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Ethan tapped his fingers against his leg, anxiously.
He had never thought of himself as the bad guy, but he certainly wasn't the hero, either. Never had been, never would be. What then, had possessed him to go out of his way to help the Slayer and her friends?
It was foolish, he was vulnerable here, they would know what he had done- they would be coming for him.
Had age really caught up with him? Had he finally run out of steam and thought he would go out with a bang? Rupert would never believe it. That he had sacrificed himself to help them.
Ethan could hardly believe it himself.
It was too late to change his mind.
He took a breath, closed his eyes. Ethan knew he wouldn't be escaping, he had tried that. The game was up, but he could at least spend his last few moments with someone he cared about.
He let his mind drift, it was late, he could only hope that Rupert was keeping to a normal schedule for once, that he didn't have his head stuck in a book somewhere, refusing to doze off. He could do that any other night, just not this one. Ethan felt his consciousness being tugged along, drawn to the magic that had bound them so many years ago.
It hadn't been intentional.
Rupert had never tried to break the connection between them. No matter what Ethan did, no matter what trouble he stirred- the shining thread that held them together remained. Ethan wouldn't say it out loud, but it had been a relief. He had already walked away from him once, he wasn't sure he'd be able to take it again.
It didn't matter now, Ethan was going to be the one to sever the connection in the end.
He focused, the world around him becoming clearer. The air was warm, a thick scent of cigarette smoke and alcohol in the air. Music played loud through the radio, and Ethan knew where they were without having to think about it. He could hear the hustle and bustle of London out the window, he saw the stairs down to the basement that they had used for summoning, he saw books thrown into every corner of the room.
It was home.
Their home.
Rupert frowned, his eyes fixing on Ethan. He sighed, deeply. "Dreamwalking, Ethan? Really?" he said, unamused. "Are you that bored?"
"I'm in a cell, what do you think?" said Ethan, pointedly.
He had put him there, after all.
He couldn't bring himself to blame him. He didn't have time for blame and grudges. Rupert shook his head, "I don't have time for this," he said, wearily. Ethan could feel his magic, could feel it trying to take back control. Ethan narrowed his eyes, sinking deeper into the dream, seizing hold of the world he had created around them.
"For God's sake," growled Rupert. He stalked across the room, shoved Ethan into the wall. It dug into his back, but he didn't mind. It never ceased to amaze him how quickly his temper could turn, how quickly Ethan could get under his skin. "Enough, I don't have time for games."
Time.
He was running out of it.
Ethan didn't struggle, went limp in his hold. Rupert frowned, but only for a moment. "I don't have time, either," said Ethan, quietly. "I just wanted to see you before-" It was better not to tell him, he decided. Ethan didn't want to know how he would react. "Just, before."
"What on earth are you talking about?" said Rupert, loosening his hold. His brow was furrowed in more confusion now than anger. It was a slight improvement, at least.
Ethan looked around, he had done well to recreate it all. It was just as it had been back then, back when everything was still okay, when everything felt right and Ethan had all that he wanted. His eyes fell to the couch. They had spent many nights on that couch, wrapped up in one another.
"Sit with me," said Ethan, his hands wrapped around Rupert's wrists. He wondered what he must have looked like, what he must have sounded like. He didn't feel like himself, desperation tinging his every move. "No-" He paused. "No, there's no time."
"Ethan, what are you-"
Ethan wasn't thinking straight anymore, he knew in the back of his mind that they were coming, that he wouldn't last much longer. He threw himself forward, wrapped his arms around Rupert's waist, clutched to his stupid, tweed jacket even as Rupert tried to push him back.
"-The bloody hell has gotten into you!?" `
"Shut up, Rupert," said Ethan, hoarsely. "Just for a few minutes, please, if you would be so kind, shut up."
Rupert stopped fighting him, Ethan could hear his heart beating in his chest. Carefully, arms wrapped around him. Ethan let out a breath of relief.
Maybe his last few moments wouldn't be so bad after all.
"Ethan," said Rupert, softly. "What have you gotten yourself into?"
Ethan shook his head, "It doesn't matter now."
"No?" said Rupert, his voice light. "My mistake, then." It was a joke, and Ethan chuckled against his shoulder.
"Just, let me stay here a little longer, okay?" whispered Ethan. He felt young again, with Rupert holding him. He felt like they could have been in their 20's again, their whole lives ahead of them.
He had missed this.
He had missed Rupert, his Ripper.
Ethan had made do, had survived with tension and angry looks and resentment but- he had missed this. He had missed Rupert looking at him fondly, he had missed him holding him, loving him, being with him. His throat felt tight, his breath hitched.
"Ethan?" Rupert sounded concerned now.
There were people in his cell now.
He was aware enough that he could feel them there, feel them trying to shake him awake. Ethan resisted, sinking himself further into Rupert's magic. It received him, easily.
His time was almost up.
Ethan pulled back, his hands moving to Rupert's face. He looked exhausted, he always looked exhausted these days. His thumbs brushed across lines that never used to be there. Ethan wished he had time to study every single one.
But he didn't.
"Ethan, what's going on?" said Rupert, firmly. "I can't help you if-"
"No one can help me," said Ethan. He managed a small smile, "I think the game is up, Ripper."
Rupert was holding on to him now, his hands tight around his arms. Ethan could feel his nails digging in. "Ethan-"
He shook his head, his smile slipping away. "Listen to me," he said, imploringly. He had to hear this, it was important. He hadn't said it enough, he hadn't said it in far too long. His eyes burned with unshed tears, his chest felt tight. "The days I spent with you were my best days, Rupert. I wouldn't change them for the world, I wouldn't give up my time with you for anything. I know you'd rather forget them-"
"Not all of-
Ethan spoke over him. He had too, he was running out of time. "I only wish we'd had longer, I wish I had come to town more often even if it was just to annoy you, I wish I had conjured more tricks even if you would only look at me bitterly, I wish I hadn't let you go back to your stupid Council, I wish you had stayed with me." Ethan could feel something cold pressed to his head. He sucked in a sharp breath. "I love you, I never stopped-"
BANG!
Ethan disappeared.
One moment he was there, the next he was gone. The world around him was melting away, the echo of a bang still bouncing through his head.
Giles looked around, confused.
"Ethan?"
He closed his eyes, reached out, searching. Ethan had always been at the back of his mind somewhere, perhaps buried deep, but still there. A spark, something bright and uncontrollable, a tiny bit of Ethan, always there. He'd never had the heart to cut it away, Giles had just pushed it deep into the depths of his mind, instead.
He couldn't find that spark.
Something was wrong, something-
He gasped awake.
His neck ached, that was what he got for sleeping at a table at his age. His head felt heavy, Giles couldn't help but look around. It was the library, just as it had been left. He didn't know what he had been expecting, Ethan to saunter out perhaps, book in hand.
He didn't.
The night was silent, but Giles could still hear the 'BANG'. It had been too real, too close. He ran over every word Ethan had said, every too desperate look, every touch. He hadn't been like that since Giles had left, all those years ago.
Giles sighed, shook his head.
It was just a dream.
He had no doubts that Ethan had really been there, he had felt it. What he had really wanted, Giles wasn't sure. To throw him off perhaps, to cause trouble as he was wont to do.
(But he had never talked about the past like that before, he had never been so sincere, so vulnerable).
When things settled, when they found Willow and they could all breathe again- maybe they could do a locating spell. Maybe- maybe they could sit down and talk, maybe things could be different.
Giles ignored the sinking feeling in his gut.
He buried himself back into his books, into research. It was his job, they needed him to do that much.
Buffy walked in, he heard the click of her heels against the tiled floor. He glanced at her once, "Oh good, you're here, I'm thinking-"
"We have a way to find Willow," Buffy interrupted, suddenly.
Giles looked up in surprise. "You do? And it can be done?" She nodded, slowly. He thought she ought to be happier about the prospect of getting her best friend back. But she was muted now, the look of someone that had bad news to bear. Giles frowned, his stomach flipping. "At what cost?"
"None to us," said Buffy, carefully. Her eyes were sharp, studying him. "But the information itself cost."
'Ethan, what have you gotten yourself into?'
'It doesn't matter now.'
'No one can help me- I think the game is up.'
Giles had a feeling he knew, but he had to ask it anyway. "How did you come by this information, Buffy?"
She didn't look away, she had seen too much for that. "It came to me in a dream."
Giles closed his eyes.
Of all the times for Ethan to play the hero.
"And?"
He knew there was something else, he could tell she was holding something back. The dread in his stomach grew, he almost didn't want to know, but he had too- he had too.
"Ethan Rayne was found shot dead in his cell," said Buffy.
Oh.
Giles sat down.
He had known, Giles could see the terror that had flickered in his eyes for a moment in those last few seconds. Had he felt it? Had he known they were there?
He knew what giving the information would cost him and he had done it anyway.
Giles wanted to ask him why, but it was far too late.
That fool.
"Are you okay, Giles?" asked Buffy, her voice soft. She had never seen him with Ethan, not near enough to understand and yet- she seemed too. Her hand was gentle on his shoulder, "Can I do anything?"
He would have liked to have retrieved the body but he wouldn't risk anyone's lives just for his own guilt and regret. Giles shook his head, "No, it's quite alright."
It wasn't.
But Buffy didn't push. She knew what it was like to want to mourn alone. "I've got to get a few things, I'll be back later."
"Of course," muttered Giles.
He hardly noticed her leave.
'-I wished you had stayed with me.'
Giles winced.
It wasn't as if they had lived short lives. Buffy had died when she was still in school, she had died again afterwards. They have lived longer than most and yet- Giles felt it wasn't nearly enough. Why hadn't he grown a pair and said as much before? Why did he have to wait until he was on death's door-
But then Giles was no better. Would he have listened if Ethan had come to him years ago, would he have believed him?
'I love you, I never stopped-'
"I love you too, you pillock," Giles whispered.
His head fell into his hands.