It had been a month since Rupert swallowed his pride, admitted his father had been right, and pushed open the doors to the Council building buried in the heart of London. When he rebelled he had promised himself that he would never end up like these dead eyed stuff shirts and yet here he was among them, learning their craft and following in his family's footsteps. The memory of Randall haunted him at every turn and kept him on this new path.

There had been so much to experience, so much to do and consume! The world had offered and he had devoured those offerings in turn, taking each sensation to its highest point. Magic and hedonism had been an addiction, drawing him deeper and deeper into its bosom before he knew to fight. It took losing a friend through his reckless choices to make him hit the bottom that had always been coming. The funeral was a small, somber affair. He kept his distance from the others but saw them all there across the casket from him. Ethan lingered in the back glowering dark and dangerous over the rest of them. They all stood there in various shades of distress for their own reasons and kept their heads bowed while someone who didn't really know him spoke of their fallen friend, the one they inadvertently killed.

No one really approached one another afterward. They didn't grab a pint down at Liam's like old times. The bond was broken. That left Ethan alone in a corner of the bar with a pint, stewing about the defection from their little gang. Ripper was gone now, Dierdre too. Randall was in the ground. He felt alone.

"Oi, Liam, double bourbon straight."

Beer was not getting the job done tonight.

It had been a month since the funeral and since he'd seen anyone from the gang. The mark of Eyghon burned tonight, but not because of the demon it could summon.

The door opened. Normally Ethan wouldn't have given a good god damn about who walked through it but something caused his hair to stand on end. A familiar voice ordered a pint and Ethan looked up in time to see the aging man slide it toward a very familiar face. Once confirmed he ducked his eyes down again, not drunk enough to follow through on the confrontation his mind was concocting. The bourbon would help and he slung it back with ease, scowling. So far he was unnoticed but not for long.

"Well look who's here? I believe it's a traitor."

He moved from his chair, keeping himself upright at least as he sauntered over. It was easy to spot the dread that crossed the other man's face when he heard the voice that spoke and knew who it belonged to. He had only wanted to come in and take the edge off his nerves. Nothing was ever so simple, he should have known better but he just didn't want to surrender something else because of this blasted separation! Rupert looked up, jade eyes burning into Ethan's. The other man stared back hard, glowering.

"Isn't there a nancy pub you can drink in with all of your new Council friends?"

"Don't do this, Ethan," he warned quietly, looking dead weary.

"Don't what? Tell the truth? I think we're far past the point where you can give me advice. You don't rule the roost anymore." Giles didn't answer so he growled, continuing. "Since when do you care enough to give advice, anyway? Our games were good enough for you while you were having fun and we have one little setback…"

"Setback? A man died, Ethan! Our friend died!"

"Since when did you not know the risk? You're such a weak bloody pillock, running back to Daddy and everything you hate because something went wrong and you had to pay the piper."

"That could have been you, Ethan. It could have been me. I'm not the only one who left because of it. It's called growing up and we all have to at some point. It's apparently just taking you longer than everyone else. Stop clinging to that old shit. It's dangerous. You'll end up no better off than Randall."

"It was your idea to do it. You can't even take responsibility. You say I'm not growing up? Bollocks to you, Ripper."

"Rupert."

Ethan blinked at him, that one word sending more shock down his spine than any of the previous confrontation. The other shook his head and looked down into his mug.

"I don't deny who I was. I just can't see continuing to be that man anymore. If you want to cling to the old ways do it, but away from me. You're not immortal, Ethan. One day your bill is going to come due and I don't want to be around to see it."

"I know my own mortality, mate, but I guess I'm the only one that remembers the juice is worth the squeeze. You lot are all cowards. I'm sorry someone clipped your berries but mine are still intact."

Giles slammed his pint glass onto the bar and looked at his former friend. He wasn't about to make the confrontation physical but it was awfully tempting. Instead he threw a couple of quid on the bar for Liam's time and trouble and prepared to leave, silently saying goodbye to this place and the years it represented. If there was even a chance of running into Ethan it simply wasn't worth it.

"People like us don't change overnight, Ripper. One day you'll wake up wanting to blow your brains out in that Council of yours and you'll come crawling back to us, this life. We're just the same."

"You won't see me again, walking or crawling."

"I can be a patient man when I want to be. All that power is still there crawling beneath your skin. We don't change, people like us. We may look like it. We can even act like it for a time but it's never true. We want everything that's worst for us."

"Goodbye, Ethan."

Giles walked out while the other man fumed behind him. He couldn't afford to turn back and give the bar a last look. He couldn't risk one more word that might spark a new flame. He was right about one thing: there was power crawling beneath his skin begging to come out. If he gave in now he'd sink back into old habits just like the other man predicted. It took some doing but he pushed out onto the street and prowled for the rest of the night like a cat, looking for somewhere to let off the coiled pressure in his belly.