him about the sanctity of Yule evergreens."

Giles put aside his pile of folders and stood. "I'll handle it," he said as he crossed the room, brushing a hand against Ethan's back as he passed.

Megan stood aside, making way for Giles. "It's Giddy's Christmas too," she said. "Or is there some freaky British rule about no pets at" –she pronounced it exaggeratedly– "yuletide?"

"I know," Ethan replied, not arguing Megan's statement at all. "It's for all of us. There are no traditions about pets as far as I know, although I'm hardly the one to ask."

"Less British rule, more common sense," Giles replied as he sent a brief mental caress to Ethan. "Gwydion tends to get excited and isn't all that aware of his size or strength yet. He gets too rambunctious, and all the hard work you and Ethan have put into setting up and decorating the tree could be ruined. So a word or two to get him to keep a bit of distance will be prudent."

"As for traditions, they all have to start somewhere," he added as he reached for the door.

As Giles opened it, Ethan asked, "Are you suggesting we start some?"

"Gwydion, sit," Giles ordered before the young dog could run past him and do any damage. When Gwydion obeyed, he reached out and turned the dog's head towards the tree. "See that? That is a Christmas tree. You are not to go near it. Understand?"

Gwydion barked and tried to lick Giles' face. "I'll take that as a yes," Giles laughed, letting the dog go and straightening up again.

Turning back to Ethan, he said, "I think the traditions will be started whether we consciously try to do so or not, but yes. Aren't there things you'd like to do every year from now on?"

'Be with you,' Ethan sent immediately, his look intense. At least until Megan kicked his shin, at which point he glared at her. "I suggest the new tradition of Spank the Slayer."

Megan stuck her tongue out at him and headed over to where Gwydion had settled a few feet away from the tree; she knelt to make a fuss over him.

"Togetherness, certainly, is a tradition I think we should foster," Giles agreed aloud with Ethan's unspoken suggestion. "Although I don't think that will be one we'll have problems establishing or remembering."

Ethan moved close and stepped behind Giles to wrap his arms around him. He rested his chin upon Giles' shoulder and together they watched the Slayer, the dog, and the Christmas tree. "It's better than telly," Ethan murmured, mentally sending, 'I like this. A lot. It's lovely having you home with us.'

'It's lovely being home with you,' Giles replied, relishing the feeling of Ethan's body against his back. 'I'm glad you asked me to stay.'

He was actually quite content, more so than he would have predicted, not going into work simply because Ethan had asked him not to. The twitchiness and worry about things not getting done had failed to materialise, and he wasn't quite sure why.

Ethan suddenly giggled. "What?" Giles asked, trying to look over his shoulder.

"I think we should have goose for Christmas dinner," Ethan said, his tone had an arch edge to it.

"And this decision is cause for laughter?"

"I was thinking of a particular flock."

Giles could immediately see where Ethan's mind had gone. "I'm not helping you steal one of Keri's geese."

"Oh, I think I could manage that by myself." For a fraction of a second, Giles thought he could feel fur against his cheek where Ethan was nuzzling.

"And how would you explain this to Keri?"

"That would be your job."

"Ethan?" Megan asked uncertainly, straightening up.

Ethan chuckled. "I'm only kidding, sweetness. I wouldn't really chomp on one of Keri's malignant fowl; they'd give me indigestion. I bet she does herself though."

"I've never seen her actually eat," Giles put in with a completely straight face. "It's possible that she doesn't."

"That could explain a lot." Ethan tightened his grip around Giles' waist, pressing into his arse in a way that made Giles rather wish Megan wasn't home. "How about suckling pork, roasted to perfection, with seasoned crackling."

"You're not taking one of Keri's pigs either."

Ethan giggled by his ear. "Spoilsport. So what are we having then?"

Giles thought about it, leaning back slightly against Ethan. "Either goose or suckling pork would be appropriate, from a legitimate source. Assuming, of course, one of us can figure out how to cook them."

"The Americans are bound to want turkey," Ethan said. Giles wasn't sure what Ethan was doing over his shoulder, but Megan gave him a pointed look.

"Turkey's boring; I want something British."

Giles chuckled at the girl's answer. "Would a Christmas goose be British enough for you?"

"Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat," Megan chanted. "Please put a penny in the old man's hat."

"This old man demands something considerably bigger than a penny for Christmas," Ethan said, his hands moving absently over Giles' upper belly. "But yes, goose. Providing someone who isn't me cooks it. There's a knack, I believe, to stop it being greasy."

"Don't you mean 'yuletide'?" Megan teased, throwing a bauble at Ethan, who ducked down behind Giles, the movement causing Giles to shift sufficiently for the ornament hit him on the temple.

"Oops," Megan said, bringing her hand to her mouth to repress a giggle.

"Ouch," Giles said faintly, reaching up to rub at the spot where he'd been hit. He did his best to look stern. Gwydion rose to his feet and trotted after the fallen bauble. He sniffed it then pushed it forward with his nose.

Megan looked chagrined. "Sorry. Um, maybe I could make you a cup of tea to make up for nearly braining you with a glitterball?"

"Nearly braining?" Giles asked wryly then noticing what Gwydion was doing. He moved from Ethan's arms to take the bauble from the dog before he could bite it and hurt himself.

Gwydion yapped enthusiastically, bouncing up on his hind legs to paw at Giles. Clearly the dog thought the bauble was a ball to be thrown for him. "Sorry, boy," Giles told the puppy, reaching down to scratch his ears. "This isn't one of your toys." But it did give him an idea for a suitable revenge. "I'm sure Megan would be happy to take you to the park and throw your ball for you."

As Megan opened her mouth to object, Ethan said quickly. "I promise we won't turn the lights on for the first time until you get back. Not-scouts honour."

The Slayer relaxed. "Okay. And then you won't have to talk in your heads for a while."

"Go on," Giles encouraged. "Get the urge to throw things worked out of your system."

Megan got her coat and affixed the leash to an increasingly excited Gwydion. Very quickly, they were out of the door and gone. When Giles looked back into the room, he found Ethan crouched near the tree, neatening up those decorations they'd chosen not to use and extraneous packaging material.

"Alone at last," he commented, admiring the view as Ethan's current position pulled his trousers tight over his arse.

Ethan grinned over at him. "So tell the truth now. What do you think of the mighty pine here?"

"Very festive. You and Megan did a wonderful job decorating it."

"Not too overdone?" Ethan asked. He knelt properly and started to primp the lower branches.

"It's fine." Giles waited a moment, but when Ethan continued to focus on the tree, said, "Ethan?"

"Mmm?" A blue and gold star was moved from one branch to another.

"You did catch the fact that we're alone?"

"Yes... oh." He turned and smirked at Giles. "Wanting something are we?"

Giles gave Ethan a heated smile. "What's the point of working from home if we don't take advantage of the ability to stop and... reconnect?"

Walking on his knees, Ethan moved over to Giles, a cheeky smile on his face. "Reconnecting, eh? Are you sure you wouldn't rather shag?"

"Well, if you insist..."

Stopping in front of Giles, Ethan grinned up at him. He put his hands on Giles' hips. "Your order this afternoon, sir?"

Giles reached out and ran his fingers through Ethan's hair. "Surprise me."

"House special? Coming right up, sir." Chuckling, Ethan pressed his lips to the front of Giles' trousers. Just the thought of having Ethan's lips around his cock was enough to make Giles harden, arousal and anticipation thrumming in his blood.

Ethan nuzzled at the growing erection through the trousers and then carefully pulled down the zip. His eyes were closed, and as he pushed all the clothing down and out of the way, he moved his face in. Giles' cock knocked frustratingly against Ethan's cheek as Ethan licked over Giles' belly.

"Testing my patience?" Giles asked, aware of the way his voice had deepened with what Ethan was doing, with his desire for what he wanted Ethan to do.

"Hardly," Ethan mumbled, his lips at the edge of Giles' hair. "If I were, I wouldn't be doing this, would I?" He extended his tongue and licked wetly up Giles' entire length and then kissed the head softly.

Giles' eyes fluttered closed at that first touch. It was always like this with Ethan, always so intense that a single caress could send him flying. "No one touches me like you do," he murmured, sliding his fingers through Ethan's hair.

Ethan gave a grunt that Giles could easily interpret as something along the lines of 'glad to hear it'. Ethan couldn't talk as he was sucking on the head of Giles' cock, working his tongue over the sensitive underside. One of Ethan's hands circled the base of the shaft, the other dug nails into Giles' arsecheek. The slight pain only enhanced the pleasure that Ethan was giving him, and Giles could feel a groan rumble up from his chest under the assault.

Ethan's eyes were closed as he moved up and down, the slightest tingle of his magic coating Giles' cock together with his spit. The movement was steady but unhurried, allowing a slow burning passion to grow within Giles, tensing his muscles. He could let Ethan continue like this; there were few things that matched coming in Ethan's mouth, but just now, Giles found himself wanting those few things. Wanting it all. Consequently, he tugged gently on Ethan's hair, pulling him away from his cock.

"Can we perhaps see what's next on the menu?"

Ethan raised his eyebrow. "Ready for the main course perhaps, sir?"

"I'm ready for you," Giles replied, tugging lightly on Ethan's shoulder and urging him to stand up so Giles could get his mouth on him.

Ethan moved smoothly up and began to lick and kiss at Giles' lips. Giles responded by grabbing onto the back of Ethan's neck and ravaging his mouth, his tongue mimicking what he wanted to be doing with other body parts.

Moaning, clinging with one hand as if the fierceness of the grip Giles had on him might topple him otherwise, Ethan opened his mouth and let Giles do as he would. With his other hand, Ethan returned to Giles' spit-slicked cock and worked it.

Giles pulled Ethan impossibly closer; he wanted to push him down on the sofa –or up against a wall, he wasn't picky– and fuck him senseless. But the tiny bit of his brain that refused to relax control kept reminding him that would be... risky.

A consideration that didn't seem to be in any part of Ethan's brain, judging by the way his hand seemed to be doing its best to drive Giles wild, sending ripple after ripple of magic through Giles' body. It made it difficult to think, to track down the thought that was niggling at him, and after another moment of Ethan's actions, he forgot why he wanted to. Forgot everything, but maybe his name and his lover's, and what he wanted to do to him.

Growling against Ethan's mouth, Giles shoved him up against the nearest wall.

The impact pushed the breath from Ethan's body with a grunt, and he momentarily released Giles to press his hands back against the wall and regain his balance. Then his hands were at his own belt, hurriedly unfastening.

Giles dived in to devour his mouth again, unable to keep away. He heard Ethan's trousers drop to the floor, then Ethan's hands returned to Giles' cock, holding it against his own and squeezing. Giles let him for as long as he could stand it, but then roughly pulled Ethan's hand away and spun him around, pressing up against Ethan's bare arse.

Ethan grunted. "God, Ripper." With his hands flat against the wall, he spread his legs and pushed his arse back, wiggling so that Giles' cock slipped between the cheeks. "Please."

"Yes," Giles growled, the word barely understandable as he pushed his way into Ethan's body using only just enough magic to keep from doing damage.

Ethan's fingers formed claws against the wall. "Oh, oh..."

Giles didn't even pause to let either of them catch their breath; he couldn't, not with the urgency he was feeling. He fucked Ethan hard and fast, his physical awareness narrowing to just that act and the feel of moving in the warmth and tightness of Ethan's body. But beyond the physical, Giles never lost the knowledge that it was Ethan he was fucking. As their bodies interlinked, so did their magics. Even their minds were joined, although neither was sending coherent thoughts to the other, just impressions and fragmentary, barely formed concepts of love and desire.

There was nothing in the world like this, no experience that even came close. Every time they had sex, Giles found himself caught anew by the wonder and joy that imbued each touch, each movement. He could happily stay in this moment for the rest of his life, but nothing that was this intense, this overwhelming could last for long, and all too soon, Giles felt Ethan shudder through his climax, his own pulled out of him scant seconds later.

He slowly came back to himself and found that he was crushing Ethan into the wall with his sagging weight. Not that Ethan seemed to be objecting at all; his face was turned sideways and pressed against the wall, and he was smiling.

"Sorry," Giles muttered, even as he shakily took his weight back on his own feet, pulling away enough to give Ethan room for breathing.

"What for?" Ethan turned around and pulled Giles back close again. "That was blissful, dearheart."

Giles went willingly, sighing contentedly at the feel of Ethan's arms around him. "It was, wasn't it?" He heard the smugness in his own voice, but didn't bother to try to smother it.

Ethan kissed him softly. "This is blissful too," he admitted in a low voice. "Us, a warm fire... a Christmas tree. There's a voice inside me ridiculing my... adoration of all this."

"Tell the voice inside you to go soak its head," Giles said, kissing him again before pulling back enough to give them both room to deal with their trousers.

Their clothing restored to order, they cleaned the wall of incriminating evidence and moved over to the sofa to sit down together. Ethan immediately twisted to lay his arm over Giles' belly. "I know that you know and that it's utterly unnecessary to say it, but sometimes the compulsion to tell you how very much I love you is too strong to resist."

Giles smiled, wrapping an arm around Ethan's shoulders. "I know it, but it's not something I'll ever get tired of hearing. You never used to be able to say it that easily."

"It seems silly to be squeamish of the words now, don't you think? It would make as much sense to avoid saying that the sun was shining or that we need oxygen to live." Ethan chuckled dryly.

"We've grown," Giles acknowledged. "Grown up, grown old, however you want to phrase it. We've learned not to let complications get in the way of what is truly important."

That garnered him a long intense look from Ethan. "Sometimes..." He paused.

"Sometimes what?" Giles asked, brushing his fingers against Ethan's cheek

"Sometimes I start to panic a little. I feel... Ah." Ethan took a long, shuddering breath and gave Giles a familiar look of exasperation, proving that sometimes even now he still couldn't talk easily about the things he experienced at a deep level. "Fancy a cuppa and a mince pie?"

"In a little bit." Giles leant in and kissed Ethan, hoping to provide reassurance and courage both in the gesture. "Tell me?"

Ethan screwed up his face. "It's just what I said the other day really. We, this idyll, it could end tomorrow; we don't know. I feel like I should be paying attention to every single moment we're together, burning them into my memory in exact detail. Just in case."

"I can't promise you it won't end tomorrow," Giles said honestly, wishing that there were something different he could say. Pulling Ethan closer, he gave him what he could. "But I can promise that I'm not going anywhere without you, or letting you go anywhere without me." Their growing bond would make sure of that, and Giles found an unexpected comfort in the knowledge. He didn't want to be the one left behind again.

Ethan's finger ghosted over Giles' lips as he seemed to contemplate those words. Eventually he murmured, "I can see it, you know. Just recently, the last few days, I've been able to."

"What can you see?"

"The bond between us," Ethan answered. "It's a pattern, you see."

That thought rather enchanted Giles. "What does it look like?" he asked curiously.

"Most of the time it's just shimmering tendrils connecting us, barely there. They move as if in a breeze and are, hmm, mother of pearl, ghostly. But when we're really... connecting, during sex or talking like this..." Ethan moved his hand between them, his eyes focused on something Giles couldn't see. "They are beautiful, Rupert. Like spun opals." He smiled into Giles' eyes.

Giles couldn't help but smile back. "Does it make it more real? Being able to see it?"

Ethan's head tipped to one side. "Would you like to see, dearheart?"

"Very much."

Ethan pulled back and shut his eyes. As he had once before on that Devonshire clifftop, he took hold of Giles' hands and somehow gifted Giles with a temporary ability to see what Ethan called patterns. One second Giles saw nothing but what was normally there, the next second the room seemed full of threads and interwoven spectral complexes.

After some moments of confusion, Giles dragged his eyes away from the kaleidoscopic display around him and back to Ethan. Amidst the background of all the normal patterns that surrounded both of them, Giles was able to see what Ethan had been talking about. There were threads, bands, running between them, sparkling and reflecting the light around them in jewelled facets. Out of curiosity, Giles sent a pulse of his magic through their joined hands; the bands flared brightly, silver and green, becoming even more beautifully solid.

"Oh my..." he breathed.

"That's us, my love," Ethan said softly. "That's what we are together."

What could Giles say to that? There were no words, not for how this made him feel. All he could say was, "Ethan," and trust his feelings were obvious.

"Yes," Ethan whispered, and the bonds glowed red-gold as Giles felt a surge of magic and love coming from him. Giles was so full of joy at that moment he couldn't help but laugh aloud, which sent silver swirls along the threads that made up their bond.

They could have gone like this for hours, but all too soon Giles heard the key in the door and the yap of his dog from the lobby. With a wistful sigh, he pulled back and let go of Ethan's hands, the bond's pattern and all the others immediately disappearing from his sight. "Love you," he murmured, before the door opened, and they were beset upon by puppy and Slayer.

Gwydion bounded straight over to the tree, and Giles felt Ethan tense beside him, but the young dog stopped and sat down in front of the hearth before Giles had to say anything. Megan smiled cheekily at them as she settled into one of the armchairs. "Have a nice chat?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact we did," Giles replied, unable to keep himself from shooting another smile at Ethan.

"But see," Ethan pointed out, "we have waited for you to turn on the 17, Mountbatton Road illuminations. You are our MC here, after all."

Megan screwed up her face. "Master of Ceremonies?" she checked.

Ethan nodded. "You get to throw the switches."

"We'll sit here and... supervise," Giles said deadpan. He really didn't want to move though; sitting there with Ethan pressed up against his side seemed the perfect place to be.

Megan looked carefully at them both and half-smiled before turning. She pulled the curtains, shutting out the night that had arrived while their attention had been elsewhere, then went to the light switch for the room. "We should be in darkness first, right? I've been reading about the old traditions."

"This one is particularly metaphorical," Giles observed as Megan dimmed the lights. "It's the rebirth of the sun after months of darkness."

"I like it," she said in lowered tones, her silhouette moving across the room. "It feels magical. In the old-fashioned way, I mean. Not spells and the big power you two have, but magical, like stuff from when you're little."

Giles felt Ethan shift beside him and then his hand was being held and squeezed. "It is, Meglet," Ethan said softly. "This is true magic as much as anything Rupert and I do."

"Sometimes it's the little bits of magic in the most unexpected of places that can change your life," Giles said, thinking of a rundown flat with a broken down mattress and the beautiful painted boy who'd taught him that.

Megan got into place by the wall socket and asked, "Ready?"

Giles glanced to his side, where that beautiful painted boy sat all grown up and still showing him magic in unexpected places. Looking into Ethan's eyes, Giles smiled and said, "Ready."

"Ready," Ethan murmured in turn. There was a click and the room filled with motes of coloured light, slowly flashing. Ethan clapped appreciatively. "Glorious, Megan. Well done to both of us."

Light out of darkness, Giles thought as he and Ethan sat watching the twinkling lights. Metaphor indeed, and not just of the returning sun. Love and bonds and magic were just as much a beacon in the darkness as the sun.

Ethan took Giles' hand again and reached out to Megan with his free hand, who came to them and sat on the floor between their legs. Together they gazed at the sparkling tree, or at least the other two did. But Giles was staring at Ethan, and as he did, Ethan squeezed his hand and suddenly Giles could see the patterns again.

Just for a few seconds.

***

"I'm getting a soda," Megan said, heading for the kitchen. "You want anything?"

"Hmm," Ethan said, playing for time as he thought about it. "Yes, you could bring me in something from the Christmas choccie."

"I should've guessed," she teased.

Ethan put his book down beside him on the sofa and stretched. It was a lazy Sunday afternoon, and just like Ray Davis had once said, Ethan had got no need to worry. Rupert was in the study working on something, his presence reassuringly close by. Ethan, Megan and the monstrous puppy had been sharing a companionable silence in the living room, each engaged with their own projects or thoughts.

As Megan came back in, Ethan moved to the edge of the sofa and patted the cushion beside him. "Come and sit with me, sweetheart."

She frowned as she obeyed. "Uh-oh."

He raised an eyebrow. "Girls without guilty consciences shouldn't react that way just because a little chat is in the offing."

"Watchers who aren't planning to have embarrassing talks shouldn't act so serious over soda and candy," Megan retorted then sighed. "Let's get it over with."

Ethan took the slab of fruit and nut and broke off a good portion, putting the rest on the table. He ate it slowly, saying nothing, a teasing smile pulling at the corners of his mouth as he looked in apparent admiration at the Christmas tree.

"Y'know, getting it over with generally involves actually doing it," Megan pointed out.

He brushed imaginary chocolate crumbs from his trousers and settled back into the corner of the sofa, smiling slightly at her. "So impatient. So convinced this is something bad. Perhaps I just wanted to ask how you were, or maybe subject you to another apology."

"Are you?"

"More or less."

"So you're not going to lecture me on the evils of moving too fast?"

"What?" Ethan asked, honestly bewildered. "Why on... Megan, that was my fault. I encouraged you when I knew better."

Now it was Megan who looked bewildered. "My sleeping with Jade was your fault? In what universe?"

Oh. That was what she had meant. He rubbed his face. "Your sex life is hardly my business as your Watcher. As your friend maybe, if you want to chat about things. But as your Watcher that's very far from my job description." He paused and sighed. "Ah... are you feeling bad about it? I'm asking as a friend; don't answer if it makes you uncomfortable."

Megan gave a half-shrug. "I don't know."

"At the time, did you feel good about it?" Ethan was quite convinced this conversation broke every rule in the Watcher/Slayer handbook and could only hope he wasn't doing any damage by continuing it.

"Yeah." She blushed and looked away. "It was... nice."

"Well then. Not all that bad a first time," he said encouragingly. "And next time it won't seem so new and strange, will it? You'll know a little about how it goes."

Megan looked back at him, eyes wide. "That's all you're going to say about it?"

He looked a little helplessly at her; what more did she want him to say? He searched desperately about in his mind for advice he could give about sex, and lesbian sex at that. "Um... well. I believe there's something called a dental dam that–" He stopped as Megan's expression grew quickly horrified. "Meglet, am I missing the point here? As I truly don't– oh. Oh right, I see. You think I should be muttering something dark and censorious about sex outside of a longstanding relationship, don't you?" He gave her a wry look. "Don't you know me better than that?"

"You said Jade didn't deserve that gift," Megan said with a frown. "Shouldn't that mean I should be more careful where I... give it?"

The helpless feeling was back. "I'm really not the right person to ask. Truly. Because I think you have to ask yourself what significance sex has for you and act accordingly. For some people it's recreational, for others it's... symbolic of a lot of things. Jade didn't deserve anything of you; not a single moment of your time, but..." He sighed again. "The sex only matters if it matters."

Megan shook her head. "I don't know why I thought you were going to go all... parental on me," she said and impulsively leant over and hugged him.

That was a relief and very pleasing. He hugged her back, unable to quell a rather fatuous smile from appearing on his face. "Probably a good thing I'm destined to never have kids, eh?"

"Not the natural way at least," she teased.

"Not in any way I fervently hope. Can you imagine me trying to look after a baby? I'd probably put it in the microwave or something to try to dry it off."

Megan giggled. "Somehow I think you'd be better than that."

"You think I'd just hang it on the line to dry?" He grinned, amused at the idea of his ineptness.

"I think you're going to be everybody's favourite uncle."

He laughed. "Only because I'll be the one encouraging mischief all the time." His eyes narrowed as he really heard what she had said. "Who's going to make me an uncle?"

"Now you're going all parental," Megan said, laughing.

He smacked her leg lightly and said in a mock-petulant tone. "I can't be your parent; you don't treat me with anywhere near enough respect."

"You were the one who told me not to," she pointed out, still grinning.

"Yes, and it was good advice," he answered more seriously. "I think my reaction to what Jade did shows quite clearly that I'm not the wisest of souls."

"I've been thinking about that," Megan said, pulling one leg up and wrapping her arms around it. She rested her head on her knee and looked at Ethan. "I don't like you hurting people for me, but... you did it for me."

"It possibly wasn't the best way to demonstrate my affection for you," he admitted glumly. "I just hated you hurting, but of course what I did only made you hurt more."

"Well, yeah, I do kinda wish you'd directed your energies differently," she admitted, "but you cared enough to do something, and that doesn't hurt at all."

He gave her a rueful look and rather blithely promised, "I'll always be there for you, Megan, and next time you need support I'll try to provide it in a more acceptable manner." He clasped a hand over his heart and winked at her. "By my solemn oath."

"It was kinda funny," Megan said with what looked like an almost unwilling smile. "Jade's reaction, I mean. I just felt sorry for all those dogs."

"I promise I won't abuse any more dogs in your name." He patted her leg briskly. "But you have to promise me something in return."

"What?"

"Don't give up. Don't go back into hiding. You were blossoming the night you met Jade, starting to find yourself. Don't let her spoil that."

Megan glanced down and didn't answer for a long moment. When she finally did, it was in a quiet contemplative voice. "I'll do my best."

He felt a need to clarify. "I'm not saying you should feel obliged to go to clubs and parties if the lifestyle doesn't suit you. Really, I'm not. Just... just don't live your life behind a mask." The staggering irony that it was him telling her this was not lost on Ethan.

She looked at him, wearing a tiny smile, but when she answered it was obvious she was serious. "I won't let what happened make me hide behind a mask. I promise."

"Good." He smiled. "Now was that chat really so terrible as to deserve such a harsh 'uh oh' then?"

"Well you did actually use the words 'dental dams'...."

He snorted, then sniggered, then laughed outright. "Guess what you're getting for Christmas, Meglet..."