tarnished -- part three -- trekker |
Chapter One | |
The End of the World As We Know It |
“You are aware downtown LA is being devoured by demons, yes?” Ethan said, as he walked into the flat, casual as if commenting on the weather.
Giles looked up from the splay of maps and texts on the coffee table, as did Buffy beside him.
“Yes, thank you, we had noticed,” he said, dryly.
“What is *he* doing here?” Buffy said, going instantly on guard.
“What are *you* doing here?” Ethan countered, as he hung up his coat and walked over to the table.
“Trying to save the world,” Buffy sniped back.
Giles sighed and rubbed his neck. Not wanting to deal with this right now. There were demons and destruction and apocalypses out there, and he didn’t need--
“Are you going to tell her, Rupert? Or shall I be your dirty little secret?”
Giles looked between Buffy and Ethan, two expectant faces, one set hard and filled with the threat of violence, the other seemingly amused--but only if you didn’t know it well enough to see beneath that veneer.
“Ethan lives here, Buffy,” he said, wishing that she would just accept that and move on. But, of course, she wouldn’t.
“What? Hello? Giles? Evil chaos sorcerer?”
He sighed, and shut his eyes, trying to center himself.
“He’s my lover, Buffy. And he isn’t evil. Could we please focus?”
But of course, they couldn’t focus. No. Demons eating LA was in no way as pressing an issue as his love life. He opened his eyes to find Buffy and Ethan facing off across the coffee table, fighting a quite spectacular battle with nothing but the power of their glares. Buffy, however, was tensed and clearly about to elevate the battle to a more physical level.
“Buffy--”
She ignored him.
“What did you do?” she growled at Ethan.
In a way, it was almost touching. She was no doubt trying to protect him.
“What did I do?” Ethan said, “Well, let’s see, I believe it had something to do with me actually being there when none of you lot cared enough to so much as offer him a shoulder when everyone else he knew was murdered?”
That was quite a speech for Ethan, and Giles was nearly as taken aback by it as Buffy.
“What?” Buffy said, again, but some of the violence had slipped out of her frame.
“Ethan and I have been seeing each other again since you... since I returned to England, after Willow brought you back.”
“God. Giles, that was--”
“Years ago, yes. I know.”
“And you never--”
“He’s been living here since last May.”
Actually, Ethan wasn’t even there all the time. He spent most of his time god knows where. He hadn’t been home in two weeks. And, in point of fact, Giles would have really liked to give him a proper greeting, but now Ethan was looking far too withdrawn for such things.
“Could we please get back to the issue at hand?” Giles said, again.
“You’re under a spell,” Buffy declared, firmly. She was glaring at Ethan again.
Giles’ temper slipped, suddenly.
“I am *not*,” he said, sharply.
Buffy jumped.
“He’s not,” Ethan put in. “That I know of, anyway.”
Buffy opened her mouth, then snapped it shut.
“Why?”
And Giles really wasn’t sure what to say to that, because how could he tell his Slayer that in part, it was because he simply no longer cared? That he’d reached a point where Ethan’s business was Ethan’s business and the nature of that business no longer seemed enough of a stumbling block next to--
Everything.
Needing someone. Being not lonely.
“I’ve known Ethan for a very long time,” he said, finally, quietly, not meeting any of their eyes.
There was a silence at that, and Giles had just long enough to hope that this would be accepted before Buffy snapped, “And what the hell is up with you being gay?”
He yanked his glasses off with enough force to cause a twinge of pain as one arm caught on his ear, and he stood up and said, “This is my home, Buffy, and Ethan’s. Please, show a little respect, or I will ask you to leave.”
“Whoa,” she said, stepping a bit closer, threatening, “I am all about the respect, Giles, but this is *weird*. You never said *anything.*”
“You’ve made it perfectly clear in the past that my love life is not of interest to you, Buffy.”
Which was the moment Ethan chose to slip out the door.
Buffy would just have to wait.
Giles headed out after him, caught him before he could reach his car.
“Ethan. Please, wait.”
“Really, Rupert,” Ethan said, tugging away from the grip Giles had on his arm, “Much as I’d love to stay and watch you and your darling Slayer snipe at each other--”
He wanted to hug him, kiss him, but Ethan was still on guard, as untouchable as a riled porcupine, eyeing him like he didn’t know him, didn’t want to.
“Don’t. Please. Don’t leave here angry. Not again.”
“Never told her?” Ethan said, “Interesting, that.”
“Oh, come on. What was I supposed to say? You saw how well that went in there. Besides which, it’s none of her bloody business, and she’d only make things difficult. Besides, what do you care?"
Ethan didn't seem to have an answer to that, and Giles was guiltily aware the question had been something of a low blow, given that forcing Ethan into a corner where he had to acknowledge actually giving a damn what other people--especially one of Giles' fellow do-gooders--thought was the equivalent of the metaphorical unstoppable force and immobile object.
"Why is LA overrun with demons?" Ethan said, changing the subject, to both of their relief.
"Um. That would be... Angel's fault, I believe."
"Ah."
"Come back inside? Please? I'll... hold off the attack Slayer."
"See that you do."
***
She tried to turn back to the maps after Giles dashed out the door, but she couldn’t. It was just all too weird, almost even to contemplate. She sank down onto one of the sofas and looked around the apartment in bewilderment. The place was very Giles-y, really. The ambiance and furniture and even the scent of it reminded her of his apartment in Sunnydale. The walls were more of a cream color, though, not green, but even the layout was somewhat similar, with the window to the kitchen next to the door, and this living room with the couches and coffee table and arm chair all arranged more or less exactly as they had been in Sunnydale. Those same brass deer-things adorned the hearth, and the room was surrounded with bookshelves all but groaning under the weight of all the ancient-looking arcane texts.
Although, now, looking closer, it was becoming more obvious that this apartment was shared. She shook her head and then stared at the small bust of Janus that shared mantel space with the weird deer-things. She should have noticed that. Should have seen it *right away*. She was a Slayer, she was supposed to be attuned to mystical weird things like that.
Aside from just that, though, there were more subtle things. A black leather jacket hung on the coat rack that just wasn’t Giles’ style, for one thing. Then there were the books on the lower shelves that looked far darker than anything Giles would have kept in his possession. And then just various unfamiliar things, little knick-knacks she didn’t remember from Sunnydale that were scattered around.
All of which told her she should have suspected something was up, but none of which told her why, or what the hell was really going on.
Ethan was a bad guy. Ethan was a *guy*, hello? Was *everyone* she knew gay? And when had this happened? Giles hadn’t exactly run around hitting on men back in Sunnydale. There was Jenny! And Olivia and the Hugh Hefner robe. And... ok, much as she still shuddered at the mental image, there was her mom. So this was weird.
Especially since he’d said nothing about it. Nothing at all. And Ethan had been *living* here all that time? It didn’t make sense.
Then the door opened, and Giles returned, with the evil chaos sorcerer in tow. Ethan, coward that he was, didn’t meet Buffy’s eyes, he just ducked down the hallway that led, she could only guess, to the bedroom or something. And that, of course, immediately brought up in full color an extremely disturbing mental image of Giles and Ethan in bed together.
It had to be a spell...
“Giles--”
He’d sat down on the other couch silently, slipping his glasses back on and picking up a map, and not speaking to her. He didn’t reply to her, either.
“Giles, come on, just... what is going on?”
And then she had a thought even more disturbing than the previous one with the bed (and the slight nudity). Maybe this was like what she’d done, with Spike. Some kind of self-punishment deal... Although Giles really *hadn’t* seemed depressed lately. In fact, ever since they destroyed the Hellmouth, he’d really started to cheer up. Recently, he’d been damn near chipper.
So, a spell, then?
He tossed the map onto the coffee table and pulled his glasses back off.
“Buffy, I don’t know how many times and different ways I can tell you. I am not under a spell.”
“But you know you wouldn’t know.”
“Yes, granted. But this feels perfectly natural. Believe me, were we under a love spell of some kind... well...”
He paused and looked down at his glasses.
“Things would be different. This is normal.”
“Giles, it’s not. This guy he’s--”
“Are you really telling me that it’s wrong to care for someone who’s morally ambiguous? Really? Because I’m not sure I can quite see you capable of quite that level of hypocrisy, given some of the choices you yourself have made. And are making now.”
“Hey, come on. You want to talk about hypocrisy, you and Andrew were leading the charge back when everyone was accusing *me* of being under the Immortal’s spell.”
He paused, then said, “Granted. Yes. But if you must know, have Willow check. You’ll find there’s nothing mystical about this.”
Which lead to the question: “Then, why?”
Giles continued to fiddle with his glasses as the shower began to run in the other room.
“I-- I... It’s hard to explain. But he... we were best friends, when we were younger. More than just... lovers. We, we were in love. And... we understand each other, even if we don’t always... even if we often disagree. And I like having that. I’m tired of, of being alone, frankly.”
That hurt, a little. And she understood it all too well.
“Yeah, but... why him?”
Giles’ brow took on a sardonic tilt and he quipped, drily, “Shall I count the ways?”
She wasn’t quite sure how to react to that, but it took a moment to work out why. Then she figured it out. ‘How do I love thee...’
“You *love* him? Now?”
He took a careful breath, put his glasses on and stood. Wandered to the windows before turning back to her.
“I’m not sure. Yes? It’s... it’s complicated. And really, this is all rather an uncomfortable subject for me to be discussing at all. I know you... you and Willow and... I know you feel that talking about these things is beneficial, but honestly, I’d really rather not. What’s between me and Ethan is private and personal.”
“Yeah, but... friends are generally in on the private and personal stuff.”
He tilted his head slightly.
“Are we? Friends?”
“I-- I dunno. I thought so. Maybe. Maybe we used to be?”
Then there was a deeply uncomfortable silence, before Giles finally said, “We should get back to work.”
***
Ethan emerged from the bedroom cautiously, hoping desperately that the Slayer hadn’t worked herself up into too deadly a state of paranoia. He knew Rupert wouldn’t *let* her do anything to him, of course, but really there wouldn’t be much the man could do to stop her if she got the idea into her head to... kill him or maim him or whatever she saw fit to do.
Fortunately, though, she and Giles were settled down again in the living room when he emerged. Once again, they were debating battle strategies and sketching things on the maps and reading things out of the books and generally doing that whole save-the-world bit.
Giles was all intense and focused and well into that state where he was clearly too far gone to remember little things like eating, so Ethan slipped through the living room to the kitchen, trying to be subtle and hopefully unnoticeable, just in case his mere existence managed to arouse that Slayer fury. He really wasn’t in the mood to be beat up and cast out of his own home...
So, instead, he cooked.
The rather large spiteful part of him considered making just enough for himself and Giles, but... knowing Giles, he’d just give up his own portion to the Slayer, anyway, thus rendering it all a complete waste of effort.
He joined them in the living room afterwards, and sat down beside Giles, listening in on their conversation and ignoring the Slayer’s blazing, pointed glares. It sounded like they were planning an all-out assault on the force in LA.
Sounded like fun.
tarnished -- part three -- trekker |