"Open the bloody door, Ripper, I swear to Christ I will kick it in!"
Giles rolled his eyes as the voice echoed through his living room, followed by persistent pounding that was now so angry the windows along that wall were rattling from the force behind each smack. He had no intention of giving in to the fairly impotent threats, of course, as that last one was almost exactly the same as the one ten minutes ago. His unwelcomed guest had been out there, in the rain, punching the front door for the better part of an hour, and Giles made no move to put an end to his suffering.
It was not like he was pretending to be out. At the first knock, as any gentleman would, Rupert Giles went to the door to see who it was, and opened it a fraction of the way before he recognized, of all things, the shoes standing on his stoop. He made half a second of eye contact with the face of his long time rival before slamming the door shut and sealing the numerous locks on it. It was built to keep the occasional demon attack out, and reinforced after multiple doors died there by being kicked in. No human, magical or not, was going to be getting in through the front door, unless Giles invited them.
And Ethan Rayne would never be invited. He was never welcomed, anywhere he showed up, as he was usually there to make life miserable for Giles and all of his friends. He was really, really good at that, which only added to Giles' resolute stubbornness in the matter of opening the front door.
"Goddamn it, Ripper, I'm not here to mess with you!" Ethan tried again, for the seventh or eighth time, as Giles continued to ignore him, "I need to come in, okay? I just need to talk to you!"
Ethan had never given Giles a reason to trust him. Even when they were both young and reckless, following the same dangerous path and playing wantonly with Dark Magic like it was just a toy for their enjoyment, Ethan had never really been one for telling the truth. Back then, his lies and addiction to making ridiculous plots that ultimately always failed, had just been a source of amusement and adventure to Giles, who had been ready to take on the world or die trying at all times until he actually faced the reality of the dangerous world they had created for themselves. Their stupid thrill seeking cost their friend his life, and others followed after, and Giles learned the hard way that there was more to being alive than just cheap thrills and the pursuit of pleasure and gain.
The man beating his palms raw against the door had not yet learned that lesson, and it was likely he never would. Dedicated to Chaos, and all things Black Magic, Ethan Rayne was a lost cause who held nothing but bitterness and resentment toward his former friend, for abandoning him so long ago. Giles got scared and couldn't handle the risks and thus did not deserve the bigger payoffs, and he had jumped shipped. Returned to his calling, Ripper said, as if that justified the whole thing. It still left Ethan high and dry, with no one by his side, and no one to share his adventures with. His dangerous schemes were a hell of a lot less fun, and ten times more volatile, without someone there to help him, to temper him, and to have his back. He ended up in more trouble than he caused, most of the time, and had to claw his way out of it each time, alone.
Except this time, he was in over his head.
Well. More so… than usual.
"Just open the door! Rupert, please!"
Giles looked up from his freshly brewed cup of tea, surprised by Ethan's use of his given name. Generally, Ethan refused to acknowledge that Giles had any kind of real name, first or last, and usually just stuck with the nickname that had defined him in his reckless days. Back when he was avoiding everything he could about who he was and what he was meant to do, he adopted the nickname Ripper for himself, and demanded all his friends call him by that moniker. It was a feeble attempt to pretend he was someone else, and for a few years it felt like it worked wonders. He had always just been running away, though, and it all caught up to him in the end.
Though he knew he was going to regret it, Giles moved toward the door and peered through the peek hole. Ethan looked like a half drowned rat, shivering with his arms wrapped around himself in a completely pointless effort to shelter and warm himself. It was pouring down out there, and the heavy wind offered no protection from it, even when standing under cover. Rolling his eyes at the miserable sight, Giles felt his guilt getting the better of him and relented, unlocking the door and finally pulling it open. He did not move out of the way or let Ethan in, though, instead standing in the doorway with his arms folded firmly over his chest.
The rush of heat was deliriously appealing as Giles opened the door and Ethan looked at him helplessly, all but begging to be let into the flat. Maybe given a cup of the tea he could smell being brewed, and perhaps a towel… good old Ripper wouldn't let him freeze out here all night. Though he had taken his time with it.
"Do you always take an hour to let someone in?! Not very hospitable, mate! It's a wonder you get any visitors at all. Can I come in, then? I'm freezing!"
Giles did not respond, beyond another heavy sigh and roll of his eyes. He stepped back and motioned for Ethan to enter, wrinkling his nose in distaste as Ethan immediately pushed past him, splattering him with ice cold water, and tracking mud through the entryway. Giles slammed the door behind him, grabbing Ethan by the back of the coat before he got into the living room and ruined everything in there.
"Take off your coat! And your shoes! Leave them here in the entry, lest you track that muck all over the place. Honestly, Ethan, you are a pain. What are you doing here? Not looking to turn me into a demon again, are you?"
"Still sore about that, eh?"
Giles only responded with a glare, moving away from Ethan as his unwelcomed guest actually listened to him and peeled off his coat. Giles got another mug from the cupboard and filled it with some tea, and got a plate of biscuits mostly on instinct. If he was being forced to play host, he would at least be a good one. Anyway, it went against his British sensibilities to not serve tea when there was a fresh pot at the ready.
Setting the serving tray on the table in the living room, he sat down in his usual armchair and waited for Ethan to finish tossing articles of clothing in the corner, by the door. He had managed to lose his outer coat, a jacket under it, his shoes and his socks before he felt dry enough to pass the threshold into the living room. He flopped down onto the sofa, immediately relieving Giles of any thoughts that he might actually be trying to be polite by putting his feet up on the sofa after grabbing his cup of tea. He drank from it greedily, apparently not noticing how hot it was. Giles watched him with wide eyes while he sipped at his own cup, though he put it down after being made to feel a bit sick from the display.
"Alright, Ethan," he said, after a long, tense quiet, "what are you doing here? You've managed to get inside, you might as well tell me what it is that brought you here. And perhaps expediently, if you do not mind, so we can get to the part where I throw you back out all the quicker."
Giles felt a heavy tension and the air crackled in a strange way. He looked across the way to the sofa, having mostly been avoiding looking at Ethan directly since his arrival for fear of his pent up rage getting the better of him, and was surprised to see the man now leaning forward, feet flat on the floor. He held his mug in both hands, elbows resting on his knees, but the cup was still shaking enough to unsettle the liquid inside. Giles turned more toward his former friend, fixing him with a very heavy gaze.
"Ethan," he said slowly, in the same tone he used on his Slayer when she was trying to hide something important from him, and he had to play the Watcher card, "what have you done?"