Editing some of the rough patches.
Contains slash between consenting adults.
The green grass had dulled to yellow, its softness replaced with the coarse texture of sandpaper. Not, of course, that the prisoner watching it grow had felt either sensation in years.
Ethan Rayne, staring dull-eyed out his cell window, felt the first chill of winter in the air. The old air force base in the wilds of Nebraska had been his home for four years now, since he'd been handed over to Riley Finn, who'd disposed of him within the regular army.
And for what? The witch wondered. Just for a bit of magic, a bit of messing with Ripper's head.
Now, if only the Slayer and her man army hadn't shown up, he and Ripper Giles could have got acquainted once again.
In the first weeks and months, Ethan had been hopeful.
Naively, he'd forgotten what it meant to be a captive of the US army. He expected a trial, however perfunctory, but was denied.
He laughed bitterly at the memory. And what would they have charged me with? Magic doesn't exist, remember? Disorderly conduct perhaps?
He expected they'd let him go, and was denied.
His own powers were rendered useless by the ankle bracelet he wore. A gift from the Initiative, it kept him here.
He'd hoped Ripper would remember him, and this was the bitterest sting of all. That the man, who had been the boy, who had been HIS boy, could simply forget him.
Could let him rot here in this godforsaken place, his only companions the silent soldiers who brought him food and water, never much of either.
He'd amused himself, for a year or more, on revenge fantasies. On the magic he'd use, the traps he'd set, all the ways he would make Rupert Giles pay. And then, how he'd forgive the man, and hold out his hands, and fall with him to the floor.
The soldier who caught him jerking off in his cell laughed sympathetically, and, still obeying the orders of no contact with the prisoner, tossed him a Playboy magazine to leaf through.
Ethan took it up like a man starved, and as his eyes rested on the page, recoiled, and tossed it away in disgust.
As though some ink and paper girl could replace his visions of Ripper, face flushed, clever mouth and tongue, hands cold and firm.
Ethan Rayne was a bad man, in many ways.
"Ethan."
The tone was heavy with familiarity, the old mixture of disappointment and shame. Ethan, asleep on his bed, twitched in his sleep.
"Wake up."
Ethan moaned.
"For god's sake man, get out of bed!"
Ethan woke.
Rupert Giles stood at the foot of his bed, glasses off, vigorously polishing.
"You're a dream." Ethan grinned.
Rupert raised an eyebrow. "Am I?"
"I'm very angry with you, you know." Ethan said, standing up and coming over to his visitor.
"I know." Rupert nodded.
Ethan's eyes drank in the sight. Giles wore his familiar tweed suit.
"I," Ethan faltered. "I've gone mad, being in here. They gave me magazines full of girls with enormous breasts and no clothes. I've been so desperate for a shag I propositioned a bird that flew past. It's so quiet in here I was chanting, but they," and here he winced and put a hand to one shoulder, "didn't really like that, soon put a stop to that."
"Are you alright Ethan?" the Watcher eyed him carefully.
"Alright?" Ethan screeched, hands shaking.
"When you're the sodding bastard who put me here, and really I should have stabbed you as soon as you appeared, apparition or no, but I can't because all I really want to do is fuck your bloody brains out!"
Giles blushed involuntarily.
"And I know you wouldn't last time we met, but I happen to think that we're going to now." his tone was calmer, and certain.
Giles shook his head numbly, eyes locked on Ethan.
"Well, I don't really give a shit what you say Rupert Anthony Giles, because you're not even here! You locked me in here and threw away the key and now you're even invading my bloody dreams, so I think I deserve some compensation!"
Hysterical, but weakened by his imprisonment and lack of food and water, Ethan reached out into memory and grabbed the slightly taller man by the shoulders, pulling him into a kiss.
Desperation gave him strength and he pushed the startled Watcher down onto the narrow prison bed, pinning down Giles' legs with his knees and kissing him fiercely. Giles tried to speak, to protest, but Ethan's probing tongue cut him off, as did the sudden feeling of cold hands at his waistband. Ethan had Giles' jacket and shirt off in seconds, and stopped kissing him long enough to laugh, "Haven't lost the touch, have I Ripper? 2.5 seconds was the record wasn't it?"
There was no answer. Giles seemed to be struggling with something. Then he relaxed.
Ethan was still desperately clinging, trying to stave off this phantom's inevitable disappearance when he heard a low growl in his ear.
Strong hands pushed him off, flipped him onto his back.
Ripper smirked down at him.
"Not a dream Ethan. Came to get you out of this mess."
Then he began to kiss the startled prisoner in a way, Ethan knew; only the real Ripper could.
"How did you find this blasted place?" As much as Ethan was enjoying the treatment, he was consumed with curiousity. Giles looked older, there was more grey in his hair and wrinkles around his eyes, but he was reassuringly familiar anyway.
Giles looked at him, looking faintly suprised at his own position, on top of Ethan, his hands at Ethan's waist.
"Magic, of course."
I really like Ethan/Giles, but for some reason its one pairing I find really difficult to write. What do you all think?