Having been more or less ordered to take a walk into town by Lucy, presumably so that she could talk to Rupert in peace, Ethan had reluctantly headed down the long winding hill into Combe Martin. It wasn't that he didn't want to look around the small town, which wasn't much more than a village really. On the contrary, he had a sneaking fondness for British seaside resorts. No, it was just that he'd rather have done his exploring with Rupert.

Or with one or both of the girls.

Just not on his own. Ethan had never been a big fan of solitude, which was ironic really, all things considered.

Not that he actually was alone. Ever since he'd popped into the small antiques shop near the beginning of the excessively long high street, he'd become convinced that he was being followed. His hackles were up, figuratively at least.

Once or twice, he thought he'd caught a glimpse of whoever was watching him. A slender, grey-haired man, maybe. But the figure was only ever there in the corner of Ethan's eye, and when Ethan turned, there was no one.

It made Ethan uneasy and annoyed. He bought himself a seafood sandwich and climbed down the stone steps from the town and onto the sand of the small cove it surrounded. After walking –and indeed, clambering over slippery black rocks– far enough away from the fishermen and bathers for any observer to be obvious, Ethan found a dry, sun-warmed place to sit with his back to the cliff. He ate his sandwich, and he waited.

Despite his vigilance, Ethan only became aware of the stranger when the man sat down beside him, seeming to have appeared out of thin air. He sat, like Ethan, with his knees raised, his back to the stone of the cliff.

It was the grey-haired man Ethan had thought he'd glimpsed earlier. The man's face was lined with age, but his blue eyes were clear and sharp with intelligence. His body, under the large grey sweater and old brown trousers, seemed to be whipcord thin, but there was a vitality about him that belied any fragility his appearance might have otherwise suggested.

He sat there and just stared out at the waves.

"Most impressive," Ethan remarked dryly, quickly covering his surprise and mild alarm at the sudden appearance. "Sandwich?" He offered the untouched second half in the packet.

"Thanks," the man said with a nod as he picked up the sandwich and then fell silent again as he began eating.

Patience wasn't really one of Ethan's strong points. He tried for a while to match the other man's quiet contemplation of the sea. Ethan had, after all, headed down here with the intention of studying the waters of the Bristol Channel. As his declared intention was to retune his magical alliance to natural chaos, where better to start than with the ocean?

But the gently lapping waves were unexciting, and not even half as interesting as this mysterious stranger was; Ethan admitted defeat. "Am I such a threat to the peace of this place," he asked in a friendly tone, "that I need to be watched and accompanied wherever I go?"

"Would you rather be alone?" the man asked, giving him a knowing look.

Ethan looked back and rubbed his face thoughtfully before replying. "Company is welcome, so long as it's not about to blast me into an ugly smear on the sand."

The man chuckled. "Now why ever would I do that?"

Ethan chuckled in turn. "I'm hardly going to list the reasons. Grant me some sense of self-preservation. As it's the done thing, although I doubt it's necessary, allow me to introduce myself." He held out his hand, knowing that the touch would lead to a mutual exchange of non-verbal information if the other man shook it. "Ethan Rayne."

"Ian Woodson," the man said, taking the proffered hand. His handshake was firm, and Ethan could feel the man's power; it seemed as vast and as wild as the ocean itself. The touch and knowledge of it filled Ethan with unidentifiable feelings and a longing for something, a restlessness akin to cabin fever.

Confused, Ethan took his hand back and stared at the ground for a while, looking at the patterns within the swirls and streaks of the sand.

Ian asked, "So what brings a worshipper of Janus here?"

Ethan wasn't remotely surprised that Ian knew that about him. He wouldn't have been surprised if Ian turned out to know the name of Ethan's grandmother and the fact he had a mole on his left buttock. And therefore, there was absolutely no point in lying. "I'm seeking help."

Ian nodded as if the answer was expected. "You think you're ready for it?"

"I am without opinion on the matter," Ethan admitted. "I... have strong motivating reasons to change." He turned his best Cheshire cat grin on the other man. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to drop a little of the admittedly fascinating mystique and tell me what your interest in me is?"

"I wasn't under the impression that I was being mysterious," Ian huffed. Then, emotions seeming to change mercurially fast, he said seriously, "Like calls to like. I've been where you are."

Now that was surprising. "I could move over a bit if you'd care to be there again." Ethan chuckled at his own joke, but he was watching Ian carefully now, trying to see himself in the man.

Ian shook his head. "The question, m'boy, is do you want to be where I am?"

Ethan sucked on his teeth a while, pondering the question. He picked up a white quartz pebble and played with it in his fingers. "I think you need to show me where that is before I can answer."

"Fair enough." Ian reached out a hand, waiting for Ethan to take it.

Ethan stared dubiously at the hand, but really, had the wizard –or whatever kind of being Ian was– wanted to hurt him, he would surely already have done so. "This would be the Siege Perilous, wouldn't it? Ah, Ripper, the things I do for you." Wincing a little at what seemed like abject foolishness, Ethan put his hand again into Ian's.

The power he'd sensed in Ian earlier surged and crashed through him, and suddenly Ethan was in touch with the natural chaos around him. The wind, the sea, the rocks he leaned against, all of them had their own touch of wildness. It was energy that Ethan had always known was there, but that he could suddenly see and touch and feel as if in his veins.

And his first reaction was 'I can't do this', a strong internal shout of denial that seemed to come from somewhere very deep inside of him. But after that came other reactions: curiosity, fascination, a desire to know more, excitement. Oh yes, excitement. And something more even than that...

Clinging onto Ian's hand as if afraid he'd drown in the new awareness, Ethan shuddered and swore without knowing what he was saying as the memory hit him. There was, it seemed, a reason why he liked seaside resorts.

The Variety Club of Great Britain appeased the consciences of its rich entertainment-based members by treating 'disadvantaged' kids to things they wouldn't otherwise have. Like seaside holidays. When he'd been seven years old, Ethan had been the lucky beneficiary of one of these. A yellow mini-bus had taken him and his unpleasant compatriots to Great Yarmouth where they'd stayed in chalets for a week.

Considering himself superior to the other children and not wanting to have anything to do with their ridiculous games, young Ethan had spent most of the time alone. He'd walked along the windswept Norfolk beach for miles, lost in thoughts undoubtedly unsuitable for one so young. One day a sudden storm had caught him, far away from safety.

But instead of terror and possibly pneumonia, the gales and pelting rain had bought Ethan awe and power. A city kid from birth, he'd never been exposed to the raw elements before. He'd had no idea. Aware somehow of almost every molecule, the child he'd been had felt the naked power of nature swirling around him, and he'd laughed. Because he had known he'd finally found a friend...

Shaking himself back into the present day, Ethan tried to withdraw his hand from the natural chaos mage beside him. "I'd forgotten..." he said, and his voice sounded hollow to his own ears.

"It's always been there," Ian said, letting Ethan go. "Part of the natural world, in balance with everything else. But the dark Chaos rituals you've been giving yourself to, they drown it out. That's their whole point, to overwhelm all else and turn everything to chaos. That kind of chaos doesn't want to be in balance; it wants to be ascendant. Alone." He gave Ethan a sharp look. "But you know all that, don't you?"

All Ethan's equanimity had gone, and he stared at the other man, desperately wishing Rupert was with him instead. The little boy he had once been had come home from his holiday excited and vital, burgeoning with new awareness. Everything had changed. Only, of course, it hadn't. And as his ability with magic had grown, it became a way in which he could somewhat control his environment. A way to manipulate and gain revenge for the abusive neglect of his upbringing.

"I... I had no choice. It was for my own survival."

"It can help you survive, but it carries a heavy cost. To worship Chaos, your entire existence has to be dedicated to bringing Chaos to the world. It's a jealous master. Any attempt to have a life beyond that is doomed to failure."

"No."

Ian raised an eyebrow. "You know it's the truth. Otherwise you wouldn't be here."

The urge to run away was enormous. Ethan found he was shaking just from the force of will it took to stay where he was sitting. He couldn't do this, and yet he had to as the alternative was so much worse. "I've never been brave," he found himself saying. "I'm not a hero, not like... not like my lover. I'm just a talented survivor."

The smile Ian gave him was kind. "You have more in you than you think, Ethan. It won't be easy, but you can let go of the dark Chaos and find again what you had as a child." He squeezed Ethan's shoulder reassuringly. "It's what you were meant for."

"And there," Ethan replied, hearing the panicky edge to his own voice, "We, or at least I, have a problem. Letting go is not something I do." He smiled at Ian, but could feel it probably looked more like a half-mad grimace.

"Then hang onto the things that brought you here," Ian told him. "Hang onto that love and hope. Hang onto the feel of the sea in your mind, the wind in your blood. If you hang on tightly enough to all the things you want out of life, you won't have room to hang onto the things that are trying to consume you."

Considering the number of things he was meant to be hanging onto, Ethan was feeling remarkably untethered. The awareness of how magic had first come to him had been lost to Ethan until now. Was Ian right? Had Ethan been meant for the kind of magic Ian possessed? "You said you were once where I now am."

"I did, and I was." Ian looked out at the sea. "Chaos worship is a great temptation to any who have our talents."

Ethan shifted on the sand. The sun was behind a cloud, and the beach seemed dark and cold now. "How did you change?"

"Sheer bloody mindedness and lots of hard work." Ian met his gaze. "It isn't easy; it's probably the hardest thing you'll ever do, but it can be done."

"Oh good. Hard work. Something else I'm so suited to." Ethan's tone was peevish. "Are you here to be my guide, or just to tell me how hard it's going be before you bugger off as mysteriously as you arrived? Just so I know what to expect here, you understand."

Ian chuckled. "I'm here to help as much as you want me to. You tell me you want to do this, I'll see you through, even if I have to drag you kicking and screaming."

Ethan looked down at the sand again, noticing pieces of broken shell amongst a ripple of shingle, his eyes automatically tracing the spiral. "It isn't so much that I want to do this, as that I have to... if I want to keep the gifts I've for some reason been given." He chuckled to himself. "The Variety Club of Great Karma clearly decided I was a deserving charity case."

There was a long silence as Ethan poked at the shingle with a piece of driftwood, and Ian, apparently, just waited. Finally, Ethan looked up at the other man and said simply, "Help me?"

Ian smiled and clasped his shoulder. "All you had to do was ask."

***

As soon as Lucy and he had returned to the house, Giles went looking for Ethan. He'd finally tracked him down in the cove past the village. He had, in fact, found Ethan remarkably easily; just good luck, Giles supposed. His lover was sitting cross-legged on the sand, staring out at the sea when Giles approached him.

Ethan seemed to become aware of Giles' presence only slowly, but then he smiled without immediately looking up. "Rupert," he said with satisfaction. Turning, Ethan rose to his feet, and Giles found himself being thoroughly hugged.

He was a little surprised at the greeting, but by no means disappointed. "Miss me?" he asked with dry humour, wrapping his arms around Ethan in return.

"It's been an unsettling morning," Ethan admitted quietly, his lips close to Giles' ear. "In the parlance of the locale, I wished you were here." Giles felt him nuzzling softly against his neck.

Having felt the lack of Ethan as much as Ethan had obviously felt his absence, Giles tightened his embrace, a sigh of contentment escaping him. "Trying morning all around then, was it?"

Ethan pulled back a small way, enough to meet Giles' eyes. "What did Lucy do to you, dearheart?"

"She talked a lot about things that she doesn't know the first thing about." Giles heard the indignation that came through in his voice, despite his best efforts to keep it neutral. Giving a bit of a rueful smile, he admitted, "And she may have got under my skin more than a little bit."

Ethan moved his hands up to gently hold Giles' head, fingers weaving through his hair. Soft kisses were pressed onto Giles' cheeks and forehead. "We need to get her out of there then. Only one person has those trespassing rights."

Giles closed his eyes under the light touches. "I'm not sure if trespassing is the right word in reference to you. More like you've moved in."

Ethan's chuckle puffed warm air against Giles' skin. "And like that tree in the song that's standing by the waterside, I'm staying put."

"Good." Giles paused and then heard himself say, "Lucy thinks I'm using you for your magic."

Ethan pulled back again, his expression incredulous. "Does she know you at all?"

Feeling warmed by Ethan's reaction, Giles leant in and kissed him, a kiss which grew and developed and almost looked set to lead to sex on the beach except that they were really too old for that sort of thing now, and anyway, Giles could hear voices. Reluctantly parting their lips, they remained in each other's arms as a family of four approached and walked past them. The father cast an angry glare in their direction.

Ethan's fingers twitched against Giles, who thought he knew what Ethan was thinking. Then Ethan said inexplicably, "The sea's calm today."

Giles examined Ethan's expression for a long moment before admitting, "I expect that's supposed to mean something more than just a comment about the weather, but I'm not sure what."

"It means I've put on my habit, shaved the tonsure in my hair, and renounced my worldly chattels, my dear. All for the love of you."

"Ah." Giles smiled. "You've met Ian."

Ethan narrowed his eyes at Giles. "Some warning would have been kind."

"Would it really have helped if I had?"

Ethan looked away again, back out to the sea. His expression was sad and contemplative. After a few moments, he sighed. "Forty years of Chaos... It's been a good marriage as marriages made in hell go. The divorce is going to hurt."

Giles touched Ethan's cheek gently. "It means a lot that you're willing to even try." He'd promised himself he would never ask Ethan to do this, not after what had happened after Eyghon when he had asked, more or less. But he couldn't deny that he worried about what Chaos would do to Ethan, and indeed, what it had already done.

Ethan snuggled closer. "I am likely to become unbearable company for a while, I'm afraid. We should warn the girls. Have you seen them since breakfast?"

"Lucy took them out riding and for a picnic," Giles said. He smiled, remembering the girls' excitement. "We'll be lucky if we see them before supper."

Ethan nodded. "Fancy some fish and chips then? We could compare homework. I could do yours and you could do mine. They'd never know." He winked at Giles, the familiar smirk back on his lips.

"I'm afraid I'll have to go back to Lucy to get any homework. The session rather deteriorated when she'd accused me of using you for your magic." Giles didn't mention that at the time he'd been ready to end the sessions for good. If Ethan was willing to try to leave Chaos behind, the least Giles could do was give working with Lucy another shot.

"Oh," Ethan seemed uncertain. "Are you changing your mind?"

"Changing it back more like. I'll keep trying as long as you are." He gave Ethan a grin. "After all, I can't very well let you have the high moral ground in this relationship, can I?"

Ethan smiled back then rested his head on Giles' shoulder; he seemed tired. "What did the deluded witch think you were using my magic for?"

"She's under the impression that because I don't use my own magic very often, I'm attracted to you because of yours."

Giles could feel Ethan tense in his arms. "Oh."

He frowned. "You're not buying into that load of rubbish, are you?"

"Fish and chips?" Ethan asked again, drawing back, his tone artificially bright.

"Ethan." Giles refused to let him go. "You don't believe that, do you?"

Ethan sighed. "I was magic-free when we first became lovers again; I've not forgotten that. But Rupert, you know perfectly well you're attracted to my magic, just as I'm attracted to yours."

Considering what had precipitated them coming here, he could hardly deny that. But still... "If that's true, it's because the magic belongs to you, not because you have magic. It's you, not the magic, that's the important factor here."

Ethan moved to kiss Giles briefly. "We're like Pavlov's dogs reacting to learned stimuli from our irresponsible youth. Rupert, old chum, I really do need to eat and sit down, preferably not in that order. The exercises the Great Master set this humble apprentice were, frankly, exhausting, and I'm not allowed to restore myself the easy way anymore."

"Of course," Giles said immediately. Ethan did indeed look tired. "Shall we go find the fish and chips you mentioned?"

"Nice to see you can take a hint eventually." Ethan laughed and slipped his hand into Giles'.

***

"Sherry?" Lucy offered. It was late evening. Ethan was in bed, drained of energy, and the girls were doing their clean up chores, which left Giles alone with the senior witch in the living room, feeling somewhat uncomfortable.

"Please," he answered, thinking it couldn't hurt to have some alcohol with this particular conversation.

Lucy filled two of the small glasses with an unusual looking cream sherry and brought one across to Giles before sitting in the chair nearest to him. "So, are you over your little snit now?" she asked, smiling wryly.

Giles sighed, wondering why he ever thought he'd be the one starting this conversation. "I wouldn't exactly call it a snit," he said mildly.

"Ruffled feathers?" Lucy offered helpfully.

"I'm willing to do whatever exercises you set for me," Giles said, getting out what he had been rehearsing. "I'll listen with an open mind to what you have to tell me and give it honest thought." He met her eyes. "Ethan is non-negotiable."

She looked at him carefully in that way Giles knew he was destined to become heartily sick of before their time in Devon was over. "Did you imagine that I intended to somehow interfere with your relationship?"

"You certainly made some implications in that direction," he replied as mildly as he could.

"I stand by what I said, but please don't think that I disapprove of your relationship with Ethan. On the contrary, I consider it a thoroughly good thing for the both of you."

"Even if it's his magic that attracts me?" Giles asked, parroting her words back to her, his voice carrying an edge.

She sighed. "If you must quote me, quote me correctly. I said you were attracted to his magic and that you were using it. I did not say, and I do not believe, that this is all your relationship is. That is quite evidently not so. You have a palpably strong bond."

Geared up to press the point until she capitulated, it was something of a letdown to have her completely agree with him. "All right then," he said, a bit lamely. "Just as long as we have that clear."

She smiled knowingly at him and nodded. "Exercises are a good idea. We need to make you more at ease with your power. Are you ready to start, or would you rather wait until the morning?"

Giles bit back on his initial response of 'morning' as he knew it was only because that would let him put this off that much longer. Instead, he forced a smile and something that had a vague resemblance to enthusiasm into his voice and said, "There's no time like the present."

"Good." Lucy put her sherry glass down on the side and rose from her chair, only to sink down to her knees in front of Giles. "Give me your hands," she instructed, holding out her own, palms up.

Swallowing his unease, Giles put aside his own glass and did as he was asked.

Lucy grasped his hands, and Giles could feel her power as it rode his veins, travelling up his arms to fill him. It felt wrong. It felt invasive. Her magic was very different from Ethan's, cold and clean, like ice-chill mountain spring water. "Tintinnabula," she murmured. Within Giles' head, a bell began to softly toll.

He frowned, shaking his head, a reflexive attempt to still the ringing. "Wha–"

Letting go of his hands, Lucy rose to her feet. "You can stop it anytime you like."

With his magic, of course. It wasn't really much of a challenge, even with the ringing making it a little difficult to concentrate. He allowed just a touch of his magic free to silence it. "Is that the exercise?" he asked, automatically locking down his power...

The bell began ringing again.

"Yes, this is the exercise. I don't consider you ready for anything more challenging yet. Try this for twenty-four hours, and we'll review tomorrow night." Taking their empty sherry glasses with her, she began to leave the room. "Good night, Rupert. Sleep well, won't you."

Giles heard her chuckle as she headed off down the hall.

The ringing was beginning to get annoying, so Giles silenced it with his magic again, being careful to maintain the flow this time. It took a not inconsiderable amount of concentration to keep the flow just right, and Giles didn't have high hopes for getting much sleep that night while attempting to do this. With that cheerful thought in his mind, he headed upstairs. Even if he couldn't sleep, at least he could lie down.

He'd expected to find Ethan curled up in bed, fast asleep; he had been bone-weary and forbidden from using his magic to restore himself. So it was surprising to find Ethan wrapped in Giles' old robe and sitting cross-legged on the bed covers. His eyes were closed and his face strained.

"Ethan?" Giles asked softly, not wanting to startle the other man.

Ethan turned a bleary gaze to him. "In the parlance of our young charges, this 'sucks rocks'." Ethan sighed wearily and held out an inviting hand, frowning as he looked more carefully at Giles. "What's wrong?"

"Lucy's decided I don't need to sleep tonight," he replied dryly, sitting on the bed and reaching out to take Ethan's proffered hand.

Ethan's frown deepened as their hands touched. "You're using magic."

"Yes."

He wriggled over on the bed to sit nearer to Giles, snuggling close and nuzzling his head into Giles' neck. "Mmm..."

"Why do I suddenly feel like the sunlight to your cat?" Giles asked, wrapping his arms around Ethan. "Not that I'm complaining, mind."

"Meow," Ethan chuckled. "You taste divine, my dear. What are you casting?"

"Counterspell. Lucy bespelled a bell into my head. To keep it quiet I have to keep feeding it magic."

"Easy enough," Ethan commented, and to increase the cat metaphor, he seemed to be intent on washing Giles' neck with his tongue. But then he stopped suddenly and pulled back, his expression deeply sympathetic. "Only it isn't easy, is it? Oh Rupert."

Giles smiled, warmed by the concern. "It's not that bad," he said, downplaying it. "Just a matter of maintaining concentration."

"For how long?"

"Twenty-four hours." He tried to sound casual.

Ethan shook his head. "That's hardly meant to be a matter of maintained concentration then," he stated.

"It's either that or her attempt to drive me insane," Giles said dryly.

"Rupert...?" Ethan asked carefully, rubbing Giles' nearest thigh lightly. "You are aware there's a third option, aren't you?" Giles gave him a questioning look, and Ethan elaborated. "Cast the counterspell in such a way that it's self-maintaining, softly drawing on your magic at all times. You won't even be aware it's doing it after a while and then at least one of us can get some sleep." He smiled encouragingly.

"I'm not sure that would work," Giles admitted. "But I'll try it if this gets too much. That does bring up the question though, love," Giles said, running his fingers lightly over Ethan's face. "I can feel how exhausted you are. Why aren't you asleep?"

"Strung out in heavens not-so-high, dear," Ethan replied wryly. "Craving a fix of my own junk. And I'm also a little worried. I'm not sure either of us realised quite how much or how often I've been repairing the damage done to this old body by my fun little time behind bars."

Alarmed by that admission, Giles pulled back enough to look over Ethan. "What's wrong?"

"Chaos isn't suited to healing, as you know. I have to use three times as much power to get a third of the result. I've so much magic now that it's not been a problem, and I've been repairing wear and tear as best I can. Darning patches over patches really as my healing doesn't last long. Underneath it all, I have a rather horrid suspicion that I'm still as ill as I was the morning my magic first came back to me."

Giles didn't like the sound of that at all. "We'll talk to Lucy in the morning, see about having the Coven's healers take a look at you," he decided.

"And what about you, dearheart?"

Giles waved that away. "Don't worry about me. The worst I'm going to end up with is a sleepless night, and lord knows, it won't be the first one." A thought occurred to him. "Does feeling my magic help?"

Ethan didn't answer. Instead, he leant forward to kiss Giles. Obligingly, Giles kissed him back, pulling him closer. Operating on the theory that Ethan's earlier reaction was answer enough to his question, Giles let the flow of magic he was using to block Lucy's spell increase, hoping the added energy would help Ethan. Surprisingly, it also made maintaining the flow easier, and Giles was able to lessen his concentration.

Ethan moaned softly as Giles' power use increased, and without breaking the kiss, he began to tug at Giles' jumper and t-shirt. "Skin please," he muttered against Giles' lips.

Shifting back slightly, Giles pulled both articles of clothing over his head, tossing them aside. Then he wrapped Ethan up in his arms again, sliding his hands underneath the robe his lover was wearing. "Better?"

"Yes. Much." Ethan wriggled, apparently trying to get as much skin to skin contact as possible. "Why am I not believing it coincidental that your homework happens to involve constant magic expenditure at a time when mine means I'll be craving it?"

"Because you're an old cynic," Giles said, dropping a kiss lightly on Ethan's forehead. "And because you're not stupid."

"Hmm," Ethan said, his breath warm on Giles' skin. "Maybe we'll get a little sleep after all."