I cheerfully present the first episode of the second series of 'Ice Cool Whitechapel'. If you haven't read the first series, then I encourage you to do so! If you have, well, then I suspect that you know what you're in for. I hope to keep this as original as possible. Unlike last time, I won't be as updating this as religiously, but I will try to be as regular as possible. As ever, reviews are enthusiastically received, and, of course, nothing owned by others is owned by me.

A note on the Benny/Ethan pairing: it is not intended to be the point of this story. I am not a fan of stories that focus almost exclusively on romantic pairings. I aim to produce this series in much the same way as the last one, and, as such, the relationship(s?) will remain firmly in the background most of the time. If you don't like it, then you don't like it - but I entreat you not to dismiss it out of hand.

That said, I immediately break my resolution, as this chapter is mostly about the Benny/Ethan relationship. Mostly. So those of you not keen on it can feel free to skip to bottom. Though you might miss some of the jokes.

Anyway, speech over, let us return to Whitechapel, on New Year's Day (just) - exactly where we left off...


Fangs of New York


Turning and turning in the widening gyre

After what seemed like a long time to them both, they pulled apart. Lips wet, Ethan looked expressionlessly at Benny. Slowly, his mouth formed into a broad smile, and he started to giggle uncontrollably, his eyes shining. Inches away, Benny joined in with the laughter. As they laughed, they drew closer together again, until another kiss forced them into blissful silence.

Again they broke apart, and, bright eyed, Benny grinned at Ethan, who looked thoughtful. Benny frowned slightly. "What's wrong?" he asked, nervous.

"I'm not sure…" muttered Ethan. Seeing Benny start in anxiety, he quirked the corner of his mouth up. "You see," he said, hooking his fingers under Benny's collar, "I'm not sure we did it right…" They kissed for a third time.

When that came to an end, Benny rocked back a little and raised an eyebrow. "Well?"

Ethan nodded. "Yes, we did it right the first time." He looked slyly at Benny. "But I think that it's good practice to repeat, just to check."

Benny smiled. "Of course." They sat in silence for a little while, before Benny glanced across at Ethan. "Are you absolutely sure?" he said, hopefully.

Ethan wrinkled his nose and allowed Benny to pull him close. "I don't see how another test would hurt…" For the fourth time in what was, in reality, not quite as many minutes, the two kissed. Afterwards, they sat a little squarer on the steps. After a brief hesitation, Benny slid his hand along the wooden board until his hand reached Ethan's. He took hold of it gently.

Ethan turned his head towards him and smiled radiantly. Benny's heart leapt just to see him there beside him and to know that they loved each other. He sighed contentedly, and then rested his head on Ethan's shoulder. They remained there quietly, until Benny built up the courage to ask something.

"When – when did you know?"

Ethan puffed out his cheeks and thought carefully. "Well… I don't know exactly when it began – in fact, I think that the feeling has been there for a long time – nor do I know when I first start to realise it. I do know, though, when I was certain. You were sitting in the kitchen, just last week, writing those silly resolutions. And then there was something in the way you moved, or spoke, or – I don't know – just were, and I knew right then and there that there would never be anyone else."

He put his other hand on top of Benny's. "What about you?"

"Six months, eight days, five hours and twenty-three minutes."

Ethan twisted his head slightly. "What?"

Benny smiled. "Just kidding. It's what people would say in movies."

"Really cheesy movies."

"Naturally. Well, in all seriousness, like you I don't remember a start, but I do know when I realised. It was –" He broke off and reddened. Ethan felt the heat of the blush on his neck. "–It was when I made you disappear. I actually lost you, Ethan. I – I –"

Here, Benny started to sob into Ethan's shoulder. Ethan moved to comfort him, but Benny shook his head vigorously and shifted himself a little closer into his friend's side. After a while, the broken gasps subsided, and, sniffing, Benny pulled himself together. He dried his eyes and nose on Ethan's jumper.

"Thanks, Benny…" muttered Ethan, but still affectionately kissed him on the top of his head. Benny laughed, a little choked, and carried on with his story.

"I knew I couldn't bear to lose you again. From that moment on, I never wanted you out of my sight. I tried to fight it – I tried to force myself to like Erica more, but it was all gone, and I soon stopped pretending to myself. As for when I knew for certain, that was after we came back from Hell. For me, that month without you was far worse than anything we went through there."

"I'm sorry, Benny – I – I didn't –"

Benny stopped Ethan's stuttering remorse with a little squeeze of his hand. "No, Ethan, it was fine. Because – because I looked up that poem. I found out what it said about where we were."

Ethan started, but was also caught between two equal curiosities. "Hang on – firstly you looked something up in a book? And, also –" (now Ethan's voice lost its cheerful mockery and dropped into hushed excitement) "- what did you find out? What was it?"

Benny raised his head off of Ethan's shoulder and looked solemnly at him, his eyes red and bloodshot. "This," he said, simply, leaning forwards (again) and kissing Ethan.

He settled his head back down, leaving Ethan staggered. Ethan opened and closed his mouth. "Really!" he breathed. "But – but –"

"It was written at the start of the fourteenth century," said Benny, evenly.

"Still…" said Ethan, a little insulted by the implication of the ancient poem. His expression darkened a little. "Not much has changed, though."

"What do you mean?" asked Benny.

"I mean, what are we going to do now?"

"I thought we might hold hands for a bit, maybe have another kiss, hold hands a bit more –"

"I'm talking about what we're going to do about us being, you know, us."

"Why does it need thinking about?" asked Benny.

"Count the number of –" (Ethan rolled the word around in his mouth for a while before finding the courage to whisper it) "- gay people in the school."

"Well, uh… There's, uh … uh…"

"You could do it on one hand. In fact, even if I cut off your hands, you could still count them."

"We could start a trend…?"

"That's not really us, is it, Benny?" said Ethan, sadly.

"I guess not," said Benny. He squeezed Ethan's hand reassuringly. "But I don't think anyone needs to know just yet. We'll keep it between ourselves. For now. Until we're ready."

Ethan nodded. "Our secret." He paused. "I didn't really want to tell anyone at the moment, anyway. And," (here he blushed) "I don't think that I'd want to tell anyone even if it wasn't you and me, but Sarah and me, or – or –"

"Any of those many other girls you've wanted to go out with?" said Benny, a light laugh in his voice.

"Mmm." Ethan sighed contentedly and rubbed his cheek on the top of Benny's head. "This is it, B. A new year, and a whole new chapter in our lives."

"A whole new story, even."

"If you like." Ethan wondered if now was the time to kiss Benny again, but, just as he was mustering the courage to do so, they were both startled by the front door opening behind them. Reluctantly, they unclasped their hands, which were, fortunately, hidden from view.

"Ahh. Aren't you two sweet, with Benny falling asleep on your shoulder just like he used to do when you were children," said Ethan's mother.

"Well, if you're tired, then we'd better be getting you home, young man," said Benny's grandmother, also leaving the house in a flurry of gloves and coats.

Benny sprang to his feet, torn between his desire to stay with Ethan, and the fact that he was really quite – quite tired. He yawned. "Bye, Ethan! See you tomorrow!" he said, following his grandmother down the steps, furtively glancing back with every other step.

Ethan smiled as he watched himwalk away. He'd be back. He got up, suddenly cold, missing the warmth of Benny at his side. His mother noticed.

"What are you doing outside without a coat? You'll catch your death!"

Sternly, she ushered Ethan inside. A dopey smile that he was not able to contain stretched itself across his face as he walked past her. And straight into the doorframe. He laughed to himself, and, a little unsteadily, made his way up to his room, dazed by his new emotions (and, less romantically, slightly concussed).

On the second attempt, he managed to sit down on his bed without dropping onto the floor. Still blissfully happy, he stared out of the window in the direction of Benny's house.

In the sky, he saw eight shooting stars blaze across the sky, before disappearing. His grin widened still further. Things couldn't get more perfect. It was as if they had been arranged for him. As he readied himself for bed, he reflected that, since his boyfriend was a magician, it probably had been. Settling his head on the pillow, Ethan resolved to ask him – in – in – in the –


Seven figures landed lightly on the sand – each of them pale, dressed in black – and then followed an eighth as he strode away from the lake to the road. He paused at the edge of the beach and looked along the road. A little way down, a gang of teenagers were hanging around a battered bench, the crushed remains of drinks cans scattered around them.

Considering for a moment, the short white haired man paused, polished his glasses on the end of his tie, resettled them on his nose, and then walked, a little less confidently, and with hunched shoulders, towards them.

"Excuse me?" he said, in a reedy voice.

Two of them ignored him, but the third swung up from where he was lounging. "Whassa'matter granddad?" he said, loudly, spraying spittle into the small man's face.

"I only wanted to know if this was Whitechapel."

"'Course it is." Turning to his mates, he snorted. "Old buffer probably escaped from his nursing home." He laughed raucously, but stopped short as he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned back, for some reason a little unsettled.

He was reassured to find the old man still cowering in front of him. "So – this really is Whitechapel?" he said.

"Yeah." The boy raised his voice. "Something wrong with your hearing aid, gramps? This is Whitechapel - Canada."

The crumpled man smiled, revealing a row of neat little pointed teeth. "Good."

His eyes flashed, and he leapt forwards. Screams filled the air – but they didn't last long.