Disclaimers: If they belonged to us, well.  There would be much more sex
        in Sunnydale for one thing.

        Spoilers: nope.

        Summary: Things are said.  Lines are drawn.

        Rated: Strong R

        Webrain: http://home.dencity.com/webrain/index.html

        Acknowledgments: To the Spike for being loverly and the other third of
        our brain. And to Dawn Sharon, as always, who started this whole thing.

        Feedback exclaimed over at: thete1@earthlink.net and
        debit@concentric.net

*

He'd had a couple days of warning.  It wasn't anything obvious.  A
tickle, like a cold finger on the base of his spine, an angry whisper in
the back of his mind.  But then it would take a skilled practitioner
indeed to track Ethan without his knowledge.

Ripper was getting rusty.

So, he left his door unlocked.  Waited.  Was in fact, desultorily
reading a laughably inaccurate treatise on sex magick when Ripper came
through the door.  And then rather comically bounced off the wards
around the bed.

"Hullo, Ripper.  I've been expecting you."

Ripper tries to step forward again, frowns when he can't.  "So I see.
Not feeling brave these days, Ethan?"

"Just cautious, love.  Your tracking spell felt rather angry, and not in
the good way."  Ethan tosses the book on the floor, puts his arms behind
his head and languorously stretches.  "To what do I owe the honor of
this visit?"

"Don't be coy, Ethan.  It isn't attractive."

Raises an eyebrow //really, Ripper?// but settles for saying, "Oh.  You
mean the oh so delicious Xander I suppose."

"Leave him alone."

"Like you did?  I think not."

"He's a *boy*.  A child."

And that was just too funny.  "Is that what you've told yourself?  Is
that how you've managed to keep your hands off him all these years?
He's not a child, Ripper love."

"Compared to you or I-"

"He's every bit as capable as you ever were, lover.  Just rather less
repressed."  And he stretches again, winces a little as the barely
healed brand throbs in protest.

"With your help, I suppose.  I *saw*, Ethan.  I saw what you did to
him."

Ethan allows a small, reminiscent smile to curve his lips, but says,
mildly, "That was later, pet.  And I wonder if it would amuse you to
know that Xander didn't need my help at all.  Perhaps you should be
asking yourself what he did to me."

And yes, it is gratifying to see Ripper's eyes narrow and his hands
clench.

"You can't be hurt, Ethan.  No one knows that better than me, so donât
even try."

"Yes, well, Ripper, what you know and what you think you know are two
very different things.  I would think your discovery about young Xander
would make that abundantly clear."

"You know I'm going to kill you for this."

"For poaching on your territory? Tut, tut.  *I* didn't start this."

"No, Ethan.  You did this.  To hurt me, to get to me.  I suppose this is
just your version of foreplay these days."

And he laughs, because his idea of foreplay is the same as it's always
been.  A little kiss, a little cuddle, a little blood.  Shakes his head.
"No, Ripper.  Oh, I admit I thought about you in the beginning, seeing
as how Xander was fucking me under your living room window."

And Giles reels back at this, while Ethan continues, "Yes.  Quite. I
wondered what would have happened if you'd come out.  If you would have
punished Xander for hurting me.  Because he did hurt me, you know.  Or
if you would have helped him.  Joined him.  And I wondered if later we
might have retired to your room.  All of us.  You could finally fuck him
without guilt, make him suck you off while I fucked him or any other
delicious combination of debauchery."

And Ripper mouths the word 'no' while he shakes his head again

But Ethan has never had any trouble reading Ripper and doesn't even need
to look down to see if he's hard.  He is.

"But since then," he continues, "I'm afraid Xander has come into his
own.  I rather doubt he'd care for being *made* to do anything."  He
cocks his head to one side, considering.  "Unless you made him think it
was his idea.  Would you like that, Ripper?  Seducing the new and
improved Xander?"

Again, Ripper shakes his head, his face pale and eyes blazing, but--

"Oh you are such a terrible liar, Ripper.  Tell you what.  I drop the
wards and you stop lying.  You can sit next to me on the bed and we can
discuss like civilized people.  Isn't that what you are now?
Civilized?"

And he waits, while Ripper's fists clench and his face goes blank, like
he's trying to think of a way to lie and get away with it.

"I will know if you're lying, you realize."  Gently.  "And I must
insist, I'm afraid.  Not that I'm worried for myself.  But you do
understand·Xander might react badly.  And I would rather he didn't do
something impulsive to you.  He's, uh, rather impetuous these days."

"That is so sweet of you, Ethan.  Caring what happens to me.  Okay.  No
fists.  No violence.  Unless you want it of course."  And a smile that
just barely manages to avoid a leer.  But that was quite all right, that
was expected.

So.

Ethan drops the wards.

And Giles pounces, stiff awkwardness gone in a heartbeat and Ethan finds
himself pinned, arms stretched above his head, Ripper's other hand
wrapped around his throat and Ripper's erection grinding down against
his own, and, all things considered, it had been an exciting couple of
weeks.

"You realize, of course, that you gave me no rules beyond honesty."
Gritted into his face without nearly enough cheer.

"You always did know how to use a loophole to your advantage, Ripper,
especially when led right to one."  Which, perhaps, wasn't as honest as
Ripper, but *he* had made no promises.

And they're looking at each other, darting and darting within the tiny
oval of each other's gaze and Ethan doesn't bother fighting his own
arousal and Ripper...

"Oh, bloody *hell* --"

The kiss devours years and Ripper's living up to his name with Ethan's
clothes and Ripper tastes *wonderful*. Old, acid arousal and rage and
Ethan's own blood from the third bite, and the fourth and has it really
been so long?

Long enough to make Ethan struggle for more, because he doesn't *trust*
Ripper to take care of him anymore, not really, and knows he's right
when Ripper releases him and more years and suddenly it's the very
beginning.

Before the coven, before the ritual, before everything but that *first*
look at that *first* club and the wild rutting in the hall because there
was too long a line for the privy and Ripper's growls and his own. The
blood and fire overwhelming absolutely everything, even the fact of
being a spectacle.

All over each other day and night after that, teeth and claws until the
shocking, *knowing* moment when they whispered spells shaped as
endearments, each into the other's ear, and knew themselves at last.

And then the ritual until *now*. Fighting each other and stripping and
holding *on*. Cocks driving together like overheated schoolboys and
there's no room to laugh, but always, *always* room to hate.  Ripper,
for assuming so fucking *much*.

Himself for losing it, again. Control for savagery, savagery for pure
need as Ripper buries his face against Ethan's throat and *paws* at
him.  No control for either of them, but no one ever plays for a *tie*.

And Ethan doesn't know whether to be pissed or triumphant when Ripper
finally grabs his ass, digging in hard enough to make Ethan scream in an
almost entirely non-sexual way. Ripper, flipping him over onto his knees
and down come the pants and Ripper... doesn't even breathe.

Ethan's been waiting for this moment, but not long enough to have
decided *what* reaction he wants, though the lack of breath is either a
disappointment or a fine start, and he'd know for sure if bloody fucking
Ripper would let him bloody fucking turn enough to see his *face*, but
there's not even the hint of a weakness in Ripper's grip this time.

And Ethan doesn't quite dare use magic on him that he hasn't masked and
prepared long before time.

Finally, "it isn't permanent." Nothing, nothing in his voice.

"Well, of *course* it isn't. Like I said, Xander is impetuous, and I
have no great desire to teach him graphomancy. Now let go or *do*
something interesting, Ripper, you were doing so *well*."

"Not permanent, and yet you're letting it heal into a scar."

Rush of power or nausea, Ethan can't tell and he knows he has to choose
his words carefully, now, because... Because Ripper has no marks on him
that can be seen. "He promised to do it again if I healed it, and,
really, I'm not *that* fond of burns."  Smell of his own flesh burning
tattooed on his memory, and too often drifting into his consciousness.
Unwelcome ghost, because, yes, the reek was what lost him Ripper the
*first* time.

Even if it hadn't been permanent, or even long, the connection had been
severed, and had never repaired properly and Ethan doesn't need to see
Ripper's face to know he's remembering.

"Why did you let him...?"

"I don't know." And that's almost nothing but the truth, and it earns
his release.

Ethan rolls carefully onto his side again, noting without surprise that
Ripper's lost a great deal of his erection and that his eyes are far
away.

Dammit.

And what to say? Don't worry, he'll be fine? These things happen? Oops?

Ripper, tracing the brand with a gentle finger, making Ethan shiver.  "I
don't suppose I could extract any promises from you."

"I won't kill him."

"Oh, I don't doubt that."

And he can feel his eyebrow arching. "Really."

Ghost of a smile. "Really. Or you would've done it already, wouldn't
you?" Ripper, smiling at him. Color him for eight times a fool, and yes,
love is firmly a possession of chaos.

"He'll make his own choices, Ripper, and I'll make mine."

Pushing him gently onto his back, casual brush along his collarbones,
down the center of his chest. Short, sharp nail digging into the shallow
bowl of his navel. "I want you, Ethan."

"Oh, I don't doubt *that*."

But instead of pouncing Ripper only looks at him for a long, long
moment, brushes his hand, palm flat, over Ethan's torso softly enough to
make Ethan want to stiffen. In the end, though, Ripper hooks his hand
into a claw, and holds him there, bruising him there and leaning in for
a kiss that *is* gentle but... forgivable.

Broke it and whispers, "Let it heal.  Let him go.  And I'll·"

And oh, so not fair, Ripper.  "And you'll?"

Ripper closes his eyes, swallows.  Takes a deep breath.  "And I'll
be·I'll be what you want me to be."

Has to close his eyes too, can't look at the grim sincerity that makes
the brackets around Ripper's mouth deep and dark.  Because--  "You'll
try, love.  I'll grant you that.  But for how long?"

And there's no answer to that.  Just another convulsive swallow and
silence.

"You would have to give up the pretence you know.  No hiding the chaos
lord in your bed.  And as for fighting the forces of darkness.  Hmm.
How long before I'm on the list of baddies?  What do you tell the Slayer
then?"

Ripper's eyes open, finally. Stare down at him.  "Is that what you want
then?  After all these years, for me to give up?  Join you?"

A laugh, soft and bitter and, "Always, love.  I never made a secret of
it, after all.  However."  And oh it hurts to be honest.  "However, I
don't know that you can.  Tell me you can, Ripper.  *Rupert*.  I'll
believe you."

Because he'd never lied to Ethan.  Just to himself.

Therefore it's not a surprise when he says, "I can't."  The sheer
misery, however, is rather shock.

Almost as shocking as Ethan's instinctive reaction to pull Ripper down
to him, to cradle him close, offering *comfort* for fuck's sake.  It
takes a few moments before his voice feels sufficiently steady for him
to say, "So.  An impasse.  As usual for us, love.  What a bloody cock
up."

"You're not going to leave Xander alone.  Are you."

Not even a question, yet Ethan shakes his head.  Says quietly, "No."

Muttered into his throat, "I'm still going to stop you, you know."

"I know you'll try, love.  And won't it be fun?  Fighting the forces of
evil?  Kicking my ass all over town?"

"Don't try to cheer me up."  Yet still a weak chuckle and a fierce hug.
But then, "He's not for you, Ethan.  Maybe not for me either, but.  He's
too bloody young, too good for this.  Don't.  I'm asking you one more
time.  Don't do this.  If you care for him at all·don't."

And it really came down to that, didn't it?  Because, Janus, if this was
just their usual frolic he could let it go and put one more marker on
his side of the column, one tally closer to winning whatever it was they
called this little game.  "I can't."

They lay quietly for a moment, then Ripper levers himself away.  Looks
at him.  Smirks a little at Ethan's still hard cock and almost touches
him.  Hand hovering over him, fingertips twitching and the smirk changes
into a serious look.  Hunger.  Regret.  Anger.  "You're still mine, you
know."

And what can one say to that?  Ethan meets his stare as best he can,
schools his face into an impassive mask.  Watches silently as Ripper
rises, looks at him one more time and says, "We're not done."

Then leaves, closing the door quietly behind him.

*